UC-NRLF 
 
t C0(ten; 
 
 A GOT 
 
 FOR ^LLL SEASONS 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 D . A P P L E T O N & COMPANY, 
 
 34C & 348 BROADWAY. 
 
ENTERED, according to Act of CongrePs, in the yoar If 56, by 
 
 D. APPLETON & CO. 
 
 In the Clerk s office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IN the compilation of this volume the Editor claims but one 
 mer it that of having made a good and judicious selection. 
 It was not his aim to make an Annual, composed entirely, 
 or in part, of original matter ; but to collect and bring 
 together, some of the most charming stories which have 
 appeared, from time to time, as bright scintillations of ge 
 nius, in the preeminently beautiful literature of Germany. 
 To avoid, however, the probable danger of giving it an ex 
 clusively German tone, recourse has been had to the litera 
 ture of England, and such selections made therefrom as are 
 likely to be new or interesting, from old associations, to 
 American readers. But that the major part of the work is 
 composed of translations from the German, will be the 
 occasion, it is hoped, of no regret; since the history of 
 Literature presents but few names worthy of being ranked 
 with JEAN PAUL, LUDWIG, TIECK, HAUFF, HOFFMANN, 
 etc., etc. ! When the Germans write, they seek to combine 
 instruction with amusement ; they look into the recesses of 
 the human heart, where they find the key to our passions ; 
 
 . 1609S ? 
 
4 PREFACE. 
 
 and, consequently, their literary productions, though often 
 fantastic, are ever certain to bear the impress of psycho 
 logical truth and profundity. Their writings are, indeed, free 
 from all kinds of supranatural cant ; and raised to that throne 
 of beauty, truth, and wisdom, accorded in English literature 
 to the "Rasselas" of DR. JOHNSON, and to poor GOLDSMITH S 
 " Vicar of Wakefield." In short, whatever exterior, fantas 
 tical or picturesque, the ideas of a great German author 
 may assume ; concealed beneath such a garb, the attentive 
 reader will be certain to find inculcated, noble lessons of 
 Life and Art ! And hence it is, perhaps, that it has been 
 said of the following stories, " that in point of instruction 
 and amusement, they have those characteristics, which, like 
 the * Arabian Nights, transport Youth and Old Age to a 
 common ground of interest." 
 
 M. A. C. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOK 
 
 The Moon, JEAN PAUL FBIEDBIOH BICHTEK, . 9 
 
 The World, 25 
 
 The Mysterious Wedding . A Danish 
 
 Story, HENEY 6TEFFENS, ... 26 
 
 Bannock Burn. Eobert Bruce s Ad 
 dress to his Army, . . . BOBBET BUBNS 87 
 
 The Klausenburg, .... LTJDWIG TIECK, .... 89 
 
 Auld Kobin Gray, .... LADY ANNE LINDSAY, . . . 104 
 
 The Magician. A Harz Story, 107 
 
 The Two Paths, 116 
 
 The JesHits Church. An Art Tale, . E. T. w. HOFFMANN, . . . 118 
 
 The Campagna of Florence, 161 
 
 Claude Eovani, HON. MBS. EESKINE NOBTON, . 174 
 
 The Field of Battle, . . . w. n. MAXWELL, . ... 213 
 
 Nose, the Dwarf, w. HAUFF, 221 
 
 The Treasure. A Swiss Legend, . j. B. WYSS, 265 
 
 The Lover s Last Visit, 278 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 SUBJECT. 
 
 ENGRAVER. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MOONLIGHT, 
 
 , W. HILL, . 
 
 Frontispiece. 
 
 BRUCE, 
 
 J. W. COOK, 
 
 37 
 
 AULD ROBIN GRAY, . 
 
 . H. ROLLS 
 
 104 
 
 THE MAGICIAN, .... 
 
 S. DEVONPORT, 
 
 107 
 
 THE COUNCIL, 
 
 W. RADCLIFFE, . 
 
 . 116 
 
 VIEW OF THE CAMPAGNA, 
 
 S. FISHER, 
 
 161 
 
 VENETIAN MANSION, . . . 
 
 E. CHALLIS, . 
 
 174 
 
 WATERLOO, . . . 
 
 ENGLEHART, 
 
 213 
 
 THE ACCEPTED, .... 
 
 CHARLES ROLLS, . 
 
 278 
 
THE TOKEN. 
 
 THE MOON. 
 
 BY JEAN PAUL FRIEDRICH RICHTEK. 
 
 WHEN, Eugenius and Kosamond ! you, whom 
 I may no longer designate by your right names I 
 was first about to tell your short history, my friends 
 and I walked into an English garden.** We went 
 by a new-painted coffin, on the foot-board of which 
 was written : " I pass away." Above the verdant 
 garden rose a white obelisk, with which two sister- 
 princesses had marked the spot where they now met 
 and embraced, and the inscription on which was : 
 "Here we have found each other again." The point of 
 the obelisk was glittering in the full moon, and here 
 I told my simple story. But do thou, gentle reader, 
 
 draw which is as much as coffin and obelisk draw, 
 
 IP 
 
 * Or, perhaps, " angelic garden," meaning a churchyard. The 
 reading given above is most probably correct. 
 
 2 
 
10 THE TOKEN. 
 
 I say, the inscription on the coffin into the ashes of 
 oblivion, and write the letters of the obelisk with 
 pure human heart s blood in thy inmost self. 
 
 Many souls drop from heaven like flowers ; but, 
 with their white buds, they are trodden down into 
 the mud, and lie soiled and crushed in the print of 
 a hoof. You also were crushed, Eugenius and Kos- 
 amond. Tender souls like yours are attacked by 
 three robbers of their joys the mob, whose rough 
 gripe gives to such soft hearts nothing but scars ; 
 destiny, which does not wipe away the tear from a 
 fair soul full of brilliancy, but the lustre should psr- 
 ish also, as we do not wipe a wet diamond, lest it 
 should grow dim ; your own hearts, which rejoice 
 too much, and enjoy too little, have too much hope, 
 and too little power of endurance. Kosamond was 
 a bright pearl, pierced by anguish parted from all 
 that belonged to her, she only quivered in her sor 
 rows like a detached twig of the sensitive plant at 
 the approach of night her life was a quiet warm 
 rain, and that of her husband was a bright lost sun 
 shine. In his presence she averted her eyes, when 
 they had just been fixed on her sick child, that was 
 only two years old, and was in this life a wavering 
 thin-winged butterfly, beneath a pelting shower. 
 The imagination of Eugenius, with its too large 
 wings snattered his slight, delicate frame ; the lily 
 bell of his tender body could not contain his mighty 
 soul ; the place whence sighs originate, his breast, 
 
THE MOON. 11 
 
 was destroyed like his happiness. He had nothing 
 left in the world but his affectionate heart, and for 
 that heart there were but two human beings. 
 
 These persons wished, in the spring-time, to 
 quit the whirlpool of mankind, which beat so hardly 
 and so coldly against their hearts. They had a 
 quiet cottage prepared for them on one of the high 
 Alps opposite to the silver chain of the Staubbach. 
 On the first fine spring morning they went the long 
 road to the high mountain. There is a holiness 
 which sorrow alone can give in its purity ; the 
 stream of life becomes white as snow when it is 
 dashed against rocks. There is an elevation where 
 little thoughts no more intrude between sublime 
 ones, as when upon a mountain one sees the sum 
 mits close to each other without their connection in 
 the depth below. Thou hadst that holiness, Kosa- 
 mond, and thou that elevation, Eugenius. 
 
 A morning mist was gathered round the foot of 
 the mountain, and in that three fluttering forms 
 were suspended. These were the reflections of the 
 three travellers, and the timid Kosamond started, 
 thinking she saw herself. Eugenius thought, "That 
 which the immortal spirit hath around it is, after 
 all, but a denser mist." And the child snatched at 
 the cloud, and wished to play with its little misty 
 brother. One single invisible angel of the future 
 accompanied them through life and up this moun- 
 
12 THE TOKEN. 
 
 tain. They were so good and like each other that 
 one angel was all they needed. 
 
 As they ascended the angel opened the book of 
 fate, one leaf of which contained the sketch of a 
 three-fold life every line was a day and when the 
 angel had read the line that belonged to this day, 
 he wept and closed the book for ever. 
 
 The travellers, in their delicate condition, re 
 quired nearly a day to arrive at the desired spot. 
 The earth crept back into the valleys, the sky rested 
 itself on the mountains. The waving, glimmering 
 sun seemed to our Eugenius a mirror of the moon, 
 and he said to his beloved, when the icy summits 
 had already cast their flames upon the earth : "I 
 feel so weary, and yet so well. Will it not be as if 
 we left two dreams the dream of life and the dream 
 of death if we enter the cloudless moon as the first 
 shore beyond the hurricanes of life ? " 
 
 "It will be still better," replied Rosamond, "for 
 in the moon, as thou hast taught me, dwell the lit 
 tle children of this earth, and their parents remain 
 with them till they themselves become as mild 
 and tranquil as children." Then they proceed 
 further. 
 
 "Ay, from heaven to heaven from world to 
 world ! " said Eugenius, ecstatically. 
 
 They ascended as the sun declined ; when they 
 climbed more slowly, the mountain summits like 
 rising, loosened branches, concealed them from the 
 
THE MOON. 13 
 
 luminary. They hastened on into the evening glim 
 mer, which was already advancing, but when they 
 had reached the mountain where their cottage stood, 
 the eternal mountains stepped before the sun ; 
 the earth then veiled her graces and her cities, 
 adoring heaven, before it looked upon her with all 
 its star-eyes, while the waterfalls laid aside their 
 rainbows, and the earth spread higher for heaven, 
 which was bending over her with out-stretched 
 cloud-arms, a gauze of golden exhalations, and hung 
 it from one mountain to another, and the icebergs 
 were set on fire, so that they glared even to mid 
 night, while opposite to them on the grave of the 
 sun was raised a towering funeral pile of clouds, 
 forming the evening glow and the evening ashes. 
 But through the glimmering veil kind heaven let 
 its evening tears fall deep into the earth, even upon 
 the humblest grass and the smallest flower. 
 
 Oh, Eugenius, how great then did thy soul be 
 come ! The life of earth lay at a distance and 
 far below thee, free from all the distortions which 
 we see in it, because we stand too near it, as the dec 
 orations of shorter scenes change from landscapes 
 to mis-shapen strokes when we look at them closely. 
 
 The two living ones embraced each other with a 
 long and gentle embrace, as they stood before the 
 cottage, and Eugenius said : "Oh, thou quiet, 
 eternal heaven^, take nothing more from us ! " But 
 his pale child with its snapped lily-head was before 
 
14 THE TOKEN. 
 
 him ; he looked at the mother, and she lay with her 
 moistened eye reaching into heaven, and said softly ; 
 " take us all at once ! " 
 
 The angel of futurity, whom I will call the angel 
 of rest, wept as he smiled, and his wings swept 
 away the sighs of the parents with an evening breeze, 
 that they might not sadden each other. 
 
 The transparent evening flowed round the red 
 mountain like a bright lake, and washed it with the 
 circles of cool evening waves. The more the even 
 ing and earth grew, still the more did the two souls 
 feel that they were in the right place. They had 
 no tears too many, none too few, and their bliss 
 needed no other increase than its repetition. Euge- 
 nius sent the first harmonious tones floating like 
 swans through the pure Alpine sky. The weary 
 child, twined in a flowery wreath, leaned against a 
 sun-dial, and played with the flowers which it drew 
 around it, to entwine them in its circle. The moth 
 er at last awoke from her harmonious transport ; 
 her eye fell on the large eyes of her child, which 
 opened wide upon her ; singing and smiling, and, 
 with overflowing motherly love, she stepped to the 
 little angel, which was cold and dead. For its life, 
 which had descended from heaven, had, like other 
 tones, been dissipated in the atmosphere of earth ; 
 death had breathed upon the butterfly, and it had 
 ascended from the rushing streams of air to the ever- 
 
THE MOON. 15 
 
 refining ether ; from the flowers of earth to the 
 flowers of paradise. 
 
 Oh, ever flutter away, ye blessed children ! The 
 angel of rest wakes you in the morning-hour of life 
 with cradle songs, two arms bear you and your little 
 coffin, and your body, with the two red cheeks, the 
 forehead free from the print of grief, and the white 
 hands, glide down by a chain of flowers to the 
 second cradle, and you have only exchanged one 
 paradise for another. But we oh, we are crushed 
 by the storm-winds of life ; our heart is weary, our 
 face is deeply marked with earthly care, and our 
 soul stiffened, still clings to the earthly clod. 
 
 Turn away thine eye from Rosamond s piercing 
 shriek, fixed glance, and petrifying features, if thou 
 art a mother, and hast already felt this pain ! look 
 not upon the mother, who, with senseless hand, 
 squeezes against her the corpse which she now can 
 not stifle ; but look at the father, who, with his 
 breast, silently covers his struggling heart, although 
 black grief has twined around it with an adder s 
 folds, and poisoned it with an adder s teeth. Ah, 
 when he at last had conquered the pain, his heart 
 was envenomed and riven. A man bears the pain 
 of the wound, but sinks under the scar : a woman 
 seldom combats her grief, but yet she survives it. 
 " Remain here," he said, with a suppressed voice, 
 " I will lay it to rest before the moon rises." She 
 said nothing, kissed the child in silence, broke up 
 
16 THE TOKEN. 
 
 its wreath of flowers, sunk down upon the sun-dial, 
 and laid her cold face upon her arm, that she might 
 not see it carried away. 
 
 On the way the dawning light of the moon 
 shone upon the shaking body of the infant, and 
 the father said : " Burst forth, oh, moon ! that I 
 may see the land wherein He dwells. Rise, oh, 
 Elysium ! that I may think the soul of the corse is 
 within thee. Oh, child, child, dost thou know me 
 dost thou hear me ? Hast thou above so fair a face 
 as this one, so sweet a mouth ? Oh, thou heavenly 
 mouth, thou heavenly eye, no more spirit visits 
 thee ! " He laid the child beneath flowers which 
 supplied the place of all that we are generally laid 
 upon for the last time ; but his heart was breaking 
 when he covered the pale lips, the open eyes, with 
 flowers and earth, and streams of tears fell first into 
 the grave. When with the verdant coating of the 
 clods he had built a little mound, he felt that he 
 was weary of his journey and of life ; that his 
 weakly chest could not endure the thin mountain 
 air, and that the ice of death had settled in his 
 heart. He cast a longing glance at the bereaved 
 mother, who had long stood trembling behind him, 
 and they fell silent into each other s arms, and their 
 eyes could scarcely weep more. 
 
 At last, from behind a glacier that was glimmer 
 ing out, the glorious moon flowed forth in loveliness 
 on the two silent unhappy ones, and showed them 
 its white peaceful meadows, and the gentle light 
 
THE MOON. 17 
 
 with which it softens man. "Mother, look up," 
 said Eugenius ; " yonder is thy son ! See there, 
 the white flowery groves in which our child will 
 play, are passing over the moon." Now a burning 
 fire filled his inmost self with consuming power, 
 the moon made his eye blind to all that was not 
 light ; sublime forms rolled before him in the light 
 stream, and he heard in his soul, new thoughts 
 which are not indigenous in man, and are too great 
 for memory ; just as in a dream small melodies may 
 come to the man who can make none when awake. 
 Death and pleasure press upon his heavy tongue. 
 " Rosamond, why sayest thou nothing ? Dost thou 
 see thy child ? I look beyond the long earth, even 
 to where the moon begins. There is my son flying 
 between angels. Full flowers cradle him, the 
 spring of earth waves over him children lead him 
 angels instruct him God loves him. Oh ! thou 
 dear one, thou art smiling ; the silver light of para 
 dise flows with heavenly radiance about thy little 
 mouth, and thou hearest me, and callest thy 
 parents. Rosamond, give me thy hand ; we will 
 go and die ! " 
 
 The slight corporeal chains grew longer. His 
 advancing spirit fluttered higher on the borders of 
 life. With convulsive power he seized the para 
 lyzed Kosamond, and blind and sinking, stammered 
 forth, " Kosamond, where art thou ? I fly ! I die ! 
 We remain together ! " 
 2* 
 
18 THE TOKEN. 
 
 His heart burst, his spirit fled ; but Kosamond 
 did not remain with him, for fate snatched her from 
 his dying hand, and cast her back upon earth, living. 
 She felt if his hand had the coldness of death, and 
 since it had, she placed it softly against her heart, 
 sunk slowly upon her failing knees, and raised her 
 face, which had become inexpressibly serene, towards 
 the starry power. Her eyes, from their tearless 
 sockets, pressed forth dry, large, and happy, into the 
 sky, and therein calmly sought a supernatural form, 
 which should descend and bear her up. She almost 
 fancied she was dying then, and prayed thus : 
 " Come, thou angel of rest, come and take my heart, 
 and bear it to my beloved. Angel of rest ! leave me 
 not so long alone among the corses. Oh, God ! is there 
 then nought invisible about me ? Angel of death ! 
 thou must be here, thou hast already snatched away 
 two souls close by me, and hast made them ascend. 
 I, too, am dead, draw forth my glowing soul from its 
 cold kneeling corse." 
 
 With mad disquiet, she looked about in the va 
 cant sky. Suddenly, in that still desert, a star shone 
 forth, and wound its way towards the earth. She 
 spread her arms in transport, and thought the angel 
 of rest was rushing towards her. Alas ! the star 
 passed away, but she did not. ".Not yet ? Do I 
 not die yet, All-merciful One ? " sighed poor Rosa 
 mond. 
 
 In the east a cloud arose, it passed jover the 
 
THE MOON. 1 19 
 
 moon, sailed in loneliness across the clear sky, and 
 stood over the most agonized heart upon earth. She 
 threw back her head, so as to face the cloud, and 
 said to the lightning, " Strike this head, and release 
 my heart ! " But the cloud passed darkly over the 
 head that was thrown back for it, and flying down 
 the sky, sunk behind the mountains. Then, with a 
 thousand tears, she cried, " Can I not die ? Can I 
 not die ?" 
 
 Poor Rosamond ! How did pain roll itself to 
 gether, give an angry serpent-spring at thy heart, 
 and fix in it all its poisonous teeth. But a weeping 
 spirit poured the opium of insensibility into thine 
 heart, and the bursts of agony flowed away in a soft 
 convulsion. 
 
 She awoke in the morning, but her mind was un 
 settled. She saw the sun and the dead man, but 
 her eye had lost all tears, and her burst heart had, 
 like a broken bell, lost all tone ; she merely mur 
 mured, " Why can I not die ? " She went back 
 cold into her hut, and said nothing but these words. 
 Every night she went half an hour later to the corpse, 
 and every time she met the rising moon which was 
 now broken, and said, while she turned her mourn 
 ing, tearless eye towards its gleaming meadows, 
 " Why cannot I die ? " 
 
 Ay, why canst thou not, good soul ? for the cold 
 earth would have sucked out of all thy wounds the 
 last venom with which the human heart is laid be- 
 
20 THE TOKEN. 
 
 neath its surface, just as the hand when buried in 
 earth recovers from the sting of a bee. But I turn 
 mine eye away from thy pain, and look up at the 
 glimmering moon, where Eugenius opens his eyes 
 among smiling children, and his own child, now with 
 wings, falls upon his heart. How quiet is every thing 
 in the dimly lit portico of the second world, a misty 
 rain of light silvers o er the bright fields of the first 
 heaven, and beads of light instead of sparkling dew 
 hang upon flowers and summits, the blue of heaven 
 is darker over the lily plains, all the melodies in the 
 thinner air are but a dispersed echo, only night- 
 flowers exhale their scents, and dazzle waving around 
 calmer glances here the waving plains rock as in a 
 cradle the crushed souls, and the lofty billows of life 
 fall gliding apart then the heart sleeps, the eye be 
 comes dry, the \vish becomes silent. Children flut 
 ter like the hum of bees around the heart which is 
 sunk in earth, and is still palpitating, and the dream 
 after death represents the earthly life, as a dream here 
 represents childhood here, magically, soothingly, 
 softly, and free from care. 
 
 Eugenius looked from the moon towards the earth, 
 which for a long moon-day equal to two earth- 
 weeks floated like a thin white cloud across the 
 blue sky ; but he did not recognize his old mother 
 land. At last the sun set to the moon, and our 
 earth rested, large, glimmering, and immovable, on 
 the pure horizon of Elysium, scattering, like a water- 
 
THE MOON. 21 
 
 wheel upon a meadow, the flowing beams upon the 
 waving Elysian garden. He then recognized the 
 earth, upon which he had left a heart so troubled, in 
 a breast so beloved ; and his soul, which reposed in 
 pleasure, became full of melancholy, and of an infi 
 nite longing after the beloved of his former life, who 
 was suffering below. " Oh, my Kosamond ! why 
 dost thou not leave a sphere, where nothing more 
 loves thee ? " And he cast a supplicating look at 
 the angel of rest, and said : " Beloved one, take me 
 down from the land of quiet, and lead me to the 
 faithful soul, that I may see her, and again feel pain, 
 so that she may not pine alone." 
 
 Then his heart began suddenly, as it were, to float 
 without any bounds ; breezes fluttered around him, 
 as though they raised him flying, wafted him away 
 as they swelled, and veiled him in floods ; he sank 
 through the red evening twilights as through roses, 
 and through the night as through bowers, and 
 through a damp atmosphere which filled his eye with 
 drops. Then it seemed as though old dreams of 
 childhood had returned then there arose a complaint 
 from the distance, which re-opened all his closed 
 wounds; the complaint, as it drew nearer, became 
 Rosamond s voice at last she herself was before him, 
 unrecognizable, alone, without solace, without a tear, 
 without color. 
 
 And Rosamond dreamed upon the earth, and it 
 was to her as though the sun took wings, and be- 
 
22 THE TOKEN. 
 
 came an angel. This angel, she dreamed, drew down 
 towards her the moon, which became a gentle face. 
 Beneath this face, as it approached her, a heart at 
 last formed itself. It was Eugenius, and his beloved 
 arose to meet him. But as she exclaimed, with 
 transport, "Now I am dead!" the two dreams, 
 both hers and his, vanished, and the two were again 
 severed. 
 
 Eugenius walked above, the glimmering earth 
 still stood in the sky, his heart was oppressed, and 
 his eye beamed with a tear which had not fallen on 
 the moon. Rosamond waked below, and a large 
 warm dew-drop hung in one of the flowers of her 
 bosom. Then did the last mist of her soul shower 
 down in a light rain of tears, her soul became light 
 and sun-clear, and her eye hung gently on the dawn 
 ing sky ; the earth was indeed strange to her, but 
 no longer hateful ; and her hands moved as though 
 they were leading those who had died. 
 
 The angel of rest looked upon the moon, and 
 looked upon the earth, and he was softened by the 
 sighs from both. On the morning-earth he perceiv 
 ed an eclipse of the sun, and a bereft one ; he saw 
 Rosamond during this transient night sink upon the 
 flowers that slept in the darkness, and into the cold 
 evening-dew which fell upon the morning-dew, and 
 stretching forth her hands towards the shaded heav 
 en, which was full of night-birds, look up towards 
 the moon with inexpressible longing, as it floated 
 
THE MOON. 
 
 trembling in the sun. The angel looked upon the 
 moon, and near him wept the departed one, who saw 
 the earth swimming deep below, a flood of shade 
 fitted into a ring of fire, and from whom the mourn 
 ing form that dwelt upon it, took all the happiness 
 of heaven. Then was the heavenly heart of the an 
 gel of peace broken he seized the hand of Eugeni- 
 us and that of his child drew both through the 
 second world, and bore them down to the dark 
 earth. Kosamond saw three forms wandering 
 through the obscurity, the gleam from whom reach 
 ed the starry heaven, and went along hovering over 
 them. Her beloved and her child flew like spring- 
 days to her heart, an<^ said, " Oh, thou dear one, 
 come with us ! " Her maternal heart broke with 
 maternal love, the circulation of earth-blood was 
 stopped, her life was ended ; and happily, happily did 
 she stammer forth to the two beloved hearts, " Can 
 I not then die ? " " Thou hast died already," said 
 the angel of the three fond ones, weeping with joy : 
 " Yonder thou seest the sphere of earth, whence 
 thou comest, still in shade." And the waves of joy 
 closed on high over the blessed world, and all the 
 happy and all children looked upon our sphere which 
 
 still trembled in the shade. 
 
 # # # $ 
 
 Yea, indeed, is it in shade ! But man is higher 
 than his place. He looks up and spreads the wings 
 of his soul, and when the sixty minutes, which we 
 
24 THE TOKEN. 
 
 call sixty years, have finished striking, he then lifts 
 himself up, and kindles himself as he rises, and the 
 ashes of his plumage fall back, and the unveiled 
 soul rises alone, free from earth, and as pure as a 
 musical tone. But here, in the midst of dark life, 
 he sees the mountains of the future world standing 
 in the morning gold of a sun that does not arise 
 here. Thus, the inhabitant of the North Pole in 
 the long night, when the sun has ceased to rise, dis 
 cerns at twelve o clock, a dawn gilding the highest 
 mountains, and he thinks of his long summer, when 
 it will set no more. 
 
THE WOKLD. 
 
 A PLEASANT world is this of ours, 
 And deem not that my words are vain, 
 While sunny fields and shady bowers, 
 And swelling hill and flowery plain, 
 And arching skies as now I see, 
 It is a happy world to me. 
 
 You say that men are hard of heart, 
 
 And cold and selfish, and tis true ! 
 
 Yet, men are but a little part 
 
 Of nature, as I nature view. 
 
 And must she lose her charms for me 
 
 Because of man s deformity ? 
 
 no ! with different eye I see 
 What God pronounced was very good ; 
 And twould, methinks, but ingrate be 
 To turn in discontented mood 
 From joys he cannot fail to prove, 
 Who loveth nature as I love. 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING. 
 
 A DANISH STORY. 
 
 BY HENBY 8TEFFEN8. 
 
 ON the north-west of Zealand stretches a small 
 fertile peninsula, studded with hamlets, and connect 
 ed with the mainland by a narrow stripe of waste 
 ground. Beyond the only town which this little 
 peninsula possesses, the land runs out into the stormy 
 Cattegat, and presents an awfully wild and sterile 
 appearance. The living sands have here obliterated 
 every trace of vegetation ; and the hurricanes which 
 blow from all points of the ocean are constantly op 
 erating a change on the fluctuating surface of the 
 desert, whose hills of sand rise and fall with a motion 
 as incessant as that of the waves which roar around 
 them. In travelling through this country, I spent 
 upwards of an hour in this district, and never shall I 
 forget the impression which the scene made upon my 
 mind. 
 
 * This story as told by Steffens a Dane by birth, but now, we 
 believe, a professor at Breslau forms the subject of two German 
 novels and a Danish poem. 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING. 27 
 
 While riding along through the desolate region, 
 a thunder-storm rose over the ocean towards the 
 north, the waves roared the clouds scudded 
 along in gloomy masses before the wind, the sky 
 grew every instant more dark, " menacing earth and 
 sea," the sand began to move in increasing volumes 
 under my horse s feet, a whirlwind arose and filled 
 the atmosphere with dust, the traces of the path 
 became invisible, while air, earth, and ocean seemed 
 mingled and blended together, every object being 
 involved in a cloud of dust and vapor, I could not 
 discern the slightest trace of life or vegetation around 
 this dismal scene, the storm roared above me, the 
 waves of the sea lashed mournfully against the shore, 
 the thunder rolled in the distance, and scarcely 
 could the lurid lightning-flash pierce the heavy cloud 
 of sand which whirled around me. My danger 
 became evident and extreme ; but a sudden shower 
 of rain laid the sand and enabled me to push my 
 way to the little town. The storm I had just encoun 
 tered was a horrid mingling of all elements. An 
 earthquake has been described as the sigh which 
 troubled Nature heaves from the depth of her bosom ; 
 perhaps not more fancifully might this chaotic tem 
 pest have typified the confusion of a wildly distract 
 ed mind, to which pleasure and even hope itself have 
 been long strangers, the cheerless desert of the 
 past revealing only remorse and grief, the voice of 
 conscience threatening like the thunder, and her 
 
28 THE TOKEN. 
 
 awful anticipations casting a lurid light over the 
 gloomy spirit, till at last the long sealed-up 
 sources of tears open a way for their floods, and bury 
 the anguish of the distracted soul beneath their 
 waves. 
 
 In this desolate country there existed in former 
 times a village called Roerwig, about a mile distant 
 from the shore. The moving sands have now buried 
 the village ; and the descendants of its inhabitants 
 mostly shepherds and fishermen have removed 
 their cottages close to the shore. A single solitary 
 building, situated upon a hill, yet rears its head 
 above the cheerless shifting desert. This building 
 and the village-church was the scene of the fol 
 lowing mysterious transaction. 
 
 In an early year of the last century, the ven 
 erable cure" of Roerwig was one night seated in his 
 study, absorbed in pious meditations. His house 
 lay at the extremity of the village, and the simple 
 manners of the inhabitants were so little tinged 
 with distrust, that bolts and locks were unknown 
 amongst them, and every door remained open and 
 unguarded. The lamp burned gloomily, and the 
 sullen silence of the midnight hour was only inter 
 rupted by the rushing noise of the sea, on whose 
 waves the pale moon shone reflected, when the cure 
 heard the door below opened, and the next moment 
 the sound of men s steps upon the stair. He was 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING. 29 
 
 anticipating a call to administer the last offices of 
 religion to some one of his parishioners on the point 
 of death, when two foreigners wrapped up in white 
 cloaks, entered the room. One of them approaching 
 addressed him with politeness : " Sir, you will 
 have the goodness to follow us instantly. You must 
 perform a marriage-ceremony ; the bride and bride 
 groom are already waiting your arrival at the church. 
 And this sum," here the stranger held out a purse 
 full of gold " will sufficiently recompense you for 
 the trouble and alarm our sudden demand has given 
 you." 
 
 The cure stared in mute terror upon the strangers, 
 who seemed to carry something fearful, almost 
 ghastly in their looks, and the demand was repeated 
 in an earnest and authoritative tone. When the 
 old man had recovered from his first surprise, he 
 began mildly to represent that his duty did not 
 allow him to celebrate so solemn a rite without some 
 knowledge of the parties, and the intervention of 
 those formalities required by law. The other 
 stranger hereupon stepped forward in a menacing 
 attitude : " Sir," said he, " you have your choice ; 
 follow us and take the sum we now offer you, or 
 remain, and this bullet goes through your head." 
 
 Whilst speaking, he levelled his pistol at the fore 
 head of the venerable man, and coolly waited his 
 answer ; whereupon the cure rose, dressed himself 
 and informed his visitants who had hitherto spoken 
 
30 THE TOKEN. 
 
 Danish, but with a foreign accent that he was 
 ready to accompany them. 
 
 The mysterious strangers now proceeded silently 
 through the village, followed by the clergyman. It 
 was a dark autumn night, the moon having already 
 set ; but when they emerged from the village, the 
 old man perceived with terror and astonishment 
 that the distant church was all illuminated. Mean 
 while his companions wrapped up in their white 
 cloaks, strode hastily on before him through the 
 barren sandy plain. On reaching the church they 
 bound up his eyes ; he then heard a side-door open 
 with a well-known creaking noise, and felt himself 
 violently pushed into a crowd of people, whose mur 
 muring he heard all around him, while close beside 
 him some persons carried on a conversation in a lan 
 guage quite unknown to him, but which he thought 
 was Russian. As he stood helpless and blindfolded, 
 he felt himself seized upon by a man s hand, and 
 drawn violently through the crowd. At last the 
 bandage was removed from his eyes, and he found 
 himself standing with one of the two strangers before 
 the altar. A row of large tapers, in magnificent 
 silver candlesticks, adorned the altar, and the church 
 itself was splendidly lighted up by a profusion of 
 candles. The deepest silence now reigned through 
 out the whole building, though the side-passages and 
 all the seats were crowded to excess ; but the middle 
 passage was quite clear, and he perceived in it a 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING. 31 
 
 newly dug grave, with the stone which covered it 
 leaning against a bench. Around him were only 
 male figures, but on one of the distant benches he 
 thought he perceived a female form. The terrible 
 silence lasted for some minutes, during which not a 
 motion could be detected in the vast assembly. 
 Thus when the mind is bent on deeds of darkness, 
 a silent gloomy brooding of soul often precedes the 
 commission of the horrid action. 
 
 At last a man, whose magnificent dress distin 
 guished him from all the rest and bespoke his elevated 
 rank, rose and walked hastily up to the altar ; as he 
 passed along, his steps resounded through the build 
 ing, and every eye was turned upon him, he ap 
 peared to be of middle stature, with broad shoulders 
 and strong limbs, his gait was commanding, his 
 complexion of a yellowish brown, and his hair raven 
 black, his features were severe, and his lips com 
 pressed as if in wrath, a bold aquiline nose height 
 ened the haughty appearance of his countenance, 
 and dark shaggy brows lowered over his fiery eyes. 
 He wore a green coat, with broad gold braids, and a 
 brilliant star. The bride, who also approached, and 
 kneeled beside him at the altar, was magnificently 
 dressed. A sky blue robe, richly trimmed with 
 silver, enveloped her slender limbs, and floated in 
 large folds over her graceful form, a diadem spark 
 ling with diamonds adorned her fair hair, the 
 utmost loveliness and beauty might be traced in 
 
32 THE TOKEN. 
 
 her features, although despair now expressed itself in 
 them, her cheeks were pale as those of a corpse, 
 her features unanimated, her lips were blanched, 
 her eyes dimmed, and her arms hung motionless 
 at her side as she kneeled before the altar ; terror 
 seemed to have wrapped her consciousness as well 
 as her vital powers in deep lethargy. 
 
 The cure now discovered near him an old ugly 
 hag, in a party-colored dress, with a blood-red 
 turban upon her head, who stood gazing with an 
 expression of malignant fury on the kneeling bride ; 
 and behind the bridegroom, he noticed a man of 
 gigantic size and a gloomy appearance, whose eyes 
 were fixed immovably on the ground. 
 
 Horror-struck by the scene before him, the priest 
 stood mute for some time, till a thrilling look from 
 the bridegroom reminded him of the ceremony he 
 had corne thither to perform. But the uncertainty 
 whether the couple he was now about to marry under 
 stood his language afforded him a fresh source of un 
 easiness. He ventured, however, to ask the bride 
 groom for his name and that of his bride ; " Neander 
 and Feodora," was the answer returned in a rough 
 voice. 
 
 The priest now began to read the ritual in 
 faltering accents, frequently stopping to repeat the 
 words, without however either the bride or bride 
 groom appearing to observe his confusion, which con 
 firmed him in the conjecture that his language was 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING. 33 
 
 almost unknown to either of them. On putting the 
 question, " Neander, wilt thou have this woman for 
 thy wedded wife ? " he doubted whether he should 
 receive any answer ; but to his astonishment, the 
 bridegroom answered in the affirmative with a loud 
 and almost screaming voice, which rung throughout 
 the whole church, while deep sighs were heard from 
 every quarter of the building, and a silent quivering, 
 like the reflection of distant lightning, threw a 
 transitory motion over the death-pale features of the 
 bride. When the priest turned to her with the 
 interrogatory : " Feodora, wilt thou have this man 
 for thy wedded husband ? " the lifeless form before 
 him seemed to awake, a deep convulsive throb 
 of terror trembled on her cheeks, her pale lips 
 quivered, a passing gleam of fire shone in her eye, 
 her breast heaved, a violent gush of tears flooded 
 the brilliance of her eyes, and the " yes " was pronoun 
 ced like the scream of anguish uttered by a dying 
 person, and seemed to find a deep echo in the sounds 
 of grief which burst from the surrounding multitude. 
 The bride then sank into the arms of the horrid old 
 hag, and after some minutes had passed in awful 
 silence, the pale, corpse-like female kneeled again, 
 as if in a deep trance, and the ceremony was finished. 
 The bridegroom now rose and led away the trem 
 bling bride, followed by the tall man and the old 
 woman ; the two strangers then appeared again, and 
 having bound the priest s eyes, drew him with vio- 
 3 
 
34: THE TOKEN. 
 
 lence through the crowd, and pushed him out at the 
 door, which they bolted from within. 
 
 For some minutes the old man stood endeavor 
 ing to recollect himself, and uncertain whether the 
 horrid scene, with all its ghastly attendant circum 
 stances, might not have been a dream ; but when he 
 had torn the bandage from his eyes, and saw the 
 illuminated church before him, and heard the mur 
 muring of the crowd, he was forced to believe its 
 reality. To learn the issue, he hid himself in a 
 corner of the building, and while listening there 
 he heard the murmuring within grow louder and 
 louder, then it seemed as if a fierce altercation 
 arose, in which he thought he could recognise the 
 rough voice of the bridegroom commanding silence, 
 a long pause followed, a shot fell, the shriek o1 
 a female voice was heard, which was succeeded bj 
 another pause, then followed a sound of pickaxes 
 which lasted about a quarter of an hour, after whicl 
 the candles were extinguished, the door was flunc 
 open, and a multitude of persons rushed out of th< 
 church, and ran towards the sea. 
 
 The old priest now arose from his hiding-place 
 and hastened back to the village, where he awok< 
 his neighbors and friends, and related to them his in 
 credible and marvellous adventure ; but everything 
 which had hitherto fallen out amongst these simple 
 people, had been so calm and tranquil, so mucl 
 measured by the laws of daily routine, that they were 
 
THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING. 35 
 
 seized with a very different alarm : they believed 
 that some unfortunate accident had deranged the in 
 tellects of their beloved pastor, and it was not with 
 out difficulty that he prevailed on some of them to 
 follow him to the church, provided with picks and 
 spades. 
 
 Meanwhile the morning had dawned, the sun 
 arose, and when the priest and his companions as 
 cended the hill towards the church, they saw a man- 
 of-war standing off from the shore under full sail to 
 wards the north. So surprising a sight in this re 
 mote district, made his companions already hesitate 
 to reject his story as improbable, and still more were 
 they inclined to listen to him when they saw that the 
 side-door of the church had been violently burst open. 
 They entered, full of expectation, and the priest 
 showed them the grave which he had seen opened in 
 the night-time ; it was evident that the stone had 
 been lifted up and replaced again. They, therefore, 
 put their implements in motion, and soon came to a 
 new and richly adorned coffin, in which lay the mur 
 dered bride, a bullet had pierced her breast right 
 to the heart, the magnificent diadem which she 
 had worn at the altar no longer adorned her brows, 
 but the distracted expression of deep grief had van 
 ished from her countenance, and a heavenly calm 
 seemed spread over her features. The old man 
 threw himself down on his knees near the coffin, and 
 wept and prayed aloud for the soul of the dead, 
 
36 THE TOKEN. 
 
 while mute astonishment and horror seized his 
 companions. 
 
 The clergyman found himself obliged to make this 
 event instantly known, with all its circumstances, to 
 his superior, the bishop of Zealand ; meanwhile, un 
 til he got further instructions from Copenhagen, he 
 bound all his friends to secrecy by an oath. Shortly 
 afterwards a person of high rank suddenly arrived 
 from the capital ; he inquired into alJ the circum 
 stances, visited the grave, commended the silence 
 which had been hitherto observed, and stated that 
 the whole event must remain for ever a secret, threat 
 ening at the same time with a severe punishment 
 any person who should dare to speak of it. 
 
 After the death of the priest, a writing was found 
 in the parochial register narrating this event. Some 
 believed that it might have some secret connection 
 with the violent political changes which occurred in 
 Kussia after the death of Catherine and Peter I.; 
 but to resolve the deep riddle of this mysterious 
 affair will ever be a difficult, if not impossible task. 
 
BANNOCK BUKN. 
 
 ROBERT BRUCE S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. 
 
 SCOTS, wha hae wi Wallace bled, 
 Scots, wham Bruce has aften led ; 
 Welcome to your gory bed, 
 Or to glorious victorie. 
 
 Now s the day, and now s the hour ; 
 See the front of battle lower ; 
 See approach proud Edward s power 
 Edward ! chains ! and slaverie ! 
 
 Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
 Wha can fill a coward s grave ? 
 Wha sae base as be a slave ? 
 
 Traitor ! coward ! turn and flee ! 
 
 Wha for Scotland s king and law 
 Freedom s sword will strongly draw, 
 Freeman stand, or freeman fa ? 
 Caledonian ! on wi me ! 
 
38 THE TOKEN. 
 
 By oppression s woes and pains ! 
 By your sons in servile chains ! 
 We will drain our dearest veins, 
 
 But they shall be shall be free 
 
 Lay the proud usurpers low ! 
 Tyrants fall in every foe ! 
 Liberty s in every blow ! 
 
 Forward ! let us do ; or die ! 
 
THE KLAUSENBURa. 
 
 BY LUDWIG TIECK. 
 
 [The following Gespenster Geschichte, or Ghost Story, as Tieck 
 himself has called it, is related to a circle of friends by a gentleman, 
 Baron Blamberg, who was a friend of the unfortunate subject of the 
 story. The ruins of the Klausenburg are, according to the words 
 of the narrator, near the house where they are assembled. The 
 story, in the original, is often interrupted by the company, but 
 their conversation has no connection with it, and it has, there 
 fore, been omitted here.] 
 
 IT is about fifty years since, that a rich family 
 lived among the mountains a short distance off, in 
 a castle, of which only the ruins are now to be seen, 
 sience it was partly destroyed by thunder and light 
 ning, and the remainder was demolished in war. It 
 is now only occasionally visited by huntsmen and 
 travellers who, have lost their way, and it is called 
 the ruins of the Klausenburg. Proceeding up the 
 solitary footpath through the pine wood, and then 
 climbing the pathless crag, you stand facing its en 
 trance, which is cut out of the living rock, and secur 
 ed by an ancient and strongly barred gate. On the 
 outside is an iron rod with a handle apparently com- 
 
40 THE TOKEN. 
 
 municating with a bell on the inside. Having once 
 wandered there while hunting, I pulled this handle, 
 but received no answer to my summons from within. 
 As this spot can only be approached with much 
 difficulty, and it is almost impossible to climb the 
 chasms and rocks on the other side, there are many 
 legends and tales current among the vulgar about 
 this singular Klausenburg, the remains of which 
 present an almost spectral appearance. 
 
 Among other stories, it is reported that more 
 than a century ago, there resided within its walls a 
 very wealthy, benevolent, and industrious man, who 
 was much beloved by his friends and tenants. He 
 had early in life retired from the state service, to 
 devote himself to the management of his estates, of 
 which he possessed many, including mines, and glass 
 and iron foundries, which he was able to work to 
 great advantage, having abundant fuel from his ex 
 tensive forests. Although beloved by his tenants, 
 he was yet hated and envied by many of his equals, 
 the more reasonable of whom disliked him because 
 he avoided them, and they readily perceived that he 
 despised them for their want of industry ; while 
 the more foolish believed, and even openly declared, 
 that Count Moritz was in league with Satan, and 
 was therefore successful beyond expectation in all he 
 undertook. 
 
 However absurd the report, it was calculated at 
 this early period to injure the character of this per- 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 41 
 
 severing man ; as it was not many years after the 
 time when people were burnt at the stake for witch 
 craft, and for being in league with the evil one. 
 Hence it was that the count in disgust retired from 
 the world to the solitary castle of Klausenburg, and 
 was only happy when conversing on his affairs with 
 intelligent miners, machine makers, and learned men. 
 Knowing the distrust with which he was looked upon 
 by the old priests who held the livings in his different 
 parishes, he but rarely appeared at church, a circum 
 stance which but little contributed to raise his reputa 
 tion in the neighborhood. 
 
 It happened once that a band of gipsies, who 
 at that time roved about in Germany with little 
 molestation, came to these parts. The nobles of 
 the country, as well as the government, were un 
 decided and dilatory in checking this nuisance, 
 and the boundaries of several states meeting here, 
 the tribe could carry on their depredations with im 
 punity, and even unnoticed. Where they did not 
 receive any thing, they robbed ; where they were 
 resisted, they came at night and burnt the barns ; 
 and in this manner the me on one occasion rapidly 
 spreading, two villages were burnt to the ground. 
 Count Moritz was induced by this circumstance to 
 unite with some resolute neighbors, and to pursue 
 and punish, on his own authority, the lawless tribe. 
 Imprisonment, scourging, flogging, and starvation, 
 were awarded by him without reference to any au- 
 3* 
 
42 THE TOKEN. 
 
 thority, and only some who were convicted of arson 
 were sent to the town for what was called the gipsy 
 trial, and were then legally condemned to suffer 
 capital punishment. 
 
 The count, considering himself the benefactor of 
 his country, could not help feeling mortified when 
 his enviers and calumniators used this very circum 
 stance to accuse him of the blackest crimes, and 
 the most atrocious injustice. To this ingratitude he 
 opposed nothing but calm indignation, and a contempt 
 which was perhaps too magnanimous ; for if a noble 
 man always preserves silence, calumny and falsehood 
 will be more readily believed by the foolish and those 
 who have no character to lose. If he could not pre 
 vail on himself to meet his opponents and to relate 
 the circumstance in detail, he felt himself quite dis 
 armed on discovering how much he was misunder 
 stood in his family, and by the being who was near 
 est to his heart. He had married late in life, and 
 his wife having a few days before presented him with 
 a son, was still confined to her room. In her pre 
 sent weak state he could not dispute or urge w r ith 
 any force the justice of his proceedings, when she 
 reproached him with the cruelty he had exercised 
 towards these poor innocent men, who rather deserved 
 his compassion than such hard persecution. When 
 on leaving her chamber some old cousins told him the 
 same thing in plainer terms, he could no longer sup 
 press his rage ; and his replies were so wrathful, his 
 
THE KLAUSENBUKG. 43 
 
 curses so vehement, the gestures of the irritated man so 
 superhuman, that the old prattling women lost their 
 composure and almost swooned. To prevent his sick 
 wife from learning all this, he immediately sent them 
 by main force to another of his estates, and then rode 
 to a solitary part of the mountains, partly to divert 
 his thoughts and strengthen himself by the sublime 
 aspect of nature, and partly to resume the pursuit 
 of the gipsies. But what was his astonishment when 
 he learned from his ranger that those noblemen who 
 in conjunction with him, had undertaken the war 
 against these vagabonds, had dispersed and retired to 
 their seats without giving him notice ! 
 
 Without being disconcerted at this, he again 
 succeeded in apprehending some of them who were 
 guilty of heavy crimes, and ordered them to be 
 bound and thrown into a secure dungeon. When 
 after having dismissed his attendants, he rode 
 thoughtfully back alone towards the Klausenburg, 
 the aged castellan on his arriving at the gate gave 
 him a packet which had been sent by the govern 
 ment. This he opened with anticipating vexation, 
 and was so surprised by its contents that his anger 
 rose, and he became infuriated almost to madness. 
 The purport of the letters it contained was no less 
 than a penal accusation for murder and high treason 
 in consequence of the count s having, on his own au 
 thority, and as leader of an armed troop, seditiously 
 opposed the government. Almost senseless, he. 
 
44 THE TOKEN. 
 
 dropped these preposterous letters, and then, recov 
 ering by a sudden effort, went to his apartment to 
 read the impeachment more calmly, and to consider 
 how he could defend himself. Passing the countess s 
 chamber, and hearing strange voices within, he hasti 
 ly opened the door, and beheld what he certainly 
 did not expect two dirty old gipsies dressed in rags, 
 sitting by the bedside of the invalid, and foretell 
 ing her fate, while they frightfully distorted their 
 hideous countenances. As might be expected, the 
 countess was horror-struck at beholding her husband 
 enter, for what he now did was truly barbarous. 
 In his fury he scarcely knew what he did, and seiz 
 ing the old prophetesses by their long gray hair, he 
 dragged them out of the room and threw them down 
 the staircase. He then commanded the servants, 
 who came crowding around, to secure them to a 
 stone pillar in the yard, to bare their backs, and 
 chastise them with whips as long as the strength, of 
 the ministers of his cruelty would hold out. His 
 orders were executed. 
 
 Having locked himself in his room, he was hor 
 rified, on becoming calmer, as he reflected on the 
 barbarities he had committed. From these thoughts 
 he was aroused by a loud knocking at the door. He 
 opened it, and a servant in evident terror entered, 
 saying, " Oh ! gracious count, I was afraid you 
 were ill, or perhaps dead, for I have been knocking 
 for a long time, without receiving any answer from 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 4o 
 
 your lordship." " What do you want ? " " The 
 eldest of these hideous witches/ replied the servant, 
 "insists on speaking to you for a minute before she 
 leaves the castle. She will not be refused, and the 
 most severe threats and curses avail nothing with 
 the old woman/ The count ordered the ill-used wo 
 man to be led to his room. The appearance of the 
 poor creature was frightful, and the count himself 
 started back with horror, when she presented herself 
 covered with blood, her face and arms lacerated, and 
 a deep wound in her head, which was still uncover 
 ed. u I thank you," she said, " kind brother, for the 
 Christian kindness that you have shown me in your 
 palace. You are, indeed, a virtuous man, a persecu 
 tor of vice, an impartial judge, and a punisher of 
 crimes ; and I suppose you would call yourself an 
 avenging angel in the service of your God. Do you 
 know then, tender-hearted man, why we were sitting 
 by the bedside of your wife ? We had, indeed, told 
 her fortune, but the real object of our visit was to 
 speak to you, and you were not in your hospitable 
 house. It was our wish to separate from the gang, 
 and seek a humble and honest living. We know 
 the haunt where the leader conceals himself, that 
 notorious incendiary whom you have so long sought 
 in vain, and intended to deliver him into your 
 hands ; but you are worse than the most atrocious 
 of our gang, and as you have shown us to-day so 
 much kindness, a curse for it shall light upon you, 
 
46 THE TOKEN. 
 
 your family and your offspring, to the third and 
 fourth generation." 
 
 The count, who had now repented of his hasty 
 wrath, wished to appease the awful woman, by 
 speaking kindly to her, and offering her, by way of 
 reconciliation, his purse well filled with gold. She 
 cast an evil, though covetous look at the gold, and, 
 grinding her teeth, threw the purse at the count s 
 feet. " That mammon," she cried, {e would have 
 made me and my poor sister happy, but after the 
 meal you have given us, I would rather gnaw the 
 bark of trees than receive the wealth from your ac 
 cursed hands." Various and many were the curses 
 she continued heaping on him, and the torments and 
 misfortunes she denounced against him and his 
 house. When she had finished, she tottered down 
 the stone staircase, all the servants fleeing from her 
 as from a spectre. 
 
 From this moment the count was a changed 
 man. His energies were crushed. He lived as in a 
 dream, having no wish, and being incapable of form 
 ing a single resolution. Those around him could 
 not learn whether he was deeply shocked by the 
 death of his consort, who died the night after that 
 fatal day. Since that time he was scarcely ever 
 heard to speak or to utter a sound, sigh, or complaint. 
 He no longer concerned himself about any thing, and 
 seemed perfectly indifferent when the government 
 confiscated his largest estate to punish him as a re 
 bel and violator of the laws. In his present state 
 

 ~7 
 
 THE KLAUSENBUKG. 47 
 
 of mind, he abandoned himself to the guidance of 
 those very priests whom previously he had so point 
 edly avoided ; he frequented the church often, and 
 was fervent in his devotions. He never looked 
 around when people behind him called out, " There 
 sneaks the old sinner,the traitor, the murderer and re 
 bel, back again into God s house." Now like wise some 
 relatives profited by his listlessness, so far as to de 
 prive him by a lawsuit of another large estate, and 
 there was every appearance that of all the large pos 
 sessions of his ancestors, nothing would be left for 
 his only heir, a beautiful boy, had not a prudent 
 guardian of the child done all in his power for him. 
 From the unconcern of his father, the young count 
 became daily more impoverished, leaving to his off 
 spring but a small portion of the large property to 
 which he had succeeded ; but, notwithstanding these 
 misfortunes, and also the breaking out of war, the 
 next proprietor of the Klausenburg, and his family, 
 maintained their rank, and were respected in the 
 neighborhood. By his industry, his success, and 
 his marriage with a wealthy lady, he partly retriev 
 ed his fortune, and succeeded in his endeavors to re 
 vive and maintain the former splendor of his castle 
 for some fifty or sixty years, so that his friends and 
 relatives resorted to it as formerly, with delight, and 
 he, at his death, left to his only son his remaining 
 estates in good condition, besides large sums of 
 money. Thus the curse of the gipsies appeared to- 
 
48 THE TOKEN. 
 
 tally removed, the count and his son having com 
 pletely forgotten former events, or having, perhaps, 
 never heard of the curse. 
 
 I was a spirited boy when I made the acquaint 
 ance of Francis, the last heir of the Klausenburg. 
 This Francis, who was about a year my senior, was 
 cheerful, amiable, and handsome, and the pride of 
 his father, the persevering man who had partly re 
 stored the splendor of his ancestors. My playmate 
 grew up to be, not merely the delight of his father, 
 but of all around. He was manly, witty, and en 
 gaging, an accomplished dancer, and expert horse 
 man, and in fencing, had not his equal. After 
 being presented at court, he soon gained the prince s 
 favor, by his natural vivacity, and in a few years 
 was raised to the office of counsellor. Few men 
 on earth had fairer prospects of a happy life. All 
 mothers and aunts in the neighborhood saw, and 
 hoped to find in him, the future husband of their 
 daughters and nieces, and at the assemblies in the 
 capital he was the adored and chosen hero of the 
 ladies, as he was the object of envy and persecution 
 among the young fashionables. No one could con 
 ceive why he so long deferred his choice, and, for a 
 longtime, people would not credit the rumors that 
 were circulated, that he had formed an engagement 
 with the young princess. It was confidently whis 
 pered that the lovers waited only for some favorable 
 chance, or occurrence, to acknowledge publicly their 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 49 
 
 mutual affection and wishes. However, nothing of 
 the kind happened, and years passed, and with them 
 faded the rumors, and various interpretations of 
 sage politicians. 
 
 Suddenly, when the affair seemed forgotten, my 
 youthful friend was banished the court and capital 
 in disgrace. All his former friends forsook him, and 
 what was still worse, an intrigue, countenanced by 
 the government, involved him in a dangerous lawsuit, 
 which threatened the loss of his fortune. Thus then 
 this courted, admired, and universally caressed Fran 
 cis, saw himself in the very worst position, and was 
 obliged to confess that his career was closed, and 
 that all his splendid prospects were darkened for 
 ever. 
 
 About this time I saw him again ; he bore his 
 misfortune manfully. He was still as youthful and 
 handsome as ever, and the serenity of his temper 
 had suffered but little. We were travelling in this 
 neighborhood, and the Klausenburg having gone to 
 ruin, he built a pleasant house not far distant, on 
 the slope of a hill, from whence he enjoyed a beau 
 tiful prospect. 
 
 He avoided speaking of former circumstances, 
 but one evening he was deeply affected by a letter 
 announcing the decease of the young princess, who 
 had died of a broken heart ; or, as was afterwards 
 said, had voluntarily sought death, because she 
 
50 THE TOKEN. 
 
 could no longer bear the burden of her embittered 
 life. 
 
 It was evident to me that a deep-seated melan 
 choly had taken possession of my friend, and often 
 showed itself ; his mind, however, was not so affect 
 ed as to display any symptoms of weariness of life, 
 which made me hope that his misfortune, and the 
 evil fate that had attended him, would serve to 
 purify his character, and give him that genuine 
 deportment which is essential even to those who are 
 not tried by calamity, and much more to those who 
 have to pass through heavy trials. 
 
 There lived in the neighborhood, about that 
 time, a wild old woman, who was half crazy, and 
 who went begging from village to village. 
 
 The higher class called her jokingly, the Sibyl, 
 the common people did not hesitate to call her a 
 witch. The place of her residence was not exactly 
 known ; probably she had no certain place of resort, 
 as she was constantly seen on the high-roads, and 
 roaming in every direction in the country. Some 
 old rangers maintained that she was a descendant 
 of that notorious gang of gipsies whom Count Mo- 
 ritz many years before had persecuted and dispersed. 
 
 Walking one day in a beautiful beech-wood, and 
 engaged in conversation, which made us forget the 
 world without, we suddenly saw, at a turn of the 
 footpath, the old hideous Sibyl before us. Being 
 both in a cheerful mood, we were rather astonished, 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 51 
 
 but in no way startled. Having dismissed the im 
 pudent beggar by giving her some money, she hasti 
 ly returned, saying : " Will not you have your for 
 tunes told for what you have given to me ? " 
 
 " If it is something good that you can tell me, 
 you may earn a few more pence." 
 
 I held out to her my hand, at which she looked 
 very carefully, and then said, scornfully : " My good 
 sir, you have a miserable hand, which would puzzle 
 even the best fortune-teller. Such a middling per 
 son, neither one thing nor the other, as you, I have 
 never seen in all my life : you are neither wise nor 
 stupid, neither bad nor good, neither fortunate nor 
 unfortunate ; without passions, mind, virtue, or vice ; 
 you are what I call a real A. B. C. scholar of Heav 
 en s blockheads, and you will not in all your life 
 have the slight merit of ever perceiving your own in 
 significance. From your paltry hand and unmean 
 ing countenance nothing at all can be prophesied ; a 
 dry fungus, without it is first prepared and macera 
 ted, cannot even receive a spark. Therefore, Jack 
 Mean-nothing, your dull nature will never live to 
 see any thing worth telling." 
 
 My friend Francis did not laugh at the old wo 
 man s opinion and description of my character, but 
 being attached to me, his anger rose, and he repro 
 ved her in strong terms. She listened very calmly 
 to what he said, and then replied : " Why are you 
 so angry ? If you will not give me something more 
 
52 THE TOKEN. 
 
 for my trouble and wisdom, let me go quietly. No 
 doubt men do not like to have their innermost heart 
 exposed to the daylight. Is it my fault that there 
 is nothing better in your friend s character ? He is 
 neither my son nor disciple." Thus the prophetess 
 meant to justify and atone for her insolence by 
 repeating it anew. My friend was pacified, and 
 gave her a ducat, saying : " Make merry with that, 
 where do you live ? " 
 
 " Where do I live ? " she replied ; " my roof 
 changes so often that I cannot tell or describe it to 
 you ; not unfrequently it is open, and my compan 
 ion is the howling storm ; where men have not built 
 houses they usually call it nature. But I thank you, 
 and must requite your kindness." Quickly and for 
 cibly taking the unwilling hand of my friend, she 
 held it firmly between her bony fingers, and consid 
 ered it for some time ; then letting the arm drop, 
 with a sigh she said in a tone of voice expressive of 
 deep sorrow, " Son, son ; you descend from wicked 
 blood, are an evil scion of evil ancestors but fortu 
 nately you are the last of your race, for your children 
 would be more evil still. What begins in evil must 
 end in evil. Ah ! ah ! your physiognomy ; your 
 expression ; your whole countenance ; I feel almost 
 as if I saw a murderer before me. Yes ! yes ! you 
 have killed a young, beautiful, and noble maiden. 
 On her dying bed she long struggled with grief and 
 anguish. ye wicked men, can you not be faithful 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 53 
 
 and keep your oaths. It is not only daggers, swords, 
 and guns, that cut and kill ; looks and sweet words 
 will also do it. Oh, those seductive words, and all 
 that pretended affection ! Now this splendid frame 
 that first dazzled your foolish eye, breaks, and is con 
 signed to corruption. Beauty ! oh thou fatal gift of 
 Heaven ! and besides, murderer, you are handsome 
 enough to kill others. The curses of your father 
 follow you now, whether you dwell in the forest or in 
 your finely tapestried rooms. See you not, feel you 
 not, how, coming from the very heart, they waft 
 misfortune and misery towards you, as the stormy 
 wind scatters the dry leaves in the valleys between 
 the mountains ? Where is your peace, your happi- 
 piness, your confidence ? All scattered, like the 
 drifting sand in the barren plain ; no fruit can there 
 strike root." 
 
 Suddenly the crazy woman shouted aloud, and 
 ran shrieking and yelling discordantly into the thick 
 est part of the wood. When I looked round, I was 
 terrified on seeing my friend become pale as death. 
 He shook so violently that he could not support him 
 self, but sank on a hillock beside him. I sat down 
 by him, and endeavored to comfort and quiet him. 
 
 " Is this madwoman," he exclaimed, " inspired 
 by truth ? does she really see the past and the fu 
 ture, or are those only mad sounds which she utters 
 in brutish thoughtlessness ; and if it be so, have not 
 
51 THE TOKEN". 
 
 such random words been perhaps the genuine oracles 
 in all ages ? " 
 
 He now gave way to tears and loud lamentations ; 
 he called loudly in the air, what hitherto he had so 
 carefully and mysteriously locked up in his heart. 
 
 " Yes ! " he exclaimed ; "accursed be every tal 
 ent, speech, grace, and all the gifts with which a 
 malicious fate endowed us to ruin ourselves and 
 others ! Could I not have avoided her first kind 
 look ? Why did I suffer myself to be infatuated, to 
 exchange glance for glance, and then word for word ? 
 Yes ! she was lovely, noble, and graceful ; but in 
 my heart there arose together with better feelings, 
 the vanity that even she, the most exalted, distin 
 guished me. I approached her nearer, more boldly, 
 more decidedly, and my pure exalted sentiments 
 surprised and won her. She gave me her confidence. 
 Her heart was so virtuous, so noble ; all her youthful 
 feelings were so tender and fervent ; it was a para 
 dise that opened to our view. Childishly enough, 
 we thought that no higher happiness on earth 
 could be offered us, the present heavenly moment 
 sufficed. But now passion awoke in my heart. This 
 she expected not, she was terrified, and withdrew. 
 This goaded my self-love ; I felt unhappy, crushed, 
 and ill. Her compassion was moved, and she no 
 longer avoided me. By means of an attendant in our 
 confidence, we were able to meet without witnesses. 
 Our intercourse became more tender, our love more 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 55 
 
 defined and ardent ; but as these feelings were embo 
 died in language, and expressed more definitely, the 
 paradisiacal breath, the heavenly bloom was fled for 
 ever. It was happiness, but changed in character ; it 
 was more earthly, more kindly, more confiding, but was 
 not surrounded by that magic which had transported 
 me formerly, so that I could frequently ask myself 
 when alone, i are you really happy ? Alas ! my 
 friend, as we saw each other so often, how many fool 
 ish and mad projects were then conceived ! 
 
 " We talked, we conversed of the future of which 
 those who ardently love never think in the early pe 
 riod of their ecstacies. Once an opportunity of an 
 alliance likely to add to the lustre of her house pre 
 sented itself. What fury and bitter rancor were 
 aroused in me ! For only appearing favorably 
 disposed towards this illustrious alliance, she suffered 
 much from my anger. My passion was ignoble, as 
 she deeply felt, more from her love to me, than from 
 the sufferings it caused her. Oh ! she was never 
 able to erase from her soul this picture of my mad 
 ness. To alleviate my sufferings and completely to 
 reconcile me, she stooped to my mean and rude na 
 ture. Our hearts harmonised again, but from the 
 lowering clouds that now surrounded me, I looked 
 back with yearnings to that heavenly serenity that 
 first shone dazzlingly upon me so. In imagination 
 we lived as though affianced, and dreamt of our 
 union, of unexpected bliss, of varied pleasures, and 
 
56 THE TOKEN. 
 
 turns of fate never to be realised. But these were 
 misty visions, and we considered the greatest im 
 probabilities as near and natural. The habitual 
 thoughts of our love gradually destroyed necessary 
 precaution. The looks of spies were watchful, and 
 were sharpened by our imprudence. Rumors were 
 circulated, which perhaps never would have reached 
 the prince himself, had not his own glance suspected 
 and discovered our connection. He now learnt more 
 from his questions than he desired to know, and far 
 more than was in accordance with truth. One even 
 ing he sent for me to attend him alone in his closet, 
 and displayed to me in this serious interview all the 
 nobleness of his great mind. Without reproaching 
 me, he ascribed to himself alone the immediate cause 
 of my presumption, saying that he had treated me 
 with too much confidence, nay almost like a son ; 
 that he had deviated too much from his rank and 
 the laws of etiquette ; that he had foolishly rejoiced 
 in the thought of his daughter being able by inter 
 course with me to improve her mind. As he became 
 more serious, I assured the agitated father by my 
 honor, and by all that is sacred, which indeed was 
 in accordance with the truth, that our mutual pas 
 sion had never led us astray, and that our better 
 genius had never forsaken us. At this he became 
 tranquil, and only replied by prohibiting as I had 
 anticipated. I was not allowed to meet his daughter 
 again privately. I was to endeavor by degrees to 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 57 
 
 heal the wounds which our separation caused, to 
 eradicate the affection, which I had so rashly kindled, 
 by my good sense and demeanor, and thereby to 
 make myself worthy to regain the confidence and 
 love of the prince. 
 
 " Suddenly I felt as if the veil had fallen from 
 my eyes," continued Francis, " indeed, I may say, 
 that by this interview, I was quite a changed being. 
 Truth and reality had now, at length, with victori 
 ous power, asserted their ascendency over me. Many 
 periods of life may be compared to a vivid fantastic 
 dream ; we awake to sober consciousness, but still 
 feel the reality of the vision. 
 
 " But, ah ! my friend, this truth created^ a hell 
 within me. My mind yielded to the noble father in 
 every thing. He was right in the fullest sense of the 
 word. If I admired Juliet, and recognised her worth ; 
 if she was my friend, and I sufficiently important to 
 elevate her mind, what had that to do with our passion 
 and my efforts to possess her ? With this conviction 
 I was now penetrated, and the feeling exerted a be 
 nign influence over me. But how different were her 
 feelings ! When such changes occur, women usually 
 suffer from the consuming fire of passion. What let 
 ters did I receive from her, when I had communicated 
 to her my resolution and the advice that we must sub 
 mit to necessity ! I almost repeated the words which 
 I had heard from her beautiful lips when I urged my 
 ardent attachment. She now listened in a spirit dif- 
 4 
 
58 THE TOKEN. 
 
 ferent from that which harassed her formerly ; deaf 
 to all advice, unsusceptible to every kindness, inac 
 cessible to conviction, she only listened to the wild 
 suggestions of her ardent affection. My reason seem 
 ed to her cowardice, my resignation baseness. She 
 alone was exclusively to be considered in the question 
 that agitated my heart. In short, she now played 
 the same part that I had done formerly. Looking 
 back upon my former conduct with repentance and 
 shame, I hoped I should be able, by calm persever 
 ance, to bring her gradually to the same conviction. 
 But she frustrated my hopes. It was singular that 
 I was made unhappy by possessing, in the fullest 
 measure, what I had formerly considered my supreme 
 felicity ; and that my most fervent desire extended 
 no further than to be able to restore her to tran 
 quillity, nay, even to produce coldness and indiffer 
 ence. 
 
 " So whimsical are the gods frequently towards 
 us in the bestowal of their gifts. 
 
 " My letters grieved her deeper and deeper, as 
 she showed by her replies. Thence it was that I 
 could not but wish myself once more able to obtain 
 a tete-a-tete with her in some evening hour, such as I 
 had formerly enjoyed over and over again. By bribery, 
 entreaty, and humiliation, I succeeded. 
 
 " But, oh, Heavens ! how different was this Juliet 
 from her who once had so enraptured and inspired 
 me. With her grief, her mortified feelings and her 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 59 
 
 offended pride, she resembled a raving Bacchante. 
 On approaching her, I said to myself : ( To this state 
 then has my love, vanity, and eloquence, reduced 
 her ! Oh ! ye men, who, by your power, are able to 
 elevate these tender beings to angels, or change them 
 to wild furies ! But these reflections came too late. 
 If her letters were violent, her words were raging. No 
 thing in the whole world she desired, except my love. 
 She cared for nothing ; every thing seemed right and 
 desirable, flight into the open world, sacrifice of sta 
 tion, mortification of her father and family. I was 
 terrified at this distraction, that seemed to fear and 
 dread nothing. The more persuasive my manner, 
 and the more desirous I was to convince her of the 
 unavoidable necessity of submiting, the more furious 
 in words and gestures she became. She would fly 
 with me immediately. I felt it required nothing more 
 than to express the wish, and she would have sur 
 rendered herself, in this distraction, totally and un 
 conditionally. I was wretched from my inmost heart ; 
 indeed, all my energies were annihilated. 
 
 " I learned that the prince had only spoken to 
 her in hints ; the truth was known to her only from 
 our correspondence. She blamed me, her father, and 
 fate, and only became calm after a floo 1 of tears. I 
 was obliged to promise to see her again in a few days 
 in order to discuss the means of her flight. Thus my 
 feelings were so changed that I feared this once ador 
 ed Juliet, and, indeed, could not help despising her. 
 
60 THE TOKEN. 
 
 And yet she was the same, and only the unhappy 
 passion that I had infused from my heart into hers 
 had rendered her thus infatuated. I trembled again 
 to see her. I was at a loss what to say, what pre 
 text for delay, or what excuses to invent. Thus 
 some weeks passed, during which we only exchanged 
 letters. To conclude, I saw her again. She seemed 
 ill, hut still in that excitement which would not 
 listen to reason. She had provided a carriage, packed 
 up her jewels, made the necessary preparations on the 
 frontier, procured passports, and powerful protec 
 tions in distant countries ; in short she had done all 
 that madness of an unbounded love could undertake. 
 I treated her as an invalid who does not know her 
 own state, humored all her extravagances, and 
 praised her most whimsical plans. Thus she thought 
 we agreed, and in a week we were to fly during a 
 masquerade^ while all were busied, and no one could 
 be recognised. To satisfy her for the moment I agreed 
 to every thing, but proposed in my own heart to quit 
 the court and the town. While we were thus dis 
 cussing our highly reasonable projects I suddenly 
 perceived behind us the prince, who had been for 
 some time listening to our conversation. The scene 
 which then took place I will not attempt to describe. 
 The father s anger overstepped all bounds on finding 
 me untrue to my promise, since he was convinced 
 that I quite agreed to all the wild plans of his daughter. 
 She cast herself at his feet totally unlike the beauti- 
 
THE KLAUSENBUKG. 61 
 
 ful being she was formerly, she resembled an autom 
 aton moved by powerful springs, a figure only mani 
 festing life in convulsive gestures. It is astonishing 
 that we ever outlive some moments. I was banished, 
 obliged to fly into solitude, and for a long time heard 
 nothing of the city or what occurred there, as I 
 avoided all intercourse with men. When I in some 
 measure recovered my tranquillity of mind, and was 
 able to bear the sight of friends, I heard that she was 
 suffering from an incurable disease, and that her life 
 was despaired of by the physician. How whimsically 
 does fate sport with man and all human intentions ! 
 I was informed that her father in the extremity of 
 grief, would willingly have given me his beloved 
 child had he been able thereby to save her ; that 
 he would have despised the opinion of the world, and 
 the objections of his family, could he by these means 
 have saved his Juliet, by whose illness he had first 
 learnt how much he loved her, and how much his life 
 was bound up in hers. All was in vain, she died 
 in agonies, calling for me, and the disconsolate father 
 heaped execrations upon me that will overtake me, 
 ay, as surely as her own." 
 
 These are, as nearly as possible, the affecting 
 confessions of my unhappy friend. He added, in con 
 clusion, that the whole of his property would be lost, 
 unless he discovered a certain document for which 
 he had long been searching, but which he could find 
 nowhere. 
 
62 THE TOKEN. 
 
 There are sufferings during which it is foolish to 
 make even the attempt at offering consolation. Such 
 sufferings must he lived through, they are peculiar to 
 human nature, and he who is not overwhelmed by 
 them, hut survives them, will afterwards see that to 
 pass such a severe reprobation was essential to his 
 happiness. 
 
 " I am convinced," said my friend a few days 
 afterwards, when I took leave of him, " that these 
 execrations and the prophecies of the old fury will 
 visit me. My life will be consumed in illness, misery, 
 delirium, and poverty. The spirit of the departed 
 will tread in my footsteps and sow poison, where, 
 perhaps, some joy might otherwise have sprung." 
 
 I began to comfort him, calling to my aid, hope 
 and consolation from every source, because such ap 
 prehensions are generally imaginary, and may be com 
 bated. Hope is at least more infinite than the all- 
 engrossing sensation of such visionary fear. We 
 separated, and for a long time I heard nothing of my 
 friend Francis. I lived in foreign countries and re 
 turned some years after the period in question. 
 
 We had not kept up any correspondence. I was 
 therefore surprised and delighted by his first letter 
 which I received in my own comfortable home. There 
 was no allusion to his former sufferings ; all was for 
 gotten. Time and fortune had transformed my 
 friend into a truly new being. He wrote to me of 
 his approaching marriage. The most beautiful girl 
 
THE KLAUSENBUKG. 68 
 
 of the country, young, cheerful, and innocent, had 
 bestowed her affections upon him ; and on the very 
 day on which their vows were exchanged, he had, 
 after years of fruitless search, discovered the impor 
 tant document which would complete their nuptial 
 happiness. The melanchoy time, he informed me, 
 had vanished from his mind, his youth seemed re 
 newed, and now only he hegan to live. In a week 
 his marriage was to be celebrated, and he urged me 
 to come and be a witness of his happiness. 
 
 It would have delighted me to have complied 
 with his invitation, had not my uncle, who lived 
 forty miles distant, and was then lying on his death 
 bed, called me from home. The prince, who bitter 
 ly hated and persecuted my friend, had died in the 
 meanwhile, so that, in all human probability, there 
 was the prospect that every thing ominous, mena 
 cing, and fatal, would fade away and be forgotten, and 
 that spirts of fortune and delight would henceforth 
 draw my friend s car of life. 
 
 My stay with my uncle, who was dying, was pro 
 tracted. His sufferings lasted longer than his phy 
 sicians had expected, and I was glad that my pre 
 sence was so consoling and beneficial to him. After 
 his death, I had various business to transact, to exe 
 cute his will, to make arrangements with the remain 
 ing relatives, part of his fortune being left to me 
 and to settle all to our mutual satisfaction. As 
 journeys were required for these matters, nearly eigh- 
 
64 THE TOKEN. 
 
 teen months elapsed before they were completed. 
 The journeys had carried me far from our neighbor 
 hood, and I must confess that these circumstances, 
 and the pressure of business, had almost caused me to 
 forget my friend Francis. He had not written to 
 me, nor had I heard any thing of him, and I was, 
 therefore, convinced that it was well with him ; that 
 he was married and happy in his new condition. Be 
 ing soon after near Switzerland I made a tour to that 
 country, and then visited a watering-place on the 
 Khine, to which my medical adviser had long before 
 recommended me. 
 
 Here I abandoned myself to amusements, enjoy 
 ed the beauties of nature during my rambles, and 
 felt happier than I had been for some time. Being 
 one day at the table d hote, I accidentally looked over 
 the list of visitors, and found that my friend Francis, 
 with his wife, had been a week in the town. I won 
 dered he had not found me out, as my name must 
 have struck him in the list. However, I accounted 
 for his not doing so, by saying to myself that he had 
 not looked over the leaves attentively, that he had not 
 heard my name mentioned, or that possibly he might 
 be seriously ill and would see no company. Satisfied 
 so far, I called upon him, and was told he was -not at 
 home. I hoped to meet him in my walks, but per 
 ceived him nowhere. Calling the following day, I re 
 ceived the same answer, that he had gone out. I left 
 my card, requesting he would pay me a visit or tell 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 65 
 
 me when he would receive me. I heard nothing 
 from him. The next morning early, I called again, 
 and the servant again replied, with a troubled coun 
 tenance, that his master was already from home. 
 
 Now I plainly saw, that Francis did not choose 
 to see me, and had denied himself. I endeavored to 
 call to my memory, whether I had at any time given 
 him offence ; but after the strictest scrutiny, could 
 not find the least spot on my conscience respecting 
 him. I therefore wrote him rather a severe letter, 
 requiring him to see me, and that not merely from 
 friendship to me, but from the respect he owed 
 himself. 
 
 When I called again, I was admitted, and hav 
 ing waited for some time in the room, I saw a 
 stranger approaching from the adjoining chamber, 
 not like a human being, but a tottering, trembling 
 skeleton, with a pale, sunken countenance, which, 
 but for the fiery eye, one might have taken for the 
 face of a corpse. " Great God ! " I exclaimed with 
 horror, as I recognised in this spectre my friend 
 Francis, that once handsome, noble fellow. 
 
 I sank terrified into a chair, and he sat down by 
 me, took my hand between his withered fingers, and 
 said, " Yes ! my friend, thus we again meet, and 
 you now understand why I wished to spare you this 
 sad sight. Yes ! friend, all those curses have been 
 realised, and calamity has overtaken me, however 
 actively I endeavored to escape it ; my life is ex- 
 4* 
 
66 THE TOKEN. 
 
 hausted by disease, as well as that of my youthful 
 wife, once a. paragon of beauty ; I arn a beggar, and 
 all hope is gone for ever." 
 
 Still I could not recover from my astonishment ; 
 the first chilling terror was succeeded by the deepest 
 compassion and ineffable sympathy in my soul, and 
 my unfortunate friend saw my tears flow. 
 
 " But how has all this been possible ? " I ex 
 claimed. " Speak ; confide all to your friend." 
 
 " Spare me," he said, in a faint voice, "let us 
 throw a veil over these calamities, for what good can 
 it do you to know the why and wherefore ? You 
 would not comprehend nor believe it, and still less 
 could your advice or consolation avail any thing." 
 
 I could make no reply, his distress seemed so 
 great, that he was, perhaps, right in what he said. 
 Words, details, and complaints, are often only 
 stings to the deadly wound. I requested him to 
 introduce me to his wife. He led her in. She 
 seemed to suffer equally with himself, but still 
 showed evident traces of beauty. She was of a tall, 
 noble figure, her blue eye was of a piercing clear 
 ness, and her sweet-toned voice was full of soul. 
 After some conversation, the physician entered, and 
 I took my leave, making it a condition, that in 
 future he would not refuse to see me. 
 
 I required rest to collect myself, and therefore, 
 sought the most solitary spot to arrange my 
 thoughts and feelings. How strange, in these ino- 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 67 
 
 ments, appeared human life, friendship, death, and 
 health ! In these my dreams, I was interrupted by 
 a friendly voice addressing me. It was the physi 
 cian, an elderly good-natured man, who sat down 
 beside me. " I have learned," he began, " that you 
 are a youthful friend of our poor patient, and have 
 sought you to consult with you, respecting his 
 lamentable and enigmatical state. I have never 
 met with a similar illness, I do not understand it, 
 and, therefore, am but groping in the dark with my 
 remedies ; nor do I know whether the waters here 
 are salutary to him or his sick wife, who seems 
 wasting away from the same complaint. I have no 
 name for this wasting fever, which defies all known 
 remedies. Sometimes I could almost imagine them 
 insane, did not reason absolutely manifest itself. 
 But even should their minds be unimpaired, they 
 are, doubtless, hypochondriacs. And the worst 
 is, the count will not communicate freely, but, on 
 the contrary, anxiously avoids all questions respect 
 ing his condition, and all inquiries as to its cause 
 and commencement. I do not wish to irritate him, 
 though my inquiries and questions have more than 
 once had that effect, and yet it seems necessary to 
 learn from himself the history of his complaint. I 
 therefore request you, dear sir, to exert your influ 
 ence with him, as his friend, that he may confess to 
 us the origin of his illness. If I once knew this, it 
 might, perhaps, be possible to afford) relief to both 
 
68 THE TOKEN. 
 
 of them. If the disease is mental, of which I feel 
 almost convinced, the physician must be in their 
 confidence to afford relief; but if this is withheld, 
 he may cause even death, not only by his prescrip 
 tions, but by an unguarded word. I therefore con 
 jure you to do all in your power to make him con 
 fide every thing to you." I promised all he desired, 
 for I had long entertained the same opinion. But 
 when, on the following day, I remonstrated with 
 my friend, I found the task more difficult than I 
 expected, as he was inaccessible on that point. He 
 did not yield until I united tears to my entreaties, 
 and his suffering wife joined with me, as the hope 
 arose within her that the physician might be able to 
 afford relief to her husband. He stipulated that 
 whatever he should communicate should be com 
 municated in private to me alone, undisturbed, and 
 without even the presence of his wife, who would be 
 much pained at the relation. 
 
 Thus was it arranged. My little room looking 
 on the garden was so quiet and retired, that no in 
 trusion was to be feared, and after a frugal supper 
 I dismissed the servant, enjoining him not to admit 
 any one. The invalid countess was left with her 
 attendants, and a lady of my acquaintance kindly 
 read some amusing work to her during her husband s 
 absence. 
 
 We sat then in my well lighted little room, 
 while the summer breezes murmured sweetly through 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 69 
 
 the trees without. My sick friend was on the sofa, 
 and the physician and myself were opposite, when 
 Francis began slowly and with many pauses (as 
 speaking seemed painful to him) the following 
 narrative : 
 
 " Yes, my friend, you see me again, ill and dying, 
 and my wife, who but two years since was a paragon 
 of health and beauty, is no less afflicted. The 
 Klausenburg which more than once sheltered us so 
 hospitably is become a desolate ruin ; storms and 
 fire have destroyed it, and whatever useful material 
 remained was wrested from it by my cruel creditors 
 in derision, and sold for a mere trifle. You know, 
 my friend, the belief or rather superstition that fol 
 lowed me, but with this I will not weary our good 
 physician, as it had no sensible influence on my im 
 mediate fate. I have, moreover, so much of the 
 marvellous to tell in the recent events that have 
 befallen me, that it will be more than sufficient fully 
 to convince the learned doctor that I am insane. 
 
 " Young as I was I had already resigned life, 
 since I considered it completely at a close. But as 
 it frequently happens that the power of a beautiful 
 spring will revive a tree apparently lifeless, so that 
 its branches again become verdant, and at last one 
 blossom springs from them, so it happened with me. 
 Travelling about in a misanthropical mood I stopped 
 in a small town situate in a delightful country, and 
 through my introductions made acquaintance with 
 
70 THE TOKEN". 
 
 some interesting people. One of these, a distant 
 relative, who received me most kindly, introduced 
 me to his family, where, for the first time I saw my 
 beloved Elizabeth, and at the second visit I had lost 
 my heart and peace of mind. But wherefore dwell 
 on charms that are fled ? Suffice it to say that I 
 was enraptured, and flattered myself that my feel 
 ings were understood, and might perhaps in a short 
 time be returned. Elizabeth was residing with an 
 aged aunt ; they were neither of them wealthy, 
 though they belonged to an ancient family. I was 
 superior to the talk and astonishment of the towns 
 people, and I stayed a long while in this insignifi 
 cant place, where there was neither a theatre to 
 amuse, nor large assemblies, balls, and festivals to 
 engage me. I was so happy that I only lived for, 
 and enjoyed, the present moment. The family was 
 very musical, and Elizabeth a truly accomplished per 
 former on the pianoforte. Her voice was highly cul 
 tivated, full-toned, and beautiful, and she agreeably 
 surprised me by joining in my perhaps one-sided 
 taste for ancient composition. Harmony, skill, and 
 kind looks from her beautiful eyes, all this so 
 charmed me that weeks vanished like days, and days 
 like hours in the poetical intoxication. 
 
 "I spoke of the family. The aunt too was 
 musical, and accompanied us when we sang. I also 
 found myself benefited by becoming again conscious 
 of the talents which I had so long neglected to ex- 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 71 
 
 ercise. Yes, indeed, talents, amiability, social gifts, 
 and pleasing manners, &c." continued Francis 
 after a pause, during which he seemed lost in thought 
 " the vanity of possessing these graces have ren 
 dered me and others unhappy. Speaking of the 
 family, I must now mention Ernestine, an elder 
 sister of my wife s. Their parents had died early in 
 life. They had lived at a distance from that small 
 town, in what is called good style. This they did 
 without considering their fortune, and the conse 
 quence was that they became impoverished and in 
 volved in debt. Where this confusion breaks in, 
 where the necessity of the moment ever absorbs the 
 security of the days and weeks, few men possess 
 sufficient energy and resolution firmly to hold the 
 rudder amid the tumult of a returning storm. And 
 thus the wildest and most confused management 
 had broken into this ruined household. The parents 
 not only diverted themselves in banqueting, dress, 
 and theatres, but, as it were, even with new and sin 
 gular misfortunes. The latter were more particularly 
 caused by their eldest daughter, Ernestine. This 
 poor being had, when only three years old, during 
 the confusion and bustle of a banquet, unnoticed by 
 any one, taken up a bottle of strong liquid, and 
 drinking it, became intoxicated by it, and thus had 
 unconsciously fallen down a high staircase. 
 
 " The accident had scarcely been observed, and 
 was lightly thought of when discovered. The physi- 
 
72 THE TOKEN. 
 
 cian, a jovial friend of the family, instead of apply 
 ing the proper remedies, joked on the occurrence, and 
 hence it was that those consequences soon appeared 
 in the child, which she could, in after years, justly 
 attribute to want of affection in her parents. The 
 chest-bone and spine were dislocated, so that as she 
 grew up, she became more and more deformed. 
 Being rather tall, the double hump was more strik 
 ing, her arms and hands were excessively long and 
 thin, and her lean body quite out of proportion to 
 her long legs. Her face had a singular expression, 
 the little lively and cunning eyes could hardly peep 
 forth from beneath the bony vault of her forehead, 
 and the broad, flatted nose, the chin was peaked, and 
 the cheeks were sunken. Thus this unfortunate be 
 ing was a remarkable foil to her sister Elizabeth. 
 Their aunt, when she heard the total ruin of the 
 family, had interfered and assisted them as far as her 
 limited means permitted. Thus the younger daugh 
 ter was saved and continued healthy, since the 
 father s sister had taken the children upon the death 
 of their parents, for the purpose of educating them. 
 " The physical care of Ernestine came too late, 
 but her mind was cultivated, and her talents were 
 awakened. She showed herself intelligent, learned 
 with ease, and retained what she had once acquired, 
 evidently surpassing her sister in wit and presence 
 of mind. Being fond of reading philosophical works, 
 she exercised her judgment and showed so much 
 
THE KLAUSENBUKG. 73 
 
 acuteness, that she often startled even men by her 
 bold and abrupt opinions ; not being united to her 
 own sex by beauty and grace, she not unfrequently 
 exercised a more than masculine power. But what 
 almost seemed to border on the marvellous was her 
 great talent for music. Never had I heard the 
 pianoforte played in such a perfect manner ; every 
 difficulty vanished before her, and she only laughed 
 when difficult passages were mentioned to her. 
 
 " No doubt the extraordinary span of her hand 
 and fingers assisted her in excelling all that can be 
 done by an ordinary hand. Being also well versed 
 in the art of composition, she composed with ease 
 long pieces of music which we often executed to her 
 delight. 
 
 " Could not such a being be happy independent 
 of others ? Certainly, if she had resigned herself to 
 her lot, if she could have forgotten she was a wo 
 man. Unfortunately for her, all men forgot it who 
 approached her, but she could never raise herself be 
 yond the limit so as to belong to the other sex, or 
 to none. 
 
 " This singular being attracted me in a peculiar 
 manner, both by her excellences and her repulsive- 
 ness. When they performed and I sang her composi 
 tions, there beamed in moments of excitement from 
 her small eyes, a wonderful, poetic spirit, like a 
 veiled angel humbled in the dust, with benign yet 
 
74 THE TOKEN. 
 
 terrifying splendor. This frequently made me for 
 get that she was the sister of my Elizabeth. 
 
 " Elizabeth had before refused some suitors who 
 had earnestly courted her. Entering once the ante 
 chamber unannounced, I heard both sisters engaged 
 in a lively conversation in which my name was men 
 tioned. c You will not accept him I hope/ cried 
 Ernestine ; e he suits neither you nor us ; they say 
 he is not very rich, but he is so proud, so self- suffi 
 cient, so convinced of, and so penetrated with, his 
 own excellence, that he excites my indignation 
 whenever he comes near us. You call him amiable, 
 noble ; but I tell you he is dogmatical and obsti 
 nate ; and, believe me, his mental gifts are not so 
 great as you seem to think/ 
 
 " With a gentle voice Elizabeth undertook my 
 defence, but her sister discussed all the bad traits of 
 my character so much the more, and passed all my 
 faults in review. Finding that I was the subject of 
 so much discussion, I would not surprise them by en 
 tering immediately, and thus I discovered, against 
 my expectation, the dislike the eldest sister enter 
 tained for me. I therefore resolved to reconcile this 
 unfortunate being, for whom life had so few charms 
 and joys, by kindness and benevolence. When they 
 had ceased I entered, and the aunt also joining us 
 we immediately commenced our musical exercises, 
 by which means I could best conceal my embarrass 
 ment. 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 75 
 
 "After a few visits I actually succeeded in dis 
 posing Ernestine more kindly towards me. When 
 it happened that we were alone, we were deeply en 
 gaged in serious conversation, arid I could not help 
 admiring both her mind and acquirements. I could 
 not hut agree with her, when she often spoke with 
 contempt of those men who only esteem and love in 
 woman the transient and mutable charms that pass 
 away with their youth. She was also fond of rail 
 ing at those girls who so frequently pass themselves 
 off as phenomena, and only, as it were, wish to please 
 as dolls of fashion and well-dressed blocks. She re 
 vealed without affectation the wealth of her mind, 
 her deep feeling, and her lofty thoughts, so that, in 
 admiration of her mighty soul, I hardly remember 
 ed her deformed person. She pressed my hand 
 kindly, and seemed perfectly happy when we had 
 thus chatted an hour away. I was not less rejoiced 
 when I perceived how her friendship for me appa 
 rently increased every day. 
 
 It struck me as a weakness in my beloved, that 
 she was displeased at our intimacy. I did not un 
 derstand this petty jealousy, and censured it when 
 alone with her, as showing too much female weak 
 ness. On the other hand, I was pleased when Ernes 
 tine gave me evident proofs of her friendship, when 
 my appearance delighted her, when she was ready to 
 show me a book or piece of music, or told me how 
 she had prepared herself for a conversation with me 
 
76 THE TOKEN. 
 
 on some important subject. This genuine friendship 
 seemed to me so desirable, that I anticipated great 
 delight at the thought that she would, in our mar 
 ried state, complete the measure of our love by mu 
 tual confidence. Their aunt approved of my engage 
 ment with Elizabeth, and our vows were exchanged. 
 On this occasion Ernestine was not present, being 
 confined by illness to her chamber. I did not see 
 her on the day following, and when I wished to call on 
 her, my betrothed said, ( Do not disturb her, my dear 
 friend, she is not quite herself, and it is better to let 
 her passion subside/ What has happened ? I 
 asked, astonished. ( It is strange/ replied Elizabeth, 
 that you have not long ere this remarked how ar 
 dently she loves you ? I was struck dumb with ter 
 ror and astonishment at this information, which star 
 tled me the more since, strange to say, I had con 
 sidered this intellectual being totally incapable of 
 love ; as though passion did not always run counter 
 to possibility, truth, nature, and reason, if these op 
 posed themselves, as, indeed, I had myself experienc 
 ed in my own life in a similar manner. Yes/ con 
 tinued Elizabeth, i almost at the very time you en 
 tered our house, I remarked her partiality to you, 
 but her predilection manifested itself more decidedly, 
 when you began to show a preference for me, when 
 you became more friendly, and thus gained my confi 
 dence. For a long time, she concealed her affection 
 under a pretended dislike, which, however, did not 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 77 
 
 deceive me. Oh ! beloved, the mind and feelings, the 
 enthusiasm and passions of this singular being possess 
 such extraordinary power and intensity, that I have 
 been compelled ever since I comprehended her char 
 acter, to admire her as much as to fear her, and to 
 stand in awe at her gigantic intellect. When, some 
 years ago, I took lessons in music, and made rapid 
 progress, according to the testimony of my instructor, 
 she only ridiculed my childlike satisfaction as she 
 called it. She had never before thought of learning 
 music, and now devoted herself with all her energy to 
 this accomplishment. She practised day and night, 
 and her master no longer satisfying her, she availed 
 herself of the presence of a celebrated composer, and 
 became his pupil. I could not comprehend the 
 mental as well as physical energy, with which she 
 devoted herself unceasingly, almost without sleep 
 and refreshments, and with unwearied zeal to the 
 practice of this art. It was then she learned com 
 position and gained her master s praise and admira 
 tion. It was not long, however, before she found 
 fault with him, fancying his execution not suffi 
 ciently fiery and enthusiastic, his compositions not 
 sufficiently original and impassioned. He submitted, 
 and agreed with her. All men, she used to say, lie 
 constantly in a half-sleeping state, being almost al 
 ways, as it were, in a stupor, similar to the plant 
 which grows, blooms, and is beautiful, diffusing odor, 
 and possessing powers, without consciousness. What 
 
78 THE TOKEN. 
 
 would men accomplish were they truly awake in 
 their wakeful state ? And so she devoted herself 
 to philosophy, reading works on medicine, anatmoy, 
 and other subjects, which are usually too abstruse 
 and distasteful to her sex. We, as well as her ac 
 quaintance, could not help being astonished at her. 
 And thus, dear Francis, she will certainly become 
 insane in this passion of love, and destroy her own 
 peace of mind/ 
 
 " Elizabeth now also described to me all the ex 
 travagances she committed when she heard of our 
 engagement ; at first, she intended to destroy both 
 herself and sister ; then again she said she knew 
 how to conquer me, so that I should love her and 
 abandon Elizabeth, whom she excelled both in good 
 ness aud intellect. 
 
 " I was naturally grieved at this news, feeling 
 full well how imprudently I had acted in making 
 such friendly advances to Ernestine, in my en 
 deavors to reconcile her. I was somewhat relieved, 
 when, a few days afterwards, Elizabeth told me 
 that her sister had apologised with tears for what 
 she had spoken in anger, that she had conjured her 
 not to communicate to me any thing of these aberra 
 tions, and only implored her to be allowed to ac 
 company us to our future residence, as she could not 
 possibly live without the company of her sister and 
 myself, without our conversation, and our music. 
 " Now plans and preparations were made, and the 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 79 
 
 aunt accompanied us to the Klausenburg, to cele 
 brate, with a few friends, our nuptials in quiet, as 
 Elizabeth had always been excessively averse from 
 pomp and display. I had had a few apartments 
 and the ball-room prepared, as far as it was possible, 
 the greater part of the castle being in ruins. But 
 Elizabeth had a poetical predilection for old castles, 
 solitary mountainous countries, and the historical 
 legends connected with them. After the wedding, 
 we intended to take up our residence in a new house 
 not far distant, and only occasionally to spend a few 
 days or hours in the Klausenburg. 
 
 " We arrived ; the gate was opened to us, and 
 the first object that met our view in the court-yards 
 from amidst the ivy that twined the high walls, was 
 the old mad Sibyl, whom you, my friend, knew some 
 years ago. My wife was terrified, and I shuddered. 
 4 Welcome ! Welcome ! cried the old hag, jumping 
 about with wild gestures ; there comes the de 
 stroyer, the woman murderer, and brings his two 
 brides with him, whom he will murder also/ How 
 do you come here ? I exclaimed. The porter re 
 plied, She must have climbed down the other side 
 of the cliffs, which form the extreme wall of the 
 small garden, and must have concealed herself 
 among the shrubs and ruins/ You are right, you 
 are right/ screamed the old hag, it is pleasant to 
 live there/ Terrified as we were, Ernestine seemed 
 merry, for she did not cease laughing. 
 
80 THE TOKEN". 
 
 " During the days on which we celebrated the 
 festival, Ernestine did not appear ; she had van 
 ished ; and being anxious about her, we despatched 
 people in search of her, when, on the third day, she 
 returned on foot, merry and in high spirits. She told us 
 she had not been able to withstand the inclination 
 to roam about in the mountains, as she always had 
 had a desire to do so. But thus alone, without 
 informing us ? said Elizabeth. c Alone ! she re 
 plied, No ! I have kept constant company with 
 that old prophetess whom you so unkindly sent away. 
 There I have learnt many things quite new, that 
 I never even read of, and we have become very 
 good friends/ 
 
 " We looked at her with astonishment. I formed 
 an idea without expressing it, that Ernestine was 
 mad. So awful and ominous was her return to our 
 residence, such sad forebodings crowded in our 
 minds, that, in spite of my happiness, I felt no con 
 fidence on life, and Elizabeth could not regain her 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 " In other respects we were reconciled, and 
 enjoyed the present moment, and the beauty of the 
 surrounding woods and mountains. Our few guests, 
 as well as the aunt, had left us, and we might have 
 lived contented and in happy union in this delight 
 ful solitude, had I not observed that my wife avoided 
 her sister as much as circumstances permitted. 
 When I asked her the reason of this, she answered 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 81 
 
 after some hesitation : l Dearest, I am terrified at 
 Ernestine ; she has become quite malicious, though 
 formerly she had not the least disposition that way. 
 Whenever she can vex me, spoil any thing, or even 
 expose me to danger, so that I may be startled, 
 stumble, or even fall ; or if any stones fall in my 
 way she shows the most malicious joy, as she did 
 when she lately set the curtains of my bed on fire 
 by bringing the candle too near them. She has told 
 me laughing, that the country people talk of trav 
 ellers and rangers having seen two spectres by moon 
 light, or in the morning-dawn in the lonely parts of 
 the forests, whom they describe as terrible hideous 
 beings ; that these were herself and the old gipsy, 
 and that she only wished that the circumstance 
 might appear in print, in order that she, with her 
 own signature, Ernestine Fraulein von Jertz, might 
 contradict the story of ghosts, and state that she was 
 one of the imagined spirits. Is not all this terri 
 ble ? 
 
 " Dear child/ said I, I must now tell you, in 
 confidence, that I believe she is mad/ 
 
 " Is any malice, when it becomes a passion, 
 any thing but madness ? remarked Elizabeth, very 
 naturally. 
 
 " On the approach of autumn we left the 
 Klausenburg to take possession of our new house, 
 for, to my terror, I discovered a disposition to melan 
 choly in my wife, for which our solitude seemed any 
 4 
 
82 THE TOKEtf. 
 
 thing but beneficial. While we were once walking 
 through the ancient apartments and the gothic hall, 
 which was in tolerable preservation, and our foot 
 steps echoed in the solitary room, my wife started 
 with a sudden shudder. I asked the reason. 
 
 " ! it is awful here/ she replied, trembling ; I 
 feel as if invisible spectres haunted this place/ I 
 was terrified, and the thought that my wife s mind, 
 like [that of her sister, might perhaps have suffered, 
 stared at me like a monster. 
 
 " When residing in our new house, we often 
 missed Ernestine, and on inquiry, found that she 
 staid in the Klausenburg and the ruins of the old 
 castle. Although we had been living on an un 
 pleasant footing, still my wife, as well as myself, 
 could not help wishing her with us when she was 
 away. But how different was my life from that 
 which I had once pictured to myself when I courted 
 Elizabeth ! 
 
 "Other domestic calamities united with our 
 sufferings to increase our grief. That document 
 which really constituted my fortune and supported 
 my existence, which proved that large sums were 
 paid, and some still owing to me, as well as all the 
 deeds and papers which had been produced as proofs 
 after the death of Count Moritz, all these impor 
 tant papers which I had discovered after a long^ 
 troublesome search, and had in my hands but a short 
 time before, had again disappeared. I had always 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 83 
 
 kept them carefully locked up, and it was my inten 
 tion to travel to town and deliver them to my solici 
 tor in person, as on them the recovery of my estates 
 depended. They were gone ; and much as I medita 
 ted and reflected, I could not discover, nor even find 
 a trace of the way in which they had been purloined. 
 When at length I communicated my anxiety to my 
 wife, she did not seem surprised, and told me calmly, 
 Can you still doubt ? I have no doubt as to what 
 has become of them. Ernestine has profited by 
 some moment of your absence when you might have 
 left your escrutoire open, or some other forgetfulness, 
 to take the papers away/ 
 
 " Not possible ! I cried with horror. c Possi 
 ble ? she repeated. c What is impossible to her ? 
 
 " As these documents were wanting, our long 
 standing lawsuit proceeded but slowly, and I felt 
 sure that I must lose it whenever it was decided. I 
 therefore availed myself of an opportunity which 
 the court afforded me, by proposing to quash it, that 
 I might defer the decision to some future period. 
 Still I could not help questioning Ernestine, and 
 informing her of my suspicions. I was horror-struck 
 at the manner in which she heard me communicate 
 a suspicion, which would have shocked any innocent 
 mind. When I had overcome my embarrassment, 
 and had concluded, she burst out in such laughter 
 that I lost all composure. Recovering again, I urged 
 her to reply, but she only said, with a sarcastic cold- 
 
84 THE TOKEN. 
 
 ness, f My dear brother-in-law, there are here only 
 two cases possible, as you must yourself see, notwith 
 standing your short-sightedness, namely, that I am 
 either guilty or innocent. Is it not so ? If I have 
 committed the robbery, I must have been induced 
 by weighty reasons, or goaded to such an act by 
 malice, or something else. And then I ought to say : 
 yes ! I have done it, pray do not take it amiss. Now 
 you must confess that this would be more than stupid. 
 If I were a fool, I might have done it without any 
 particular intention, may be to light the kitchen 
 fire with them ; or because I was pleased with the 
 red seals, and might now say : there, take these pretty 
 papers back, considering they have some value for the 
 dear count. But a fool I have not been up to this 
 moment ; and if I am malicious, I am of course not 
 silly enough to confess the deed. Or again, assuming 
 the second case that I am innocent, then you, sir 
 brother-in-law (pray don t contradict me), are the 
 simpleton for putting such unbecoming questions to 
 me/ 
 
 " I could not answer the spectral being. When 
 I saw that Elizabeth no longer took any pleasure in 
 playing the piano that I procured from abroad in our 
 retirement, and asked the reason of it, she said, 
 sadly, Dearest, if I do not wish to incur deadly 
 vexation, I must no longer play/ i How so ? l Be 
 cause Ernestine has flatly forbidden me. She says 
 that in a house where there lives such an accomplish- 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 85 
 
 ed pianist as herself, she could not allow any one else 
 even to strike a note/ This presumption was too 
 much for my patience. I ran to her chamber and 
 asked her ironically to play me something, since she 
 would not allow any one else to touch the instru 
 ment. She followed me, laughing loudly ; and truly 
 she played in such a masterly style, that my anger 
 was turned into admiration and rapture. Well ! 
 she said, gravely, when she had finished, one may 
 have in one s own house all enjoyments for which 
 connoisseurs would travel fifty miles, and yet one 
 can be satisfied with such bungling and such ham 
 mering up and down the keys with clumsy fingers. 
 Oh ! fools and idiots, who, rogues as they are, talk 
 of art and only mean vapor : they can only sip the 
 nectar, and the wonderful becomes but trash in their 
 rude hands. If I did not feel a constant disgust for 
 life, if men were not repulsive to me, I should never 
 cease laughing/ From that time she often joined 
 in our music, at most permitting Elizabeth and my 
 self to sing, though she maintained that we possessed 
 neither school nor method. Thus the winter passed 
 away. I was already poor, and with the prospect of 
 being reduced quite to beggary ; Elizabeth was sickly, 
 and the serenity of rny life was gone. 
 
 " It was almost to be called a relief to our existence, 
 when on the approach of spring, Ernestine became 
 ill, and was shortly so much worse that she could 
 not leave her bed. She grew more irritable as her 
 
00 THE TOKEN. 
 
 illness increased, and nothing vexed her more than 
 that she could not visit the Klausenburg, of which 
 she had become so fond. One warm day I sent her 
 in the carriage, she searched long in the rooms, loiter 
 ed among the shurhs and ruins, and returned much 
 worse than before. It was now evident that she 
 could not recover. The physician said that he could 
 not understand her disease, nor the state of the suf 
 ferer, for the vital powers were so strong in her, that 
 all the symptoms usually indicating death did not 
 show themselves, and there was a probability of her 
 speedy recovery ; in few days, however, he gave up 
 all hope. 
 
 " We now really looked forward to a quieter fu 
 ture. Although we felt pity for the unhappy being, 
 yet we could not deny that she had a disturbing effect 
 on our life and the happiness of our love. We heard 
 that she was near death, but as she had arranged with 
 her doctor and nurse that we should not disturb 
 her, we had kept away. All of a sudden she much 
 desired to see me, but requested that Elizabeth 
 should not be present. I went, and said as I entered : 
 Dear friend, you will doubtless be kind enough to 
 give me back the documents which you took from 
 my escrutoire to vex me/ She looked at me signi 
 ficantly with her dying eyes, which now seemed 
 larger and sparkled brighter than formerly. There 
 was something so singular, bright and glaring in her 
 look, that any one having witnessed it would never 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 87 
 
 wish to see any thing more terrible and inconceivable. 
 After a pause she said : Brother, do these foolish 
 trifles still occupy your head ? Yet it is no wonder, 
 every one lives as he can. Sit down, my friend/ she 
 continued, with an air of contempt ; I complied, 
 and sat down by her bed. 
 
 " You fancy/ she now began in a repulsive, 
 cutting tone, you will get rid of me ; but do not 
 deceive yourself by flattering yourself too soon with 
 such an idea. Death, life, non-existence, continua 
 tion ! what useless, unmeaning words ! When I 
 had scarcely passed my childhood, I could not help 
 laughing at men, if I saw them fretting about con 
 tinued existence after death. They drag in and 
 heap up like towers, proof after proof, probabilities 
 and wishes, entreaties, prayers, and the mercy of 
 the Almighty ; they talk of many fine talents which 
 cannot on this side of the grave, as they call it, be 
 possibly perfected, much less brought to maturity, 
 and all these preparations are but to hush their 
 base cowardice and fear of death. Poor wretches ! 
 If I collect myself, become conscious of my various 
 energies in every direction, and then call to eternity, 
 to the Creator and the millions of spirits of the past 
 and the future, I will be immortal ! I will ! what 
 more is necessary, and what omnipotence can inter 
 fere to destroy my eternal, almighty will ? What 
 further security of being immortal and eternal does 
 the man want who has any consciousness ? How 
 
00 THE TOKEN. 
 
 and in what manner, that is another question. What 
 farce we shall then play, what mask, what party- 
 colored wig, what gibbous labyrinth of entrails we 
 shall then possess, what etiquette and court taste 
 of ugliness and beauty will then be introduced, is 
 uncertain. But, my good friends, as my own power, 
 without any thing more, preserves me immortal, 
 the same energy and free-will may bring me back 
 to you whenever and as often as I like. Believe 
 me, ye fools, these spectres, as you call them, are not 
 exactly the worst or weakest spirits. Many a one 
 would fain return, but he has as little individual 
 character there as here, and hence the impossibility 
 of doing so. And to you, you paragon, rogue, 
 vain, amiable character, full of talents, you bud of 
 virtue, you barterer of beauty, whom I was com 
 pelled to love so intensely, yea, compelled despite 
 of my inmost soul, which told me that you did not 
 deserve it, to you, smooth skinned, straight grown, 
 human animal, I shall ever be quite near, believe 
 me. For this love arid jealousy, this rage after you 
 and your breathing, and conversation, will urge me 
 to the earth, and this will be, as the pious would 
 say, my purgatory. Therefore, no leave-taking ; we 
 shall meet again ! Thus saying she offered me her 
 cold, dead hand.. 
 
 " When life was extinct I returned to Elizabeth, 
 but took care not to communicate any thing of the 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 89 
 
 frantic ravings of the deceased, as her nerves were 
 already excited by great anxiety, and she often suf 
 fered from spasms. 
 
 " We now lived in still retirement in a rural 
 solitude, which, in spite of our reduced finances, 
 might have become delightful had I not remarked 
 that the morbid and melancholy mood of Elizabeth 
 was on the increase. She became pale and wasted, 
 and I often found her weeping when entering her 
 chamber unexpectedly. When I asked her the 
 reason of this, she told me she knew not herself 
 what was the matter with her, that she always felt 
 sorrowful without being able to say why : that 
 when she was alone she felt quite awed, it seemed 
 so terrible to her that her sister had been obliged to 
 end her existence in such a frantic passion, and that 
 often when entering or sitting alone in her chamber, 
 it was as if Ernestine stood near her ; she fancied 
 she heard her singing, felt her breath, and her 
 looks appeared to force themselves through the 
 empty air. 
 
 " I quieted her, left her rarely by herself, read 
 to her, we took walks together, and sometimes paid 
 visits to our acquaintance in the neighborhood. As 
 she became calmer she recovered by degrees her na 
 turally beautiful complexion. Feeling once unwell, 
 and lying comfortably stretched out on the sofa, 
 while she was reading an interesting story to me, I 
 said, * how beautiful and melodious is your voice 
 4* 
 
90 THE TOKEN. 
 
 will you not sing again for once ? For a long time 
 you have not opened your music books, your instru 
 ment is locked, and your beautiful fingers will at 
 length become quite stiff/ 
 
 " You know/ she replied, that a few mouths 
 ago my sister flatly forbade me to practise music ; 
 we were obliged to concede to her ill health, and thus 
 I have become quite out of practice/ 
 
 " i Sing now/ I cried, the delight will be the 
 greater to me for its novelty ! 
 
 " We looked out a cheerful, pleasing piece of 
 music, to avoid any thing melancholy, and Elizabeth 
 poured forth, with a truly heavenly voice, the clear 
 light tones, which thrilled bliss into my heart. 
 Suddenly she stopped, and was again seized with 
 that violent hysteric fit of weeping which had so 
 often terrified me. I cannot/ she cried, deeply 
 moved, all these sounds rise up before me like 
 fiends ; I always feel my sister quite near me ; her 
 dress rustling against mine, and her anger terrifies 
 me/ I felt clearly that my peace of mind as well 
 as hers was destroyed. 
 
 " Oar physician, a veiy judicious man, and a 
 friend of ours, when she confessed all these feelings, 
 her trembling, and the anxiety which almost inces 
 santly preyed on her and undermined her health, ap 
 plied every remedy to calm her, physically and men 
 tally. This honest and judicious persuasion had a 
 good effect, and his medicines proved salutary. When 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 91 
 
 summer came we were much in the open air. We 
 were once taking a drive to the estate of an acquaint 
 ance, who told us that he intended to give a musical 
 festival, composed of friends and some virtuosi. My 
 wife s great talent for music being known, we were 
 invited, and she promised to play and sing ; being 
 then surrounded by strangers, flattered by both sexes 
 and in a cheerful mood. I was the more rejoiced at 
 this, as our physician made it a part of his advice 
 that she should forcibly combat these gloomy feel 
 ings and this hypochondriacal anxiety. She deter 
 mined to follow his advice. Much pleased and re 
 joiced, we returned to our humble residence. Eliza 
 beth with spirit went through the difficult pieces 
 of music, and the idea that she might in this way, 
 perhaps, recover her youthful vigor, delighted 
 me. 
 
 " A few days after this, while I was reading a 
 letter, that had just arrived, the door was suddenly 
 burst open, and Elizabeth rushed in, deadly pale, 
 and fell as if dead in my arms. c What is the mat 
 ter ? I cried, seized with horror. Her eye wan 
 dered wildly round, her heart palpitated almost to 
 bursting, and she was some time before she regained 
 her voice and breath. 
 
 " ( Oh ! heavens/ she at length exclaimed, every 
 word being expressive of horror, in there, while I 
 practised in a cheerful mood I accidentally cast a 
 look in the glass and I saw behind me Ernestine 
 
92 THE TOKEN. 
 
 looking at me with that strange smile, and having 
 her withered arms folded across her chest. I know 
 not whether she is still there, I hardly know how I 
 reached here/ 
 
 " I gave her in charge of her maid ; she retired, 
 and the doctor was immediately sent for. I went 
 into the other room, and found the music books 
 scattered under the instrument. Elizabeth must have 
 thrown them down in her fright. 
 
 " Of what avail are reasoning, joke, and conso 
 lation, diet and medicines against perfect madness/ 
 said I to myself, and yet I could not help thinking 
 of the words with which her dying sister had threat 
 ened us. 
 
 " The news of my wife having been taken ill 
 reached our friend s ears, and was likely to prevent 
 the musical festival taking place. His wife came a 
 few days afterwards with a female singer, to inquire 
 after Elizabeth s health. Not having said any thing, 
 even to the doctor, of the apparition which my wife 
 imagined she had seen, we of course did not mention 
 this singular circumstance to our visitors- To all ap 
 pearances my wife having quite recovered from her 
 fright, we walked in our small garden with our friends 
 conversing about the festival, and the baroness and 
 the singer at length proposed to practise some music 
 in my wife s presence, that they might have her opin 
 ion, though she might not be able to join. 
 
 " We therefore returned to the drawing-room. 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 93 
 
 and as it became dark, candles were lighted. The 
 singer sat at the instrument to accompany herself, 
 on her right was the baroness, I was just behind, and 
 my wife was on her left. We could not help admiring 
 the voices and the style of the singers. The music 
 by degrees became more animated and impassioned, 
 and I had once already omitted turning the page, 
 when, just as the next leaf was played, a long bony 
 finger appeared on it, quickly turned the leaf at the 
 right time, and the melody proceeded. I looked 
 round, and beheld the terrible Ernestine standing 
 close by me behind the baroness ; I know not how I 
 kept my composure, but I looked searchingly and 
 almost unmoved at the terrific apparition. She 
 smiled at me with that malicious expression which, 
 even when living, made her countenance repelling. 
 She wore her usual dress, her eyes were fiery, and 
 her face was white as chalk. I felt almost a satisfac 
 tion in the gloomy sensation of awe, remained silent, 
 and was glad that Elizabeth did not perceive the 
 spirit. Suddenly there was a shriek of terror, and 
 my wife fell fainting on the ground, while the wither 
 ed finger was just going again to turn the page. The 
 music of course ended, my wife was in a fever, and 
 our friends, who had not seen the spectre, returned 
 home." 
 
 Here the invalid paused. The physician looked 
 significantly at me, shaking his head. 
 
 " And you have/ he at length said, " never be- 
 
94 THE TOKEN. 
 
 fore told your present doctor any thing of that ap 
 parition." 
 
 " No/ replied Francis, " you may call it shame, 
 or fear of his cold, searching understanding ; you 
 may call it weakness or what you please ; suffice it 
 to say, I could not prevail on myself to make this con 
 fession." 
 
 " Bat it was very necessary," said the paysician, 
 "for how could he judge correctly of your illness 
 without that information ? " 
 
 " From that time," resumed Fransis in a faint 
 voice, "we determined to quit the neighborhood, in 
 hopes that the furious spectre would not follow us 
 beyond the mountains. But while we continued in 
 our house we often saw her, mostly in the music-room. 
 Our doctor being with us one morning, he sat down to 
 the instrument, and played some passages extempore. 
 Suddenly the terrible spectre again stood by my 
 wife s chair, and laid her cold withered hand on her 
 shoulder. Hysterics and faintings again followed." 
 
 " And did your doctor see it also ? " 
 
 " No," said Francis, " she appeared behind him, 
 but I saw her distinctly then, as I often did after 
 wards by broad daylight. We had only to touch 
 the keys of the instrument, when she immediately 
 appeared, so that to strike a note was a summons. 
 When I once revisited the ancient Klausenburg, I 
 found her sitting upon a stone staring at me. Thus 
 persecuted, terrified, and in constant fear and anx- 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 95 
 
 iety, we have become ripe for death, and the physician 
 despairing of our recovery, advised us at last to visit 
 this watering-place, as a last resource for restoring our 
 shattered health. But hitherto we have not found 
 any beneficial result. And who can assure us that 
 the spectre may not here haunt us also. She intends 
 to destroy us, and the most inconceivable things are 
 possible to her strong will. I believe we need only 
 sing an air, or play a sonata even at this distance, and 
 she would make her appearance." 
 
 " I will answer for that, count/ cried the doctor 
 in a firm voice, " our faculty knows how to keep such 
 malicious spirits at a distance." 
 
 Here our conversation ended ; we sent the pa 
 tient home in a sedan chair to his hotel, and I ac 
 companied the physician. 
 
 While walking in the quiet of night through the 
 dark avenues of trees, he said to me, " Dear sir, we 
 are too much excited to sleep, favor me with your 
 company to my lodging ; a powerful aromatic car 
 dinal* will keep up our spirits, and I will there tell 
 you my opinion respecting our two invalids, of whose 
 recovery, after what I have heard, I no longer doubt. 
 I would almost promise that in two months I shall 
 send them home in tolerably good health." 
 
 I was astonished at this, as I had given up all 
 hope of the recovery of my friends. Our strongly- 
 
 * A beverage usually prepared of wine, brandy, sugar, and pine-ap 
 ples, or other fruit. 
 
96 THE TOKEN. 
 
 spiced beverage much enlivened us ; and the doctor 
 continued : " The mental disease of your friend is to 
 me one of the most interesting psycological phenom 
 ena that has ever passed under my observation. He, 
 as well as his wife, are laboring under a singular 
 madness ; and if we once succeed in attacking it 
 rightly, then in weakening, and finally in eradicating 
 it altogether, the physical recovery will follow of it 
 self. Though I did not know your friend formerly, 
 yet, from his communications, I can exactly and truly 
 construe his character and fate. He is naturally 
 good and tender, the latter rather preponderating ; 
 and, like most men of this disposition, is more sub 
 ject to vanity than those of firmer character. He 
 has been handsome and amiable, possessed of talents, 
 and persuasive manners, and has, therefore, been 
 everywhere well received, so that, being a general 
 favorite, and naturally pliant, he may have turned 
 the head of many a pretty girl. Meeting, at last, 
 with his beautiful wife, he determined to change his 
 condition, and her naturally sensitive and nervous 
 nature was delighted to call so amiable a gentleman 
 her husband. And, as usually happens to enthusi 
 asts, so is it in this case ; they do not find in mat 
 rimony that transcendant felicity which they antici 
 pated ; a slight discord takes possession of the tender 
 cords of the nerves, which impatiently look forward 
 to new vibrations. The ugly, deformed sister felt, 
 like most persons of the sort, jealousy and envy 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 97 
 
 against the preferred, flattered, and fondled wife. 
 She plainly showed her indignation, and confessed 
 that she hated the count. This amiable conqueror 
 of -hearts now employed all his art to overcome this 
 hatred. He succeeded, and the poor deluded crea 
 ture even fancied that she had excited his affection, 
 while his vanity exulted in the triumph. This 
 heartlessness could not but mortify and shock the 
 unfortunate Ernestine. An inward rage consumed 
 her, she fell a victim to her unfortunate passion ; 
 and, dying, she uttered the menace to persecute 
 them in every possible way. This is plainly mad 
 ness. This madness, as has often been observed, is 
 hereditary, and relations, brothers, sisters, and chil 
 dren, are seized with it whenever it is manifested in 
 a member of the family. So, in the case of your 
 friend. Perhaps the affectionate count has not been 
 quite silent on the subject to his wife ; and she being 
 already in a delicate state, has indulged these fancies, 
 and with anxious curiosity pursues the gloomy feel 
 ings produced by her nerves. Thus, what is more 
 natural than that she should soon find an occasion 
 on which she fancied she really saw her sister ? The 
 fears of his wife were communicated to him, anguish 
 of mind at his misfortunes heated his imagination, 
 and he also sees the apparition. Thus they go on, 
 until both have nearly destroyed themselves by a 
 mere phantom. If we can dissipate this phantom, 
 they may be restored to health." 
 
98 THE TOKEN. 
 
 " Dear doctor/ I replied, " I know not whether 
 I have a particular propensity for superstition, but 
 your reasons do not satisfy me. Much that has been 
 handed down both by tradition and writing, on this 
 curious subject, cannot be mere fancy or invention, 
 however much our reason may be opposed to it. 
 There are, no doubt, states of the mind and of the 
 nerves, as well as diseases, during which certain 
 persons see what is veiled from all others. What is 
 spirit ? What notions does this word suggest ? 
 Do we know the nature, talent, or power, which these 
 millions of differently constituted souls possess, after 
 having shaken off their earthly frame ? Do we know 
 by what possibility this or that strong mind, by the 
 power of his will, or anxious repentance, or a secret 
 tormenting yearning after home, forms from his im 
 agination a visible frame, such as he used to wear ? " 
 
 "And supposing you to be quite right, what 
 would you profit by it ? " exclaimed the zealous doctor. 
 " If any one who is in a discontented mood, or state 
 of excitement, sees any thing, it is, indeed, only and 
 always his own fancies, his own internal phases, which 
 appear before his bodily eye. This may happen to 
 any one at times. We have in the morning a vivid 
 dream ; we certainly awake, and still, for a moment, 
 we see the child for whom we yearned, the lily or 
 rose which delighted us, or an old friend who is a 
 hundred miles distant. Perhaps it never yet hap 
 pened that, to one of the many ghost-seers, his aged 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 99 
 
 father or grandfather appeared as a youth or bride 
 groom, the murderer as a boy in his innocence, the 
 wild spectre of an aged prisoner as a blooming virgin. 
 Why, then, do not these spectres, for once, change 
 their shape ? " 
 
 " Because," rejoined I, " they perhaps can express 
 their imagination only in the last state immediately 
 preceding their change." 
 
 "Ah ! this is idle," exclaimed the doctor, impa 
 tiently ; " yield the point quietly rather than vainly 
 endeavor to refute me. Assist me rather in restoring 
 your friend." 
 
 " In what way can I do so ? " 
 
 " It is only by some violent means that a happy 
 beginning can be made. Believe me, in the deepest 
 recesses of our minds there are still growing some 
 weeds of vanity, concerning which we fondly deceive 
 ourselves, by fancying that the external surface is 
 the proper soil for them to luxuriate in. Even in 
 moments of terror, in the horror of death, or during 
 tormenting disease, we are tickled by the conscious 
 ness that, notwithstanding these, we experience 
 something apart that we see apparitions which 
 awaken anxiety. Nay, we go further ; we wish them, 
 back again, and, as it were, call them forth ; our 
 plastic and pliant nature, and our almost incon 
 ceivable fancy obey, and again such a bugbear is 
 conjured up. Assist me then in persuading and 
 disposing our invalid to have music in the count s 
 
100 THE TOKEN. 
 
 or your own apartments ; let us procure an instru 
 ment, and as the countess cannot sing, she will at 
 least play. That they may not cause an excitement, 
 should they again be seized by this mania, no one 
 but yourself and I must be present, or at most her 
 attendant in case of a relapse. But it will not 
 happen in my presence, as I shall have my quick 
 eyes everywhere. By these means our patients will 
 gain confidence and tranquillity, and by a daily repe 
 tition, and the use of stronger remedies, we shall 
 cure their wild fancies." 
 
 " And if not ? " I replied, with anxious doubt. 
 
 " Well, then, by heavens ! " he replied, with a 
 loud laugh, "if I, without having previously taken 
 too much, see any thing, then " 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 " Then, baron, you shall call me a fool, which, 
 viewed in the proper light, we are all by nature." 
 
 Thus we parted, and it required much persua 
 sion to prevail upon my afflicted friend to consent 
 to our experiment. His wife, to my astonishment, 
 was more easily persuaded. She said, not without 
 reason, " I feel it, my life is drawing to a close, all 
 help is vain ; the nearer death is the better. So 
 much the better if a new terror can crush me like a 
 stroke of lightning. And if the event which I an 
 ticipate does not take place, then my last days will 
 at least be free from this fear and anxious horror ; 
 I shall be able to amuse and divert myself, and it 
 
THE KLAUSENBUKG. 
 
 101 
 
 remains in the hand of Omnipotence whether I and 
 my hushand shall have further hope of recovery." 
 
 The third day was fixed upon for music, and a 
 late hour in the evening was appointed, because the 
 countess, like most persons suffering from fever, felt 
 it strongest at that time, and would thereby shorten 
 the night, as she seldom slept till morning. An 
 instrument had been placed in the room ; more 
 lights than were required were burning, and the ad 
 joining chamber likewise was brilliantly lighted, in 
 order that no doubtful shadow might be produced 
 in the dark. Besides the easy chair and sofa in the 
 sitting-room, there was a couch, on which the 
 countess reposed in the day. The piano was placed 
 against the wall, between two windows, looking 
 over the garden and some vineyards beyond. After 
 tea, the door being locked, the waiter and servant 
 were dismissed ; no one remained but the countess s 
 attendant, a strong young woman, whom we begged 
 to keep up her spirits. 
 
 The countess took her seat at the instrument. 
 The doctor stood beside her, in order to observe her, 
 as well as to overlook both rooms, while I sat and 
 stood alternately on the other side. Francis, in his 
 morning-gown and slippers, walked slowly up and 
 down behind us, and the attendant leaned against 
 the open chamber-door. 
 
 At first the countess played faintly, uncertainly, 
 and timidly. But by degrees the beauty of the 
 
102 THE TOKEN. 
 
 composition, and the consciousness of her talent 
 inspired her, and she played with precision and fire 
 a humorous and melodious fantasia. Her eyes 
 sparkled, her cheeks were flushed, and a smile, full 
 of soul, played upon her once beautiful mouth. The 
 doctor cast a triumphant glance at me, and by the 
 strong light, the mien and feature of every one in 
 the room were distinctly visible. All praised the 
 performer, and the doctor gave her something to 
 revive her. She was as if inspired with new life, 
 and confessed that she had not felt so well for the 
 last year. Poor Francis was in raptures, and his 
 tearful eyes were full of hope. 
 
 With the same arrangement we proceeded to the 
 second piece, while she played still more confidently, 
 and with less exertion. Bravos and applause ac 
 companied her when suddenly a terrible shriek 
 was heard how shall I describe it ? Never were 
 my ears rent by such terrific sounds it was some 
 time after that I perceived that Francis had uttered 
 it the candles burned with a blue flame, but yet 
 there was light enough. And what a spectacle ! 
 Francis, with foaming mouth, and eyes starting 
 from their sockets, was clasping a horrible spectre ; 
 and wrestled with the withered hideous form. " You 
 or I," he now cried, and it clasped him with its 
 bony arms so firmly, pressed its crooked deformed 
 body so strongly against his, and its pale face so 
 firmly against his chest, that we all heard how in 
 
THE KLAUSENBURG. 103 
 
 this struggle his bones were crashing. The attend 
 ant had hastened to assist the countess, who had 
 fainted. The doctor and myself approached the 
 count, just as he threw the spectre with gigantic 
 force on the couch, which creaked under her. He 
 stood erect. It lay on the couch like a cloud, like 
 a dark cover, and as we approached, it was gone. 
 
 Francis now felt all his bones broken, his last 
 strength was annihilated. In three days he was no 
 more, and the physician found his body much 
 bruised. The countess never recovered from her 
 state of delirium, and two days afterwards she fol 
 lowed her beloved and unfortunate husband to his 
 early grave. 
 
AULD ROBIN GRAY. 
 
 BY LADY ANNE LINDSAY. 
 
 WHEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at 
 
 hame, 
 
 And a 7 the warld to sleep are gane ; 
 The waes o my heart fa in showers frae my ee, 
 When my guideman lies sound by me. 
 
 Young Jamie loo d me weil, and socht me for his 
 
 bride, 
 
 But saving a croun, he had naething else beside : 
 To make that croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to 
 
 sea ; 
 And the croun and the pund were baith for me. 
 
 He hadna been awa a week but only twa, 
 
 When my mother she fell sick, and the cow was 
 
 stown awa ; 
 
 My father brak his arm, and young Jamie at the sea, 
 And auld Robin Gray cam a courtin me. 
 
AULD ROBIN GRAY. 105 
 
 My father couldna work ; and my mother couldna 
 
 spin; 
 
 I toiled day and nicht, but their bread I couldna win ; 
 Auld Rob maintained them baith, and wi tears in 
 
 his ee, 
 Said, Jennie, for their sakes, oh, marry me. 
 
 My heart, it said nay, for I looked for Jamie back ; 
 But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a 
 
 wreck : 
 
 The ship it was a wreck why didna Jamie dee ? 
 Or why do I live to say, Wae s me. 
 
 My father argued sair : my mother didna speak ; 
 But she lookit in my face till my heart was like to 
 
 break ; 
 Sae they gied him my hand, though my heart was 
 
 in the sea ; 
 And auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me. 
 
 I hadna been a wife, a week but only four, 
 When, sitting sae mournfully at the door, 
 I saw my Jamie s wraith, for I couldna think it he, 
 Till he said, I m come back for to marry thee. 
 
 Oh, sair did we greet, and mickle did we say ; 
 We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away ; 
 I wish I were deid, but I m no like to dee ; 
 And why do I live to say, Wae s me ! 
 6 
 
106 THE TOKEN. 
 
 I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin : 
 I darena think on Jamie, for that wad be a siri ; 
 But I ll do my best, a gudewife to be, 
 For auld Kobin Gray is kind unto me. 
 
if JiOS 
 
THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 A HARZ STORY. 
 
 IN a small town which possessed the right of hold 
 ing criminal courts there was once a famous Magician 
 caught, the country being at that time infested with 
 such sort of people. He had been forced to make a 
 free confession of his crimes by torture ; and there 
 fore the court found itself at full liberty to sentence 
 the wicked wretch to be burned alive. 
 
 The day fixed upon for the execution drew nigh ; 
 the pile stood already erected before one of the gates, 
 and all the inhabitants of the adjoining country were 
 impatiently awaiting the arrival of the hour of exe 
 cution, for the little town had never been so dull and 
 desolate as for some months before. During all that 
 period they had neither drowned a single witch, nor 
 even flogged a pickpocket : so the whole country had 
 been longing for an execution to diversify the monot 
 ony of their existence, and now hands and feet got 
 enlivened, and for several days all who could wag 
 their tongues talked of nothing but the burning of 
 
108 THE TOKEN. 
 
 the Magician, and all who could move their limbs 
 skipped twice a-day round the pile. 
 
 Well, the great day arrived. Long before dawn 
 hundreds of small wagons came pouring into the 
 city from fifty miles of the surrounding country, and 
 swelled the numerous company who had arrived the 
 night before and were spending the time till the 
 hour of execution in various gossip. With daybreak 
 all was crowd and bustle in the town ; and in less 
 than half an hour street and houses were deserted, 
 and the large field around the pile so crowded with 
 spectators, that had one tossed an apple into it, it 
 could not have reached the ground. Every eye was 
 fixed upon the pile, and upon the motions of the 
 executioner and his assistants ; while from time to 
 time a distant observer heard a loud noise resem 
 bling the rushing of a storm through a pinewood, 
 caused by the rustling of the crowd, which again sunk 
 down into an awful silence. 
 
 During one of these pauses a gloomy whispering 
 was heard 3 deep gravity spread over every face, 
 and after the lapse of some minutes, a universal 
 shout arose, "The Magician has escaped ! " 
 
 Nobody could believe it, nobody could think it 
 possible, yet every one shouted it the louder for his 
 disbelief, and thousands were about to run off to 
 storm the prison : for was it not quite insufferable 
 thus to. have their excited expectations deceived, 
 to have been kept awake the whole night for noth- 
 
THE MAGICIAN. 109 
 
 ing t to have endured hunger and thirst, and all 
 for nothing I 
 
 A wild outcry of fury and rage was already 
 heard throughout the field, when the judges made 
 their appearance, and partly to confirm the sad news 
 that the impatient criminal had not chosen to await 
 his burning, and partly with the prudential motive 
 of saving themselves from a shower of stones, desired 
 the whole assembly to pursue the Magician, who 
 must undoubtedly, as they affirmed, still be lurking 
 about the neighborhood, and could not escape the 
 scrutiny of so many thousand eyes. They also in 
 vited the whole assembly to attend on the following 
 day at a still more solemn execution of the wizard. 
 
 In the twinkling of an eye the whole crowd were 
 in motion, galloping over and against one another 
 with as much confusion as ever distracted Babel. 
 Not a few were induced by the mischances they met 
 with to desist from the chase, and took their way 
 back to the town in no very good humor, though 
 not quite without hope ; but hundreds of them scat 
 tered themselves over the country in search of the 
 Magician. 
 
 The constables, well-provided with arms, hasten 
 ed, according to orders, towards a wood where it was 
 thought the criminal could most easily hide him 
 self. On the road thither they met a man with a 
 long beard, whom they at first took for a wandering 
 Jew, and accompanied part of the way to learn if he 
 
110 THE TOKEN. 
 
 could give them any information about the Magician. 
 Hereupon the stranger showed them a bow and an 
 arrow, and assured them that he never failed in shoot 
 ing with them, and could with these weapons keep 
 off a thousand enemies. The constables stared upon 
 him, and fancying that they could perceive the fea 
 tures of the Magician under the mask of the Jew, 
 began to tremble in all their limbs ; the wish to lead 
 him back in triumph to the town struggled with 
 their fear of the enchanted arrow ; but all of them 
 fell a few inches aside at every step, and thus a wide 
 circle was gradually formed around the pretended 
 Jew. 
 
 He looked around him and discovered a falcon 
 soaring high in the air above him ; it now appeared 
 like a little black speck in the heavens, but he bent 
 his bow and presently the bird fell transfixed by the 
 arrow, into a marshy ditch all overgrown with thorns. 
 " Fetch me the falcon and my arrow ! " called he 
 out with a commanding voice to the constables, who 
 hesitated long, but at last the terror with which his 
 voice inspired them conquered, and one of them pro 
 ceeded with faltering steps towards the place where 
 the bird lay. Whilst he was yet picking his way 
 over the marsh, the archer drew a little whistle out 
 of his pocket and commenced playing a waltz, when 
 lo ! the poor fellow began to waltz about, and stretched 
 out his hands as if to invite his companions, who 
 stood gaping in astonishment upon him, to join him I 
 
THE MAGICIAN. Ill 
 
 Presently they all rushed like mad people into the 
 marsh, where they danced and waltzed till their senses 
 reeled, and their hands and feet were grievously torn 
 by the briers. Often they implored the Magician to 
 spare them, and to allow them a little respite ; and 
 at last, when their strength was nearly utterly ex 
 hausted, he ceased to play^ and they left off dancing. 
 
 All breathless and exhausted they crept out from 
 among the thorns and the marsh ; but one of the 
 constables had sufficient presence of mind left, secret 
 ly to carry off the arrow and the bird along with him. 
 
 The archer received them laughing ; he now wore 
 another beard and garment, and no longer seemed 
 a Jew, but in truth the very Magician they were 
 in search of. ( Do you not know me ? " inquired he. 
 " You were all active enough, however, in torturing 
 me ; and this morning you would doubtless have 
 been very well pleased to have assisted at my burn 
 ing. The pile is yet standing, and you wish to pre 
 pare for to-morrow the feast which has been spoiled 
 in the cooking to-day ; well, I will return with you, 
 provided you will promise to dance to my whistle, for 
 I suppose you are come to fetch me back." 
 
 The constables could not deny it ; but declined 
 very earnestly the honor of invitation to the dance. 
 Their protestations were, however, of no avail ; the 
 Magician took his whistle, and they felt themselves 
 constrained to obey. Fortunately he was this time 
 
112 THE TOKEN. 
 
 content with playing a slow Polonese, and thus they 
 escaped skin-free for the present. 
 
 When they reached the field before the town, the 
 Magician greeted the executioner, who, happy at the 
 return of the Magician, but not without considerable 
 sensations of alarm, made what arrangements he 
 could, by beckonings and signs, to prevent the crim 
 inal again escaping. 
 
 The Magician mounted the pile, and sat very 
 contentedly down upon it : upon which the consta 
 bles hastened, as fast as their weary feet could carry 
 them, into the town to proclaim the unheard news, 
 their own great deeds, and the deliverance of the 
 country. They proceeded, attended by a crowd of 
 many thousands to the court-house, where the tri 
 bunal was yet assembled, and with loud complaints 
 brought forth fresh accusations against the knave, who, 
 in their persons, had affronted the whole citizens. 
 They were complimented on their good services the 
 arrow was placed as a corpus delicti among the crim 
 inal proceedings and as there seemed to be some 
 difficulty in keeping the rogue in prison, it was re 
 solved to fire the pile without farther delay : espe 
 cially as the auspicious burning of the Magician had 
 been already engrossed in the protocol of the pro 
 ceedings as having happened that day, and, accord 
 ing to an ancient and wise law, nothing which had 
 once been recorded could be afterwards altered in 
 any wise. 
 
THE MAGICIAN. 113 
 
 Three councillors marched in solemn and high 
 judicial array, to the pile, with the constables, pre 
 ceded by the assistants of the executioner bearing 
 burning torches, and followed by all the people, 
 who had remained in the town, in expectation of the 
 issue. 
 
 When they approached the gate they heard 
 from afar a shouting of ten thousand tipsy people ; 
 and soon, oh marvellous ! their own feet began to 
 skip under them, and skipping they went out at the 
 gate, and saw a numberless crowd of spectators, 
 every instant swelled by the crowds which streamed 
 towards them, all leaping with the greatest exertion 
 around the pile. 
 
 Upon the pile stood the Magician to whose 
 whistle they danced beating time with his feet. 
 All danced who had feet to dance, children, and 
 grandmothers, and grave-looking men who never 
 had dreamed of dancing in their lives before, and 
 old men, and nuns, and noble knights, and fish- 
 women all in the most motley crowd. Sometimes 
 the Magician led them through a reel, and some 
 times through a waltz, now he allowed them to 
 recover breath in a minuet, and presently he set 
 them a-dancing with increased vigor at a Swabian jig 
 or a Cosaque ; even the executioner and his assist 
 ants were footing it upon the pile itself, and streams 
 of perspiration flowed down their limbs at every saut 
 perilleux. 
 6* 
 
114 THE TOKEN. 
 
 The torch-bearers also approached dancing, their 
 leader incessantly calling out : 
 
 " Lack-a-day 1 Lack-a-day ! Did not I say : 
 " Let not the rogue take his whistle away ! " 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! " shouted the Magician, mak 
 ing a short pause in his playing welcome relief to 
 the feet of the dancers when he saw the van ap 
 proaching with the torches intended to light the 
 pile : " Bravo ! Bravo ! Now comes the torch- 
 dance.* Courage 1 Courage ! The torch-bearers 
 first ; and after them every one of you according to 
 his dignity 1 Only a few hours more of it ! But 
 you must sing also." 
 
 Instantly all the thousands who were dancing 
 around the Magician began to sing : 
 
 " Lack-a-day ! Lack-a-day ! Did not I say : 
 " Let not the rogue take his whistle away ! " 
 
 " Da Capo ! Da Capo ! " exclaimed the remorse- 
 
 * The torch-dance seems to have had its origin in a custom of 
 the Greeks afterwards adopted by the Romans who had a torch 
 carried before the bride, at their weddings, by a youth representing 
 the god Hymen. Constantino introduced the torch-dance at his own 
 court, when he transferred his residence from Rome to Byzantium. It 
 was consequently known in the 14th century as a court and ceremoni 
 ous dance. In later times it became a part of the merriments with 
 which emperors and kings celebrated their weddings; and when 
 tournaments had ceased, the torch-dance yet remained as a memo 
 rial of ancient times. The torch-dance was solemnly danced at 
 Berlin on the recent occasion of an illustrious marriage. 
 
THE MAGICIAN. 115 
 
 less Magician ; and every body screamed and danced, 
 and danced and screamed, till one sank here, and 
 another there, perfectly exhausted, and yet again 
 leaped up and danced more furiously than ever. 
 
 Forgotten was prison and execution. They 
 danced till deep in the night, and in the morning 
 each one lay groaning in his bed, and Magician, 
 and arrow, and pile had vanished 1 
 
THE TWO PATHS. 
 
 i. 
 
 THE paths of life are rudely laid 
 
 Beneath the blaze of burning skies ; 
 Level and cool, in cloistered shade, 
 
 The church s pavement lies. 
 Along the sunless forest glade 
 
 Its gnarled roots are coiled like crime ; 
 Where grows the grass with freshening blade, 
 
 Thine eyes may track the serpent s slime ; 
 But there thy steps are unbetrayed, 
 
 The serpent waits a surer time. 
 
 ii. 
 The fires of earth are fiercely blent, 
 
 Its suns arise with scorching glow ; 
 The church s light hath soft descent, 
 
 And hues like God s own bow. 
 The brows of men are darkly bent, 
 
 Their lips are wreathed with scorn and guile ; 
 But pure, and pale, and innocent, 
 
 The looks that light the marble aisle 
 From angel eyes, in love intent, 
 
 And lips of everlasting smile. 
 
CD (Drums sill 
 
 "New York D.Appleton. * Co. 346 * , i48 Broad-way . 
 
THE TWO PATHS. 117 
 
 III. 
 
 Lady, the fields of earth are wide, 
 
 And tempt an infant s foot to stray : 
 Oh ! lead thy loved one s steps aside, 
 
 Where the white altar lights his way. 
 Around his path shall glance and glide 
 
 A thousand shadows false and wild ; 
 Oh ! lead him to that surer Guide 
 
 Than sire serene, or mother mild, 
 Whose Childhood quelled the age of pride, 
 
 Whose Godhead called the little child. 
 
 IV. 
 
 So, when thy breast of love untold, 
 
 That warmed his sleep of infancy, 
 Shall only make the marble cold 
 
 Beneath his aged knee, 
 From its steep throne of heavenly gold, 
 
 Thy soul shall stoop to see 
 His grief, that cannot be controlled, 
 
 Turning to God from thee 
 Cleaving with prayer the cloudy fold, 
 
 That veils the Sanctuary. 
 
 J. K. 
 
 Christ Church, Oxford. 
 
THE JESUITS CHURCH. 
 
 AN ART TALE. 
 
 BY E. T. W. HOFFMANN. 
 
 IF, gentle reader, you were ever compelled to stop 
 three days in a little town, where you did not know 
 a soul, but were forced to remain a stranger to ev 
 ery body, and if some deep pain did not destroy the 
 inclination for social converse, you will be able to 
 appreciate my annoyance. In words alone does the 
 spirit of life manifest itself in all around us; but the 
 inhabitants of your small towns are like a secluded 
 orchestra, which has worked into its own way of play 
 ing and singing by hard practice, so that the tone of 
 the foreigner is discordant to their ears, and at once 
 puts them to silence. I was walking up and down my 
 room, in a thorough ill-humor, when it at once struck 
 me that a friend at home, who had once passed two 
 
 years at G , had often spoken of a learned, clever 
 
 man, with whom he had been intimate. His name, 
 I recollected, was Aloysius Walter, professor at the 
 Jesuits college. I now resolved to set out, and turn 
 my friend s acquaintance to my own advantage. 
 
THE Jl SUITS CHURCH. 119 
 
 They told me at the college that Professor Walter 
 was lecturing, but would soon have finished, and as 
 they gave me the choice of calling again or waiting 
 in the outer rooms, I chose the latter. The cloisters, 
 colleges, and churches of the Jesuits are every where 
 built in that Italian style which, based upon the 
 antique form and manner, prefers splendor and ele 
 gance to holy solemnity and religious dignity. In 
 this case the lofty, light, airy halls were adorned 
 with rich architecture, and the images of saints, 
 which were here placed against the walls, between 
 Ionic pillars, were singularly contrasted by the carv 
 ing over the doorways, which invariably represent 
 ed a dance of genii, or fruit and the dainties of the 
 kitchen. 
 
 The professor entered I reminded him of my 
 friend, and claimed his hospitality for the period of 
 my forced sojourn in the place. I found him just as 
 my friend had described him ; clear in his discourse, 
 acquainted with the world, in short, quite in the 
 style of the higher class priest, who has been scien 
 tifically educated, and peeping over his breviary into 
 life, has often sought to know what is going on there. 
 When I found his room furnished with modern ele 
 gance, I returned to my former reflections in the 
 halls, and uttered them to the professor aloud. 
 
 "You are right," said he, "we have banished 
 from our edifices that gloomy solemnity, that strange 
 majesty of the crushing tyrant, who oppresses our 
 
120 THE TOKEN. 
 
 bosoms in Gothic architecture, and causes a certain 
 unpleasant sensation, and we have very properly 
 endowed our works with the lively cheerfulness of the 
 ancients." 
 
 " But," said I, " does not that sacred dignity, 
 that lofty majesty of Gothic architecture which 
 seems, as it were, striving after Heaven, proceed 
 from the true spirit of Christianity, which, supersen- 
 sual itself, is directly opposed to that sensual spirit 
 of the antique world which remains in the circle of 
 the earthly ? " 
 
 The professor smiled. " The higher kingdom," 
 said he, " should be recognised in this world, and this 
 recognition can be awakened by cheerful symbols, 
 such as life nay, the spirit which descends from 
 that kingdom into earthly life presents. Our home 
 is above, but while we dwell here, our kingdom is of 
 this world also." 
 
 " Ay," thought I, " in every thing that you have 
 done you have indeed shown that your kingdom 
 is of this world nay, of this world only ; " but I did 
 not communicate my thoughts to Professor Aloysius 
 Walter, who proceeded thus : 
 
 " What you say of the magnificence of our build 
 ings in this place can only refer properly to the 
 pleasant appearance of the form. Here, where we 
 cannot afford marble, and great masters in painting 
 will not work for us, we are in conformity with the 
 modern fashion obliged to make use of substitutes. 
 
CHURCH. 121 
 
 If we get as high as polished plaster we have done 
 a great deal, and our different kinds of marble are 
 often nothing more than the work of the painter. 
 This is the case in our church, which, thanks to the 
 liberality of our patrons, has been newly decorated." 
 I expressed a desire to see the church ; the pro 
 fessor led me down, and when I entered the Corinthian 
 colonnade, which formed the nave of the church, I 
 felt the pleasing too pleasing impression of the 
 graceful proportions. To the left of the principal 
 altar a lofty scaffolding had been erected, upon which 
 a man stood, who was painting over the walls in the 
 antique style. 
 
 " Now ! how are you going on, Berthold ? " cried 
 the professor. 
 
 The painter turned round to us, but immediately 
 proceeded with his work, saying in an indistinct, and 
 almost inaudible voice : " Great deal of trouble 
 crooked, confused stuff no rule to make use of 
 beasts apes human faces miserable fool that I 
 am!" 
 
 These last words he cried aloud in a voice 
 that nothing but the deepest agony working in the 
 soul could produce. I felt strangely affected ; these 
 words, the expression of face, the glance which he had 
 previously cast at the professor, brought before my 
 eyes the whole struggling life of an unfortunate artist. 
 The man could have been scarcely more than forty 
 years old ; his form, though disfigured by the un- 
 
122 THE TOKEN. 
 
 seemly, dirty costume of a painter, had something in 
 it indescribably noble, and deep grief could only dis 
 color his face, but could not extinguish the fire that 
 sparkled in his black eyes. I asked the professor for 
 particulars respecting this painter. " He is a foreign 
 artist," was the reply, " who came here just at the 
 time when the repair of the church had been resolved 
 upon. He undertook the work we offered him with 
 pleasure, and indeed his arrival was for us a stroke 
 of good fortune, since neither here nor for a great 
 distance round, could we find a painter so admirably 
 fitted for all that we require. Besides, he is the 
 most good-natured creature in the world, and we 
 all love him heartily : for that reason he got on well 
 in our college. Besides giving him a considerable 
 salary for his work, we board him, which, by the 
 way, does not entail a very heavy burden upon us, 
 for he is abstemious almost to excess, though per 
 haps it may accord with the weakness of his consti 
 tution. 
 
 " But," said I, " he seemed to-day so peevish 
 so irritable." 
 
 " That," replied the professor, " is owing to a 
 particular cause. But let us look at some fine pic 
 tures on the side altars, which by a lucky chance 
 we obtained some time ago. There is only a single 
 original a Domenichino among them, the rest 
 are by unknown masters of the Italian school ; but 
 if you are free from prejudice, you will be forced to 
 
CHURCH. 123 
 
 confess that every one of them might bear the most 
 celebrated name." 
 
 I found it was exactly as the professor had said. 
 Strangely enough, the only original was one of the 
 weakest if not the very weakest of the collection, 
 while the beauty of many of the anonymous pictures 
 had for me an irresistible charm. The picture on 
 one of the altars was covered up, and I asked the 
 cause of this : " This picture," said the professor, " is 
 the finest that we possess, it is the work of a young 
 artist of modern times certainly his last, for his 
 flight is checked. At this time we are obliged, for 
 certain reasons, to cover it up, but to-morrow, or the 
 day after, I shall perhaps be in a condition to show 
 it you." 
 
 I wished to make further inquiries, but the pro 
 fessor hurried swiftly through the passage, and that 
 was enough to show his unwillingness to answer 
 more. We went back to the college, and I readily 
 accepted the invitation of the professor, who wished 
 me, in the afternoon, to go with him to some public 
 gardens in the neighborhood. We returned home 
 late, a storm had risen, and I had scarcely reached 
 my dwelling than the rain began to pour down. 
 About midnight the sky cleared up, and the thun 
 der only murmured in the distance. Through the 
 open windows the warm air, laden with scents, en 
 tered the room, and though I was weary, I could 
 not resist the temptation to take a walk. I succeeded 
 
124 THE TOKEN. 
 
 in waking the surly man-servant, who had been 
 snoring for about two hours ; and in showing him 
 that there was no madness in working at midnight. 
 Soon I found myself in the street. When I passed 
 the Jesuits church, I was struck by the dazzling 
 light that beamed through a window. The little side- 
 door was ajar, so I entered and saw a wax-taper 
 burning before a niche. When I had come nearer, 
 I observed that before this niche a packthread net 
 had been spread, behind which a dark form was run 
 ning up and down the ladder, and seemed to be 
 designing something on the niche. It was Berthold, 
 who was accurately tracing the shadow of the net 
 with black color. On a tall easel, by the ladder, 
 stood the drawing of an altar. I was much struck 
 at the ingenious contrivance. If, gentle reader, you 
 are in the least acquainted with the noble art of 
 painting, you will at once know, without further ex 
 planation, the use of the net, the shadow of which 
 Berthold was sketching. Berthold was about to 
 paint a projecting altar on the niche, and that he 
 might make a large copy of the small drawing with 
 due correctness, he was obliged to put a net, in the 
 usual manner, over both the sketch and the surface 
 on which the sketch was to be completed. In this 
 instance he had to paint not on a flat surface but on 
 a semicircular one ; and the correspondence of the 
 squares which the curved lines of the net formed on 
 the concave surface, with the straight ones of the 
 
CHURCH. 125 
 
 sketch, together with accuracy in the architectural 
 proportions which were to be brought forward in 
 perspective, could not be otherwise obtained than 
 by that simple and ingenious contrivance. I was 
 cautious enough not to step before the taper, lest I 
 might betray myself by my shadow, but I stood 
 near enough to his side to observe the painter 
 closely. He appeared to me quite another man. 
 Perhaps it was the effect of the taper, but his face 
 had a good color, his eyes sparkled with internal 
 satisfaction, and when he had completed the lines 
 he placed himself before the screen, with his hands 
 resting on his sides, and looked at his work, whistling 
 a merry tune. He now turned round, and tore down 
 the net. Suddenly he was struck by my figure, and 
 cried aloud : 
 
 " Halloah ! halloah ! is that you, Christian ? " 
 I went up to him, explained how I had been 
 attracted into the church, and praising the in 
 genious contrivance of the net, gave him to under 
 stand that I was but a connoisseur and practiser of 
 the noble art of painting. Without making me any 
 further answer, Berthold said : 
 
 " Christian is neither more nor less than a slug 
 gard. He was to have kept with me faithfully 
 through the whole night, and now he is certainly 
 snoring somewhere ! I must get on with my work, 
 for probably it will be bad to paint here on the 
 
126 THE TOKEN. 
 
 screen to-morrow and yet I can do nothing by 
 myself." 
 
 I offered my assistance, upon which he laughed 
 aloud, laid hold of both my shoulders, and cried : 
 
 " That is a capital joke ! What will Christian 
 say, when he finds to-morrow that he is an ass, and 
 that I have done without him ? So, come hither, 
 stranger, help me to build a little." 
 
 He lit several tapers, we ran through the church, 
 pulled together a number of blocks and planks, and 
 a lofty scaffold was soon raised within the screen. 
 
 " Now hand up quickly," cried Berthold, as he 
 ascended. 
 
 I was astonished at the rapidity with which 
 Berthold made a large copy of the drawing ; he drew 
 his lines boldly, and always clearly and correctly, 
 without a single fault. Having been accustomed to 
 such matters in my early youth, I was of good 
 service to him, for standing, now above him, now 
 below him, I fixed the long rulers at the points he 
 indicated, and held them fast, pointed the charcoal, 
 and handed it to him, and so on. 
 
 " You are a capital assistant," cried Berthold, 
 quite delighted. 
 
 "And you," I retorted, "are one of the best 
 architectural painters possible. But tell me, have 
 you applied your bold, ready hand to no sort of 
 painting but this ? Pardon the question." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Berthold. 
 
THE JESUITS CHURCH. 127 
 
 " Why, I mean," replied I, " that you are fit for 
 something better than painting church walls with 
 marble pillars. Architectural painting is, after all, 
 something subordinate ; the historical painter, the 
 landscape painter, stands infinitely higher. With 
 them, mind and fancy, no longer confined to the nar 
 row limits of geometrical lines, take a higher flight. 
 Even the only fantastic part of your painting, that 
 perspective, which deceives the senses, depends upon 
 accurate calculation, and the result therefore is the 
 product not of genius, but of mathematical specu 
 lation/ While I was speaking thus, the painter 
 laid aside his pencil, aiid rested his head on his 
 hand. 
 
 " Friend, stranger," he began, in a solemn, indis 
 tinct voice, "thou speakest profanely, when thou 
 endeavorest to arrange the different branches of art 
 according to rank, like the vassals of some proud 
 king. And still more profane is it, when thou only 
 esteemest those presumptuous fools who, being deaf 
 to the clang of the fetters that enslave them, and 
 being without feeling for the pressure of the earthy, 
 wish to think themselves free yea, even to be gods 
 and to rule light and life after their own fashion. 
 Dost thou know the fable of Prometheus, who 
 wished to be a creator, and stole fire from heaven 
 to animate his lifeless figures ? He succeeded ; the 
 forms stalked living along, and from their eyes 
 beamed forth that heavenly fire that burned within 
 
128 THE TOKEN. 
 
 them ; but the impious being, who had dared to 
 attempt the divine, was condemned to fearful, end 
 less torment, without redemption. The heart which 
 had felt the divine, in which the desire after the 
 unearthly had awakened, was torn by the vulture, 
 to which revenge had given birth, and which now 
 fed upon the vitals of the presumptuous one. He 
 who has attempted the heavenly, feels earthly pain 
 for ever." 
 
 The painter stood absorbed in his own reflec 
 tions. 
 
 " Berthold," I exclaimed, " what has all this to 
 do with your art ? I do not think that any one 
 can deem it presumption to present the human form, 
 either by painting or sculpture." 
 
 " Um, ha," laughed Berthold, in wild derision ; 
 " child s play is no presumption. It is all child s 
 play with those folks, who comfortably dip their 
 pencils into color-pots, and daub a canvas with the 
 veritable desire of producing human beings ; but it 
 always turns out as if some drudge of nature had 
 undertaken to make men, as it stands in that tra 
 gedy, and had failed. Such as those are no presump 
 tuous sinners, but poor innocent fools. But if one 
 strives to attain the highest, not the mere sensual, 
 like Titian no, the highest in divine nature, the 
 Promethean spark in man that is a precipice a 
 narrow edge on which we stand the abyss is open ! 
 The bold sailor soars above him, and a devilish deceit 
 
CHURCH. 129 
 
 lets him perceive that below, which he wished to see 
 above the stars." The painter uttered a deep sigh, 
 passed his hand over his forehead, and then looked 
 upwards. " But why do I talk all this mad stuff 
 to you, comrade, and leave off painting ? Look 
 here, mate, this is what I call well and honestly 
 drawn. How noble is the rule ! All the lines com 
 bine to a determined end a determined, clearly 
 conceived effect. Only that which is done by mea 
 sure is purely human ; what is beyond, is of evil. 
 Can we not conceive that the Deity has expressly 
 created us, to manage for his own good purpose 
 that which is exhibited according to measured, ap 
 preciable rules ; in a word, the purely commeasur- 
 able, just as we, in our turn build saw-mills and 
 spinning-machines, as the mechanical superintend 
 ents of our wants ? Professor Walter lately main 
 tained, that certain beasts were merely created to 
 be eaten by others, and that this, in the end, con 
 duced to our own utility. Thus, for example, cats, 
 he said, had an innate propensity to devour mice, 
 that they might not nibble the sugar placed ready 
 for our breakfast. And the professor was right in 
 the end ; animals, and we ourselves, are but well- 
 ordered machines, made to work up and knead cer 
 tain materials for the table of the unknown king. 
 Come, come, mate, hand me up the pots. I pre 
 pared all the tones yesterday by daylight, that this 
 candlelight might not deceive us, and they all stand 
 
130 THE TOKEN. 
 
 numbered in yonder corner. Hand me up No. 1, 
 young friend. Gray with gray ! What would dry, 
 weary life be, if the Lord of Heaven had not pat so 
 many motley playthings into our hands. He who 
 demeans himself well does not, like the curious boy, 
 try to break the box from which the music comes 
 when he turns the handle. It is just natural, they 
 say, that it sounds inside, for I turn the handle. 
 Because I have drawn this intellective correctly ac 
 cording to the point of view, I know that it will 
 have the effect of actual sculpture on the spectator. 
 Now, boy, reach me No. 2, now I paint in colors 
 that are toned down according to rule, and it ap 
 pears receding five yards. All that I know well 
 enough oh, we are amazingly clever ! How is it 
 that objects diminish in the distance? This one 
 stupid question of a Chinese could put to confusion 
 Professor Eytelwein himself; but he could help 
 himself out of the music-box, and say he had often 
 turned the handle, and always experienced the same 
 result. Violet, No. 2, youngster ! Another rule, 
 and a thick washed-out brush ! Ah, what is all 
 our striving and struggling after the higher, but the 
 helpless, unconscious act of an infant who hurts the 
 nurse that feeds him. Violet, No. 2 ! Quick, 
 young man ! The ideal is an evil, lying dream, 
 produced by fermented blood. Take away the pot, 
 young man, I am coming down. The devil lures us 
 with puppets, to which he glues angels wings/ 
 
CHURCH. 13 L 
 
 I am unable to repeat literally, what Berthold 
 said, while he went on painting rapidly, and treated 
 me only as his fag. He went on in the tone in 
 which he had begun, scoffing at the limited nature 
 of every human effort. Ah, I was inspecting the 
 depth of a mind that had received its death-wound, 
 and that only uttered its complaints in bitter irony. 
 Morning dawned, and the glimmer of the taper grew 
 pale before the entrance of sunlight. Berthold 
 painted on zealously, but he became more and more 
 silent, and only single sounds ultimately, only 
 sighs escaped his burdened breast. He had plan 
 ned the entire altar with all its gradation of color, 
 and even now the picture stood out quite promi 
 nently. 
 
 " Admirable ! admirable ! " I cried out with de 
 light. 
 
 " Do you think," said Berthold, faintly, " that I 
 shall make something of it ? I at least took great 
 pains to make my drawing correct, but now I can 
 do no more." 
 
 " No, no, not a stroke more, dear Berthold," I 
 exclaimed, " it is almost incredible how you have 
 made so much progress in such a work within a few 
 hours. But you exert yourself too much, and are 
 quite lavish of your power/ 
 
 " And yet," said Berthold, " these are my hap 
 piest hours. Perhaps I talked too much, but it is 
 
132 THE TOKEN. 
 
 only in words that the pain which consumes my 
 vitals finds a vent/ 
 
 " You seem to feel very unhappy, my poor 
 friend/ said I, " some frightful event has had an 
 evil influence on your life." 
 
 The painter slowly took his materials into the 
 chapel, extinguished the lights, and coming up to 
 me, seized my hand, and said, in a faltering voice, 
 "Could you be cheerful, nay, could you have one 
 quiet moment, if you were conscious of a fearful, ir 
 reparable crime ? " 
 
 I stood perfectly amazed. The bright sunbeams 
 fell on the painter s pallid, agitated countenance, and 
 he almost looked like a spectre as he staggered 
 through the little door into the interior of the col 
 lege. 
 
 I could scarcely wait for the hour on the follow 
 ing day, when Professor Walter had appointed to 
 see me. I told him the whole affair of the previous 
 night, which had excited me not a little ; I described 
 in the most lively colors the strange conduct of the 
 painter, and did not suppress a word that he had 
 uttered not even those which related to himself. 
 But the more I hoped for the professor s sympathy, 
 the more indifferent he appeared ; nay, he smiled 
 upon me in a most unpleasant manner when I con 
 tinued to talk of Berthold, and pressed him to tell 
 me all he knew about this unfortunate man. 
 
 " He is a strange creature that painter," said the 
 
CHURCH. 133 
 
 professor, "mild, good-tempered, sober, industrious, 
 as I told you before, but weak in his intellect. If 
 he had been otherwise he would never have descended, 
 even though he did commit a crime, from a great 
 historical painter, to a poor dauber of walls/ 7 
 
 This expression, " dauber of walls," annoyed me 
 as much as the professor s general indifference. I 
 tried to convince him that Berthold was even now a 
 most estimable artist, and deserving of the highest, 
 the most active sympathy. 
 
 " Well," said the professor at last, " since you 
 take so much interest in Berthold you shall hear all 
 that I know of him, and that is not a little. By 
 way of introduction we will go into the church at 
 once. As Berthold has worked hard throughout the 
 night he will rest during the forenoon. If we found 
 him in the church my design would fail." 
 
 We went to the church, the professor had the 
 cloth removed from the covered picture, and a work 
 of the most magical splendor, such as I had never 
 seen, was revealed to me. The composition was in 
 the style of Raffaelle, simple, and of heavenly sub 
 limity. Mary and Elizabeth were sitting on the 
 grass in a beautiful garden : the children Jesus and 
 John, were before them, playing with flowers, and in 
 the background towards the side, a male figure was 
 praying. Mary s lovely, heavenly face, the dignity 
 and elevation of her entire figure, filled me with as 
 tonishment and the deepest admiration. She was 
 
134 THE TOKEN. 
 
 beautiful, more beautiful than an earthly woman, 
 and her glance indicated the higher power of the 
 mother of God, like that of Kaffaelle s Mary in the 
 Dresden Gallery. Ah ! was not the deepest thirst 
 for eternity awakened perforce in the human heart, 
 by those wondrous eyes round which a deep shadow 
 was floating ? Did not those soft, half-opened lips 
 speak in consolatory language, as in the sweet mel 
 ody of angels, of the infinite happiness of heaven ? 
 An indescribable feeling impelled me to cast myself 
 down in the dust before her, the Queen of Heaven. 
 I had lost the power of speech, and could not turn 
 my eyes from the incomparable figure. Only Mary 
 and the children were quite finished ; the last touch 
 had not, apparently, been given to the figure of 
 Elizabeth, and the praying man was not yet painted 
 over. Approaching nearer, I perceived in this man 
 the features of Berthold, and already anticipated in 
 my mind what the professor presently said : " This 
 picture is Berthold s last work. We got it several 
 
 years ago from N , in upper Silesia, where one 
 
 of our colleagues bought it at an auction. Although 
 unfinished, we had it fitted in here, in the place of the 
 wretched altar-piece which we had formerly. When 
 Berthold first came and saw the picture, he uttered 
 a loud shriek and fell senseless to the ground. Af 
 terwards he carefully avoided looking at it, and told 
 me in confidence that it was his last work of this 
 class. I hoped that I should gradually persuade 
 
135 
 
 him to finish it, but every proposal of the sort he re 
 jected with the utmost abhorrence, and to keep him 
 in good spirits, and in the full possession of his 
 powers, I was forced to cover up the picture so long 
 as he remained in the church. If it met his eye only 
 by accident, he ran as if impelled by some irresistible 
 power, cast himself sobbing on the ground, a parox 
 ysm seized him, and he was for many days quite 
 unfit for work." 
 
 " Poor, unfortunate man ! " exclaimed I, " how 
 did the hand of the devil take such a deadly hold of 
 thy life ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " cried the professor, "the hand as well as 
 the arm grew in his own body : he was his own de 
 mon, his own Lucifer, flashing the infernal torch, 
 upon his own life. That is plain enough to those 
 who know his biography." 
 
 I entreated the professor at once to tell me all 
 that he knew about the life of the unfortunate 
 painter. 
 
 " That would be much too prolix, and cost too 
 much breath," replied the professor. " Do not let us 
 spoil the cheerful day by such gloomy stuff. We 
 will take breakfast and then go to the mill, where 
 an excellent dinner awaits us." 
 
 I did not desist from my requests to the profes 
 sor, and after much talk on both sides, it came out 
 that, immediately after BerthokVs arrival, a youth 
 who was studying at the college, devotedly attached 
 
THE TOKEN. 
 
 himself to him, and that Berthold, by degrees, com 
 municated the particulars of his life to this youth, 
 who had carefully written them down, and had given 
 the manuscript to the professor. 
 
 " He was," said the professor, " much such an 
 enthusiast as pardon me you are ! But this work 
 of writing down the strange events in the painter s 
 life served him as a capital exercise for style." 
 
 With much trouble I obtained from the professor 
 a promise that he would lend me the manuscript 
 after the close of our pleasure-party. Whether it 
 proceeded from my own violent curiosity, or whether 
 it was the professor s fault, I never felt more uneasy 
 than during this day. The evening at last came, 
 and the professor put a few sheets of manuscript into 
 my hand, with the words : " There, my dear enthu 
 siast, is the student s handywork. It is not badly 
 written but very odd, &r,d the author, against all 
 rule, thrusts in discourses of the painter, word for 
 word, without any notice to the reader. I will make 
 you a present of the work, of which I have a right to 
 dispose by virtue of my office, for I know perfectly 
 well that you are no writer. The author of the " Fan- 
 tasie-Stticke in Gallot s Harder"* (fancy pieces in 
 the style of Callot) would have it according to his own 
 mad fashion, and would have printed it at once. I 
 have nothing of the sort to expect from you." 
 
 * These " Fantasie-Stiicke " are a collection of tales, &c., by Hoff 
 mann, and purport to be leaves from the journal of a travelling en 
 thusiast. 
 
THE JESUITS CHUECH. 137 
 
 Professor Aloysius Walter did not know that he 
 really stood before the " travelling enthusiast/ al 
 though he might have found it out, and thus, gentle 
 reader, I am enabled to give you the Jesuit-student s 
 short history of the painter, Berthold. It thoroughly 
 explains the manner in which he conducted himself 
 in my presence, and thou, reader, wilt be able to see 
 how the strange spirit of destiny often plunges us into 
 destructive error. 
 
 " Only let your son make up his mind and go to 
 Italy. He is already a clever artist, and here at 
 
 D there is no lack of opportunity for studying 
 
 after excellent originals in every class, but here he 
 must not stay. The free life of an artist must dawn 
 upon him in the cheerful land of art, his studies will 
 there first take a living form, and produce individual 
 thoughts. Mere copying is now of no further use to 
 him. The growing plant requires more sun to thrive 
 and bring forth its blossoms and fruit. Your son has 
 a really artistical temperament, so you may be per 
 fectly satisfied about all the rest ! Thus said the 
 old painter, Stephan Birkner, to Berthold s parents. 
 The latter scraped together all that their slender 
 means would allow, to fit out the youth for his long 
 journey, and thus was Berthold s warmest wish 
 that of travelling to Italy accomplished. 
 
 " l When Birkner told me the decision of my 
 parents, I literally jumped with joy. I wandered 
 
 7* 
 
138 THE TOKEN. 
 
 about as if in a dream till the time of my departure. 
 I was not able to make a single stroke with my pen 
 cil in the gallery. I made the inspector, and all the 
 artists who had been to Italy, tell me of the land 
 where art flourishes. The day and hour at length 
 arrived. The parting from my parents was painful, 
 as they felt a gloomy presentiment that they should 
 not see me again. Even my father, generally a firm, 
 resolute man, had difficulty in containing his feel 
 ings. " Italy ! you will see Italy ! " cried my brother 
 artists, and then my wish shone forth with greater 
 power, from my deep melancholy, and I stepped bold 
 ly forth, for the path of an artist seemed to begin even 
 at my parents door/ 
 
 " Berthold had studied every department of 
 painting, but he had especially devoted himself to 
 landscapes, at which he worked with ardent love and 
 zeal. In Koine he expected to find abundant nur 
 ture for this branch of art, but it proved otherwise. 
 The very circle of artists and dilettanti in which he 
 moved, continually told him that the historical 
 painter alone stood on the highest point, and that all 
 the rest were but subordinate. He was advised, if he 
 wished to become an artist of eminence, to abandon 
 at once the department he had chosen, and to devote 
 himself to the higher branch ; and this advice, cou 
 pled with the novel impression which Baifaelle s 
 mighty frescoes in the Vatican had made upon him, 
 determined him to give up landscape painting alto- 
 
THE JESUITS CHURCH. 139 
 
 gether. Ho sketched after the Raffaelles, and he 
 copied small oil paintings by other celebrated mas 
 ters. All these things were very cleverly done by his 
 practised hand ; but he plainly felt that the praise 
 of the artists and dilettanti should only solace him, 
 and encourage him to further efforts. He himself 
 saw that his sketches and copies wanted all the fire 
 of the originals. Raffaelle s and Correggio s heaven 
 ly thoughts so he thought inspired him to crea 
 tions of his own, but he wished to hold them fast in 
 his fancy, they vanished as in a mist, and all that he 
 sketched was like every obscure, confused thought, 
 without motion and significance. During his vain en 
 deavors deep melancholy took possession of his soul, 
 and he often escaped from his friends, privately to 
 sketch and paint in the vicinity of Home, groups of 
 trees single pieces of landscape. But even these 
 attempts were less successful than formerly ; and, 
 for the first time in his life, he doubted the truth of 
 his calling as an artist. His proudest hopes seemed 
 on the point of vanishing. Ah, my revered friend 
 and instructor/ wrote Berthold to Birkner, f you gave 
 me credit for great things ; but here, when a light 
 should have risen in my soul, I have learned that that 
 which you termed real artistical genius was nothing 
 but a sort of talent mere dexterity of hand. Tell my 
 parents that I shall soon return, and learn some 
 trade that I may get my living, &c. Birkner wrote 
 back : * Oh ! would I could be with you, my son, to 
 
140 THE TOKEN. 
 
 support you in your depression. It is your very 
 doubts that prove your calling as an artist. He who 
 with steady immovable confidence in his powers be 
 lieves that he will always progress, is a blind fool, 
 who only deceives himself, for he wants the proper 
 spur to endeavor, which only consists in the thought 
 of deficiency. Persevere, and you will soon gain 
 strength ; and then, no longer fettered by the opinion 
 or the advice of friends, who are, perhaps,unable to ap 
 preciate you, you will quietly pursue the path which 
 your own nature has designed for you. It will then 
 be left to your own decision whether you become a 
 painter of landscapes or historical pieces, and you 
 will cease to think of a hostile separation of the 
 branches of one trunk/ 
 
 " It happened that about the time when Berthold 
 received this letter of consolation from his old friend 
 and instructor, Philip Hackert s fame became widely 
 extended in Borne. Some of the paintings which he 
 had exhibited, and which were distinguished by won 
 derful grace and clearness, proved the real genius of 
 the artist, and even the historical painters admitted 
 that there was much greatness and excellence in this 
 pure imitation of nature. Berthold breathed again ; 
 he no more heard his favorite art treated with con 
 tempt, he saw a man who pursued it honored and 
 elevated, and, as it were, a spark fell on his soul that 
 he must travel to Naples and study under Hackert. 
 In high spirits he wrote to Birkner, and his parents, 
 
CHUKCH. 141 
 
 that he had DOW, after a hard struggle, discovered 
 the right way, and hoped to become a clever artist 
 in his own style. The honest German, Hackert, re 
 ceived his German pupil with great kindness, and 
 the latter soon made great efforts to follow his mas 
 ter. Berthold attained great facility in giving faith 
 ful representations of the different kinds of trees and 
 shrubs, and was not a little successful in those misty 
 effects, which are to be found in Hackert s pictures. 
 He thus gained great praise, but it seemed to him as 
 if something was wanting both in his own and his 
 master s landscapes ; something to which he could 
 not give a name, and which was nevertheless plainly 
 apparent in the pictures by Claude Lorraine, and the 
 wild landscapes of Salvator Kosa. Soon he felt a 
 want of confidence in his instructor, and he felt par 
 ticularly dispirited when Hackert, with unwearied 
 exertion, painted some dead game which the king 
 had sent him. Soon, however, he conquered such 
 presumptuous thoughts as he considered them 
 and went on with virtuous resignation and true German 
 industry, following the pattern of his master, so that 
 in a short time he could nearly equal him. At Hack- 
 ert s own suggestion he sent a large landscape, which 
 he had faithfully copied from nature, to an exhibition, 
 which was chiefly to consist of landscapes and pieces 
 of still-life in the Hackert style. All the artists and 
 connoisseurs admired the young man s faithful, neatly 
 executed works, and praised them aloud. There was 
 
142 THE TOKEN. 
 
 only an elderly strangely-attired man, who did not say 
 a word about Hackert s pictures, but smiled, signifi 
 cantly, whenever the multitude broke out into extra 
 vagant praises. Berthold perceived plainly enough 
 that this stranger, when he stood before his land 
 scape, shook his head with an air of the deepest pity, 
 and was then about to retire. Being somewhat ele 
 vated by the general praise which he had received, 
 Berthold could not help feeling indignant with the 
 stranger. He went up to him, and speaking more 
 sharply than was necessary, said : f You do not seem 
 satisfied with the picture, sir, although I must say 
 there are excellent artists and connoisseurs who do 
 not think it so bad. Pray tell me where the fault 
 lies, that I may improve the picture according to your 
 kind suggestion/ The stranger cast a keen glance at 
 Berthold, and said, very seriously : c Young man, a 
 great deal might be made out of you. Berthold felt 
 deeply horrified at the glance and the words of this 
 man ; he had not courage to say any thing more, or 
 to follow him, when he slowly stalked out of the sa 
 loon. Hackert soon came in himself, and Berthold 
 hastened to tell him of his meeting with this strange 
 man. Ha ! said Hackert, smiling, f do not take 
 that to heart. That is a crabbed old man, who 
 grumbles at every thing, and is pleased at nothing ; 
 I met him in the ante-room. He was born of Greek 
 parents, in Malta, and is a rich, queer old fellow, and 
 no bad painter. All that he does has a fantastic ap- 
 
THE JESUITS CHURCH. 143 
 
 pearance, and this proceeds from the absurd notion 
 he has about art, and from the fact that he has con 
 structed a system which is utterly worthless. I 
 know well enough that he has no opinion of me, 
 which I readily pardon in him, since he cannot throw 
 any doubt on my honorably acquired fame/ Ber- 
 thold had felt as if the Maltese had touched a sore 
 place in his soul, like a beneficent physician, only 
 for the purpose of probing it and healing it ; but he 
 soon drove this notion from his mind, and worked on 
 happily as he had done before. 
 
 " The success of this large picture, which was 
 universally admired, gave him courage to begin a com 
 panion to it Hackert himself selected one of the most 
 lovely spots in the gorgeous vicinity of Naples ; and, as 
 the first picture had represented sunset, this land 
 scape was to show the effect of sunrise. He had a 
 number of strange trees, a number of vineyards, and, 
 above all, a good deal of mist to paint. 
 
 " Berthold was sitting on a large flat stone, in 
 this very spot, completing the sketch of the great 
 picture after nature. * Bravo well done ! said a 
 voice near him. He looked up. The Maltese was 
 viewing his work, and added, with a sarcastic smile, 
 1 You have only forgotten one thing, my dear young 
 friend. Only look yonder, at the wall of the distant 
 vineyard ; the one covered with green tendrils. The 
 door is half-open, don t you see ? You must repre- 
 
THE TOKEN. 
 
 sent that with its proper shading. The half-open 
 door makes a surprising effect ! 
 
 " i You are joking, sir/ exclaimed Berthold, l and 
 without reason. Such accidental circumstances are 
 by no means so contemptible as you imagine, and 
 for that very reason my master loves to employ them. 
 Only recollect the suspended white cloth in the land 
 scape of one of the Dutch painters, that could not 
 be omitted without marring the general effect. 
 You, however, seem to be no friend to landscape 
 painting in general ; and, as I have given myself up 
 to it with heart and soul, I beg of you to let me go 
 on working in quiet/ 
 
 " ( You are much mistaken, young man/ said 
 the Maltese. I tell you again that a good deal 
 might be made of you, for your works visibly prove 
 an unwearied endeavor to attain the highest ; but 
 that, unfortunately, you will never attain, since the 
 path that you have taken does not lead to it. Only 
 mark what I tell you. Perhaps I may succeed in 
 kindling that flame in your soul, which you, senseless 
 as you are, are endeavoring to smother, and in 
 making it flash up brightly, so as to enlighten you. 
 Then you will be able to recognise the real spirit 
 that animates you. Do you think I am so foolish as 
 to place the landscape lower in rank than the his 
 torical painting, a^d that I do not recognise the 
 common goal after which the painters of both classes 
 should strive ? The apprehension of nature in the 
 
CHURCH. 145 
 
 deepest import of that higher sense, which kindles 
 all beings to a higher life, that is the sacred end of 
 all art. Can the mere dim copying of nature lead to 
 this ? How poor, how stiff and forced, is the ap 
 pearance of a manuscript copied from another in 
 some foreign language, which the copyist does not 
 understand, and is, therefore, unable to give the 
 strokes, which he laboriously imitates, their proper 
 significance. Thus your master s landscapes are 
 correct copies of an original author in a language 
 which is strange to him. The initiated artist hears 
 the voice of nature, which from trees, hedges, flow 
 ers, mountains, and waters, speaks to him, and of 
 unfathomable mysteries in wondrous sounds, .which 
 form themselves in his bosom to a pious feeling of 
 foreboding : then, as a divine spirit, the talent itself 
 of transferring this dim feeling to his works, descends 
 upon him. Have not you yourself, young man, felt 
 strangely affected when looking at the landscapes of 
 the old masters ? Assuredly you did not think 
 whether the leaves of the lime-trees, the pines, the 
 plane-trees, might be truer to nature, whether the 
 background might be more misty, or the water might 
 be clearer ; but the spirit that breathes from the 
 whole raised you into a higher region, the reflection 
 of which you seemed to behold. Therefore, study 
 nature in the mechanical part, sedulously and care 
 fully, that you may attain the practice of represen 
 tation ; but do not take the practice for the art it- 
 
146 THE TOKEN. 
 
 self. If you have penetrated into the deep import 
 of nature, her pictures will arise within you in bright 
 magnificence/ The Maltese was silent ; but when 
 Berthold, deeply moved by what he had heard, stood 
 with downcast eyes, and incapable of uttering a word, 
 the Maltese left him, saying, " I had no intention of 
 interrupting you in jour calling, but I know that a 
 higher spirit is slumbering in you. I called upon 
 it, with strong words, that it might awake, and 
 move its wings with freshness and vigor. Fare 
 well/ 
 
 " Berthold felt as if the Maltese had only clothed 
 in words that which had already been fermenting in 
 his soul. The inner voice broke forth. No ! All 
 this striving, this constant endeavor, is but the uncer 
 tain, deceptive groping of the blind. Away with all 
 that has hitherto dazzled me/ He was not in a 
 condition to accomplish a single other stroke. He 
 left his master, and wandered about full of wild un 
 easiness, loudly imploring that the high knowledge 
 of which the Maltese had spoken might be revealed 
 to him. 
 
 " c Only in sweet dreams was I happy yes, truly 
 blessed ! Then every thing that the Maltese had 
 spoken became true. I lay in the green hedge, 
 while magical exhalations played around me, and the 
 voice of nature sounded audibly and melodiously 
 through the dark forest. " Listen, listen, oh ! thou 
 initiated one. Hear the original tones of creation, 
 
THE JESUITS CHUKCH. 147 
 
 which fashion themselves to beings accessible to thy 
 mind." And when I heard the chords sound plainer 
 and plainer, I felt as though a new sense was awa 
 kened in me, and apprehended with wonderful per 
 spicuity, that which had appeared unfathomable. As 
 if in strange hieroglyphics I drew in the air the se 
 crets that had been revealed to me with characters 
 of fire ; and this hieroglyphic writing was a strange 
 landscape, upon which trees, hedges, flowers, and 
 waters moved, as it seemed, in loud delightful 
 sounds/ 
 
 " But it was only in dreams that poor Berthold 
 felt real happiness, for his strength was broken, and 
 his mind was more disturbed than it had been in 
 Kome, when he wished to be an historical painter. 
 If he strolled through the dark wood, an unpleasant 
 sensation of awe came over him ; if he went out and 
 looked into the distant mountains, he felt as though 
 icy cold claws grasped his heart his breath was 
 stopped and he felt as if he perished from internal 
 anguish. All nature, which used to smile kindly 
 upon him, became a threatening monster, and her 
 voice, which used to greet him sweetly in the mur 
 muring of the evening breeze, in the bubbling of the 
 brook, in the rustling of the leaves, now told him of 
 nothing but perdition. At last, however, the more 
 these lively dreams consoled him, the calmer he be 
 came ; nevertheless, he avoided being alone in the 
 open air, and hence he associated himself with a 
 
148 THE TOKEN. 
 
 couple of cheerful German painters, and took with 
 them many a trip to the loveliest spots of Naples. 
 
 " One of them, whom we will call Florentin, was 
 at this moment more intent upon the enjoyment of 
 life, than upon the serious study of his art, as his 
 portfolio sufficiently testified. Groups of dancing 
 peasant-girls, processions, rural festivals all this 
 class of subjects he could transfer to paper with a 
 sure, ready hand, whenever he chanced to meet with 
 them. Every drawing, even though it were a mere 
 sketch, had life and motion. At the same time his 
 mind was by no means closed to the higher in art ; 
 on the contrary, he penetrated more than any mod 
 ern painter into the strange import of the paintings 
 by all masters. In his sketch-book he had copied in 
 outline the frescoes of an old convent-church in 
 Kome, before the walls were pulled down. They 
 represented the martyrdom of St. Catharine, and one 
 could not see any thing more beautiful, more happily 
 conceived than those outlines, which made a very 
 peculiar impression upon Berthold. He saw flashes 
 through the gloomy desert that surrounded him, and 
 the result was, that he became capable of appreciating 
 the cheerful mind of Florentin, and that, as the latter 
 when representing the charms, especially brought 
 forward the human principle, he also took this prin 
 ciple as the ground on which he must stand, not to 
 float away into boundless space. While Florentin 
 was hastily sketching some group that he met, 
 
THE JESUITS CHURCH. 149 
 
 Berthold took the opportunity of looking into his 
 book, and tried to imitate the lovely figure of Cath 
 arine, in which he was tolerably successful, although, 
 as at Koine, he failed in giving his figures the ani 
 mation of the original. He complained of this to 
 Florentin, whom he looked upon as far superior in 
 true artistical genius, and at the same time told him 
 all that the Maltese had spoken about art. l The 
 Maltese is right, dear brother Berthold/ said Floren 
 tin, and I rank the genuine landscape quite as high 
 as the deeply significant sacred histories as depicted 
 by the old masters. Nay, I maintain that one 
 ought first to strengthen oneself by the representation 
 of that organic nature which is nearest to us, that 
 we may be able to find light for her darker regions. 
 I advise you, Berthold, to practise yourself in sketch 
 ing figures, and in arranging your thoughts in them. 
 Perhaps by this means you will gain additional light/ 
 Berthold acted according to the suggestion of his 
 friend, and it seemed to him, as if the dark clouds 
 which spread over his life were passing away. 
 
 " I endeavored to represent that, which seemed 
 no more than a mere obscure feeling in my inner 
 most soul, by hieroglyphic characters, as I had done 
 in my dream ; but the hieroglyphics became human 
 figures, which moved about a focus of light in strange 
 combinations. This focus was to be the noblest 
 form that ever was evoked by a painter s fancy, but 
 I vainly endeavored, when this form appeared to me 
 
150 THE TOKEN. 
 
 in a dream, surrounded by the rays of heaven, to 
 catch the features. Every attempt to represent it 
 proved an utter failure, and I seemed to fade away 
 in a state of the most ardent desire/ Florentin per 
 ceived the situation of his friend, who was excited to 
 a morbid degree, and gave him all the consolation in 
 his power. Often did he tell him that this was the 
 very time when illumination would break upon him ; 
 but Berthold merely slunk about like a dreamer, and 
 all his attempts were but the feeble efforts of a puny 
 child. 
 
 " In the vicinity of Naples was a duke s villa, 
 from which there was the finest view of Vesuvius and 
 the sea, and which, on this account, was hospitably 
 kept open for foreign artists, especially landscape 
 painters. Berthold had often worked here, but still 
 oftener in a grotto in the park had he given himself 
 up to his fantastic dreams. One day he was sitting 
 in this grotto tortured by the sense of longing, that 
 tore his bosom, and was shedding briny tears, hoping 
 that the star would shine upon his obscure path, 
 when a rustling was heard in the hedges, and the 
 form of an exquisitely beautiful woman was before 
 him. 
 
 " The sunbeams fell upon her angelic counte 
 nance : she cast upon me an indescribable glance. 
 It was Saint Catharine. No, more than she, it was 
 my ideal. Mad with transport I threw myself on 
 
CHURCH. 151 
 
 the ground, and the form vanished with a benignant 
 smile ! My most ardent prayer was realized. 
 
 u Florentin entered the grotto, and was surprised 
 at Berthold, who, with beaming countenance, pressed 
 him to his heart, while the tears streamed from his 
 eyes. My friend ! my friend ! he stammered 
 forth ; I am happy I am blessed she is found 
 found ! He hurried to his atelier, and stretching 
 the canvas, began to paint as if inspired by divine 
 power, he charmed before him the superterrestrial 
 woman for so he thought her with the full glow of 
 life. From this moment his inmost soul was entirely 
 changed. Far from feeling that melancholy which 
 preyed upon his heart, he was serene and cheerful. 
 He industriously studied the chefs-d oeuvre of the old 
 painters. Many of his copies were perfectly success 
 ful, and now, for the first time, he began to produce 
 paintings which caused astonishment among all the 
 connoisseurs. As for landscapes, they were no more 
 to be thought of, and Hackert himself confessed that 
 the youth had not till now discovered his proper vo 
 cation. He had to paint many large works, such as 
 altar-pieces for churches, and generally selected the 
 more cheerful subjects of Christian tradition. From 
 all of these, however, the noble form of his ideal 
 beamed forth. It was discovered that the face and 
 
 figure of the Princess Angiola T were represented 
 
 to the life ; nay, this fact was communicated to the 
 young painter himself, and knowing folks waggishly 
 
152 THE TOKEN. 
 
 insinuated that the German was smitten to the 
 heart by the brilliant eyes of the lovely dame. 
 Berthold was highly indignant at this silly gossip 
 of people who wished to lower the heavenly into 
 the mere earthy. i Do you believe/ he said, ( that 
 such a being could wander here upon earth ? No ; 
 the highest was revealed in a wondrous vision ; 
 it was the moment when the artist receives con 
 secration/ Berthold lived happy, until the French 
 army, after Bonaparte s conquest in Italy, ap 
 proached the kingdom of Naples, and the revolution, 
 which so fearfully destroyed all the peaceful rela 
 tions of the place, broke out. The king and queen 
 had left Naples, and the Citta was appointed. The 
 vicar-general concluded a disgraceful truce with the 
 French commander, and the French commissaries 
 soon came to receive the sums that were to be paid 
 them. The vicar-general fled to escape the rage 
 of the people, who believed themselves deserted by 
 the Citta, and, in short, by all who could defend 
 them against the approaching enemy. Then were 
 all the bands of society loosened. The people, in a 
 state of wild anarchy, set law and order at defiance, 
 and with the cry, Viva la Santa Fede ! wild 
 hordes ran through the streets plundering and burn 
 ing the houses of the nobles, who they thought had 
 sold them to the enemy. Vain were the endeavors 
 of Moliterno and Rocca Romana, who were the 
 favorites of the people, and had been elected for 
 
THE JESUITS CHURCH. 153 
 
 leaders : vain were their endeavors to restore order. 
 The dukes Delia Torre and Clement Filomarino were 
 murdered, but the thirst for blood among the rag 
 ing people was not satisfied. Berthold had just been 
 able to escape, half-dressed, from a burning house, 
 when lie met a mob, that with kindled torches and 
 glittering knives, was hurrying to the palace of the 
 
 Duke of T . These madmen, taking him for 
 
 one of their own class, carried him along with them, 
 shouting, e Viva la Santa Fede ! and in a few 
 minutes the duke, the servants, every one who re 
 sisted, were murdered, and the palace, into which 
 Berthold was more and more forced by the throng, 
 was in flames. Thick clouds of smoke rolled through 
 the long passages. Berthold, in danger of being 
 burned to death, darted through the now open doors 
 in hopes of finding an outlet, but all in vain ; a 
 piercing shriek of agony struck his ear, and he 
 rushed into the hall. A woman was struggling 
 with a Lazzarone, who held her fast, and was about 
 to plunge a knife in her heart. It was the princess 
 it was Berthold s ideal ! Losing all consciousness 
 with horror, he sprang towards them, and it was but 
 the work of a moment to seize the Lazzarone, to 
 fling him to the ground, to plunge his own knife in 
 his throat, to catch the princess in his arms, to fly 
 with her through the flaming ruins, to dash down 
 the steps, and to go on on through the dense 
 crowd of people. None attempted to stop him in 
 8 
 
154 THE TOKEN. 
 
 his flight. With the bloody knife in his hand, with 
 his face begrimed by smoke, with his clothes torn, 
 he was taken for a plunderer and murderer by the 
 people, who willingly conceded him his prey. In a 
 deserted corner of the city, beneath an old wall, to 
 which as if by instinct he had run to escape danger, 
 he fell exhausted. On recovering, he found the 
 princess kneeling at his side, and washing his fore 
 head with cold water. { 0, thanks ! thanks ! 
 said she, in the softest and most lovely voice ; 
 c thanks to the saints that thou hast recovered, my 
 preserver, my all ! Berthold raised himself, he 
 fancied he was dreaming, he looked with fixed eyes 
 upon the princess yes, it was herself the celestial 
 form which had kindled the divine spark in his 
 breast. Is it possible ? Is it true ? Do I live ? 
 he exclaimed. Yes/ replied the princess, thou 
 livest for me. That which thou didst not venture 
 even to hope, has happened through a miracle. Oh ! 
 I know thee well, thou art the German painter, 
 Berthold, who loved me, and ennobled me in his 
 beautiful works. Was it then possible for me to be 
 thine ? But now I am thine for ever let us fly ! 
 A strange feeling, as when a sudden pain disturbs 
 sweet dreams, darted through Berthold as the 
 princess spoke. But when the lovely woman clasped 
 him with her full, snow-white arms, when he pressed 
 her passionately to his bosom, then did a delicious 
 trembling, hitherto unknown, take possession of 
 
THE JESUITS CHURCH. 155 
 
 him, and in the mad delight of possessing the 
 greatest earthly felicity, he cried : Oh, it was no 
 delirious dream ! No ! it is my wife whom I em 
 brace, and whom I will never leave ! 
 
 " Escape from the city was at first impossible, 
 for at the gate stood the French army, whose en 
 trance the people, although badly armed and with 
 out leaders, were able to dispute for two days. 
 Berthold, however, succeeded in flying with Angiola 
 from one hiding-place to another, and at last out of 
 the city. Angiola, deeply enamored of him, could 
 not think of remaining in Italy ; she wished her 
 family to consider her dead, that Berthold s posses 
 sion of her might be secure. A diamond necklace, 
 and some valuable things which she wore, were suffi 
 cient to provide them with all necessaries at Rome 
 whither they had proceeded by slow degrees and 
 they arrived happily at M , in Southern Ger 
 many, where Berthold intended to settle, and to 
 support himself by his art. Was it not a state of 
 felicity, not even to be dreamed, that Angiola, that 
 creature of celestial loveliness, that ideal of his most 
 delightful visions, now become his own, when all 
 social laws had seemed to raise an insurmountable 
 barrier between him and his beloved ? Berthold 
 could hardly comprehend his happiness, he was 
 abandoned to inexpressible delight, until the inner 
 voice become louder and louder, urging him to 
 think of his art. He determined to found his fame 
 
156 THE TOKEN. 
 
 at M by a large picture which he designed for 
 
 the Maria church there. The whole subject was to be 
 the very simple one of Mary and Elizabeth sitting 
 on the grass in a beautiful garden, with the infants 
 Christ and John playing before them ; but all his 
 efforts to obtain a pure spiritual view of his picture 
 proved fruitless. As in that unhappy period of the 
 crisis the forms floated away from him, and it was 
 not the heavenly Mary no, it was an earthly 
 woman, his Angiola herself, fearfully distorted, that 
 stood before the eyes of his mind. He fancied that 
 he could defy the gloomy power that seemed to 
 grasp him, he prepared his colors and began to paint ; 
 but his strength was broken, and all his endeavors 
 were as they had been formerly only the puny 
 efforts of a senseless child. Whatever he painted 
 was stiff and inanimate, and even Angiola, An 
 giola his ideal, became, when she sat to him, and he 
 tried to paint her, a mere wax image on the can 
 vas, staring at him with its glassy eyes. His soul 
 became more and more the prey of a despondency, 
 that consumed all the happiness of his life. He 
 would not, nay, he could not, work any more ; and 
 thus he fell into a state of poverty, which was the 
 more crushing, because Angiola did not utter a 
 word of complaint. 
 
 " The grief that gnawed more and more into 
 my soul, that grief that was the offspring of a hope 
 invariably deceived, when I summoned powers that 
 
THE JKSUITS CHURCH. 157 
 
 were no longer mine, soon reduced me to a state 
 that might be compared to madness. My wife bore 
 me a son, that increased my misery, and my long 
 suppressed discontent broke out into open, burning 
 hate. She she alone had been the cause of my 
 unhappiness. She was not the ideal which had ap 
 peared to me, but had only assumed the form and 
 face of that heavenly woman. In wild despair I 
 cursed her and her innocent child. I wished them 
 both dead, that I might be free from the insup 
 portable pains that tortured me, like so many burn 
 ing knives. Thoughts of hell arose in my mind. 
 In vain did I read in Angiola s corpse-like face, and 
 in her tears, the madness and impiety of my con 
 duct. ( Thou hast cheated me out of my life, cursed 
 woman ! I thundered forth, and thrust her away 
 with my feet, when she fell fainting to the ground 
 and clasped my knees/ 
 
 " Berthold s mad, cruel conduct towards his 
 wife and child excited the attention of the neigh 
 bors, who informed the magistrates of the circum 
 stance. They wished to imprison him ; but when 
 the police entered his dwelling, he had vanished 
 with his wife and child, without leaving so much as 
 a trace behind. Soon afterwards he appeared at 
 
 N , in Upper Silesia ; he had got rid of his wife 
 
 and child, and cheerfully began to paint the picture 
 which he had vainly attempted at M . How 
 ever, he could only finish the Virgin Mary, and the 
 
158 THE TOKEN. 
 
 children Christ and John for he fell into a dread 
 ful illness, which brought him near the death he 
 desired. Every thing that belonged to him, includ 
 ing the unfinished picture, was sold for his subsist 
 ence ; and, after he had recovered, in some measure, 
 he departed, a sick, miserable beggar. He after 
 wards gained a poor livelihood by a few jobs of wall- 
 painting/ 
 
 " There is something terrible in the history of 
 Berthold," said I to the professor. " Although so 
 much is not plainly expressed, I believe that he 
 was the reckless murderer of his innocent wife and 
 child." 
 
 " He is a mad fool," replied the professor, " to 
 whom I do not give credit for enough courage to 
 perform such an act. On this point he never speaks 
 plainly ; and the question is, whether it be not a 
 mere fancy that he took any part in the death of 
 his wife and child. He now returns to painting 
 marble ; and this very night he will finish the altar. 
 This puts him in a good-humor, and you may learn 
 something about this critical affair from his own 
 mouth." 
 
 I must confess that the thought of passing mid 
 night in the church alone with Berthold made me 
 shudder a little, now I had read his history. I 
 thought that there might be a little of tho devil in 
 him in spite of his good-humor and frank deport- 
 
159 
 
 ment ; and I chose rather to be in his company 
 that very noon in the clear sunlight. 
 
 I found him upon the scaffold, reserved and in 
 an ill-humor, painting the veins of marble. Climb 
 ing up to him, I reached him the pots, while he 
 stared at me with amazement. " I am your help 
 mate," said I softly, and this drew a smile from him. 
 Now I began to talk of his life, so as to let him 
 know that I was acquainted with all ; and he seemed 
 to believe that he himself had, on that night, com 
 municated every thing. Very, very gently I came 
 to the frightful catastrophe, and then said suddenly 
 " Did you actually, in your unholy madness, 
 murder your wife and child ? " 
 
 At this he let the paint-pot and the pencil fall ; 
 and, staring at me with a hideous countenance, as 
 he raised both his hands, cried out, " No, these hands 
 are unstained by the bloood of my wife of my son ! 
 Another such word, and I will dash myself down 
 from the scaffolding with you, so that both our 
 heads shall be shattered on the stone floor of the 
 church." 
 
 At this moment I felt my situation rather odd, 
 and deemed it advisable to change the subject. 
 "Look here, dear Bert hold," said I, as quietly and 
 coolly as possible ; "see how that ugly dark yellow 
 is running on the wall." 
 
 He turned his eyes to the spot, and while he 
 painted out the yellow, I slipped gently down the 
 
160 THE TOKEN. 
 
 scaffold, left the church, and went to the professor, 
 to have a hearty laugh at my well-chastised pre 
 sumption. 
 
 My vehicle was repaired, and I left G , after 
 
 Professor Aloysius Walter had solemnly promised 
 that in case any thing happened to Berthold, he 
 would communicate it in writing immediately. 
 
 Ahout half a year elapsed, when I actually re 
 ceived a letter from the professor. He expressed him 
 self in very prolix terms of praise about our meeting 
 at G , and wrote as follows about Berthold : 
 " Soon after your departure affairs took a singular 
 turn with our whimsical painter. He became sud 
 denly quite cheerful, and finished, in the most splendid 
 style, the great altar-piece, which is now the wonder 
 of every body. He then vanished ; and as he took 
 nothing with him, and a few days afterwards we 
 
 found a hat and stick lying near the stream, 
 
 we are all of opinion that he met a voluntary 
 death/ 
 
THE CAMPAGNA OF FLOKENCB. 
 
 Tis morning. Let us wander through the fields, 
 Where CIMABUE found a shepherd-boy 
 Tracing his idle fancies on the ground ; 
 And let us from the top of FIESOLE, 
 Whence GALILEO S glass by night observed 
 The phases of the moon, look round below 
 On ARNO S vale, where the dove-colored steer 
 Is ploughing up and down among the vines, 
 While many a careless note is sung aloud, 
 Filling the air with sweetness and on thee, 
 Beautiful FLORENCE ! all within thy walls, 
 Thy groves and gardens, pinnacles and towers, 
 Drawn to our feet. 
 
 For that small spire, just caught 
 By the bright ray, that church among the rest 
 By one of old distinguished as The Bride, 
 Let us in thought pursue (what can we better ?) 
 Those who assembled there at matin-time ; 
 Who, when vice revelled and along the street 
 Tables were set, what time the bearer s bell 
 Eang to demand the dead at every door, 
 8* 
 
162 THE TOKEN. 
 
 Came out into the meadows ; and, a while 
 Wandering in idleness, but not in folly. 
 Sate down in the high grass and in the shades 
 Of many a tree sun-proof day after day, 
 When all was still and nothing to be heard 
 But the cicala s voice among the olives, 
 Kelating in a ring, to banish care, 
 Their hundred tales. 
 
 Hound the green hill they went, 
 Eound, underneath first to a splendid house, 
 Grherardi, as an old tradition runs, 
 That on the left, just rising from the vale ; 
 A place for luxury the painted rooms, 
 The open galleries and middle court, 
 Not unprepared, fragrant and gay with flowers. 
 Then westward to another, nobler yet ; 
 That on the right, now known as the Palmieri, 
 Where Art with Nature vied a Paradise 
 With verdurous walls, and many a trellised walk 
 All rose and jasmine, many a twilight-glade 
 Crossed by the deer. Then to the Ladies Vale ; 
 And the clear lake, that as by magic seemed 
 To lift up to the surface every stone 
 Of lustre there, and the diminutive fish 
 Innumerable, dropt with crimson and gold, 
 Now motionless, now glancing to the sun. 
 
 Who has not dwelt on their voluptuous day ? 
 The morning banquet by the fountain-side, 
 While the small birds rejoiced on every bough ; 
 
THE CAMPAGNA OF FLORENCE. 163 
 
 The dance that followed, and the noontide slum 
 ber; 
 
 Then the tales told in turn, as round they lay 
 On carpets, the fresh waters murmuring ; 
 And the short interval of pleasant talk 
 Till supper-time, when many a siren-voice 
 Sung down the stars ; and, as they left the sky, 
 The torches, planted in the sparkling grass, 
 And everywhere among the glowing flowers, 
 Burnt bright and brighter. He whose dream it 
 
 was 
 
 (It was no more) sleeps in a neighboring vale ; 
 Sleeps in the church, where in his ear, I ween, 
 The friar poured out his wondrous catalogue ; 
 A ray, imprimis, of the star that shone 
 To the Wise Men ; a vial-full of sounds, 
 The musical chimes of the great bells that hung 
 In SOLOMON S Temple ; and though last not least, 
 A feather from the Angel GABRIEL S wing, 
 Dropt in the Virgin s chamber. That dark ridge, 
 Stretching south-east, conceals it from our sight ; 
 Not so his lowly roof and scanty farm, 
 His copse and rill, if yet a trace be left, 
 Who lived in Val di Pesa, suffering long 
 Want and neglect and (far, far worse) reproach, 
 With calm, unclouded mind. The glimmering 
 
 tower 
 
 On the gray rock beneath, his landmark once, 
 Now serves for ours, and points out where he ate 
 
164 THE TOKEN. 
 
 His bread with cheerfulness. Who sees him not 
 (Tis his own sketch he drew it from himself) 
 Laden with cages from his shoulder slung, 
 And sallying forth, while yet the morn is gray, 
 To catch a thrush on every lime-twig there ; 
 Or in the wood among his wood-cutters ; 
 Or in the tavern by the highway-side 
 At tric-trac with the miller ; or at night, 
 Doffing his rustic suit, and, duly clad, 
 Entering his closet, and, among his books, 
 Among the great of every age and clime, 
 A numerous court, turning to whom he pleased, 
 Questioning each why he did this or that, 
 And learning how to overcome the fear 
 Of poverty and death ? 
 
 Nearer we hail 
 
 Thy sunny slope, ARCETRI, sung of old 
 For its green wine ; dearer to me, to most, 
 As dwelt on by that great astronomer, 
 Seven years a prisoner at the city-gate, 
 Let in but in his grave-clothes. Sacred be 
 His villa (justly was it called The Gem !) 
 Sacred the lawn, where many a cypress threw 
 Its length of shadow, while he watched the stars I 
 Sacred the vineyard, where, while yet his sight 
 Glimmered, at blush of morn he dressed his vines, 
 Chanting aloud in gayety of heart 
 Some verse of ARIOSTO ! There unseen, 
 In manly beauty MILTON stood before him, 
 
THE CAMPAGNA OF FLOEENCE, 165 
 
 Gazing with reverent awe MILTON, his guest, 
 
 Just then come forth, all life and enterprise ; 
 
 He in his old age and extremity, 
 
 Blind, at noon- day exploring with his staff j 
 
 His eyes upturned as to the golden sun, 
 
 His eyeballs idly rolling. Little then 
 
 Did GALILEO think whom he received ; 
 
 That in his hand he held the hand of one 
 
 Who could requite him who would spread his 
 
 name 
 
 O er lands and seas great as himself, nay greater ; 
 MILTON as little that in him he saw, 
 As in a glass, what he himself should be, 
 Destined so soon to fall on evil days 
 And evil tongues so soon, alas ! to live 
 In darkness, and with dangers compassed round, 
 And solitude. 
 
 Well pleased, could we pursue 
 The AKNO, from his birthplace in the clouds, 
 So near the yellow TIBER S springing up 
 From his four fountains on the Apennine, 
 That mountain-ridge a sea-mark to the ships 
 Sailing on either sea. Downward he runs, 
 Scattering fresh verdure through the desolate wild, 
 Down by the City of Hermits, and the woods 
 That only echo to the choral hymn ; 
 Then through these gardens to the TUSCAN sea, 
 Keflecting castles, convents, villages, 
 And those great rivals in an elder day, 
 
166 THE TOKEN. 
 
 FLORENCE and PISA who have given him fame, 
 Fame everlasting, but who stained so oft 
 His troubled waters. Oft, alas ! were seen, 
 When flight, pursuit, and hideous rout were there, 
 Hands, clad in gloves of steel, held up imploring ; 
 The man, the hero, on his foaming steed 
 Borne underneath, already in the realms .*.. 
 Of darkness. Nor did night or burning noon 
 Bring respite. Oft, as that great artist saw, 
 Whose pencil had a voice, the cry " To arms ! " 
 And the shrill trumpet hurried up the bank 
 Those who had stolen an hour to breast the tide, 
 And wash from their unharnessed limbs the blood 
 And sweat of battle. Sudden was the rush, 
 Violent the tumult ; for, already in sight, 
 Nearer and nearer yet the danger drew ; 
 Each every sinew straining, every nerve, 
 Each snatching up, and girding, buckling on 
 Morion and greave and shirt of twisted mail, 
 As for his life no more perchance to taste, 
 ARNO, the grateful freshness of thy glades, 
 Thy waters where, exulting, he had felt 
 A swimmer s transport, there, alas ! to float 
 And welter. Nor between the gusts of war, 
 When flocks were feeding, and the shepherd s pipe 
 Gladdened the valley, when, but not unarmed, 
 The sower came forth, and following him that 
 
 ploughed, 
 Threw in the seed, did thy indignant waves 
 
THE CAMPAGNA OF FLORENCE. 167 
 
 Escape pollution. Sullen was the splash, 
 
 Heavy and swift the plunge, when they received 
 
 The key that just had grated on the ear 
 
 Of UGOLINO, ever closing up 
 
 That dismal dungeon thenceforth to be named 
 
 The Tower of Famine. Once indeed twas thine, 
 
 When many a winter-flood, thy tributary, 
 
 Was through its rocky glen rushing, resounding, 
 
 And thou wert in thy might, to save, restore 
 
 A charge most precious. To the nearest ford, 
 
 Hastening, a horseman from Arezzo came, 
 
 Careless, impatient of delay, a babe 
 
 Slung in a basket to the knotty staff 
 
 That lay athwart his saddle-bow. He spurs, 
 
 He enters ; and his horse, alarmed, perplexed, 
 
 Halts in the midst. Great is the stir, the strife ; 
 
 And, lo ! an atom on that dangerous sea, 
 
 The babe is floating ! Fast and far he flies ; 
 
 Now tempest-rocked, now whirling round and 
 
 round 
 
 But not to perish. By thy willing waves 
 Borne to the shore, among the bulrushes 
 The ark has rested ; and unhurt, secure 
 As on his mother s breast, he sleeps within, 
 All peace ! or never had the nations heard 
 That voice so sweet, which still enchants, inspires ; 
 That voice, which sung of love, of liberty. 
 PETRARCH lay there ! And such the images 
 That here spring up forever, in the young 
 
168 THE TOKEN. 
 
 Kindling poetic fire ! Such they that came 
 And clustered round our MILTON, when at eve, 
 Eeclined beside thee, ARNO ; when at eve, 
 Led on by thee, he wandered with delight, 
 Framing Ovidian verse, and through thy groves 
 Gathering wild myrtle. Such the poet s dreams ; 
 Yet not such only. For, look round and say, 
 Where is the ground that did not drink warm 
 
 blood, 
 
 The echo that had learnt not to articulate 
 The cry of murder ? Fatal was the day 
 To FLORENCE, when ( twas in a narrow street 
 North of that temple, where the truly great 
 Sleep, not unhonored, not unvisited ; 
 That temple sacred to the Holy Cross 
 There is the house that house of the DONATI, 
 Towerless, and left long since, but to the last 
 Braving assault all rugged, all embossed 
 Below, and still distinguished by the rings 
 Of brass, that held in war and festival-time 
 Their family-standards) fatal was the day 
 To Florence, when, at morn, at the ninth hour, 
 A noble darne in weeds of widowhood, 
 Weeds by so many to be worn so soon, 
 Stood at her door .; and, like a sorceress, flung 
 Her dazzling spell. Subtle she was, "and rich, 
 Kich in a hidden pearl of heavenly light, 
 Her daughter s beauty .; and too well she knew 
 Its virtue ! Patiently she stood and watched ; 
 
THE CAMPAGNA OF FLORENCE. 169 
 
 Nor stood alone but spoke not. In her breast 
 Her purpose lay ; and, as a youth passed by, 
 Clad for the nuptial rite, she smiled and said, 
 Lifting a corner of the maiden s veil, 
 " This had I treasured up in secret for thee. 
 This hast thou lost ! " He gazed and was undone ! 
 Forgetting not forgot he broke the bond, 
 And paid the penalty, losing his life 
 At the bridge-foot ; and hence a world of woe ! 
 Vengeance for vengeance crying, blood for blood ; 
 No intermission ! Law, that slumbers not, 
 And, like the angel with the flaming sword, 
 Sits over all, at once chastising, healing, 
 Himself the avenger, went ; and every street 
 Ran red with mutual slaughter though some 
 times 
 
 The young forgot the lesson they had learnt, 
 And loved when they should hate like thee, 
 
 IMELDA, 
 
 Thee and thy PAOLO. When last ye met 
 In that still hour (the heat, the glare was gone, 
 Not so the splendor through the cedar-grove 
 A radiance streamed like a consuming fire/ 
 As though the glorious orb, in its descent, 
 Had come and rested there) when last ye met, 
 And thy relentless brothers dragged him forth, 
 It had been well hadst thou slept on, IMELDA, 
 Nor from thy trance of fear awaked, as night 
 Fell on that fatal spot, to wish thee dead, 
 
170 THE TOKEN. 
 
 To track him by his blood, to search, to find, 
 Then fling thee down to catch a word, a look, 
 A sigh, if yet thou couldst (alas ! thou couldst 
 
 not), 
 
 And die, unseen, unthought of from the wound 
 Sucking the poison. 
 
 Yet when slavery came, 
 
 Worse followed. Genius, Valor left the land, 
 Indignant all that had from age to age 
 Adorned, ennobled , and headlong they fell, 
 Tyrant and slave. For deeds of violence, 
 Done in broad day and more than half redeemed 
 By many a great and generous sacrifice 
 Of self to others, came the unpledged bowl, 
 The stab of the stiletto. Gliding by 
 Unnoticed, in slouched hat and muffling cloak, 
 That just discovered, Caravaggio-like, 
 A swarthy cheek, black brow, and eye of flame 
 The bravo stole, and o er the shoulder plunged 
 To the heart s core, or from beneath the ribs 
 Slanting (a surer path, as some averred) 
 Struck upward then slunk off, or, if pursued, 
 Made for the sanctuary, and there along 
 The glimmering aisle among the worshippers 
 Wandered with restless step and jealous look, 
 Dropping thick blood. Misnamed to lull alarm, 
 In every palace was The Laboratory, 
 Where he within brewed poisons swift and slow, 
 That scattered terror till all things seemed poison 
 ous, 
 
THE CAMPAGNA OF FLO HENCE. 171 
 
 And brave men trembled if a band held out 
 A nosegav or a letter ; while the great 
 Drank only from the Venice-glass, that broke, 
 That shivered, scattering round it as in scorn, 
 If aught malignant, aught of thine was there, 
 Cruel TOPHANA ; and pawned provinces 
 For that miraculous gem, the gem that gave 
 A sign infallible of coming ill, 
 That clouded though the vehicle of death 
 Were an invisible perfume. Happy then 
 The guest to whom at sleeping-time twas said, 
 But in an under voice (a lady s page 
 Speaks in no louder), " Pass not on. That door 
 Leads to another which awaits thy coming, 
 One in the floor now left, alas ! unlocked. 
 No eye detects it lying under-foot, 
 Just as thou enterest, at the threshold-stone ; 
 Heady to fall and plunge thee into night 
 And long oblivion ! " In that evil hour 
 Where lurked not danger ? Through the fairy 
 land 
 
 No seat of pleasure glittering half-way down, 
 No hunting-place but with some damning spot 
 That will not be washed out ! There, at Caiano, 
 Where, when the hawks were mewed and evening 
 
 came, 
 
 PULCI would set the table in a roar 
 With his wild lay there, where the sun de 
 scends, 
 
172 THE TOKEN. 
 
 And hill and dale are lost, veiled with his beams, 
 The fair Venetian died, she and her lord 
 Died of a posset drugged by him who sate 
 And saw them suffer, flinging back the charge ; 
 The murderer on the murdered. sobs of grief, 
 Sounds inarticulate . . suddenly stopt, 
 And followed by a struggle and a gasp, 
 A gasp in death, are heard yet in Cerreto, 
 Along the marble halls and staircases, 
 Nightly at twelve ; and, at the self-same hour, 
 Shrieks, such as penetrate the inmost soul, 
 Such as awake the innocent babe to long, 
 Long wailing, echo through the emptiness 
 Of that old den far up among the hills, 
 Frowning on him who comes from Pietra-Mala : 
 In them, alas ! within five days and less, 
 Two unsuspecting victims, passing fair, 
 Welcomed with kisses, and slain cruelly, 
 One with the knife, one with the fatal noose. 
 
 But, lo ! the sun is setting ; earth and sky 
 One blaze of glory. What we saw but now, 
 As though it were not, though it had not been ! 
 He lingers yet ; and, lessening to a point, 
 Shines like the eye of Heaven then withdraws ; 
 And from the zenith to the utmost skirts 
 All is celestial red ! The hour is come 
 When they that sail along the distant seas 
 Languish for home ; and they that in the morn 
 Said to sweet friends "farewell" melt as at part 
 ing ; 
 
THE CAMPAGNA OF FLORENCE. 173 
 
 When, just gone forth, the pilgrim, if he hears, 
 As now we hear it, wandering round the hill, 
 The bell that seems to mourn the dying day, 
 Slackens his pace and sighs, and those he loved 
 Loves more than ever. But who feels it not ? 
 And well may we, for we are far away. 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 
 
 BY THE HON. MRS. ERSKINE NORTON 
 
 Fearful, and horrible, and dear thou art; 
 Both heaven and hell are in thee! 
 
 JOANNA BAILLIE. 
 
 GARCIO LOREZANO, a nobleman, senator and 
 councillor of Venice, in her most palmy days, was 
 seated with his daughter, the young and beautiful 
 Antonia, on a fair summer s eve, beneath a gar 
 landed bower, in the garden of his magnificent man 
 sion at Venice. 
 
 Lorezano had married late : he was now an old 
 man, but the winter of his life though " frosty, was 
 kindly ; " his hairs were few and white, but his 
 keen eye yet flashed with intellectual vigor, and 
 untamable spirit. In Venice he was esteemed and 
 feared. 
 
 Antonia, in consequence of the early death of 
 her mother, had been brought up by that mother s 
 widowed and childless sister, living in retirement at 
 a short distance from Venice, and whose small cir 
 cle of society included only the most noble or the 
 most gifted. Antonia had but lately arrived in 
 
ECAJST sir COST 
 

CLAUDE EOVANI. 175 
 
 Venice to take her station at the head of her 
 father s house, his only child and representative, 
 and sole heir to his great wealth. Numberless 
 suitors, among whom was included a son of the Doge, 
 had become competitors for her hand ; but Antonia 
 herself had hitherto shown no preference, and her 
 father seemed in no hurry to part from her : their 
 position appeared and indeed was, an enviable one, 
 although a thorn (as usual) lurked beneath the full 
 blown rose of their happiness. On that thorn their 
 conversation touched. 
 
 " Plead not for him ! " continued the old man ; 
 " plead not for him, Antonia ! not even from you 
 will I listen to a word of mediation ; although he be 
 the son of my sister, my only and beloved sister, he 
 is an alien to my house and heart for ever. I would 
 not no, as I am a true Venetian, I would not 
 stretch out this arm to save him, although I saw 
 him, where you are now, at my feet, and perishing 
 with want no, though he spoke with my sister s 
 voice, and looked with her eyes ! A ruined gam 
 bler" 
 
 " His fortune," gently interposed Antonia, " was 
 not large, and he was imposed upon by evil and de 
 signing men." 
 
 " A midnight brawler, committing murder in our 
 streets." 
 
 " He killed, in a fair fight, the false friend who 
 had deceived and robbed him ; unhappily the 
 
176 THE TOKEN. 
 
 traitor belonged to the most powerful family of 
 Venice." 
 
 " And then to herd with the scum of the earth, 
 and turn his puny arms against the land that bore 
 him ! " 
 
 " He was exiled, he thought unjustly ; he de 
 manded his remaining property, it was refused : des 
 pair has driven him to his present course." 
 
 " And let despair be his portion, in this world at 
 least ! Time might have seared over his first offen 
 ces, and restored him to his country ; but to raise a 
 finger against Venice ! to look at her even with a 
 menace on his brow ! girl, his death is but a poor 
 retribution ! " 
 
 " It seems he wishes for death ; he prefers it to 
 exile. Remember Jacob Foscari ! the sternest of 
 our patriots cannot deny a sigh to his memory. 
 my father ! you are too severe ; there is neither mer 
 cy nor justice in all this/ 
 
 " Indeed ! and what is it you wish ? what 
 would you have me do ? " 
 
 Antonia, deceived by the veiled irony of her fa 
 ther s manner, earnestly replied : " Let him have a 
 word of hope and sympathy from us ; let him have 
 the means of entering some foreign service according 
 to his rank. I will vouch for Claude Rovani that he 
 will soon make Venice proud of her discarded son, 
 and eager to receive and pardon him. Do this, my 
 father ! " 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 177 
 
 There was a pause ; at length the old man 
 spoke : 
 
 " Is it my child, my only child, who would bring 
 dishonor on her father s gray hairs, by drawing him 
 into a secret and friendly communication with an 
 outlawed traitor ? Is it my only child who would 
 expose my few remaining days to danger for the 
 sake of a worthless and ungrateful boy ? " 
 
 " My father, forbear I beseech you ! " exclaimed 
 the horror-struck Antonia. " It is not thus I mean 
 it you know I do not ; what might be done, I 
 thought could be done in all safety and honor." 
 
 " Neither in safety nor in honor, Antonia." Then 
 looking at her suspiciously, he added : " How long 
 is it since you have seen your cousin ? " 
 
 " Three years, my lord, this very day. He had 
 spent some weeks at my aunt s, and left us for Yen- 
 ice ; six months afterwards he was banished/ 
 
 " During those six months did he write to you ? " 
 
 " Frequently ; you have seen some of his letters." 
 
 " And did your aunt see them all ? " 
 
 " Yes, signor," replied Antonia, with a look of 
 surprise. 
 
 " Let me consider," continued her father ; " three 
 years since you were then but thirteen a mere 
 child. Is your recollection of your cousin very 
 strong ? " 
 
 " Oh, I think I see him now ! with an eye like 
 an eagle s, and the step of a bounding deer ; a brow 
 9 
 
178 THE TOKEN. 
 
 open and manly, as your own. He resembled you, 
 my father, especially when he frowned and smiled; 
 and (I must say it, because I am sure of it) he loved 
 and reverenced you as I do. Then, too, with all 
 his life, courage, and intellect, with all his careless 
 boldness, and buoyant spirits, how respectful to our 
 aunt ! how mindful of her comfort ! how patient with 
 her infirmities ! but to me oh ! to me " (Antonia 
 burst into tears) " My poor cousin ! my dear, dear 
 Claude ! " 
 
 Her father rose and stood erect before her : " An 
 tonia ! " she looked up : " this is the first time the 
 name of the recreant Kovani, since his proscription, 
 has passed between us : mark me ! it must be the 
 last. I am willing to believe thee misled by thy 
 youth and natural goodness thus far to have inno 
 cently pleaded for the unworthy, but I warn thee, 
 tempt me no further ! Thou deemest me severe to 
 my sister s child ; thou hast yet to learn that it is in 
 niy nature to be as severe to my own, should justice 
 and the safety of my country require it. In Rovani 
 I acknowledge but a traitor a reckless, bold, de 
 signing traitor, destroying the peace and security of 
 Venice : for, know, that within these few days our 
 capital is filled with his emissaries ; no individual or 
 family is safe ; the blow falls in the dark, and in the 
 night on the land and on the water in the private 
 chamber, and in the public walk ; placards are post 
 ed up by invisible hands., proclaiming that the dag- 
 
CLAUDE KOVANI. 179 
 
 ger shall not be sheathed until all who voted for the 
 banishment of Claude Rovani are no more. And 
 will he stop there ? You look terrified, Antonia ; 
 you were not aware to what a head this evil has aris 
 en. I have shielded you from the knowledge of it ; 
 but I now think it right to tell you all to tell you 
 that Venice harbors in her bosom a nest of vipers, 
 warmed into life by the treacherous and revengeful 
 Rovani, and that the government, secret and power 
 ful as it is, has hitherto striven in vain to crush, or 
 even to trace them. I did not vote for the banish 
 ment of the offender, being unfortunately absent at 
 the time ; but on my return, I publicly approved 
 of the sentence. Nevertheless, rest assured that the 
 government at this crisis will have its eye upon us. 
 Be on your guard, Antonia ; not only suppress, but 
 change your sentiments ; let not his name be breath 
 ed with an accent of pity, even in the most secret 
 recesses of your chamber ; drive him not only from 
 your heart, but from your memory : your cousin 
 Claude is dead ; it is the traitor Rovani alone that 
 lives ; therefore, think only of what is due to your 
 country, to your father, and to yourself ! " The old 
 man turned away, and slowly disappeared. 
 
 Antonia remained with her eyes still intently 
 raised to where her father had stood, motionless with 
 astonishment, grief, and fear ; she struggled, how 
 ever, with the stupor that was creeping over her ; her 
 
180 THE TOKEJS. 
 
 head dropped upon her knee, and a deep sigh escap 
 ed her. 
 
 " I wish I could weep ! " 
 
 " Weep not, Antonia ! " whispered a voice close 
 to her ear. She would have sprung from her seat, 
 but an arm thrown around her waist retained her ; 
 a muffled form knelt beside her ; the head was part 
 ly revealed, the face almost touched her own, and 
 the eyes seemed " to ride upon the balls of hers/ 
 The extremity of the shock saved her from insensi 
 bility, and she exclaimed, " Claude Kovani ! " 
 
 " Tis he the recreant, the traitor, the condemn 
 ed of all save of thee. I thank and bless thee, An 
 tonia ! Thou hast pleaded for me as an angel pleads, 
 although in vain. Nay, struggle not to escape ; I 
 claim but a few moments listen to me ! " 
 
 " I must not I dare not ! " then clasping her 
 hands she added ; " Claude, what hast thou 
 done ? " 
 
 " I have done that which the meanest of the cre 
 ation will do, when crushed and trod upon. I have 
 turned upon my enemies ay, and I will not leave 
 my hold until I have made a wound as deep and as 
 immedicable in the heart of Venice as she has made 
 in mine." 
 
 A thought darted into the mind of Antonia, 
 which for an instant chilled her with horror : she 
 started up ; " Speak, Rovani ! wherefore art thou 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 181 
 
 here concealed and listening ? My father ? ha ! is 
 he not safe ? darest them with sacrilegious hand " 
 
 " I came not to destroy, but to save thy father, 
 by a word of warning to thee." He then again ap 
 proached, and whispered : " Beware he go not to 
 the council this night ! For thy sake he is saved ; 
 and in spite of all that he has done, or may do, in 
 his unjust and bloodthirsty wrath against his sister s 
 son, he is the father of Antonia, and as such is sa 
 cred sacred, so long as thou betrayest not the hint 
 I give thee ; a betrayal would doom him to death, 
 and not save those already doomed. Dost mark me, 
 Antonia ? " 
 
 " horrible ! " she exclaimed, covering her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 " And is it with horror alone thou wilt think of 
 me ? " he retorted mournfully. 
 
 "Not so," replied Antonia, more in fear than in 
 truth, " thou savest my father." 
 
 " Tis well ; my time is more than out ; farewell, 
 my beautiful cousin. I marvel riot at thy crowd of 
 suitors ; but wed not with the Doge s son, and some 
 times think of one, who, under happier auspices, 
 would have loved and cherished thee in his heart s 
 core ; farewell ! " He snatched her in his arms, 
 pressed his lips to hers, and as suddenly releasing 
 her, turned, and plunging into the thickly-planted 
 shrubbery, disappeared. 
 
 What a change had a single hour wrought in the 
 
182 THE TOKEN. 
 
 feelings and fate of Antonia ! What would she not 
 have given to recall the careless happiness with 
 which, at the commencement of this luckless hour ? 
 she had sat at the feet of her father, caressing him, 
 smiling on the lovely and animated scene around 
 her, or striking the chords of her lute, in the mere 
 fulness of unreproved enjoyment ! And now the 
 shades of night, that were chasing the lovely, though 
 short-lived twilight, and enveloping in darkness all 
 that was of late so bright and beautiful, fell not 
 more suddenly, or more heavily, than the gloom of 
 despondency, self-reproach, and evil forebodings, on 
 the young heart of Antonia. 
 
 " Signora ! where is the signora ? " Antonia 
 started, for even the well-known voice of her favor 
 ite attendant Lucilla, filled her with apprehension. 
 " Signora Antonia ! " cried out the girl, in a voice 
 of greater alarm, advancing hastily towards the bow 
 er. " Now the saints defend us ! Signora, what do 
 you here at this late hour, when the dews are fall 
 ing ? and all alone too ! and why have you not an 
 swered me ? I declare I feel quite frightened." 
 
 " I am not well, Lucilla ; get me home, and in 
 bed as soon as you can." It was too dark to see 
 her mistress clearly ; but Lucilla felt that her hands 
 were cold, that she trembled from head to foot, and 
 that she was scarcely able to walk ; she supported 
 her home with abundance of exclamations and inter 
 rogations, to which Antonia made no reply. On 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 183 
 
 reaching her chamber, Lucilla perceived that her 
 young mistress had all the appearance of sudden ill 
 ness ; and having assisted her to undress, and to 
 place her in bed, left her as she desired, to request 
 the attendance of her father. 
 
 " Alas ! " exclaimed Antonia when alone ; " how 
 shall I be able to support his presence, to receive his 
 tenderness and pity, with the image of the forbidden 
 Eovani at my heart, and his kiss upon my lip ! I 
 have a secret to hide, a part to play, an object to at 
 tain ! Into what a mesh of difficulties am I already 
 entangled ! " 
 
 Her father came hastily, reproaching himself as 
 the cause of her illness. The domestic physician 
 was called, and gave it as his opinion that some 
 shock on the nerves had been received, and that the 
 utmost quiet, rest, and composure were requisite. 
 In pursuance cf the first scheme of deception she had 
 ever practised, Antonia pretended to be more unwell 
 than she really was. 
 
 "It is ten o clock," whispered her father; "I 
 must leave you for an hour or two to attend the 
 council." Without opening her eyes, she folded her 
 father s hand in hers. " Not to-night, dearest father, 
 not to-night ! " 
 
 " The council, my child, will soon break up ; 
 there will be nothing very important ; the leading 
 measures were decided on last night." 
 
 " You can therefore the more easily stay with 
 
1 84 THE TOKEN. 
 
 me : do not leave me ! " She clung to him ; and 
 the tremulous movement of her frame recommenced, 
 appearing to threaten convulsion. 
 
 "Can it be," thought her father, "that the 
 mere conversation with me on the subject of her 
 degenerate kinsman produces this lamentable effect, 
 or is there some other cause ? " Vague suspicions 
 darted into his mind ; but to question her was 
 impossible, and he remained by her, despatching a 
 messenger to the council stating the reason of his 
 absence. 
 
 Having her father s word, which she knew to be 
 inviolable, that he would not attend the council, 
 she at last consented to take the composing medicine 
 the physician had prescribed, and soon after sank to 
 rest, with her father s hand fast locked in hers. 
 
 At one o clock in the morning Lorezano was pre 
 paring to retire to his own room, feeling quite reas 
 sured by the tranquil and unbroken sleep of his 
 child, when he was arrested by a buzz and murmur 
 in the streets, accompanied by the quick, steady step 
 of the armed police ; presently there was a loud 
 knocking at his gate ; his household were immedi 
 ately roused, and he himself proceeded to the outer 
 court, where he was met by two of the council, his 
 most intimate friends. 
 
 " Sad work, Lorezano ! three of our number " 
 (repeating the names) " are wounded to death, at 
 the breaking up of the council, within the palace 
 
CLAUDE EOVANI. 185 
 
 gates ; hark ! the tocsin ! the whole city is getting 
 on foot ; the palace and its precincts are under the 
 strictest search, and we have run here to beg of you 
 to show yourself and assist, for your name has been 
 mentioned suspiciously, your absence from the 
 council (a circumstance so rare) on this eventful 
 night, has been remarked." 
 
 " 1 will go with you instantly," exclaimed the 
 old senator ; " bring me my sword, and God grant 
 me occasion and power to use it, although it be 
 against my own degenerate flesh and blood ! But 
 come first with me, signers, you shall see my sick 
 child whom I could not leave." They accompanied 
 him to the chamber of Antonia, by whom, with 
 Lucilla, sat the physician, fearful of her being 
 awaked by this sudden clamor ; but, although with 
 cheeks and lips as white as the linen that enshrouded 
 her, and breathing short and unequally, she still 
 slept. The senators, with a view to the defence of 
 their friend, asked a few questions of the physician 
 and were quite satisfied. Lorezano gently kissed 
 his daughter s brow, and departed with them. 
 
 Lucilla, who had sat up during the night, now 
 at the physician s desire, resigned her post to an 
 other. On her way to her chamber she was accost 
 ed by her aspirante Pietro, a confidential sort of clerk 
 and treasurer, clever, plausible, and artful. 
 
 The fellow proceeded by a series of shrewdly put 
 questions to elicit from his weak and unsupecting 
 9* 
 
186 THE TOKEN. 
 
 auditor, sufficient to convince him that an interview 
 had recently taken place between Antonia and 
 Kovani ; and persuaded her, for the sake, as he 
 alleged, of guarding her young mistress from the 
 consequences of so dangerous a connection, to con 
 cur with him in a system of espionage, and to com 
 municate to him, from time to time, any circumstan 
 ces bearing on the subject, which might come under 
 her notice. 
 
 Lorezano had enemies in the council as well as 
 friends ; but on this occasion those enemies found 
 that it was in vain attempting to cast a slur upon 
 his loyalty. His open, manly bearing, his zealous 
 intrepidity, his perfect contempt of aught approach 
 ing to suspicion as applied to himself, joined to his 
 gray hairs and unblemished character, silenced the 
 slanderous whispers of his enemies ; and the old 
 councillor at once resumed his influence. 
 
 The next day a placard was found posted in the 
 Place of St. Mark, signed by Claude Kovani, setting 
 forth that the atonement of blood was fulfilled, that 
 he and his confederates should withdraw from the 
 states of Venice ; but that, as they had devoted 
 their lives to her punishment, they should hold them 
 selves in readiness to enter into the service of any 
 foreign power at war with her ; he commented with 
 sarcastic severity on her omniscient and omnipotent 
 government, that could not, within its own capital, 
 protect the lives and property of its noblest citizens ; 
 
CLAUDE KOVANI. 187 
 
 and he thanked that government, with bitter irony, 
 for the treasure that had replaced his alienated 
 property. 
 
 This manifesto inflamed the Venetians beyond 
 endurance. It seemed as if the whole population 
 had quitted for a time their usual avocations to join 
 in one common pursuit of these insulting rebels ; 
 and not only the capital, but the whole country 
 became imbued with the same spirit. Every road 
 had its village patrol ; the outposts were increased 
 in number and doubly guarded ; no dwelling was 
 exempted from instant and repeated search ; and no 
 persons, whatever their rank or station, were safe 
 from personal examination or interrogatory at any 
 time. 
 
 It was arranged, that to avoid as much as possi 
 ble all this hubbub and confusion, produced by so 
 near and exciting a cause, Antonia should return 
 for a time to the comparative quiet of her aunt s 
 residence, although that, like all others, was under 
 surveillance. Accordingly in two days she proceeded 
 thither by easy stages, with a strong escort, and ac 
 companied by the physician and Lucilla. 
 
 Pietro, to his disappointment, remained with 
 his master in the city. Any correspondence by let 
 ter with Lucilla, on the important subject of their 
 conferences, was utterly impossible ; it was therefore 
 agreed, that should any thing occur to induce a 
 slight suspicion of her mistress s continued commur 
 
188 THE TOKEN. 
 
 nication with Rovani, Lucilla should send, as a to 
 ken, by the daily messenger, a lock of her hair, with 
 her best love, to Pietro ; but, if any thing very de 
 cided took place, so as to leave little or no doubt on 
 the mind of Lucilla that such a communication 
 actually existed, she was to send him back a small 
 gold and enamelled ring, which he had lately given 
 her. 
 
 In consequence of a private intimation from 
 Lorezano, the signora Bianca received her niece with 
 her usual maternal kindness, but forbore in any way 
 to allude to the cause of her recent indisposition, and 
 her unexpected return. In neither of these events 
 did the signora perceive any mystery ; naturally 
 concluding that the guilt, danger, and disgrace, in 
 which their once much-loved relative had so unhap 
 pily become involved, sufficiently accounted for the 
 painful impression made on a heart so affectionate, 
 and so unused to suffering as that of her niece. 
 
 The image of Rovani in the mean time continued 
 to haunt Antonia : for the chances of his using this 
 abode as a means of concealment or evasion, were 
 not improbable. It was an old building, reared in 
 dangerous times, and had more than its due share of 
 secret doors, and passages, and subterraneous com 
 munications, which she well remembered Rovani, as 
 a boy, delighted to explore. 
 
 Ten days elapsed. One night, having undressed, 
 and dismissed Lucilla, who slept in the adjoining 
 
CLAUDE KOVANI. 189 
 
 room, Antonia applied herself to read. It was a 
 dark and gloomy night ; every door, and the massive 
 casements of her windows were closed ; a slight 
 noise attracted her attention ; she looked in the 
 direction from whence it proceeded ; the arras was 
 moving, and her heart sank within her as she observed 
 that it was exactly the part which covered a sliding 
 panel. She remained rooted to her seat, with her 
 eyes strained eagerly forward, and her lips apart, 
 when a loose corner of the arras was suddenly lifted 
 up, and Eovani stood before her. 
 
 He was thinner and paler than when they had 
 last met, and the stamp of thought and suffering was 
 on his brow. " Antonia ! " he exclaimed with a 
 mixture of doubt and hope. She rose, and advanced 
 towards him ; he flew to meet her : " Will you 
 assist me ? " 
 
 " I will repay, as far as I am able, the debt I 
 owe you for my father s life, tell me how." He 
 raised her hands to his lips, and led her to one of 
 the casements : " You probably understand this 
 better than I, open it very gently." While she 
 did so, he took from his bosom a slight but strong 
 cord, fastening an end of it to one of two pillars 
 in the apartment. Kovani then extinguished her 
 lamp, and leaned from the window, under which 
 glided a branch of a small river that flows into 
 the gulf of Venice. "What do you expect ?" she 
 whispered. 
 
190 THE TOKEN. 
 
 " A boat," he replied ; " I hear it." And almost 
 as soon as he spoke, a soft and peculiar whistle was 
 heard, which he answered. He then threw the other 
 end of the rope out, and turning to her said, " When 
 you hear my whistle from below, undo or cut the 
 end which I have fastened round the pillar, and 
 throw it out. God bless you, Antonia ! God bless 
 you ! we shall perhaps never meet again ! " He 
 drew her towards him, and tenderly embraced her ; 
 he felt the warm tears upon her cheeks, he felt the 
 pressure of her hand, and above all, he felt the 
 slight and timid return of his kiss. At that instant 
 a thought glanced over his mind j a selfish and 
 unworthy thought, it existed but for a moment ; 
 " Did she love him ? might she be prevailed upon 
 to share his exile ? But no to resign her country 
 was possible, but not her father nor would Rovani 
 desire it." Strange inconsistency of the human 
 mind ! he, who, without remorse, had glutted his 
 revenge, shrunk from even the thought of crime 
 unprompted by that passion : where his nature was 
 unperverted, it shone forth in all its original bright 
 ness. With one desperate struggle he relinquished 
 her, and sprang from the window. Antonia s heart 
 beat to every vibration of the cord ; at length it 
 was still, and the expected whistle announced his 
 safety. She drew the loop of the rope and threw it 
 out. 
 
 The noise of the opening of the window had 
 
CLAUDE KOVANI. 191 
 
 awaked the watchful Lucilla ; she sat up in her bed 
 and listened ; at last she found courage to rise and 
 approach the door of her mistress s apartment ; she 
 thought she heard whispering ; again she hesitated, 
 and then, very gentle opening the door, found there 
 was no light, and the rush of cool air convinced her 
 that a window was unclosed. She crept along towards 
 it, and just reached it when Antonia, having undone 
 the end of the cord and thrown it out, was leaning 
 anxiously from the window ; then drawing herself 
 back, she exclaimed, in a low voice : " Thank God, 
 he is safe ! " She proceeded to close the window, 
 and Lucilla took that opportunity of effecting her 
 return unperceived to her own room. 
 
 On the arrival of the usual messenger in the 
 city on the following day at noon, Pietro received a 
 packet. He flew with the prize to his own sleeping- 
 room, and on tearing it open, found the ring. In 
 less than half an hour, the spy was closeted with 
 Yincenzo, one of the council the most inimical to 
 Lorezano. 
 
 At five o clock the same afternoon, the signora 
 Bianca and her niece, having dressed for the even 
 ing, after their siesta, had met as usual at their 
 accustomed seat on the terrace. 
 
 Antonia was aroused from a reverie by an ex 
 clamation from her aunt ; and on looking up, beheld 
 advancing along the road, direct to the villa, a 
 carriage and a horse-litter, accompanied by a 
 
192 THE TOKEN. 
 
 numerous troop of armed men. The signora gave 
 immediate orders for their reception without any 
 symptom of fear or suspicion, but the heart of 
 Antonia throbbed and a mortal dread crept over her ; 
 even her aunt appeared discomposed on observing 
 two government-officers and a notary descend from 
 the carriage, who were conducted, with the military 
 commander and several of the escort, into the pre 
 sence of the two ladies ; a few of the higher class of 
 the attendants of the family accompanied them, and 
 among whom was Lucilla. 
 
 After bowing profoundly, one of the civil officers 
 addressed the lady of the house : " It is with the 
 utmost regret, signora, that we fulfil the painful duty 
 imposed on us, of which this (presenting an official 
 document) will apprise you/ The signora received 
 the paper, but her agitation was too great to allow 
 her to peruse it, and she returned it. " Head it, sir, 
 I beg I cannot." The commissioner proceeded to 
 read, with a clear and loud voice, the order which 
 authorized him and his coadjutors to search the 
 premises of the signora Bianca ; to examine herself 
 and her household ; to arrest, without examination, 
 the signora Antonia, and to convey her a prisoner 
 to Venice. 
 
 The signora Bianca looked at Antouia, and was 
 surprised to observe that there was neither astonish 
 ment nor indignation on her countenance ; she stood 
 with downcast eyes, calm and pale. " This is some 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 193 
 
 base intrigue ! " exclaimed the signora, approaching 
 her, " and the truth will soon be evident. " Her 
 niece embraced her affectionately, but without a 
 word ; and talking her long veil from the seat she 
 had just quitted, she enveloped herself in it, and 
 bowing her head, said, " I am ready." 
 
 " My dear, dear mistress ! " sobbed out Lucilla, 
 " where are they going to take you ? " 
 
 " Farewell, Lucilla ! farewell all of you ! " said 
 Antonia, as she was placed in the litter, which was 
 carefully shut, and the guards drew up round it. 
 
 The commissioners next proceeded to call over 
 the names of the household from a list they held ; 
 the terrified Lucilla was then selected from the rest, 
 and removed into another apartment. " We desire 
 that you will detail to us exactly the event that has 
 taken place here within the last twenty-four hours, 
 and that has given you a suspicion of the signora 
 Antonia s being in correspondence with her cousin, 
 the traitor, Claude Rovani ? " 
 
 " I know of no event/ replied the trembling 
 Lucilla, " I have no suspicion." 
 
 " Apply the thumb-screws ! " 
 
 " mercy ! I will confess all," screamed the 
 girl, going down on her knees ; and accordingly she 
 detailed exactly what she had heard and seen the 
 preceding night. Her deposition was taken in 
 writing, and she was desired to lead the way to the 
 apartment of her mistress. Here, on examination 
 
194 THE TOKEN. 
 
 behind the arras, was found the sliding panel, which 
 Kovani had incautiously left open. A party was 
 ordered to explore this secret entry ; and another, 
 consisting of a numerous detachment of picked men 
 and horses, was ordered to follow the course of the 
 river, and to pursue the inquiry actively and care 
 fully in its direction. The guard over the residence 
 was strongly reinforced, and stricter regulations 
 adopted as to the household, who in fact became 
 prisoners. The commissioners finally returned to 
 the terrace to take formal leave of the signora 
 Bianca, who, from the moment of her niece s depar 
 ture, had remained motionless in her chair, with her 
 face buried in her hands. 
 
 On the arrival of Lorezano at the Doge s council 
 that night, he was informed that the conspirators 
 had been again tracked, and that there was a prison 
 er for examination, and perhaps for condemnation, 
 before the Council of Ten. 
 
 The forms of the government of Venice frequent 
 ly varied ; at this time the Council of Ten was in 
 dependent of the Doge, who was only applied to for 
 a casting vote, when the members were equally 
 divided on a question. 
 
 This terrific tribunal assembled in their secret 
 hall at midnight ; they were seated in a semicircle ; 
 a single lamp was suspended immediately in front, 
 darkened on the side towards the councillors, and 
 throwing its full light on the spot were the prisoner 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 195 
 
 would be placed. On the right there was a small 
 table also, with a partially shaded lamp, where sat 
 two scriveners with their writing materials. At a 
 greater distance on the left, might be occasionally 
 caught a glimpse of two masked motionless figures 
 seated on the ground ; behind them was the dreaded 
 wheel, and strange nameless instruments were scat 
 tered round. The size, situation, and communica 
 tions of this hall would have appeared to a stranger 
 all undefined in "darkness visible ;" a column whose 
 height was lost in obscurity, or the wave of a dark 
 curtain would catch his eye by the uncertain flicker 
 ing of the light, and now and then he might see, or 
 imagine he saw, a shrouded form moving noiselessly 
 along in the distance. 
 
 A veiled female was conducted in and placed in 
 front of her judges ; "A woman ! " whispered the 
 president. " Yes, signor, a woman," repeated Yin- 
 cenzo ; " remove her veil ! " It was removed, and 
 the young daughter of the aged Lorezano stood 
 before them. 
 
 There was a movement among the councillors, 
 followed by a deep groan. Antonia, for a moment, 
 forgot her fears, and thought only of her father ; 
 she raised her manacled hand to her eyes, and strove 
 to pierce the gloom ; she struggled to rush forward, 
 but was prevented by a hitherto invisible frame of 
 iron net-work. " My father ! " she exclaimed, be 
 seechingly. For a moment there was the stillness 
 
196 THE TOKEN. 
 
 of death, and then the president gave the order to 
 proceed with the examination. 
 
 Antonia collected herself ; " Signers/ she said, 
 " there will be no examination requisite to elicit the 
 truth. Give me leave, and I will detail to you 
 exactly all that has occurred." She was ordered to 
 proceed. 
 
 Antonia related, with clearness, brevity, and 
 precision, the scenes that had taken place in the 
 garden at Venice, and in her chamber at the resi 
 dence of her aunt. No doubt remained on the 
 mind of her judges that she had told the whole truth, 
 corroborated as it was by every circumstance, and by 
 other evidence. On the conclusion of her detail, 
 several questions were put to her by different mem 
 bers, and her answers confirmed their impression of 
 her truth. 
 
 During the whole of this time, Antonia had 
 anxiously watched for a glimpse of her father, or the 
 sound of his voice. She frequently turned an in 
 tense gaze to the spot whence the groan had pro 
 ceeded, but she could distinguish nothing. She knew 
 that he was in her presence, she felt that he suffered, 
 and not the less acutely, that the agonized feelings 
 of the parent were sternly repressed by the duty of 
 the councillor and the resolution of the patriot. 
 
 The prisoner was ordered to withdraw. - 
 
 Two opinions were then proposed to the council 
 as to her sentence. The one by the friends of Lore- 
 
CLAUDE KOVANI. 197 
 
 zano, the other by his enemies. The first party, 
 among whom was the president, proposed that 
 Antonia should be imprisoned until Kovani was 
 seized, or his death ascertained, and that then she 
 should be released and pardoned. The second party 
 proposed, that, if within thirty days, from the date of 
 the following day, the seizure, surrender, or death of 
 Rovani were not known to have taken place, Antonia 
 Lorezano, the abettor of his flight, should be put to 
 death, and that public notices to this effect should 
 be circulated, as well through the neighboring states 
 as through those of Venice ; but that on any one of 
 these events being proved to the council within the 
 allotted period, the culprit should be released and 
 pardoned. 
 
 The votes were taken, and the last proposition 
 prevailed ; there were six in its favor, and four, in 
 cluding the president and Lorezano, against it. 
 
 The prisoner was recalled, and the sentence was 
 solemnly pronounced : " That if within thirty days 
 the traitor, Claude Rovani, were not in the hands of 
 the government, either by seizure or surrender, or 
 that if within that time his death were not ascertain 
 ed beyond a doubt, the culprit, who had treasonably 
 assisted in his escape, should be put to death, and 
 that her death should take place at twelve o clock 
 on the night of the thirtieth day ; but, that if the 
 seizure, surrender, or demise of Rovani, were known 
 to have occurred within that time, Antonia Lorezano 
 should be released and pardoned." 
 
198 THE TOKEN. 
 
 For an instant a deep glow suffused the droop 
 ing brow of the prisoner ; she raised her head, and 
 cast her eyes keenly round, as though striving to 
 penetrate the darkness from whence issued this 
 mandate of life and death ; and then the bright 
 color as quickly faded into deadly paleness. She 
 bowed meekly to her invisible judges, and a timid, 
 imploring glance was fixed upon the spot where she 
 believed her father sat. She joined her manacled 
 hands, and slowly sank upon her knees but all 
 remained shrouded and still as the grave. Her 
 guards raised her ; she staggered and fell into their 
 arms insensible, and her light motionless form was 
 borne off between the two armed men, till all disap 
 peared in the distant gloom. 
 
 Lorezano returned home, but his most intimate 
 friends were refused admittance. He secluded him 
 self altogether in the solitude of his chamber ; he 
 was sometimes found by his attendants in prayer, 
 but not a complaint, a tear, nor even a sigh was 
 observed to escape him. The house was closed and 
 darkened, as though death were in it ; not a sound 
 was heard above a whisper, and the servants glided 
 about noiselessly in the performance of their several 
 duties. He never made, nor caused to be made, the 
 slightest inquiry concerning his daughter or Bovani. 
 The signora Bianca begged to be permitted to pass 
 these terrible thirty days with him, but he refused. 
 Every evening he attended the Doge s council, and 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 199 
 
 there, as nothing had been heard of Rovani, nothing 
 was said concerning him. To the public business 
 going forward the old man gave his attention, but 
 the moment the council broke up, he abruptly dis 
 appeared, turning alike from friends and foes. Yet, 
 in spite of the austerity of his grief, none, save his 
 bitterest enemies, could view him unmoved. From 
 night to night the change in his appearance was 
 most palpable and melancholy ; his eyes became dim 
 and hollow, his features sharp, and his complexion 
 livid ; the firmness of his step was changed to weak 
 ness and tottering, and the stateliness of his de 
 meanor gave way, as under a sudden load of care 
 and infirmity. 
 
 The signora, notwithstanding Lorezano s refusal 
 to see her, came from the country, and, unknown to 
 him, established herself in his house ; using all her 
 interest, through every channel, in favor of the con 
 demned Antonia, and offering all that she was worth 
 for the apprehension of Rovani. She could not, how 
 ever, succeed in obtaining permission to see, or in 
 any way to correspond with her niece. 
 
 Antonia herself was perfectly resigned to her im 
 pending fate ; she allowed not a hope to steal upon 
 her thoughts, and meekly and firmly prepared for 
 death. She suffered most for those who, she well 
 knew, were suffering for her ; not all her fortitude 
 could suppress the agony with which the idea of her 
 father presented itself ; that of her affectionate aunt, 
 
200 THE TOKEN. 
 
 and of him the guilty yet beloved one whose bit 
 ter remorse she anticipated, and whose vengeance, 
 again to be roused to madness, she dreaded and de 
 plored. 
 
 It was on the twentieth day that two pilgrims 
 were observed alone on the sea-shore in deep con 
 sultation. 
 
 " And recollect we are but two/ observed one, 
 apparently in expostulation ; " Baptiste and Jerome 
 have escaped beyond recall." 
 
 " Better two," replied the dreaded Rovani, " on 
 such a service as this, than four." 
 
 " Then," pursued his companion, " we shall tire 
 out the patience of our friends in Venice ; they will 
 not approve of our return, especially for no other ob 
 ject than to save the daughter of that haughty noble, 
 Garcia Lorezano." 
 
 "We will not apply to them ; there is no need. 
 If I find that our object is utterly unattainable, r you 
 can take shelter with our friends, and I " 
 
 " And you, my lord ? " 
 
 " There is but one way for me to act." 
 
 There was a pause : " My dear master, let us 
 speak no more about it I have vowed myself to your 
 service ; we have together shared dangers and brav 
 ed death ; arid at this last cast, my lord, I will not 
 fail you." They shook hands, and a short conference 
 succeeded this parley. 
 
 On the evening of the twenty-eighth day, Lore- 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 201 
 
 zano sent his excuse for not attending the council ; 
 his proud spirit "bent at last to the pressure of grief 
 and illness. He took to his bed, and his physician 
 and sister-in-law were, for the first time, admitted. 
 On the evening of the twenty-ninth, the physician 
 obtained leave to appear before the council. He 
 stated that his venerable patient was near his end, 
 that there was little hope of his surviving beyond the 
 next four-and-twenty-hours, that the old man prayed, 
 as his last and only request, that he might be per 
 mitted to see his child before his death before the 
 death of both. Some demur was made to granting 
 this prayer, unless Lorezano could go himself to the 
 prison of his daughter ; but this was impossible, and 
 after a little further consultation, it was permitted 
 that she should pass the hour between eleven and 
 twelve on the ensuing night with her father her last 
 hour and that immediately after the interview she 
 should be led to execution. I ** ; 
 
 On the morning of the following day, the fatal 
 thirtieth, two pilgrims arrived at the monastery ad 
 joining the state-prison. One of them appeared 
 travel-worn and ill, and they were admitted, as they 
 desired, for a few hours rest and refection. The one 
 who was not ill, partook only of roots and water, and, 
 according to his vow, kept his face concealed. He 
 appeared exceedingly devout, was very gentle in his 
 manners, and full of information as to the countries 
 he had visited ; so much so, that, during the supe- 
 10 
 
202 THE TOKEN. 
 
 rior s after-dinner leisure, he was sent for to narrate 
 some of the interesting tales of his wanderings. So 
 well did he win his way with the good priest, that 
 the conversation was only broken off at vespers, to 
 be renewed immediately afterwards. 
 
 At vespers a prayer was put up for a guilty soul 
 that was to depart that night. 
 
 On the renewal of their conversation, the pilgrim 
 ventured to inquire for whom the prayer had been 
 said. 
 
 The abbot sighed, and having cautiously looked 
 round, replied in a whisper : " For Antonia Lore- 
 zano, the young heiress of old Garcia Lorezano, his 
 only child she dies, poor thing ! for having assisted 
 in the escape of that terrible cousin of hers, who has 
 kept us all in hot water these three months past, 
 Claude Rovani." 
 
 " Antonia Lorezano ! " repeated the pilgrim 
 thoughtfully ; "I have seen that name in a placard 
 lately." 
 
 " Very likely, for they have given notice that un 
 less her cousin surrender himself by this day, she 
 should suffer death a mere mockery. Was it to be 
 supposed that this murderous traitor, or," (and the 
 holy father crossed himself,) "our Great Enemy in 
 his shape (for many believe he is Satan himself 
 the saints protect us !) would come to save her in 
 body or in soul ? " 
 
 "Alas, no ! " sighed the pilgrim, dropping a bead, 
 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 203 
 
 and devoutly muttering a prayer. " And her father ? " 
 he resumed , in a tone of commiseration. 
 
 " He is heart-broken, he is dying ; so near in 
 deed is he to death, that it is doubtful whether he 
 or his daughter will depart first." There was a pause. 
 
 " Is this quite certain ? " inquired the pilgrim. 
 
 " Quite certain," continued the garrulous old ab 
 bot : " by the token that fathers Francis and Ber- 
 nardine are desired to be at the Palazzo Lorezani 
 this night to receive the condemned one there, not 
 from her prison ; and from thence the gondola takes 
 her direct to the place of execution, for the council 
 has consented that she shall pass her last hour with 
 her dying father." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " exclaimed the pilgrim, " what 
 a world of woe is this ! " By some further questions, 
 put with much art and caution, he became master of 
 the whole arrangement, and learned that, at a quar 
 ter before eleven, the prisoner was to be conveyed to 
 her father s residence in a guarded litter, and, at a 
 quarter before twelve, the monks were to be ready 
 in their gondola at a side-door, where the canal ran 
 close to the palazzo, thence sweeping round its gar 
 dens ; that they were there to receive her, the guards 
 accompanying them along the bank. 
 
 " She has probably," observed the pilgrim, "pow 
 erful friends at work for her deliverance ; she might 
 easily step into a wrong gondola," he hinted signifi 
 cantly. 
 
204 THE TOKEN. 
 
 " That puts me in mind " exclaimed the abbot, 
 starting up without finishing his sentence, and sound 
 ing his call ; a lay- monk appeared. " Ask father 
 Francis whether he has yet received the pass-word." 
 In a few minutes a small sealed paper was brought 
 to the abbot ; he broke the seal and held the paper 
 up to the light, but the pilgrim s eyes were quicker 
 and more far-sighted than the old man s. 
 
 As soon as it was dark, the pilgrims, although 
 pressed to stay the night, took their leave, promising 
 however, at the solicitation of the abbot, soon to re 
 new their visit. The night closed in, drizzly and 
 dark. The church-bells had tolled the half-hour 
 after ten. Lorezano, propped by cushions, reclined 
 on his bed reclined, not reposed ; his restlessness 
 was fearful, and an unnatural brilliancy was in his 
 eye ; with ominous strength he grasped the hands of 
 those near him, then dashed them franticly away, 
 his couch shaking beneath the violence of his agita 
 tion. 
 
 At length the outer portals were heard to grate 
 slowly back, and the words " She is coming ! " were 
 whispered from lip to lip, in every varied tone of in 
 tense anxiety. By the light of a few flambeaux, 
 whose uncertain glare struggled against the wind 
 and rain, the condemned one passed the outer court 
 of her ancestral mansion, arrayed in black serge, and 
 covered with a long black veil ; she was supported 
 by two veiled nuns, followed, at a few paces dis- 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 205 
 
 tance, by the two officers in charge, with their swords 
 drawn ; a party armed was at the foot of the grand 
 staircase, and another, more numerous, was left at 
 the exterior portal : the sentinels, who had been 
 stationed early in the evening at different points on 
 the outside of the palazzo, stood watchful at their 
 posts. 
 
 Antonia entered the chamber of her father, and 
 the door was closed upon her. She threw back her 
 veil and approached the bed ; her father lay with his 
 arms extended to receive her, but the fortitude of 
 Antonia for a moment quailed when she looked on 
 his attenuated form, arid beheld death in every fea 
 ture. Throwing herself on his breast, she burst into 
 a passion of remorseful grief : " It is I that have 
 done this ! it is I that have murdered thee, my 
 father ! it is I that have taken life from him who 
 gave it to me ! God, pardon me ! my father, 
 canst thou forgive me ? " 
 
 " My child ! my blessed child ! " he exclaimed, 
 as with all his remaining strength he pressed her to 
 his heart : " it is thy young life that is sacrificed for 
 having struggled to preserve the poor remnant of 
 mine ! Antonia ! would that we could die here to 
 gether thus ! death would lose its terrors and its 
 sting we should but sleep for a moment, and wake 
 united, and for ever." 
 
 " Of what import, then," resumed Antonia, with 
 more calmness, " will a few hours of separation prove ? 
 
206 THE TOKEN. 
 
 ere the rising of the next sun our happy spirits 
 will meet, my dear, my beloved parent ! " 
 
 For a few moments they were silent ; that heav 
 enly hope visited them as an angel of light, dropping 
 balm into their wounds ; but still the horror of her 
 mode of death pressed painfully upon him ; and as 
 the days of her childhood rose before him, he repeat 
 ed wildly : " What, my little cherub ! my pretty 
 prattler ! the soother of my widowed days ! my only 
 treasure ! now in the first dawn of her youth and 
 loveliness to be dashed down into that loathsome 
 pit ! to linger, perchance, in pain in thirst in 
 starvation ! God ! in thy mercy remove this bit 
 ter cup ! Venice, my country ! I will not curse 
 thee ; but my parting soul turns from thee with ab 
 horrence ! thou whitened sepulchre ! thou gilded 
 city of dust and ashes ! " The old man, with sud 
 den energy, had raised himself while he spoke, 
 with his daughter on his bosom ; she wished to dis 
 engage herself, but could not : he looked round 
 there was a dreadful expression on his livid brow. 
 " My stiletto ! " he gasped out ; " there there it is ; 
 do you not see it ? " and with one hand he clutched 
 at the imaginary weapon, while the other was twist 
 ing convulsively in his daughter s long, and now di 
 shevelled hair : "I will take thee with me," he hoarse 
 ly whispered ; " the stiletto ! I have it no, no, no, 
 it flies from me my child ! my child ! " his hold 
 relaxed, he fell back on his pillow, with his eyes fixed 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 207 
 
 and glaring ; there was one struggle, and in that 
 struggle burst the proud and stubborn, though noble 
 heart of Garcia Lorezano. 
 
 Antonia looked up she saw that her father was 
 dead ; she placed her hands over his eyes, and strove 
 to close them ; she could neither weep nor mourn, 
 bat her brain rocked and burned ; the bed seemed to 
 move, and that ghastly visage to reanimate : a cold 
 shuddering crept over her, and she sank on the body 
 in a state of utter insensibility. 
 
 The half-hour after eleven had not yet tolled, 
 when the sentinel on duty at the back entrance, at 
 which the gondola was expected at a quarter before 
 twelve, was surprised to hear thus early, the slight 
 sound occasioned by its pulling up. He hailed it, and 
 was answered by the concerted watchword: "Pray for 
 the dying ! " He threw open the door of the passage, 
 and, by the lamp within, observed the two expected 
 monks close to him, entirely concealed in their cowls. 
 
 " Pray for the dying ! " they muttered as they 
 passed, and the soldier grounded his arms, and knelt. 
 
 The monks proceeded along the passage, and 
 up the staircase straight to the back entrance of the 
 private apartments of Lorezano. The one who led 
 the way seemed perfectly well acquainted with it. 
 In consequence of the arrangements made, they met 
 with no one, and when out of sight of the sentinel, 
 their steps, though equally noiseless, were considerably 
 quickened. They reached the back-door of the bed- 
 
208 THE TOKEN. 
 
 chamber, and paused to listen, not a sound was to 
 be heard, they carefully undid the door, and leaving 
 it wide open, entered. There was a lamp burning 
 brightly, and there was the richly-draperied bed, but 
 no one appeared. Along the velvety carpet they 
 stole to the foot of the bed, and drawing aside the 
 curtain, beheld the dead Lorezano, with his yet un 
 closed eyes, and his daughter lying with her marble 
 cheek on his bosom, to all appearance as lifeless as 
 himself ; her long black hair and veil covering them 
 both as with a pall. 
 
 The spectacle appeared to strike the monks with 
 grief and horror ; but a moment a single gesture, 
 were all that even these strong feelings were allowed 
 to claim. He, who had acted as leader, pointed to 
 the door conducting to the ante-room, the other ap 
 proaching it, gently drew a light bolt, so as to secure 
 it on the inside ; and while he did this, his compan 
 ion took from his breast a written paper, to which he 
 hastily added a few words. They then raised the in 
 sensible Antonia obliged, however, to cut away such 
 of her hair as remained inextricably twisted round 
 the dead man s hand ; they drew her veil over and 
 over her head, so as to prevent, if possible, her im 
 mediate restoration from exposure to the air and rain, 
 and placing the written paper on the breast of the 
 corpse, they bore off their motionless burthen. Not 
 more than five minutes elapsed from their entering the 
 bed-chamber to their quitting it. 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 
 
 209 
 
 The sentinel perceived their dark figures issuing 
 from beneath the lamp in the entry, and, mere sol 
 dier as he was, and fully prepared, he could not help a 
 shudder at perceiving that they bore a third, a slight 
 and muffled form. They repassed with the same 
 slow step, with which they had entered, and " Pray 
 for the dying ! " was again repeated ; they went on 
 to the gondola : the wind and rain had increased ; 
 the sentinel could see nothing, and he scarcely heard 
 the light pushing off of the boat. Closing the door 
 of the entry, and wrapping himself up in his cloak, 
 he impatiently waited his relief. 
 
 " It is the appointed moment," said one of the 
 officers on guard in the ante-room, as the quarter of 
 an hour before twelve chimed through the city ; 
 " you, madam," he continued, addressing the signora 
 Bianca, "had best retire." 
 
 " No, no," she exclaimed, " I will see her once 
 
 once more ! " and she started from her couch. The 
 
 officer, without reply, approached the door, and was 
 surprised to find a resistance. At that moment a 
 noise was heard in the front court, and presently a 
 confused murmur on the stairs, and footsteps ascend 
 ing them. The serjeant of the guard stationed at the 
 portal, and at the foot of the staircase, with some 
 soldiers and servants, rushed in : " The prisoner has 
 escaped ! the police-gondola has just arrived the 
 sentinel will not allow the priests to pass, and de- 
 10* 
 
210 THE TOKEN. 
 
 clares the condemned one was carried off by them a 
 quarter of an hour since, and that he is only account 
 able for one prisoner, not two. What is the mean 
 ing of all this, signers ? " 
 
 " Help us with this door ! " exclaimed the offi 
 cers. 
 
 In a moment the door was forced : there lay the 
 body of Lorezano, but his daughter where ! Trem 
 bling with agitation, one of the officers snatched the 
 written paper from the breast of the corpse : " Here ! 
 this may explain ! " The lamp was held up, and a 
 crowd of eager faces gathered round, astonishment 
 strongly marked on all, varied only by fear and joy. 
 
 " Venice ! " didst thou think to deceive the aven 
 ger of blood ! didst thou think to scare the heart and 
 fetter the hand of KOVANI ! " 
 
 Then underneath was hastily scrawled 
 
 " I have taken thy victim from the arms of her 
 dead father another of thy broken-hearted patriots ! 
 Farewell ! I commend me to thy curses, Venice ! 
 
 " CLAUDE KOVANI/ 
 
 It is scarcely possible to describe the scene that 
 ensued, and the consternation that spread through 
 Venice on the following day. In spite of all the 
 efforts of their commanders, neither the police nor 
 the military could be brought readily and sincerely to 
 pursue Eovani ; they had now decided that he pos- 
 jessed supernatural powers, and where was the use 
 of running after ft diavolo ? 
 
CLAUDE ROVANI. 211 
 
 After the lapse of a day or two, however, intelli 
 gence was hrought by some fishermen, that they had 
 met a sailing-boat on the dawn of the morning follow 
 ing that eventful night : the boat had then passed 
 the Gulf of Venice, and was proceeding southward 
 at great speed, being favored both by wind and tide. 
 The fishermen, whose vessel had slightly suffered in the 
 gale, hailed her for assistance, but she kept away and 
 would take no notice of them ; on observing her more 
 accurately, they were surprised at seeing only two 
 monkson board ; towards the stern a temporary cover 
 ing of cloaks and canvas appeared to be made. No 
 doubt remained from this account that the boat thus 
 met contained the fugitives. 
 
 The signora Bianca retired to her country resi 
 dence, and for a twelvemonth lived in the deepest 
 seclusion, mourning the unhappy death of Lorezano, 
 and the uncertain fate of his child ; for whose mira 
 culous escape, however, she returned thanks daily on 
 her knees. But at the end of that time her conduct 
 suddenly changed ; her cheerfulness returned, and 
 her doors were again opened to society : she had re 
 ceived a letter, brought by a mendicant friar, who, 
 immediately on its delivery, had disappeared : it was 
 from the condemned Antonia, the outlaw s bride, 
 giving no clue to her residence, but assuring her aunt 
 of her safety. 
 
 It has since been believed, and apparently with 
 sufficent foundation, that the fugitives settled in 
 
212 THE TOKEN. 
 
 France, and that Claude Rovani, under another ap 
 pellation, became one of the most distinguished lead 
 ers of the armies of France during the fifteenth cen 
 tury. 
 
THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 
 
 BY W. H. MAXWELL. 
 
 wander o er this bloody field, 
 
 To book our dead, and then to bury them ; 
 To sort our nobles from our common men ; 
 For many 
 Lie drown d and soak d in mercenary blood. 
 
 SHAKSPBARE, Henry V. 
 
 THE last gleam of fading sunshine fell upon the 
 rout of Waterloo. The finest army, for its numbers, 
 that France had ever embattled in a field, was utter 
 ly defeated ; and the dynasty of that proud spirit, 
 for whom Europe was too little, was ended. 
 
 Night came : but it brought no respite to the 
 shattered army of Napoleon ; and the moon rose 
 upon the " broken host " to light the victors to 
 their prey. The British, forgetting their fatigue, 
 pressed on the rear of the flying enemy ; and the 
 roads, covered with the dead and dying, and ob 
 structed by broken equipages and deserted guns, 
 became almost impassable to the fugitives and 
 hence the slaughter from Waterloo to Genappe was 
 
214 THE TOKEN. 
 
 frightful. But, wearied with blood (for the French, 
 throwing away their arms to expedite their flight, 
 offered no resistance,) and exhausted with hunger 
 and fatigue, the British pursuit relaxed, and at 
 G-enappe it ceased altogether. The infantry bivou 
 acked for the night around the farin-houses of Gail- 
 Ion and Belle Alliance, and the light cavalry halted 
 some miles further on, and abandoned the work of 
 death to their fresher and more sanguinary allies. 
 Nothing, indeed, could surpass the desperate and 
 unrelenting animosity of the Prussians towards the 
 French. Eepose and plunder were sacrificed to 
 revenge : the memory of former defeat, insult, and 
 oppression, now produced a dreadful retaliation, and 
 overpowered every feeling of humanity. The vce 
 victis was pronounced, and thousands, beside those 
 who perished in the field, fell that night beneath 
 the Prussian lance and sabre. In vain a feeble 
 effort was made by the French to barricade the 
 streets of Genappe, and interrupt the progress of the 
 conquerors. Blucher forced the passage with his 
 cannon ; and so entirely had the defeat of Waterloo 
 extinguished the spirit, and destroyed the discipline, 
 of the remnant of Napoleon s army, that the wild 
 hurrah of the pursuers, or the very blast of a Prus 
 sian trumpet, became the signal for flight and terror. 
 But, although the French army had ceased to 
 exist as such, and now (to use the phrase of a 
 Prussian officer) exhibited rather the flight of a 
 
THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 215 
 
 scattered horde of barbarians, than the retreat of a 
 disciplined body, never had it, in the proudest days 
 of its glory, shown greater devotion to its leader, or 
 displayed more desperate and unyielding bravery, 
 than during the long and sanguinary battle of the 
 18th. The plan of Buonaparte s attack was worthy 
 of his martial renown ; it was unsuccessful ; but 
 let this be ascribed to the true cause the heroic 
 and enduring courage of the troops and the man to 
 whom he was opposed. Wellington without that 
 army, or that army without Wellington, must have 
 fallen beneath the splendid efforts of Napoleon. 
 
 While a mean attempt has been often made to 
 lower the military character of the great warrior 
 who is now no more, those who would libel Napoleon 
 rob Wellington of half his glory. It may be the 
 proud boast of England s hero, that the subjugator 
 of Europe fell before him, not in the wane of his 
 genius, but in the full possession of those martial 
 talents which placed him foremost in the list of con 
 querors ; leading, too, that very army which had 
 overthrown every power that had opposed it now 
 perfect in its discipline, flushed with recent success, 
 and confident of approaching victory. 
 
 At G-enappe, and not, as generally believed, at 
 La Belle Alliance, Wellington and Blucher met 
 after the battle. The moment and spot were 
 fitting for the interview of conquerors. To Blucher s 
 fresher troops the task of an unabating pursuit was 
 
216 THE TOKEN. 
 
 intrusted ; and Wellington returned to Waterloo, 
 at midnight, across the crimson field which that day 
 had consummated his military glory. Twas said 
 that he was deeply affected, as, " by the pale moon 
 light," he surveyed the terrible scene of slaughter he 
 passed over, and that he half lamented a victory 
 which had been achieved at the expense of many 
 personal friends, and thousands of his gallant sol 
 diery. 
 
 When the next sun rose, the field of battle pre 
 sented a tremendous spectacle of carnage. Human 
 ity shuddered at the view ; for mortal suffering, in 
 all its terrible variety, was frightfully exhibited. The 
 dead lay there in thousands with them human pain 
 and agony were over ; but with them a multitude of 
 maimed wretches were intermingled, mutilated by 
 wounds, and tortured by thirst and hunger. A few 
 short hours had elapsed, and those who but yester 
 day had careered upon the plain of Waterloo, in the 
 full pride of life and manhood, were stretched upon 
 the earth ; and many who had led the way to victory, 
 who with exulting hearts had cheered their colder 
 comrades when they quailed, were now lying on the 
 field in helpless wretchedness. 
 
 Nor was war s misery confined to man, for 
 thousands of wounded horses were strewn over this 
 scene of slaughter. Some lay quietly on the ground, 
 cropping the grass within their reach ; some with 
 
THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 217 
 
 deep moaning expressed their sufferings ; while 
 others, maddened with pain, 
 
 " Yerk d out their armed heels at their dead masters, 
 Killing them twice." 
 
 When day came, and it was possible to send re 
 lief to the wounded, many circumstances tended to 
 retard the welcome succor. The great road to 
 Brussels, from heavy rains, and the incessant passage 
 of artillery and war equipages, was so cut up, as to 
 materially retard the carriages employed to bring in 
 the wounded. Dead horses and abandoned baggage 
 choked the causeway, and the efforts of Belgic hu 
 manity were rendered slow and difficult. Up to the 
 very gates of Brussels, " war s worst results " were 
 visible : the struggles of expiring nature had enabled 
 some to reach the city, while many perished in the 
 attempt ; and, dying on the roadside, covered the 
 causeway with their bodies. Pits, rudely dug, and 
 scarcely moulded over, received the corpses, which 
 daily became more offensive from the heat ; and the 
 same sod, at the verge of the forest, covered " the 
 horse and his rider/ 
 
 When such evidence of destruction was apparent 
 at a distance from the field, what a display of devas 
 tation the narrow theatre of yesterday s conflict must 
 have presented ! Fancy may conceive it, but descrip 
 tion will necessarily be scanty and imperfect. On 
 the small surface of two square miles, it was ascer- 
 
218 THE TOKEN. 
 
 tained that 50,000 men and horses were lying ! The 
 luxurious crop of ripe grain which had covered the 
 field of battle was reduced to litter and beaten into 
 the earth ; and the surface, trodden down by the cav 
 alry, arid furrowed deeply by cannon-wheels, strewn 
 with many a relic of the fight. Helmets and cui 
 rasses, shattered fire-arms and broken swords ; all the 
 variety of military ornaments ; lancer caps and High 
 land bonnets, uniforms of every color, plume and pen 
 non, musical instruments, the apparatus of artillery, 
 drums, bugles ; but, good God ! why dwell on the 
 harrowing picture of " a foughten field ? " each and 
 every ruinous display bore mute testimony to the 
 misery of such a battle. 
 
 Could the melancholy appearance of this scene 
 of death be heightened, it would be by witnessing 
 the researches of the living, amidst its desolation, for 
 the objects of their love. Mothers, and wives, and 
 children for days were occupied in that mournful 
 duty ; and the confusion of the corpses, friend and 
 foe intermingled as they were, often rendered the 
 attempt at recognising individuals difficult, and, in 
 some cases, impossible. 
 
 In many places the dead lay four deep upon each 
 other, marking the spot some British square had 
 occupied, when exposed for hours to the murderous 
 fire of a French battery. Outside, lancer and cui 
 rassier were scattered thickly on the earth. Madly 
 attempting to force the serried bayonets of the Brit- 
 
THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 219 
 
 ish, they had fallen in the bootless essay by the mus 
 ketry of the inner files. Farther on, you traced the 
 spot where the cavalry of France and England had 
 encountered. Chasseur and hussar were intermin 
 gled ; and the heavy Norman horse of the Imperial 
 Guard were interspersed with the grey chargers which 
 had carried Albyn s chivalry. Here the Highlander 
 and tirailleur lay, side by side, together ; and the 
 heavy dragoon, with " green Erin s " badge upon his 
 helmet, was grappled in death with the Polish lancer. 
 
 On the summit of the ridge, where the ground 
 was cumbered with dead, and trodden fetlock-deep, 
 in mud and gore, by the frequent rush of rival caval 
 ry, the thick-strewn corpses of the Imperial Guard 
 pointed out the spot where the last effort of Napo 
 leon had been defeated. Here, in column, that fa 
 vorite corps, on whom his last chance rested, had 
 been annihilated ; and the advance and repulse of 
 the Guard was traceable by a mass of fallen French 
 men. In the hollow below, the last struggle of France 
 had been vainly made ; for there the Old Guard, 
 when the middle battalions had been forced back, 
 attempted to meet the British, and afford time for 
 their disorganized companions to rally. Here the 
 British left, which had converged upon the French 
 centre, had come up ; and here the bayonet closed 
 the contest. 
 
 It was at the first light of morning that a solitary 
 party were employed, in the place we have described, 
 
220 THE TOKEN. 
 
 examining the dead, who lay there thickly. They 
 were no plunderers : one, wrapped in a cloak, direct 
 ed the researches of the rest, who acted under the 
 stranger s control, and, from their dress, appeared to 
 be Belgian peasants. Suddenly the muffled person 
 uttered a wild cry ; and, rushing over a pile of corpses, 
 hurried to a spot where a soldier was seated beside a 
 fallen officer. Feeble as his own strength was, he had 
 exerted it to protect the wounded man. His musket 
 was placed beside him for defence, and his own suf 
 ferings forgotten in his solicitude for the person he 
 was watching. The noise occasioned by the hasty 
 approach of the muffled stranger roused the wounded 
 officer, and he raised his head : " It is herself ! " he 
 feebly muttered ; and next moment sank in the 
 arms of Lucy Davidson ! 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 
 
 BY W. HAUFF. 
 
 [This story is from the collection called " The Sheik of Alexau 
 dria and his Slaves," and is supposed to be told hy a slave to the 
 Sheik.] 
 
 SIR, those people are much mistaken who fancy 
 that there were no fairies and enchanters, except in 
 the time of Haroun Al Raschid, Lord of Bagdad, or 
 even pronounce untrue those accounts of the deeds 
 of genii and their princes, which one -hears the story 
 tellers relate in the market-places of the town. 
 There are fairies nowadays, and it is but a short 
 time since that I myself was witness of an occur 
 rence in which genii were evidently playing a part, 
 as you will see from my narrative. In a considera 
 ble town of my dear fatherland, Germany, there 
 lived many years ago a cobbler, with his wife, in an 
 humble but honest way. In the daytime he used to 
 sit at the corner of a street mending shoes and slip 
 pers ; he did not refuse making new ones if any body 
 would trust him, but then he was obliged to buy 
 the leather first, as his poverty did not enable him 
 to keep a stock. His wife sold vegetables and fruit, 
 
222 THE TOKEN. 
 
 which she cultivated in a small garden outside the 
 town-gates, and many people were glad to buy of 
 her, because she was dressed cleanly and neatly, and 
 knew well how to arrange and lay out her things to 
 the best advantage. 
 
 Now this worthy couple had a beautiful boy, of 
 a sweet countenance, well made, and rather tall for 
 his age, which was eight years. He was in the 
 habit of sitting in the market with his mother, and 
 often carried home part of the fruit and vegetables 
 for the women and cooks who had made large pur 
 chases ; he seldom, however, returned from one of 
 these journeys without bringing either a beautiful 
 flower, a piece of money, or a cake, which the mis 
 tresses of such cooks gave him as a present, because 
 they were always pleased to see the handsome boy 
 come to the house. 
 
 One day the cobbler s wife was sitting as usual in 
 the market-place, having before her some baskets 
 with cabbages and other vegetables, various herbs 
 and seeds, besides some early pears, apples and apri 
 cots, in a small basket. Little James (this was the 
 boy s name) sat by her, crying the things for sale in 
 a loud voice : " This way, gentlemen, see what beau 
 tiful cabbages, what fragrant herbs ; early pears, 
 ladies, early apples and apricots ; who will buy ? 
 My mother sells cheap." 
 
 While the boy was thus crying, an old woman 
 was coming across the market ; her dress was rather 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 223 
 
 tattered and in rags, she had a small, sharp face, 
 quite furrowed with age, red eyes, and a pointed, 
 crooked nose, which reached down to her chin ; in 
 her walk she supported herself by a long stick, and 
 yet it was difficult to say exactly how she walked, 
 for she hobbled and shuffled along, and waddled as 
 if she were on castors, and it was as if she must fall 
 down every instant and break her pointed nose on 
 the pavement. 
 
 The cobbler s wife looked attentively at this old 
 woman. For sixteen years she had been sitting dai 
 ly in the market, yet she had never observed this 
 strange figure, and therefore involuntarily shudder 
 ed when she saw the old hag hobbling towards her 
 and stopping before her baskets. 
 
 " Are you Jane, the greengrocer ? " she asked in 
 a disagreeable, croaking voice, shaking her head to 
 and fro. 
 
 " Yes, I am," replied the cobbler s wife ; " What 
 is your pleasure ? " 
 
 " Well see, we ll see, we ll look at your herbs 
 look at your herbs, to see whether you have what I 
 want/ answered the old woman ; and stooping down 
 she thrust her dark brown, unsightly hands into the 
 herb-basket, and took up some that were beautiful 
 ly spread out, with her long spider-legged fingers, 
 bringing them one by one up to her long nose, and 
 smelling them all over. The poor woman almost 
 felt her heart break when she saw the old hag han- 
 
224 THE TOKEN. 
 
 die her herbs in this manner, but she dared not say 
 any thing to her, the purchasers having a right to 
 examine the things as they pleased ; besides which, 
 she felt a singular awe in the presence of this old 
 woman. After having searched the whole basket, 
 she muttered, " wretched stuff, wretched herbs, no 
 thing that I want were much better fifty years 
 ago wretched stuff ! wretched stuff ! " 
 
 Little James was vexed at these words. " Hark 
 ye," he cried, boldly, "you are an impudent old wo 
 man ; first you thrust your nasty brown fingers into 
 these beautiful herbs, and squeeze them together, 
 then you hold them up to your long nose, so that 
 no one seeing this will buy them after you, and you 
 abuse our goods, calling them wretched stuff, though 
 nevertheless the duke s cook himself buys all his 
 herbs of us." 
 
 The old woman leered at the bold boy, laughed 
 disgustingly, and said in a hoarse voice, " Little son, 
 little son, you like my nose then, my beautiful long 
 nose ? You shall have one too in the middle of 
 your face that shall reach down to your chin." 
 
 While she thus spoke she shuffled up to another 
 basket containing cabbages. She took the most 
 beautiful white heads up in her hand, squeezed them 
 together till they squeaked, and then throwing them 
 into the basket again without regard to order, said 
 as before, " Wretched things ! wretched cabbages ! " 
 
 " Don t wriggle your head about in that ugly 
 
225 
 
 fashion," cried the little boy somewhat frightened ; 
 " why your neck is as thin as a cabbage-stalk, and 
 might easily break, then your head would fall into 
 the basket, and who would buy of us ? " 
 
 " You don t like such thin necks then, eh ? " 
 muttered the old woman with a laugh. " You shall 
 have none at all, your head shall be fixed between 
 your shoulders, that it may not fall down from the 
 little body." 
 
 " Don t talk such nonsense to the little boy," at 
 length said the cobbler s wife, indignant at the long- 
 looking, examining, and smelling of the things ; " if 
 you wish to buy any thing be quick, for you scare 
 away all my other customers." 
 
 " Well, be it as you say," cried the old woman, 
 with a furious look, " I will buy these six heads of 
 cabbages ; but you see I must support myself by my 
 stick, and cannot carry any thing, therefore, allow 
 your little son to carry them home for me, I will re 
 ward him for it." 
 
 The little boy would not go with her, and began 
 to cry, for he was terrified at the ugly old woman, 
 but his mother commanded him earnestly to go, as 
 she thought it a sin to load the feeble old soul with 
 this burden. Still sobbing, he did as he was order 
 ed, and followed the old woman over the market. 
 
 She proceeded but slowly, and was almost three- 
 quarters of an hour before she arrived at a very re 
 mote part of the town, where she at length stopped 
 11 
 
226 THE TOKEN. 
 
 in front of a small dilapidated house. She now pull 
 ed out of her pocket an old rusty hook, and thrust 
 it dexterously into a small hole in the door, which 
 immediately opened with a crash. But what was 
 the astonishment of little James as he entered ! 
 The interior of the house was magnificently adorn 
 ed, the ceiling and walls were of marble, the furni 
 ture of the most beautiful ebony, inlaid with gold 
 and polished stones, the floor was of glass, and so 
 smooth, that little James several times slipped and 
 fell down. The old woman now took a small silver 
 whistle from her pocket, and blew a tune on it 
 which sounded shrilly through the house. Immedi 
 ately some guinea-pigs came down the stairs, and 
 little James was much amazed at their walking up 
 right on their hind legs, wearing on their paws nut 
 shells instead of shoes, men s clothes on their bodies, 
 and even hats in the newest fashion on their heads. 
 
 " Where are my slippers, ye rascally crew ? " 
 cried the old woman, striking at them with her stick, 
 so that they jumped squeaking into the air ; " how 
 long am I to stand here waiting ? " 
 
 They quickly scampered up the stairs, and re 
 turned with a pair of cocoa-nut shells lined with 
 leather, which they placed dexterously upon the old 
 woman s feet. 
 
 Now all her limping and shuffling was at an end. 
 She threw away her stick, and glided with great ra 
 pidity over the glass floor, pulling little James after 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 227 
 
 her with her hand. At length she stopped in a 
 room which was adorned with a great variety of 
 utensils, and which almost resembled a kitchen, al 
 though the tables were of mahogany, and the sofas 
 covered with rich cloth, more fit for a drawing-room. 
 " Sit down," said the old woman, very kindly, 
 pressing him into a corner of a sofa, and placing a 
 table before him in such a manner that he could not 
 get out again ; " sit down, you have had a heavy 
 load to carry, human heads are not so light not so 
 light." 
 
 " But, woman," replied the little boy, " you talk 
 very strangely ; I am, indeed, tired, but they were 
 cabbage heads I was carrying, and you bought them 
 of my mother." 
 
 " Why, you know but little about that," said 
 the old woman, laughing, as she took the lid from 
 the basket and brought out a human head, which 
 she held by the hair. The little boy was frightened 
 out of his senses at this ; he could not comprehend 
 how it all came to pass ; and thinking of his mother, 
 he said to himself, " If any one were to hear of these 
 human heads, my mother would certainly be prose 
 cuted." 
 
 " I must give you some reward now, as you are 
 so good," muttered the old woman ; " have patience 
 for a minute, and I will prepare you a soup which 
 you will remember all your life." Having said this, 
 she whistled again, and immediately there came first 
 
228 THE TOKEN. 
 
 some guinea-pigs dressed like human beings ; the} 
 had tied round them kitchen aprons, fastened by a 
 belt, in which were stuck ladles and carving-knives ; 
 after them came skipping in a number of squirrels, 
 that wore large, wide Turkish trousers, walked up 
 right, and had small caps of green velvet on their 
 heads. These seemed to be the scullions, for they 
 climbed very nimbly up the walls and brought down 
 pans and dishes, eggs and butter, herbs and flour, 
 and carried it to the hearth. The old woman slided 
 continually to and fro upon her cocoa-nut slippers, 
 and little James observed that she was very anxious 
 to cook something good for him. Now the fire 
 crackled and blazed up higher, there was a smoking 
 and bubbling in the saucepan, and a pleasant odor 
 spread over the room, but the old woman kept run 
 ning up and down, the squirrels and guinea-pigs after 
 her, and as often as she passed the hearth she poked 
 her long nose into the pot. At length it began to 
 boil and hiss, the steam rose from the pot, and the 
 scum flowed down into the fire. She then took off 
 the saucepan, and pouring some into a silver basin, 
 gave it to James. 
 
 " Now, my dear little son, now," said she, " eat 
 this soup and you will have in your own person all that 
 you admired so much in me. You shall moreover 
 become a clever cook, that you may be something at 
 least, but as for the herb, that you shall never find, 
 because your mother did not have it in her basket." 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 229 
 
 The little boy did not exactly understand what 
 she was saying, but was the more attentive to eating 
 his soup, which he relished uncommonly. His mo 
 ther had cooked various savory soups^ but never any 
 like this. The flavor of the fine herbs and spice 
 ascended from it, and it was at the same time very 
 sweet, and very sharp and strong. While he was 
 sipping the last drops of the delicious soup, the 
 guinea-pigs lighted some Arabian incense which 
 floated through the room in blue clouds, which be 
 came thicker and thicker, and then descended. The 
 smell of the incense had a stupefying effect upon the 
 boy ; in vain did he repeatedly say to himself that 
 he must return to his mother, for as often as he en 
 deavored to rouse himself as often did he relapse into 
 slumber, and, at length, actually fell into a profound 
 sleep upon the old woman s sofa. 
 
 Strange dreams came over him while he thus 
 slept. It seemed as if the old woman was taking 
 off his clothes, and putting on him the skin of a 
 squirrel. Now he could make bounds and climb like 
 a squirrel ; he associated with the other squirrels and 
 guinea-pigs, who were all very polite, decent people, 
 and he did his duty of waiting upon the old woman 
 in his turn with the rest. At first he had to perform 
 the service of a shoeblack, that is, he had to oil and 
 polish the cocoa-nut shells which his mistress wore 
 instead of slippers. Having often blacked and pol 
 ished shoes at home, he performed his duty well and 
 
230 THE TOKEN. 
 
 quickly. After the lapse of about one year, he dreamt 
 again, (according to the sequel of his dream,) that 
 he was employed for more delicate work, that is, in 
 company with some other squirrels, he was obliged 
 to catch the atoms in the sun, and, when they had 
 caught enough, to sift them through the finest hair- 
 sieve, as the old woman considered them the nicest 
 thing, and not being able to masticate well for want 
 of teeth, had her bread prepared of such atoms. 
 
 At the end of another year, he was raised to the 
 rank of one of the servants who had to collect the 
 water the old woman drank. But you must not 
 suppose that she had a cistern dug for that purpose, 
 or a tub placed in the yard to catch the rain-water ; 
 she had a much finer plan. The squirrels, and James 
 with them, had to collect in their hazel-nut shells 
 the dew from roses, and this was the beverage of the 
 old woman. The labor of these water-carriers was 
 not a very light one, as she used to drink a pro 
 digious quantity. After another year, he was em 
 ployed in indoor service, his duty being to clean the 
 floors, and as they were of glass and showed the least 
 speck, it was not a very easy task. He and his fel 
 low-servants were obliged to brush the floors, and 
 with pieces of old cloth tied to their feet dexterously 
 skated about the rooms. In the fourth year, he 
 received an appointment in the kitchen, which was 
 so honorable an office, that one could succeed to it 
 only after a long probation. James here served from 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 231 
 
 scullion upwards to the post of first pastrycook, and 
 acquired such an extraordinary skill and experience 
 in every thing relating to the culinary art, that often 
 he could not help wondering at himself ; the most 
 difficult things, pies composed of two hundred differ 
 ent ingredients, soups prepared with all the herhs of 
 the globe, all these, and many other things, he 
 learned to make quickly and efficiently. 
 
 Seven years had thus passed away in the service 
 of the old woman, when one day, pulling off her 
 shoes of cocoa-nut, and taking her basket and crutch 
 in hand in order to go out, she told him to pluck a 
 chicken, stuff it with herbs, and roast it nice and 
 brown, during her absence. He did this according 
 to the rules of his art ; twisted the chicken s neck, 
 scalded it in hot water, pulled out the feathers clev 
 erly, scraped its skin smooth and fine, and then drew 
 it. Next he began gathering the herbs with which 
 he was to stuff the chicken. Now when he came to 
 the chamber where these herbs were kept, he per 
 ceived a small cupboard in the wall that he had never 
 before noticed, and finding the door of it half open, 
 he had the curiosity to go near, in order to see what 
 it contained, when behold ! there stood a great many 
 little baskets in it, from which proceeded a strong 
 pleasant smell. He opened one of these little bas 
 kets, and found in it an herb of a most singular form 
 and color ; its stalks and leaves were of a bluish 
 green, and it had a flower of burning red fringed 
 
232 THE TOKEN. 
 
 with yellow at the top. He loooked thoughtfully at 
 this flower, and smelled it, when it emitted the same 
 powerful odor as the soup which the old woman had 
 cooked for him when he first came there. But the 
 smell was so strong that he began to sneeze, was 
 obliged to keep sneezing, and at last awoke, sneezing 
 still. 
 
 He now found himself upon the old woman s sofa, 
 and looked around him with astonishment. " Heav 
 ens ! " he said to himself, " how vividly one may 
 dream ; I would almost have sworn that I was a 
 wanton squirrel, a companion of guinea-pigs and 
 other vermin, but at the same time had become a 
 great cook. How my mother will laugh when I tell 
 her all this ! But will she not also scold me for 
 falling asleep in a strange house instead of helping 
 her in the market ? " While engaged in these 
 thoughts, he started up to run away ; but his limbs 
 were still quite stiff with sleep, and particularly his 
 neck, for he was unable to move his head well to and 
 fro. He could not help smiling at himself and his 
 drowsiness, for every moment, before he was aware, 
 he ran his nose against a cupboard or the wall, or 
 turning suddenly round, struck it against a door 
 post. The squirrels and guinea-pigs crowded whining 
 around him, as if anxious to accompany him, and he 
 actually invited them to do so when he was en the 
 threshold, for they were nice little creatures, but 
 they glided quickly back into the house on their nut- 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 233 
 
 shells, and he only heard them howling at a dis 
 tance. 
 
 As it was a very remote part of the town to 
 which the old woman had brought him, he could 
 hardly find his way through the narrow streets, and 
 as, moreover, there was a great crowd of people, 
 wherever he went, he could only account for this by 
 supposing there must be a dwarf somewhere in the 
 neighborhood for show, for he heard every where 
 cries of, " Only look at the ugly dwarf ! Where 
 does the dwarf come from ? ! what a long nose 
 he has, and how his head sits between his shoulders, 
 and look at his brown ugly hands ! " At any other 
 time, he would probably have followed the cry, for 
 he was very fond of seeing giants and dwarfs, and 
 any sort of curious, foreign costume, but now he was 
 obliged to hurry and get to his mother. 
 
 He felt quite weary when he arrived at the mar 
 ket. He found his mother still sitting there, and 
 she had a tolerable quantity of fruit in the basket ; 
 he could not therefore have been sleeping long, but 
 still it appeared to him, even at a distance, as if she 
 were very melancholy, for she did not call to those 
 coming past to buy, but supported her head by one 
 hand, and on coming closer he likewise thought she 
 looked paler than usual. He hesitated as to what 
 he should do ; and at length mustering up courage, 
 crept gently behind her, and putting his hand fa- 
 
 11* 
 
234 THE TOKEN. 
 
 miliarly upon her arm, asked, " Dear mother, what s 
 the matter with you ? are you angry with me ? " 
 
 The woman turned round, but started back with 
 a shriek of terror, saying, " What do you want with 
 me, you ugly dwarf ? Begone, begone ! I do not 
 like such jokes." 
 
 " But, mother, what is the matter with you ? " 
 asked James, quite terrified ; " surely you must be 
 unwell ; why will you turn your son away from 
 you ? " 
 
 " I have told you already to be gone/ replied 
 Jane, angrily ; " you will not get any money from 
 me by your juggleries, you ill-favored monster." 
 
 " Surely God has deprived her of the light of her 
 intellect," said the dwarf, deeply grieved within him 
 self; "what shall I do to get her home? Dear 
 mother, pray do listen to reason ; only look well at 
 me, I am indeed your son your own James." 
 
 " Why this is carrying the joke too far," she said 
 to her neighbor ; " only look at that ugly dwarf ; 
 there he stands, and will no doubt drive away all my 
 customers ; nay, he even dares to ridicule my mis 
 fortune, telling me that he is my son, my own James, 
 the impudent fellow." 
 
 At this her neighbors rose, and began as much 
 abuse as possible, (every one knows that market wo 
 men understand this well,) and reproaching him with 
 making light of poor Jane s misfortune, who seven 
 years ago had had her beautiful boy kidnapped, with 
 
NOSE, THE DWAKF. 235 
 
 one accord they threatened to fall upon him and tear 
 him to pieces, unless he took himself off immediately. 
 
 Poor James did not know what to make of all 
 this. Indeed it seemed to him that he had that very 
 morning, as usual, gone to market with his mother, had 
 helped her to lay out her fruit, and had afterwards 
 gone with the old woman to her house, eaten some 
 soup, slept a little while, and had now come back ; 
 and yet his mother and his neighbors talked of seven 
 years, calling him at the same time an ugly dwarf. 
 What then was the change that had come over him ? 
 Seeing, at length, that his mother would no longer 
 listen to any thing he said, he felt the tears come in 
 his eyes, and went sorrowfully down the street to 
 wards the stall where his father sat in the daytime, 
 mending shoes. 
 
 " I am curious to see," he thought to himself, 
 " whether he, too, will disown me ? I will place 
 myself in the doorway and talk to him." And having 
 come there, he did so and looked in. 
 
 The cobbler was so busily engaged at work that 
 he did not see him ; but happening to cast a look 
 towards the door, he dropped shoe, twine, and awl 
 on the ground, and cried, with astonishment, " For 
 Heaven s sake, what is that ? " 
 
 " Good evening, master," said the little dwarf, 
 stepping inside the booth. " How fare you ? " 
 
 " Badly, badly, my little gentleman," replied 
 James s father, to his utter amazement ; for he, too, 
 
236 THE TOKEN. 
 
 did not seem to recognise him. " I have to do all 
 the work myself, for I am alone and now getting old, 
 and yet I cannot afford to keep a journeyman." 
 
 " But have you no son to assist you in your 
 work ? " inquired the dwarf further. 
 
 "Indeed I had one, whose name was James, 
 and he now must be a handsome, quick lad, twenty 
 years old, who might effectually assist me. Ah ! 
 what a pleasant life I should lead I Even when he 
 was twelve years old he showed himself quite handy 
 and clever, and understood a great deal of the busi 
 ness. He was a fine engaging little fellow ; he 
 would soon have brought me plenty of custom, so 
 that I should no longer have been mending shoes 
 and boots but making new ones. But so goes the 
 world." 
 
 " Where is your son, then ? " asked James, in a 
 tremulous voice. 
 
 " That God only knows," replied his father. 
 " Seven years ago, yes ! it is just that now, he was 
 stolen from us in the market-place." 
 
 " Seven years ago, you say ? " cried James, with 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, little gentleman, seven years ago ; the 
 circumstance is as fresh in my memory as if it had 
 happened to-day, how my poor wife came home weep 
 ing and crying, saying that the child had not come 
 back all day, and that she had inquired and searched 
 everywhere without finding him. But I always said 
 
NOSE, THE DWAEF. 237 
 
 it would come to that ; for James was a pretty 
 child, no one could help saying so, therefore my poor 
 wife was proud of him and fond of hearing people 
 praise him, and often sent him with vegetables and 
 such like things to the houses of the gentlefolks. All 
 this was very well ; he always received some present. 
 But, said I, mark me, the town is large, and there 
 are many bad people in it, so take care of James. 
 But it happened as I always said. Once there comes 
 an ugly old woman to the market, bargains for some 
 fruits and vegetables, and at length buys so much 
 that she cannot carry it home herself. My wife, 
 kind soul, sends the lad with her, and has never 
 s een him again since that hour." 
 
 " And that is now seven years, say you ? " 
 " Seven years this spring. We had him cried in 
 the town, we went from house to house, inquiring ; 
 many had known and liked the pretty lad, and 
 searched with us, but all in vain. Neither did any 
 one know the woman who bought the vegetables ; a 
 very aged woman, however, ninety years old, said, 
 6 it might possibly have been the wicked fairy, 
 Krauterweis, who once in fifty years comes to the 
 town to buy various articles." 
 
 Thus spoke James s father hastily, hammering his 
 shoes at the same time, and drawing out at great 
 length the twine with both hands. Now by degrees 
 light broke on the little dwarf s mind, and he saw 
 what had happened to him, viz., that he had not been 
 
238 THE TOKEN. 
 
 dreaming, but had served as a squirrel seven years 
 with the evil fairy. Kage and sorrow now filled his 
 heart almost to bursting. 
 
 The old witch had robbed him of seven years of 
 his youth, and what had he in exchange ? What 
 was it that he could polish slippers of cocoa-nut shell ? 
 that he could clean rooms with glass floors ? that he 
 had learned all the mysteries of cooking, from the 
 guinea pigs ? Thus he stood for some time medi 
 tating on his fate, when at length his father asked 
 him 
 
 " Do you want to purchase any thing, young 
 gentleman ? Perhaps a pair of new slippers, or, per- 
 adveriture, a case for your nose ? " he added, smiling. 
 
 " What do you mean by my nose ? " asked 
 James ; " why should I want a case for it ? " 
 
 " Why/ replied the cobbler, " every one according 
 to his taste ; but I must tell you, that if I had such a 
 terrible nose, I should have a case made for it of rose- 
 colored morocco. Look here, I have a beautiful piece 
 that is just the thing ; indeed we should at least 
 want a yard for it. It would then be well guarded, 
 my little gentleman ; whereas now I am sure you 
 will knock it against every door-post and carriage 
 you would wish to avoid." 
 
 The dwarf was struck dumb with terror ; he felt 
 his nose, it was full two hands long and thick in 
 proportion. So then the old hag had likewise 
 changed his person ; and hence it was his mother 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 239 
 
 did not know him, and people called him an ill-fa 
 vored dwarf. 
 
 " Master," said he, half crying to the cobbler, 
 " have you no looking-glass at hand in which I might 
 behold myself?" 
 
 " Young gentleman," replied his father, gravely, 
 "you have not exactly been favored as to appearance 
 so as to make you vain, and you have no cause to 
 look often in the glass. You had better leave it off 
 altogether. It is with you a particularly ridiculous 
 habit." 
 
 " Oh ! pray let me look in the glass," cried the 
 dwarf. " I assure you it is not from vanity." 
 
 " Leave me in peace, I have none in my posses 
 sion ; my wife has a little looking-glass, but I do not 
 know where she has hid it. If you really must look 
 into one, why then, over the way lives Urban, the 
 barber, who has a glass twice as big as your head ; 
 look in there, and now, good morning." 
 
 With these words his father pushed him gently 
 out of the stall, locked the door after him, and sat 
 down again to his work. The little dwarf, much cast 
 down, went over the way to the barber, whom he well 
 remembered in former times. 
 
 " Good morning, Urban," said he to him, " I come 
 to beg a favor of you, be so kind as to let me look 
 a moment in your looking-glass." 
 
 " With pleasure," cried the barber, laughing, 
 " there it is ; " and his customers who were about to 
 
240 THE TOKEN. 
 
 be shaved laughed heartily with him. " You are 
 rather a pretty fellow, slim and genteel ; you have a 
 neck like a swan, hands like a queen, and a turn-up 
 nose, such as one seldom sees excelled. A little vain 
 you are of it, no doubt ; but no matter, look at your 
 self, people shall not say that envy prevented me from 
 allowing you to see yourself in my glass." 
 
 Thus spoke the barber, and a yell of laughter re 
 sounded through the room. In the meantime the 
 dwarf had steped to the glass and looked at himself. 
 The tears came in his eyes, while saying to himself: 
 " Yes, dear mother, thus you could not indeed recog 
 nise your James, he did not look like this in the days 
 of your happiness, when you delighted to show him 
 off before the people ? " His eyes had become little, 
 like those of a pig ; his nose was immense, hanging 
 over his mouth down to his chin ; his neck seemed 
 to have been taken away altogether, for his head sat 
 low between his shoulders, and it was only with the 
 greatest pain that he could move it to the right or 
 left ; his body was still the same size as it had been 
 seven years ago, when he was twelve years old, so 
 that he had grown in width what others do in height, 
 between the ages of twelve and twenty. His back 
 and chest stood out like two short, well-filled bags ; 
 and this thick-set body was supported by small thin 
 legs, which seemed hardly sufficient to support their 
 burden : but so much the larger were his arms, which 
 hung down from his body, being of the size of those 
 
241 
 
 of a full-grown man ; his hands were coarse, and of 
 a brownish hue, his fingers long, like spiders legs, 
 and when he stretched them to their full extent, he 
 could touch the ground without stooping. Such was 
 little James s appearance, now that he had become an 
 ugly dwarf. He now remembered the morning on 
 which the old woman had stopped before his mother s 
 baskets. All that he then had found fault with ir 
 her viz., her long nose, and ugly fingers all these 
 she had given him, only omitting her long, palsied 
 neck. 
 
 " Well, my prince, have you looked enough at 
 yourself now ? " said the barber, stepping up to him, 
 and surveying him with a laugh. " Truly, if we 
 wished to dream of such a figure, we could hardly see 
 one so comical. Nevertheless, I will make you a pro 
 position, my little man. My shaving-room is tolera 
 bly well frequented, but yet not so much so as I could 
 wish. That arises from my neighbor, the barber 
 Schaum, having discovered a giant, who attracts 
 much custom to his house- Now, to become a giant 
 is no great thing after all, but to be such a little man 
 as you, is indeed a different thing. Enter my ser 
 vice, little man, you shall have board and lodging, 
 clothes and every thing ; for this you shall stand in 
 my door-way in the morning, and invite people to 
 come in ; you shall beat up the lather, hand the 
 towel to the customers, and you may be sure that we 
 shall both make it answer ; I shall get more customers 
 
242 THE TOKEN. 
 
 through you than my neighbor by his giant ; and 
 you will get many presents." 
 
 The little man felt quite indignant at the propo 
 sal of serving as a decoy to a barber. But was he 
 not obliged to submit patiently to this insulting offer ? 
 He, therefore, quietly told the barber he had no time 
 for such services, and went away. 
 
 Although the evil hag had thus stunted his 
 growth, yet she had had no power to affect his mind, as 
 he felt full well : for he no longer thought and felt as 
 he did seven years since, and believed that he had be 
 come wiser and more sensible in the interval. He did 
 not mourn for the loss of his beauty, nor for his ugly 
 appearance, but only that he was driven from his fa 
 ther s door like a dog. However, he resolved to make 
 another trial with his mother. 
 
 He went again to her in the market, and entreat 
 ed her to listen to him patiently. He reminded her 
 of the day on which he had gone with the old woman ; 
 he called to her mind all the particular incidents of his 
 childhood, told her then how he had served seven years 
 as a squirrel with the fairy, and how she had changed 
 him because he had then ridiculed her person. 
 
 The cobbler s wife did not know what to think of 
 all this. All that he related of his childhood agreed 
 with her own recollections, but when he talked of 
 serving seven years as a squirrel, she said, " It is im 
 possible ; there are no fairies ; " and when she looked 
 at him she felt a horror at the ugly dwarf, and would 
 
NOSE, THE DWAKF. 243 
 
 not believe that he could be her son. At length she 
 thought it would be best to talk the matter over with 
 her husband ; therefore she took up her baskets and 
 bade him go with her. 
 
 On arriving at the cobbler s stall she said : " Look, 
 this fellow pretends to be our lost James. He has 
 told me all the circumstances, how he was stolen 
 from us seven years since, and how he was enchant 
 ed by a fairy." 
 
 " Indeed/ interrupted the cobbler in a rage, " has 
 he told you this ? wait, you rogue ! I have told him 
 all this an hour ago, and then he goes to make a fool 
 of you. Enchanted you have been, my little chap, 
 have you ? Wait a bit, I will soon disenchant you ! " 
 So saying he took a bundle of straps that he had just 
 cut, jumped up towards the dwarf, and beat him on 
 his humped back and his long arms, making the 
 little fellow scream with pain and run crying away. 
 
 Now in that town, as in others, there were but few 
 of those compassionate souls who will support a poor 
 unfortunate with a ridiculous appearance. Hence 
 it was that the unlucky dwarf remained all day with 
 out food, and was obliged in the evening to choose 
 for his night s quarters the steps of a church, though 
 they were hard and cold. 
 
 When on the following morning the first rays of 
 the sun awoke him, he began seriously to think how 
 he should prolong his existence, now that his father 
 and mother had rejected him ; he was too proud to 
 
244 THE TOKEN. 
 
 serve as a sign-board to a barber ; he would not hire 
 himself as a merry-andrew to be exhibited ; what 
 then should he do ? It now occurred to him that as 
 a squirrel he had made considerable progress in the 
 culinary art, and thought he might justly expect to 
 prove a match for any cook ; he therefore resolved to 
 turn his art to advantage. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as the morning had dawned, 
 and the streets became animated, he entered a church 
 and performed his devotions ; thence he proceeded 
 on his way. The duke (the sovereign of the country) 
 was a notorious gourmand, who kept a good table, 
 and sought cooks in all parts of the world. To his 
 palace the dwarf went. When he arrived at the 
 outer gate the porter asked his errand, and began to 
 crack his jokes on him ; when he asked for the chief 
 cook they laughed and led him through the inner 
 courts, and wherever he went the servants stood still, . 
 looked at him, laughed, heartily, and followed him, 
 so that in a short time a great posse of menials of all 
 descriptions crowded up the steps of the palace. The 
 grooms threw away their curry-combs, the running 
 footmen ran with all their might, the carpet-spreaders 
 ceased beating their carpets, all crowded and thronged 
 around him, as if the enemy was at the gates, and 
 the shouts of " A dwarf, a dwarf ! have you seen the 
 dwarf ? " filled the air. 
 
 At this moment the steward of the palace, with 
 a furious countenance, and a large whip in his hand, 
 
245 
 
 made his appearance at the door, crying, " For Hea 
 ven s sake, ye hounds, what is all this uproar for ? 
 Do you not know that our gracious master is still 
 asleep ? " At the same time he flourished his whip, 
 laying it rather roughly about the backs of some 
 grooms and porters. 
 
 " Why, sir," they all cried, " don t you see that 
 we are bringing a dwarf, such a dwarf as you never 
 saw ? " The steward suppressed, though with diffi 
 culty, a loud laugh, when he got sight of the little 
 man, for he was afraid that laughter would derogate 
 from his dignity. He therefore drove them all away 
 with his whip except the dwarf, whom he led into 
 the house and asked what he wanted. Hearing that 
 the little man wished to see the master of the 
 kitchen, he replied, u You make a mistake, my little 
 son ; I suppose you want to see me, the steward of 
 the palace, do you not ? You wish to become dwarf 
 to the duke, is it not so ? " 
 
 " No, sir," replied the dwarf ; " I am a clever 
 cook, and skilled in the preparation of all sorts of 
 choice meats ; be so kind as to bring me to the mas 
 ter of the kitchen, perhaps he may be in want of my 
 skill." 
 
 " Every one according to his wish, my little man ; 
 but you are an inconsiderate youth. To the kitchen ! 
 why, as the duke s dwarf, you would have nothing to 
 do, and plenty to eat and drink to your heart s desire, 
 and fine clothes into the bargain. But we shall see ; 
 
246 THE TOKEN. 
 
 your skill in the culinary art will hardly be such as 
 a cook to the duke is required to possess, and you 
 are too good for a scullion." As he aid the last 
 words, he took the dwarf by the hand and conducted 
 him to the apartments of the master of the kitchen. 
 
 On arriving there the dwarf said, with so deep a 
 bow that his nose touched the floor, " Gracious sir, 
 are you in want of a skilful cook ? " 
 
 The master of the kitchen, surveying him from 
 top to toe, burst into a loud fit of laughter, and said, 
 " What, you a cook ? Do you think that our hearths 
 are so low that you could even look on one, though 
 you should stand on tiptoe, and stretch your head 
 ever so much out of your shoulders ? My good little 
 fellow, whoever sent you here to hire yourself as a 
 cook, has been making a fool of you/ Thus saying, 
 the master cook laughed heartily, and was joined by 
 the steward of the palace and all the servants in the 
 room. 
 
 But the dwarf was not to be discomposed by this. 
 " Of what consequence is it to waste a few eggs, 
 a little syrup and wine, some flour and spice, upon 
 trial, in a house where there are plenty ? Give me 
 some dainty dish to prepare," said he, " procure all 
 that is necessary for it, and it shall be immediately 
 prepared before your eyes, so that you shall be con 
 strained to avow that I am a first-rale cook." 
 
 While the dwarf was saying all this, and many 
 others things, it was strange to see how his little eyes 
 
NOSE, THE DWAKF. 247 
 
 sparkled, how his long nose moved to and fro, and 
 his fingers, which were like spiders legs, suited their 
 movements to his words. 
 
 " Well ! " exclaimed the master cook, taking the 
 steward by the arm, " well ! be it so for the sake of 
 the joke ; let us go to the kitchen." 
 
 They walked through several large rooms and cor 
 ridors till they came to the kitchen. This was a large 
 spacious building, magnificently fitted up ; on twenty 
 hearths fires were constantly burning, clear water 
 was flowing through the midst, serving also as a fish 
 pond ; in cupboards of marble and choice wood, the 
 stores were piled, which it was necessary to have at 
 hand for use, and on either side were ten rooms, in 
 which were kept all the delicious dainties for the 
 palate, which can be obtained in all the countries of 
 Europe or even the East. Servants of all descriptions 
 were running to and fro, handling and rattling ket 
 tles and pans, with forks and ladles ; but when the 
 master cook entered, all stood motionless, and the 
 crackling of the fire, and the rippling of the brook 
 were alone to be heard. 
 
 " What has the duke ordered for breakfast this 
 morning ? " he asked an old cook, who always pre 
 pared the breakfast. 
 
 " Sir, his highness has pleased to order the Dan 
 ish soup, with the small red Hamburg dumplings." 
 
 " Well," continued the master cook, " did you 
 hear what the duke wishes to eat ? Are you bold 
 
248 THE TOKEN. 
 
 enough to attempt this difficult dish ? At all events 
 the dumplings you will not be able to make, that is 
 quite a secret." 
 
 " Nothing easier than that," replied the dwarf, to 
 their astonishment, for he had often made this dish 
 when he was a squirrel. " Nothing easier ; only 
 give me the herbs, the spices, fat of a wild boar, 
 roots and eggs for the soup ; but for the dumplings," 
 said he, in a low voice, so that only the master 
 cook and the breakfast-maker could hear, "for the 
 dumplings I want various meats, wine, duck s fat, 
 ginger, and the herb called the stomach comforter." 
 
 " Ah, by St. Benedict, to what enchanter have 
 you been apprenticed ? " cried the cook in astonish 
 ment. " You have hit all to a hair, and as to the 
 noted herb, we did not know of that ourselves ; yes ! 
 that must make the dish still more delicious. Oh ! 
 you miracle of a cook ! " 
 
 "I should never have thought this," said the 
 master cook, " but let us make the trial, give him all 
 he asks, and let him prepare the breakfast." 
 
 His orders were obeyed, and the necessary pre 
 parations were made on the hearth ; but they now 
 found that the dwarf could not reach it. They, 
 therefore, put two chairs together, laid a slab of mar 
 ble on them, and asked the little wonder to step up 
 and begin his skill. In a large circle stood the 
 cooks, scullions, servants, and others, looking at him 
 in amazement, to see how readily and quickly he 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 249 
 
 proceeded, and how cleanly and neatly he prepared 
 every thing. When he had finished, he ordered 
 both dishes to be put to the fire, and to be boiled 
 until he should call out ; then he began to count 
 one, two, three, and so on up to five hundred, when 
 he cried out, " Stop, take them off," and then in 
 vited the head cook to taste them. 
 
 The taster ordered the scullion to bring him a 
 gold spoon, which he first rinsed in the brook, and 
 then gave it to the head cook. The latter, stepping 
 up to the hearth with a grave mien, took a spoonful, 
 tasted it, and shutting his eyes, smacked his lips 
 with delight, saying, " Delicious ! by the duke s life, 
 delicious ! Would you not like to taste a spoonful, 
 Mr. Steward ? " The latter bowing, took the spoon, 
 tasted it, and was beside himself with delight. 
 
 " With all due respect to your skill, dear break 
 fast-maker, you aged and experienced cook, you 
 have never been able to make the soup or dump 
 lings so delicious." 
 
 The cook also tasted it, shook the dwarf reve 
 rentially by the hand, saying, " My little man, you 
 are a master of your art, yes, that herb, stomach 
 comforter/ imparts a peculiar charm to the whole." 
 
 At this moment the duke s valet entered the 
 kitchen, and informed them that the duke wished 
 his breakfast. The preparations were now dished 
 up in silver, and sent up to the duke ; but the 
 head cook took the dwarf to his own room to con- 
 12 
 
250 THE TOKEN. 
 
 verse with him. They had scarcely sat down long 
 enough to say half a paternoster, when a messenger 
 came and called the head cook to the duke. He 
 quickly put on his best clothes, and followed the 
 messenger. 
 
 The duke looked well pleased. He had eaten 
 all they had served, and was just wiping his beard 
 as the master-cook entered. Master/ said he, " I 
 have hitherto always been well satisfied with your 
 cooks ; but tell me who prepared the breakfast this 
 morning ? It never was so delicious since I sat on 
 the throne of my fathers ; tell me the name of the 
 cook, that I may send him a ducat as a present," 
 
 " My lord, this is a strange story," replied the 
 master ; and he told the duke that a dwarf had 
 been brought to him that morning, who earnestly 
 solicited the place of a cook, and how all had hap 
 pened. The duke was greatly astonished, ordered 
 the dwarf to appear, and asked him who he was, and 
 whence he came. Now poor James did not exactly 
 wish to say that he had been enchanted, and had 
 served as a squirrel. But yet he adhered to truth, 
 telling him that he now had neither father nor 
 mother, and had learned cooking of an old woman. 
 Much amused by the strange appearance of his new 
 cook, the duke asked no more questions, but said, 
 " If you wish to remain here, I will give you fifty 
 ducats a year, a suit of livery, and two pair of 
 breeches beside. Your duty shall be to prepare my 
 
251 
 
 breakfast ; yourself every day to give directions how 
 the dinner shall be prepared, and to take the gen 
 eral superintendence of the cooking. As each in my 
 palace has his proper name, you shall be called 
 Nose/ and hold the office of sub-master-cook/ 
 
 The dwarf prostrated himself before the mighty 
 duke, kissed his feet, and promised to serve him 
 faithfully. 
 
 Thus the dwarf was for the present provided for, 
 and did honor to his office. And it must be re 
 marked that the duke had become quite an altered 
 man since Nose the dwarf had been in the palace. 
 Formerly, he had often been pleased to throw the 
 dishes and plates that were served up at the heads 
 of the cooks ; indeed, he even once, in a fit of rage, 
 threw a fried calf s foot that was not sufficiently 
 tender, with such violence at the head of the master- 
 cook, that the latter fell to the ground, and was 
 compelled for three days to keep his bed. Tis true, 
 the duke made him amends for what he had done 
 by some handfuls of ducats, but still no cook ever 
 came before him with his dishes, without trembling 
 and terror. 
 
 Ever since the dwarf had been in the palace, all 
 seemed to be changed, as if by magic. The duke, 
 instead of three, had now five meals a day, in order 
 to relish properly the skill of his little servant, and 
 yet never showed the least sign of discontent. In- 
 
252 THE TOKEN. 
 
 deed, he found all new and excellent, was kind and 
 pleasant, and became fatter daily. 
 
 He would often in the midst of a meal send for 
 the master-cook and the dwarf, set one on his right, 
 and the other on the left hand, and put with his 
 own gracious fingers some morsels of the delicious 
 viands into their mouths ; a favor which both knew 
 how to appreciate fully. The dwarf was the wonder 
 of the whole town, and people requested the permis 
 sion of the master-cook to see him cook, while some 
 of the principal folks prevailed upon the duke to 
 permit their servants to profit by the instructions of 
 the dwarf in his kitchen, by which he obtained 
 much money, for those who came to learn paid daily 
 half a ducat. In order, however, to keep the other 
 cooks in good humor, and prevent jealousy, Nose 
 let them have the money that was paid by the mas 
 ters for instruction. 
 
 Thus Nose lived almost two years in great com 
 fort and honor, the thought of his parents alone 
 saddening him, and nothing remarkable occurring 
 until the following circumstance happened. The 
 dwarf being particularly clever, and fortunate in his 
 purchases, went himself, as often as time permitted, 
 to the market, to buy poultry and fruit. One 
 morning he went to the poultry market, and walk 
 ing up and down inquired for fat geese such as his 
 master liked. His appearance, far from creating 
 laughter and ridicule, commanded respect, since he 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 253 
 
 was known as the duke s celebrated cook, and each 
 poultry-woman felt herself happy if he but turned 
 his nose to her. At length coming to the end of a 
 row of stalls, he perceived in a corner, a woman 
 with geese for sale, who did not, like the others, 
 praise her goods, nor call to the customers. 
 
 He stepped up to her, examined the geese, 
 weighed them in his hand, and finding them to his 
 liking, bought three, with the cage they were in, put 
 them on his shoulders and trotted home. It ap 
 peared singular to him that only two of the geese 
 cackled and cried like others, the third being quite 
 quiet and thoughtful, and occasionally groaning and 
 moaning like a human being. 
 
 " She is not well/ said he to himself, " I must 
 hasten to get home and dress her." But the goose 
 replied distinctly, 
 
 " If thou stick st me, . i: 
 
 Why 111 bite thee, 
 And if my neck thou twistest round, 
 Thou soon wilt lie below the ground." 
 
 Quite startled, the dwarf put down the basket, 
 and the goose, looking at him with her fine intelli 
 gent eyes, sighed. " Why what have we here ? " 
 cried Nose. u You can talk, Miss Goose. I never 
 expected that. Well, make yourself easy : I know 
 the world and will not harm so rare a bird. But I 
 would wager something that you have not always 
 
254 THE TOKEN. 
 
 been covered with feathers. Indeed I was once a 
 poor squirrel myself." 
 
 " You are right/ replied the goose, " in saying 
 I was not born with this disgraceful disguise. Alas ! 
 it was never sung at my cradle that Mimi, the great 
 Wetterbock s daughter, would be killed in the kitch 
 en of a duke/ 
 
 " Pray be easy, dear Miss Mimi," said the dwarf, 
 comforting her, "for as sure as I am an honest fel 
 low, and sub-master-cook to his highness, no one 
 shall touch your throat. I will give you a stall in 
 my own apartments, you shall have enough food, 
 and I will devote my leisure time to converse with 
 you. Til tell the others in the kitchen that I ana 
 fattening a goose with various herbs for the duke, 
 and at the first opportunity you shall be set at 
 liberty." 
 
 The goose thanked him with tears in her eyes, 
 and the dwarf, as he had promised, killed the other 
 two geese, but built a stall for Mimi, under the pre 
 tence of preserving her for some special occasion. 
 Instead of feeding her on grain he gave her pasty 
 and sweetmeats. As often as he had time he went 
 to converse with her and comfort her. They related 
 their histories to each other, and Nose learnt that 
 she was the daughter of the enchanter, Wetterbock, 
 who lived in the island of Gothland. Being involv 
 ed in a quarrel with an old fairy, her father had 
 been conquered by stratagems and cunning, and out 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 255 
 
 of revenge the fairy had changed her into a goose, and 
 brought her to the town. 
 
 When the dwarf told his history, she said, " I 
 am not inexperienced in these matters, my father hav 
 ing given me and my sisters what instruction he was 
 allowed to impart. The story of the dispute at 
 your mother s fruit stall, your sudden metamorpho 
 sis, when you smelled the herb, as well as the words 
 the old woman Used, show me that you are enchant 
 ed through herbs ; that is to say, if you can find out 
 the herb of which the fairy thought when she be 
 witched you, you may be disenchanted/* This was 
 but poor consolation for the dwarf, for how should 
 he find the herb ? Yet he thanked her and felt some 
 hope. 
 
 About this time the duke had a visit from a 
 neighboring prince, his friend. He, therefore, order 
 ed the dwarf to appear, and said, " Now is the time 
 for you to show whether you serve me faithfully and 
 are master of your art. The prince, who is now 
 visiting me, keeps, as is well known, the best table 
 after me. He is a great connoisseur in good living, 
 and a wise man. Let it now be your care to supply 
 my table every day so that his astonishment shall 
 daily become greater. But you must not, under 
 pain of my displeasure, repeat the same dish during 
 his visits. You may ask of my treasurer all you 
 want, and should it be needful to fry gold and dia- 
 
256 THE TOKEN. 
 
 monds, you must do it. I would rather become poor 
 than forfeit his good opinion of my taste/ 
 
 When the duke had concluded, the dwarf bow 
 ed most respectfully, saying, " Be it as you say, my 
 lord ; please God I shall do all to gratify the palate 
 of this prince of gourmands." 
 
 The little cook now mustered all his skill. He 
 did not spare his master s treasures, and still less 
 did he spare himself. He was seen all day at the 
 fire, enveloped by clouds of smoke, and his voice 
 constantly resounded through the vaults of the 
 kitchen, for he governed the scullions and under 
 cooks. 
 
 During a fortnight the foreign prince lived hap 
 pily, and feasted sumptuously with the duke. They 
 ate not less than five times a day, and the duke was 
 delighted with his dwarf, seeing satisfaction express 
 ed on the countenance of his guest. But on the 
 fifteenth day it happened, that the duke, while at 
 table, sent for the dwarf, presented him to his 
 guest, and asked how he was satisfied with his 
 cooking ? " 
 
 " You are a wonderful cook," replied the prince, 
 " and know what good living is. All the time I 
 nave been here you have not repeated a single dish, 
 and have prepared every thing exquisitely. But 
 pray tell me, why have you not all this time prepared 
 that queen of dishes, the pie called souzeraine ? " 
 The dwarf was startled at this question, for he 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 257 
 
 had never heard of this queen of pies ; however he 
 recovered himself and replied, " My lord, I was in 
 hopes that your serene countenance would shine 
 some time yet on this court, therefore I deferred this 
 dish ; for with what dish but the queen of pies should 
 the cook honor the day of your departure ? " 
 
 " Indeed ! " said the duke, laughing ; " I suppose 
 then you wish to wait for the day of my death to 
 honor me, for you have never yet sent it up to me. 
 But think of another dish to celebrate the departure, 
 for to-morrow that pie must be on the table." 
 
 " Your pleasure shall be done, my lord," replied 
 the dwarf, and retired. But he went away uneasy, 
 for the day of his disgrace and misfortune had come. 
 He did not know how to prepare this pie. He went 
 therefore to his chamber, and wept over his fate, 
 when the goose Mimi, who was allowed to walk 
 about, came up and inquired the cause of his grief. 
 When she heard of the pie, " Dry your tears," said 
 she, " this dish came often to my father s table, and 
 I know pretty well what is necessary for it ; you 
 have only to take such and such things in certain 
 quantities, and should these not be all that are really 
 necessary, I trust that the taste of these gentlemen 
 is not sufficiently refined to discover the deficiency." 
 
 At these words the dwarf danced with joy, blessed 
 
 the day on which he had purchased the goose, and 
 
 set about making this queen of pies. He first made 
 
 a trial in miniature, and lo ! the flavor was ex- 
 
 12* 
 
258 THE TOKEN. 
 
 quisite, and the master-cook, to whom he gave the 
 small pie to taste, praised once more his great skill. 
 The following day he prepared the pie on a larger 
 scale, and, after having garnished it with flowers, 
 sent it hot as it came from the oven to table. After 
 which he dressed in his best and went to the dinin^- 
 
 o 
 
 hall. On entering, he found the steward engaged in 
 carving the pie, and presenting it on silver dishes to 
 the duke and his guest. The duke swallowed a 
 large piece, turned his eyes upward, saying, " Ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! justly is this called the queen of pies ; but 
 my dwarf is also a king of cooks. Is it not so, my 
 friend ? " 
 
 His guest took a small morsel, tasted it carefully, 
 and smiled somewhat scornfully and mysteriously. 
 
 " The thing is made pretty well/ replied he, 
 pushing his plate away, u but it is not quite the 
 Souzeraine, as I well imagined." 
 
 At this the duke frowned with indignation, and 
 turned red, saying, " You hound of a dwarf, how 
 dare you do this to your lord ? I will have your 
 big head cut off as a punishment for your bad cook- 
 ing." 
 
 " Ah, my lord," said the dwarf trembling, " for 
 Heaven s sake have compassion on me ; I have made 
 that dish, indeed, according to the proper receipt, 
 and am sure that nothing is wanting." 
 
 " Tis a lie, you knave," replied the duke, giving 
 him a kick, " tis a lie ; else my guest would not say 
 
-NOSE, THE DWARF. 259 
 
 there was something wanting. I will have you 
 yourself cut up and baked in a pie." 
 
 " Have compassion on me ! " exclaimed the dwarf, 
 shuffling on his knees up to the prince, and clasping 
 his feet ; " tell me what is wanting to this pie and 
 why it does not suit your palate : let me not die for 
 a handful of meat or flour." 
 
 " This will not avail you, my good Nose," replied 
 the prince, laughing ; " even yesterday I thought 
 you would not be able to make this dish as well as 
 my cook. Know there is wanting a herb called 
 Sneeze-with-pleasure, which is not even known in 
 this country. Without it this pie is insipid, and 
 your master will never eat it in such perfection as I 
 do/ 
 
 At this the duke flew into a rage, and cried with 
 flashing eyes : 
 
 " I will eat it in perfection yet, for I swear by 
 my princely honor, that by to-morrow I will either 
 have the pie set before you, such as you desire it, or 
 the head of this fellow shall be spiked on the gate of 
 my palace. Go, you hound, I give you once more 
 twenty-four hours ! " cried the duke. 
 
 The dwarf again went to his chamber and 
 mourned over his fate with the goose that he must 
 die, as he had never heard of this herb. "If it is 
 nothing more," said she, " I can help you out of the 
 difficulty, as my father has taught me to know all 
 herbs. At any other time your death, no doubt, 
 
260 THE TOKEN. 
 
 would have been certain, and it is fortunate for you 
 that we have a new moon, as the herb is only then 
 in flower. Now tell me, are there any old chestnut 
 trees in the neighborhood of the palace ? " 
 
 " Oh yes/ replied Nose, with a lighter heart, 
 " near the lake, about two hundred yards from the 
 palace, there is a clump of them ; but what of 
 them?" 
 
 " Why/ said Mimi, " the herb only flowers at 
 the foot of them. Now let us lose no time but go 
 to fetch what you want ; take me on your arm, 
 and put me down when we get out, that I may 
 search for you." 
 
 He did as she requested, and went towards the 
 gate of the palace, but here the porter levelled his 
 gun and said ; " My good Nose, it is all over with 
 you, you must not pass ; I have strict orders re 
 specting you." 
 
 " But I suppose I may go into the garden," 
 replied the dwarf. " Be so good as to send one of 
 your fellow-servants to the master of the palace, and 
 ask whether I may not go into the garden to fetch 
 herbs. The porter did so and permission was given, 
 since, the garden having high walls, escape was im 
 possible. But when Nose and Mimi had got out he 
 put her carefully down, and she ran quickly before 
 him towards the lake, where the chestnuts were. He 
 followed with a heavy heart, since this was his last 
 and only hope. If she did not find the herb he was re- 
 
NOSE, THE DWARF. 
 
 solved rather to plunge into the lake than to have 
 his head cut off. The goose searched in vain under 
 all the chestnut tree ; she turned every herb with her 
 beak, but no trace of the one wanted was to be 
 found, and she now began to cry out of compassion 
 and fear for the dwarf, as the evening was already 
 growing dusk and the objects around were difficult 
 to distinguish. 
 
 At this moment the dwarf cast a glance across 
 the lake, and cried suddenly ; " Look, look, yonder 
 across the lake there stands a large old tree ; let us 
 go there and search ; perhaps my luck may bloom 
 there." The goose hopped and flew before him, and 
 he ran after her as quickly as his short legs would 
 permit him ; the chestnut tree cast a large shade, 
 and it was so dark around that scarcely anything 
 could be distinguished ; but suddenly the goose 
 stopped, flapped her wings for joy, put her head 
 quickly into the high grass, and plucked something 
 which she reached gracefully with her bill to the aston 
 ished Nose, saying ; " There is the herb, and plenty 
 is growing here, so that you will never want for it." 
 
 The dwarf looked thoughtfully at the herb, and 
 a sweet odor arose from it, which immediately re 
 minded him of the scene of his metamorphosis ; the 
 stalk and leaves were of a bluish green, bearing a 
 glowing red flower, with a yellow edge. 
 
 " God be praised ! " he now exclaimed, " What 
 a miracle ! I believe this is the very herb that trans- 
 
262 THE TOKEN. 
 
 formed me from a squirrel into this hideous form ; 
 shall I make a trial, to see what effect it will have on 
 me ? " 
 
 " Not yet," entreated the goose. " Take a han d- 
 ful of this herb with you, let us go to your room and 
 put up all the money and whatever you have, and 
 then we will try the virtue of the herb/ 
 
 They did so, and went again to his room, the 
 dwarf s heart beating audibly with anticipation. 
 After having put up about fifty or sixty ducats which 
 he had saved, he tied up his clothes in bundle, and 
 said : " If it please God, I shall get rid of my burthen- 
 some deformity/ He then put his nose deep into 
 the herb and inhaled its odor. 
 
 Now his limbs began to stretch and crack, he felt 
 how his head started from his shoulders, he squinted 
 down on his nose and Saw it became smaller and 
 smaller, his back and chest became straight, and his 
 legs longer. 
 
 The goose viewed all this with great astonishment, 
 exclaiming, " Ah, what a tall handsome fellow you 
 have now become. God be praised, there is no trace 
 left in you of what you were before." Now Jamea 
 was highly rejoiced, he folded his hands and prayed. 
 But his joy did not make him forget what he owed to 
 Mimi the goose ; his heart indeed urged him to go to 
 his parents, yet from gratitude he overcame his wish 
 and said, " To whom but to you am I indebted that 
 I am again restored to my former self ? Without you 
 
NOStf, THE DWARF. 2t)3 
 
 I should never have found this herb, but should have 
 continued for ever in that form, or else have died under 
 the axe of the executioner. Well, I will repay you. 
 I will bring you back to your father ; he being so ex 
 perienced in magic will be able easily to disenchant 
 you." 
 
 The goose shed tears of joy and accepted his offer. 
 James fortunately escaped unknown from the palace 
 with his goose, and started on his way for the sea- 
 coast towards Mi mi s home, 
 
 It is needless to add that their journey was suc 
 cessful, that Wetterbock disenchanted his daughter, 
 and dismissed James laden with presents ; that the lat 
 ter returned to his native town, that his parents with 
 delight recognized in the handsome young man their 
 lost son, that he, with the presents he had received, 
 purchased a shop and became wealthy and happy. 
 
 Only this much may be added, that after his de 
 parture from the duke s palace, there was a great 
 sensation, for when, on the next morning, the duke 
 was about to fulfil his oath, and to have the dwarf be 
 headed in case he had not discovered the herbs, he was 
 nowhere to be found ; and the prince maintained 
 that the duke had let him escape secretly rather than 
 lose his best cook, and accused him of breaking his 
 word of honor. This circumstance gave rise to 
 a great war between the two princes, which is well 
 known in history by the name of the " Herb War." 
 Many battles were fought, but at length a peace was 
 
264 THE TOKEN. 
 
 concluded, which is now called the "Pie Peace," 
 because at the festival of reconciliation the Souze- 
 raine, queen of pies, was prepared by the prince s 
 cook, and relished by the duke in the highest degree. 
 Thus the most trifling causes often lead to the 
 greatest result ; and this, reader, is the story of 
 "Nose, the dwarf." 
 
THE TREASUKE. 
 
 A SWISS LEGEND. 
 BY J. E. WYSS. 
 
 NEAR the ruins of the old Baronial castle of Waden- 
 schwyl, Petermann, a poor woodcutter, was one day, 
 in the heat of noon, felling wood. About twelve or 
 fifteen years before the era of this legend, that 
 venerable old mansion had fallen into the possession 
 of the city of Zurich. Till then the massiveness 6* 
 the building had preserved it from decay ; but not 
 withstanding its beautiful situation upon a hill be 
 hind the rich and stately burgh, and its fine view of 
 the lake of Zurich, it was at last half-demolished to 
 make way for a more commodious castle, and now 
 it stood in dreary loneliness, raising only one turret 
 to the sky above the surrounding wood. 
 
 The industrious Petermann had up to this day 
 been as indifferent to the old castle as the man in 
 the moon. He had never gone into it nay, it is 
 doubtful if he had ever so much as intentionally 
 looked up to it ; but as he now chanced to be work 
 ing very near it, and every blow of his axe laid it 
 
266 THE TOKEN, 
 
 more clearly open to his view, a thought struck him , 
 while taking a breath during his labor, and he 
 said to himself with a sigh : " Ah ! if I could get 
 
 ^ O 
 
 all the silver and gold which once glittered up 
 there, I might well throw away my axe, and live 
 comfortably all the rest of my days with my wife 
 and children." 
 
 At this moment it seemed to the simple rustic 
 that something moved in a hole of the mossy wall, 
 and as he eyed it attentively, he overheard a low 
 whispering and rustling which appeared to come 
 from the opening : " Qdzookfl," thought he, " are 
 the gypsies here ? That would just suit me/ So 
 throwing aside his axe, he climbed up the .steep 
 acclivity to the foot of the ruins, where he found a 
 small aperture through which he could easily look 
 into the interior of the tower. With some trouble, 
 he got firm footing and applied his eye to the hole ; 
 but good heavens I what were the feelings of the 
 poor woodcutter, on perceiving within the ruined 
 walls, two figures so tiny, so marvellous, and so 
 enigmatical in their gestures, that his fancy had 
 never shaped any like them, when the winter- 
 evening tales of goblins and gnomes circulated from 
 lip to lip in his wife s spinning room.* 
 
 * It is the custom in the Swiss hamlets, and in some parts of 
 Germany, for the peasantry to spend the long winter-evenings al 
 ternately in one another s houses. On these occasions, one of their 
 number sings or narrates a popular legend, while the rest diligently 
 ply their distaff or shuttle. 
 
THE TREASURE 267 
 
 Petermann beheld two little dwarfs in long 
 robes of ashen grey, with silver beards descending 
 to their girdle, talking aloud, but quite unin 
 telligibly, and in a chirping tone as if they spoke 
 the Bird language, and bustling about within the 
 four walls of the ruins, which now reflected the 
 rays of noon almost like the glow of an oven. One 
 of the little men seemed to exercise some authority 
 over the other : for he kept always at the same 
 place, whilst the other moved slowly to and fro, 
 about a kind of excavation, into which he ever and 
 anon descended and reappeared bearing upon his 
 shoulders to the light of day, the most magnificent 
 golden basins, silver cups, costly jewels, in short, 
 all the riches which were ever conceived of in a fairy 
 tale. Every piece was examined and laid in order 
 as the superior little figure seemed to direct ; and 
 then both the dwarfs stood and gazed upon the 
 spectacle with an expression of complacence quite 
 indescribable. The whole seemed to be conducted 
 after the fashion of one of those reviews which 
 thrifty housewives occasionally take of their furni 
 ture, in which the contents of dusty corners, store 
 rooms, and attics, are carefully spread out for airing 
 before the sun. 
 
 Petermann s heart felt now all alive like a swarm 
 of ants ; feelings of the most conflicting kinds 
 crossed and chased each other by turns astonish 
 ment, covetousness, curiosity, awe, and terror. A 
 
268 THE TOKEN. 
 
 wonder it was that no exclamation escaped his lips. 
 But all at once a soot-black raven popped his head 
 out of a hole, and stretching out his long neck over 
 the little dwarfs, screamed from his hoarse throat 
 three times rap rap rap, and drew the looks of 
 the woodcutter to him with a sort of spell, while, at 
 the same moment, a noise like the shutting of a 
 door was heard, and when Petermann again turned 
 his eyes to look on the gold and silver vessels, 
 nothing but the barren stones met his eyes ; the 
 strange jewellers, with all the magnificent exhibi 
 tion, had vanished without leaving a trace. 
 
 " Oh, thou hellish raven ! " at last burst from 
 the lips of the disappointed peasant ; he wiped the 
 perspiration from his forehead, rubbed his eyes ten 
 times over, stared again into the empty turret, 
 and saw a few little birds and lizards running about 
 in it, but not a vestige of the treasures which had so 
 lately fascinated his senses. 
 
 Three days Petermann remained thoughtful, 
 silent, and gloomy, without any one being able to 
 conjecture what strange mischance had befallen 
 the light-hearted woodsman. Every morning at 
 the earliest dawn, and every evening in the latest 
 twilight, he crept up to the old castle, where he 
 clambered about, knocking with his pick-axe, and 
 turning over stones and bushes, till he had thrown 
 himself quite into a fever in his anxiety to discover 
 
THE TREASURE. 269 
 
 the door, which he now supposed led to the trea 
 sure-chamber of the two dwarfs. 
 
 Early in the morning of the fourth day which 
 had elapsed since his adventure, Petermann was 
 seated upon a stone, on the border of the wood 
 which covered a great part of the hill where the 
 ruins stood, plunged in deep reflection and melan 
 choly thoughts, and hesitating whether to sacrifice 
 any more of his precious time in scrambling and 
 picking about the turret, when suddenly there 
 sounded through the stillness of the morning, a 
 clear, youthful voice, which after having hastily 
 sung a few verses at a distance, drew nearer, so that 
 the woodcutter recognized the following words : 
 
 Fortune s a bird too sly to take, 
 
 Cease then the fond endeavor; 
 As subtle as the wily snake, 
 
 To-day as false as ever. 
 
 With tiny eggs she decks her nest, 
 
 Building where it may please her ; 
 But ah ! he meets a bitter jest, 
 
 The clown that thinks to seize her ! 
 
 Hark to her song : " Come take me, friend { " 
 
 But whoso will pursue it, 
 Hot in the chase, shall miss his end, 
 
 And ever after rue it 
 
 The voice was that of an errant-scholar, who, in a 
 singular dress, came tripping onward, rather beside 
 the path than upon it, through the dewy grass. H 
 
270 TOKEN. 
 
 wore a barret-cap upon his head ; from his shoulders 
 floated a wide black robe, the loose folds of which 
 as formed above the girdle seemed to serve the 
 purpose of wallets ; the skirts of this robe were 
 turned up and fastened to the girdle, his under- 
 dress was also black, and formed a piece with his 
 hose and shoes, the fiery red heels of which raised 
 the wearer almost three inches above their points. 
 
 "Ho now, good friend," said the wanderer to 
 the woodcutter, " why sit you there breathing mel 
 ancholy abroad over the merry world, from your 
 morning seat ? You are just like the dog upon 
 the heap of hay in the fable." 
 
 " That I am," replied the woodcutter roughly. 
 
 " And that s being very silly," answered the 
 scholar. "There is wealth of gold under you ; but 
 it is just of as much value to you as the head of hay 
 was to the dog." 
 
 Petermann gaped and stared on the stranger 
 at these words. " An enchanter, a sorcerer, a 
 devil s conjurer," sounded in his ears. "Hey-day, 
 my heart," nevertheless thought he, "this fellow 
 comes at a right hour." 
 
 " Yes/ said Petermann aloud, " 1 know it 
 what a pity it is ! I know perfectly well what a 
 vast deal of riches and jewels are beneath my feet. 
 But if I were able to look through the mountain 
 like your reverence, I would not be sitting here 
 
THE TREASURE. 271 
 
 brooding in vain, if I cared at all for gold and 
 silver." 
 
 " /, my good friend," replied the scholar, " 7, 
 for instance, don t care a farthing for it ; and you 
 if yon were wise, would care as little." 
 
 " Precious wisdom that ! " murmured Petermann. 
 t( No, I am not so wise ! If I could get at the 
 gold you talk of, I would soon throw my axe aside. 
 Your reverence has probably never tried what it is 
 to cut wood in the forest for six burning summer- 
 days, with nothing to eat but milk and bread." 
 
 " Poh, what matters that," answered the schol 
 ar ; "you are in good health and merry withal; 
 that stands written red as cherries upon your cheek. 
 However, if you wish to try it, I can easily do some 
 thing to give you a sight of this treasure." 
 
 " If I wish to try it ! " exclaimed Petermann. 
 " In the name of wonder, certainly I do wish to try 
 it ! Set about it instantly ; open me the whole 
 below, and with three grasps I make myself a rich 
 and happy man ! " 
 
 " Gently, gently," was the answer. " I go 
 straight up even now to the owlet s nest above us ; 
 and do you, my impatient friend, when twelve 
 o clock has struck, join me there, when I will see 
 what can be done for you." 
 
 With these words the stranger took his way 
 gaily up the steep hill, leaving the woodcutter 
 gaping after him with open mouth. 
 
272 THE TOKEN. 
 
 The honest Petermann had now some strange 
 sensations and already felt himself very grand. 
 " Well," murmured he to himself, "I ll try to re 
 sume my work for a short time, that I may in 
 future be able, during my leisure and repose, to 
 figure to myself how stoutly I handled the axe for 
 the Inst time \" and with this he rose, whistled a 
 merry tune, took his axe, and cut away so briskly 
 that it was quite a pleasure to behold him. 
 
 An hour before noon he went home, eat his 
 dinner cheerfully with his honest spouse Salome, 
 took a romp with his three children, and before 
 the expiry of an hour, was again in the wood,where 
 he made his way through thick and thin, without 
 heeding the regular path, till he reached the old 
 castle and joined his friend in the black mantle. 
 
 " I have had a good deal of trouble/ said the 
 scholar. " Truly, my good friend, the treasure- 
 keepers here below us are obstinate, cross fellows ! 
 I had hard enough work to find the door." With 
 these words, he pointed with a long ivory wand to 
 the weather- ueateri wall ; and, lo ! between the 
 rubbish, thorns, and thistles, a small gate was visible, 
 which, in truth, Petermann had never perceived be 
 fore. 
 
 It struck twelve o clock in the village. The 
 magician placed the woodcutter at his right hand, 
 waved three times in the air with his wand, pointing 
 towards the north, murmured, with much grimace, 
 
THE TREASURE. 273 
 
 a potent spell, directed the woodcutter to lay aside 
 all iron or other metal that he might have about 
 him, and then drew with great solemnity, a three- 
 pronged divining-rod from one of the folds of his 
 garment. " With this instrument," said he, " be 
 armed, my hero, and step down into the dwelling of 
 the silent people. Three doors will open before you 
 at its touch ; cast not a single look behind you, 
 speak not a word, touch nothing, in the last 
 chamber you may take three grasps with both your 
 hands at whatever- your heart wishes. But re 
 member : one word and every thing disappears. 
 Be prudent, the day is a rare one, the stars are 
 propitious, all the powers of the subterranean 
 world are tamed ; go be silent ; take be dar- 
 ing." 
 
 Petermann took one of the points of the rod in 
 each hand, as the magician directed him ; and step 
 ped boldly forward over the loose rubbish till he 
 reached the iron door. At the first touch of the 
 rod it opened with a creaking noise, and the simple 
 woodcutter was nearly shouting aloud when he heard 
 the very same sound which three days before at 
 tended the disappearance of the little dwarfs in the 
 turret. 
 
 But his mouth was instantly shut by a spasm of 
 
 disgust, when he entered a dripping, feebly lighted 
 
 chamber, full of the most horrid reptiles he ever 
 
 saw ; it seemed the audience-hall of the toads and 
 
 13 
 
274 THE TOKEN. 
 
 salamanders ; bats whistled like hail- showers through 
 the air, horrid serpents and dragons crept hissing 
 about over each other, all the spawn of poisonous 
 nature seemed here concentrated, and crawled round 
 the feet of the woodcutter as if they wished to bury 
 him in a living tomb. 
 
 Petermann, however, kept steadily on, in a 
 straight direction towards a large door, which he 
 saw through the clouds of bats, directly before him. 
 at a distance of about fifty steps. He touched it, 
 and at the second touch, it opened with a shrill 
 clear sound like that of shivered glass, and a per 
 fume of roses and a rosy light streamed upon his 
 intoxicated senses. " My stars ! this is something 
 better," thought the woodcutter. But how did he 
 gape to behold, close upon his right hand as he en 
 tered, a beautiful lady reclining upon a splendid 
 sofa, who raised her head covered with beautiful 
 ringlets, threw her sparkling glances upon him as he 
 entered, and presented him with a magnificent 
 golden cup, brimming over with the red odorous 
 juice of the grape. Petermann was in an ecstasy of 
 delight and surprise, and if the lady had spoken he 
 would certainly have answered her merrily without 
 reflection. Her silence, however, and the solemn 
 tranquillity of the splendid room, overawed him so 
 much, that his tongue remained fettered, and he 
 thus gained time to recover from his trance of plea 
 sure. At last hesitating, and again hesitating, but 
 
THE TREASURE. 275 
 
 without turning his head, he reached the third door, 
 which was a folding one of elegant workmanship. 
 
 Here it required the third touch of the rod to 
 open the two leaves of the door, but so gently and 
 quietly did they move, that they seemed rather to 
 disappear than to open. Petermann was instantly 
 dazzled by the indescribable lustre which now met 
 his eyes. It was not the glare of candles or of a 
 fire, neither that of the clear sunbeams when they 
 stream through a window, but the glitter of the 
 heaps of treasure which produced this overpowering 
 brilliance. Silver, gold, precious stones of every 
 kind, mother of pearl, ivory, corals, treasures 
 wrought and unwrought, were here heaped together 
 in a number of chests, boxes, and caskets, or placed 
 on the table or on boards on the floor ; every heap 
 outshining another in magnificenc e. In truth, the 
 other day, the two little bearded folks had got up 
 into the sun some miserable specimens only of this 
 imperial treasure ; for here was a profusion of ele 
 gant vessels alone, which even a sturdy woodcutter 
 would have had trouble enough to cary above ground 
 in thrice twenty-four hours. 
 
 A long pause of astonishment detained Peter 
 mann upon the threshold of the portal, while he 
 felt himself deprived of the power of speech by a 
 kind of blissful ecstasy at the sight of the treasures 
 which lay here at his command ; but at last, a loud 
 
276 THE TOKEN. 
 
 shout of astonishment, " Heavens ! how much ! " 
 burst irresistibly from his lips. 
 
 Suddenly a crash of thunder was heard, the 
 darkness of the darkest night fell like a mountain 
 over the subterranean treasure, the hill trembled 
 to its foundation, and with it shook the heart of the 
 child of man who had ventured down into its re 
 cesses .Strength and consciousness forsook him, while 
 he was lifted away as upon the wings of a raging 
 whirlwind, and, during a moment of dreadful sus 
 pense, borne backward through the pitchy darkness 
 of the resounding chamber. 
 
 When he recovered it was evening. The red 
 dening blaze of the sky threw a cheering light into 
 the eyes of the poor woodcutter as he opened them 
 with a convulsive motion, unconscious of what had 
 happened to him, and not daring for some time so 
 much as to look around him or move. The poor fel 
 low then got his two elbows placed upon his knees, 
 and his doubled fists applied to his ears, and sat 
 thus like an immovable image of stone in some hea 
 then temple. At first he began to roll his eyes and 
 point his ears, to try if he could, without moving, 
 perceive any neighboring object which could recall 
 to his recollection what had happened to him. At 
 last he ventured to turn his head, and now remem 
 bering distinctly the errant-scholar in black robes, 
 the magic wand, the divining rod, the iron gate, 
 looked fearfully around him for all these objects as 
 
THE TREASURE. 277 
 
 they presented themselvs to his memory, but in vain. 
 Something now rustled close to him among the 
 bushes, and he leaped up with terror, but was gently 
 called back into the reality of his own quiet life, 
 when his two elder children jumped out of the 
 hazel- bushes, and behind them appeared Salome, 
 who wished him a happy evening in dear and well- 
 known accents. 
 
 The faithful Salome, though not so charming as 
 the lady in the vaults of the castle, but with an ex 
 pression of much greater good-will in her counte 
 nance, sat down beside him upon the fallen leaves, 
 and placed the two children between their father 
 and the red evening glow. " Is it not true," said 
 she, smiling " Is it not true, Petermann, that two 
 such little golden heads are worth all other trea 
 sures, and make richer than many a king ? " 
 
 At this moment, the song of the errant -scholar 
 seemed to resound from afar : 
 
 Abroad for fortune wilt thou roam ? 
 
 Nay, cease the fond endeavor : 
 She dwells at home, and scorning home, 
 
 You lose your chance for ever. 
 
THE LOVER S LAST VISIT. 
 
 THE window of the lonely cottage of Hilltop was 
 beaming far above the highest birchwood, seeming 
 to travellers at a distance in the long valley below, 
 who knew it not, to be a star in the sky. A bright 
 fire was in the kitchen of that small tenement ; the 
 floor was washed, swept, and sanded, and not a 
 footstep had marked its perfect neatness ; a small 
 table was covered, near the ingle, with a. snow-white 
 cloth, on which was placed a frugal evening meal ; 
 and in happy, but pensive mood, sat there all alone 
 the Woodcutter s only daughter, a comely and gen 
 tle creature, if not beautiful ; such an one as dif 
 fuses pleasure round her in the hay-field, and serenity 
 over the seat in which she sits attentively on the 
 Sabbath, listening to the word of God, or joining 
 with mellow voice in his praise and worship. On 
 this night, she expected a visit from her lover, that 
 they might fix their marriage-day; and her parents, 
 satisfied and happy that their child was about to be 
 wedded to a respectable shepherd, had gone to pay 
 a visit to their nearest neighbor in the glen. 
 
 A feeble and hesitating knock was at the door, 
 not like the glad and joyful touch of a lover s hand ; 
 and cautiously opening it, Mary Eobinson beheld a 
 

 TH3E ACKO ISP TIED 
 
 .;.. 
 
THE LOVER S LAST VISIT. 279 
 
 female figure wrapped up in a cloak, with her face 
 concealed in a black bonnet. The stranger, whoever 
 she might be, seemed wearied and worn out, and her 
 feet bore witness to a long day s travel across the 
 marshy mountains. Although she could scarcely 
 help considering her an unwelcome visitor at such 
 an hour, yet Mary had too much sweetness of dis 
 position too much humanity, not to request her to 
 step forward into the hut; for it seemed as if the 
 wearied woman had lost her way, and had come 
 towards the shining window to be put right upon 
 her journey to the low country. 
 
 The stranger took off her bonnet on reaching the 
 fire ; and Mary Kobinson beheld the face of one 
 whom, in youth, she had tenderly loved : although 
 for some years past, the distance at which they lived 
 from each other had kept them from meeting, and 
 only a letter or two, written in their simple way, 
 had given them a few notices of each other s exist 
 ence. And now Mary had opportunity, in the first 
 speechless gaze of recognition, to mark the altered 
 face of her friend, and her heart was touched with 
 an ignorant compassion. "For mercy s sake! sit 
 down, Sarah ! and tell me what evil has befallen 
 you ; for you are as white as a ghost. Fear not to 
 confide any thing to my bosom ; we have herded 
 sheep together on the lonesome braes we have 
 stripped the bark together in the more lonesome 
 woods ; we have played, laughed, sung, danced to 
 gether ; we have talked merrily and gaily, but inno- 
 
280 THE TOKEN". 
 
 cently enough surely, of sweethearts together ; and, 
 Sarah, graver thoughts, too, have we shared; for 
 when your poor brother died away like a frosted 
 flower, I wept as if I had been his sister ; nor can I 
 ever be so happy in this world as to forget him. 
 Tell me, my friend, why are you here, and why is 
 your sweet face so ghastly ? " 
 
 The heart of this unexpected visitor died within 
 her at these kind and affectionate inquiries. For she 
 had come on an errand that was likely to dash the 
 joy from that happy countenance. Her heart up 
 braided her with the meanness of the purpose for 
 which she had paid this visit ; but that was only a 
 passing thought ; for was she, innocent and free 
 from sin, to submit, not only to desertion, but to 
 disgrace, and not trust herself and her wrongs, and 
 her hopes of redress, to her whom she loved as a sis 
 ter, and whose generous nature, she well knew, not 
 even love, the changer of so many things, could 
 change utterly ; though, indeed, it might render it 
 colder than of old to the anguish of a female friend ? 
 
 " Oh ! Mary, I must speak yet must my words 
 make you grieve, far less for me than for yourself. 
 Wretch that I am I bring evil tidings into the 
 dwelling of my dearest friend ! These ribands they 
 are worn for his sake they become well, as he thinks, 
 the auburn of your bonny hair ; that blue gown is 
 worn to-night becauses he likes it ; but, Mary, will 
 you curse me to my face, when I declare before the 
 God that made us, that that man is pledged unto 
 
THE LOVER S LAST VISIT. 281 
 
 me by all that is sacred between mortal creatures ; 
 and that I have here in my bosom written promises and 
 oaths of love from him who, I was this morning told, 
 is in a few days to be thy husband ? Turn me out 
 of the hut now if you choose, and let me, if you choose, 
 die of hunger and fatigue in the woods where we have 
 so often walked together ; for such death would be 
 mercy to me, in comparison with your marriage with 
 him who is mine for ever, if there be a God who 
 heeds the oaths of the creatures he has made." 
 
 Mary Kobinson had led a happy life, but a life of 
 quiet thoughts, tranquil hopes, and meek desires. 
 Tenderly and truly did she love the man to whom 
 she was now betrothed ; but it was because she 
 had thought him gentle, manly, upright, sincere, and 
 one that feared God. His character was unimpeached, 
 to her his behavior had always been fond, affec 
 tionate, and respectful ; that he was a fine-looking 
 man, and could show himself among the best of the 
 country round at church, and market, and fair-day, 
 she saw and felt with pleasure and with pride. But 
 in the heart of this poor, humble, contented, and 
 pious girl, love was not a violent passion, but an af 
 fection sweet and profound. She looked forward to 
 her marriage with a joyful sedateness, knowing that 
 she would have to toil for her family, if blest with 
 children ; but happy in the thought of keeping her 
 husband s house clean, of preparing his frugal meals, 
 and welcoming him when wearied at night to her 
 faithful, and affectionate, and grateful bosom. 
 
282 THE TOKEN. 
 
 At first, perhaps, a slight flush of anger towards 
 Sarah tinged her cheek ; then followed in quick suc 
 cession, or all blended together in one sickening pang, 
 fear, disappointment, the sense of wrong, and the 
 cruel pain of disesteeming and despising one on 
 whom her heart had rested with all its best and pu 
 rest affections. But though there was a keen strug 
 gle between many feelings in her heart, her resolu 
 tion was formed during that very conflict ; and she 
 said within herself, " If it be even so, neither will I 
 be so unjust as to deprive poor Sarah of the man who 
 ought to marry her, nor will I be so mean and low- 
 spirited, poor as I am, and dear as he has been unto 
 me, as to become his wife." 
 
 While these thoughts were calmly passing in the 
 soul of this magnanimous girl, all her former affection 
 for Sarah revived ; and, as she sighed for herself, she 
 wept aloud for her friend. " Be quiet, be quiet, 
 Sarah, and sob not so as if your heart were breaking. 
 It need not be thus with you. Oh ! sob not so sair ! 
 You surely have not walked in this one day from the 
 heart of the parish of Montrath ? " " I have indeed 
 done so, and I am as weak as the wreathed snaw. 
 God knows, little matter if I should die away ; for, 
 after all, I fear he will never think of me for his wife, 
 and you, Mary, will lose a husband with whom you 
 would have been happy. I feel, after all, that I 
 must appear a mean wretch in your eyes." 
 
 There was silence between them ; and Mary Rob 
 inson, looking at the clock, saw that it wanted 
 
THE LOVER S LAST VISIT. 283 
 
 only about a quarter of an hour from the time of 
 tryst. " Give me the oaths and promises you men 
 tioned, out of your bosom, Sarah, that I may show 
 them to Gabriel when he comes. And once more I 
 promise, by all the sunny and all the snowy days we 
 have sat together in the same plaid on the hill-side, 
 or in the lonesome charcoal plots and nests o green in 
 the woods, that if my Gabriel did I say my Gabriel ? 
 has forsaken you and deceived me thus, never shall 
 his lips touch mine again never shall he put ring on 
 my finger never shall this head lie in his bosom 
 no, never, never ; notwithstanding all the happy, too 
 happy hours and days I have been with him, near or 
 at a distance on the corn-rig among the meadow- 
 hay, in the singing- school at harvest-home in this 
 room, and in God s own house. So help me God, 
 but I will keep this vow ! " 
 
 Poor Sarah told, in a few hurried words, the story 
 of her love and desertion how Gabriel, whose busi 
 ness as a shepherd often took him into Montrath 
 parish, had wooed her, and fixed every thing about 
 their marriage, nearly a year ago. But that he had 
 become causelessly jealous of a young man whom she 
 scarcely knew ; had accused her of want of virtue, 
 and for many months had never once come to see 
 her. " This morning, for the first time, I heard for 
 a certainty, from one who knew Gabriel well and all 
 his concerns, that the banns had been proclaimed 
 in the church between him and you ; and that in a 
 day or two you were to be married. And though I 
 
284 THE TOKEN. 
 
 felt drowning, I determined to make a struggle for 
 my life for Oh ! Mary, Mary, my heart is not like 
 your heart : it wants your wisdom, your meekness, 
 your piety : and if I am to lose Gabriel, will I de 
 stroy my miserable life, and face the wrath of God 
 sitting in judgment upon sinners." 
 
 At this burst of passion Sarah hid her face with 
 her hands, as if sensible that she had committed 
 blasphemy. Mary, seeing her wearied, hungry, thirsty 
 and feverish, spoke to her in the most soothing 
 manner, led her into the little parlor called the 
 Spence, then removed into it the table, with the oat 
 en cakes, butter, and milk ; and telling her to take 
 some refreshment, and then lie down in the bed, but 
 on no account to leave the room till called for, gave 
 her a sisterly kiss, and left her. In a few minutes 
 the outer door opened, and Gabriel entered. 
 
 The lover said, " How is my sweet Mary ? " with 
 a beaming countenance ; and gently drawing her to 
 his bosom, he kissed her cheek. Mary did not 
 could not wished not at once to release herself 
 from his enfolding arms. Gabriel had always treat 
 ed her as the woman who was to be his wife ; and 
 though, at this time, her heart knew its own bitter 
 ness, yet she repelled not endearments that were so 
 lately delightful, and suffered him to take her almost 
 in his arms to their accustomed seat. He held her 
 hand in his, and began to speak in his usual kind 
 and affectionate language. Kind and affectionate it 
 was, for though he ought not to have done so, he 
 
THE LOVER S LAST VISIT. 285 
 
 loved her, as he thought, better than his life. Her 
 heart could not, in one small short hour, forget a whole 
 year of bliss. She could not yet fling away with her 
 own hand what, only a few minutes ago, seemed to 
 her the hope of paradise. Her soul sickened within 
 her, and she wished that she were dead, or never had 
 been born. 
 
 " Gabriel ! Gabriel ! well indeed have I loved 
 you ; nor will I say, after all that has passed between 
 us, that you are not deserving, after all, of a better 
 love than mine. Vain were it to deny my love, either 
 to you or to my own soul. But look.me in the face 
 be not wrathful think not to hide the truth either 
 from yourself or me, for that now is impossible but 
 tell me solemnly, as you shall answer to God at the 
 judgment-day, if you know any reason why I must 
 not be your wedded Vife." She kept her mild moist 
 eyes fixed upon him ; but he hung down his head 
 and uttered not a word, for he was guilty before her, 
 before his own soul, and before God. 
 
 " Gabriel, never could we have been happy ; for 
 you often, often told me, that all the secrets of your 
 heart were known unto me, yet never did you tell 
 me this. How could you desert the poor innocent 
 creature that loved you ; and how could you use 
 me so, who loved you perhaps as well as she, but 
 whose heart God will teach, not to forget you, for 
 that may I never do, but to think on you with that 
 friendship and affection which innocently I can be 
 stow upon you, when you are Sarah s husband. For 
 
286 THE TOKEN. 
 
 Gabriel, I have this night sworn, not in anger or 
 passion no, no but in sorrow and pity for another s 
 wrongs in sorrow also, deny it will I not, for my own 
 to look on you from this hour, as on one whose 
 life is to be led apart from my life, and whose love 
 must never more meet with my love. Speak not 
 unto me look not on me with beseeching eyes. 
 Duty and religion forbid us ever to be man and wife. 
 But you know there is one, besides me, whom you 
 loved before you loved me^ and therefore, it may be, 
 better too ; and that she loves you, and is faithful, 
 as if God had made you one, I say without fear I 
 who have known her since she was a child, although, 
 fatally for the peace of us both, we have long lived 
 apart. Sarah is in the house, and I will bring her 
 unto you in tears, but not tears of penitence, for she 
 is as innocent of that sin as I am, who now speak/ 
 Mary went into the little parlor, and led Sarah 
 forward in her hand. Despairing as she had been, 
 yet when she had heard from poor Mary s voice speak 
 ing so fervently, that Gabriel had come, and that her 
 friend was interceding in her behalf the poor girl 
 had arranged her hair in a small looking-glass tied 
 it up with a riband which Gabriel had given her, and 
 put into the breast of her gown a little gilt brooch, 
 that contained locks of their blended hair. Pale but 
 beautiful, for Sarah Pringle was the fairest girl in all 
 the country, she advanced with a flush on that pale 
 ness of reviving hope, injured pride, and love that 
 was ready to forgive all and forget all, so that once 
 
THE LOVEK S LAST VISIT. 287 
 
 again she could be restored to the place in his heart 
 that she had lost. " What have I ever done, Gabriel, 
 that you should fling me from you ? May my soul 
 never live by the atonement of my Saviour, if I am 
 not innocent of that sin, yea, of all distant thought of 
 that sin with which you, even you, have in your 
 hard-heartedness charged me. Look me in the face, 
 Gabriel, and think of all I have been unto you, and 
 if you say that before God, and in your own soul, you 
 believe me guilty, then will I go away out into the 
 dark night, and, long before morning, my troubles 
 will be at end." 
 
 Truth was not only in her fervent and simple 
 words, but in the tone of her voice, the color of her 
 face, and the light of her eyes. Gabriel had long 
 shut up his heart against her. At first he had doubt 
 ed her virtue, and that doubt gradually weakened his 
 affection. At last he tried to believe her guilty, or 
 to forget her altogether, when his heart turned to 
 Mary Robinson, and he thought of making her his wife. 
 His injustice his wickedness his baseness which 
 he had so long concealed, in some measure, from 
 himself, by a dim feeling of wrong done him, and 
 afterwards by the pleasure of a new love, now appear 
 ed to him as they were, and without disguise. Mary 
 took Sarah s hand and placed it within that of her 
 contrite lover, for had the tumult of conflicting pas 
 sions allowed him to know his own soul, such at that 
 moment he surely was, saying with a voice as com- 
 
288 THE TOKEN. 
 
 posed as the eyes with which she looked upon them, 
 " I restore you to each other ; and I already feel the 
 comfort of being able to do my duty. I will be 
 bride s-maid. And I now implore the blessing of God 
 upon your marriage. Gabriel, your betrothed will 
 sleep this night in my bosom. We will think of you, 
 better, perhaps, than you deserve. It is not for me 
 to tell you what you have to repent of. Let us all 
 three pray for each other this night, and evermore 
 when we are on our knees before our Maker. The 
 old people will soon be at home. Good-night, Ga 
 briel." He kissed Sarah and giving Mary a look 
 of shame, humility, and reverence, he went home to 
 meditation and repentance. 
 
 It was now midsummer ; and before the harvest 
 had been gathered in throughout the higher valleys, 
 or the sheep brought from the mountain-fold, Ga 
 briel and Sarah were man and wife. Time passed 
 on, and a blooming family cheered their board and 
 fireside. Nor did Mary Kobinson, the Flower of the 
 Forest, (for so the Woodcutter s daughter was often 
 called,) pass her life in single blessedness. She,t oo, 
 became a wife and mother ; and the two families, who 
 lived at last on adjacent farms, were remarkable for 
 mutual affection, throughout all the parish, and more 
 than one intermarriage took place between them, at 
 a time when the worthy parents had almost entire 
 ly forgotten the trying incident of their youth. 
 
 THE END. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 
 3?!:v 64dg 
 
 
 
 
 | --> iJ I_L) 
 
 
 1 mi 2 $ 64-9 DM 
 
 
 i Iff 
 
 . . . ,~ f /=?==^. ; 
 
 
 1 n ^ 
 - ** 
 
 fmmi^m.mm ffl 1 rr 
 
 
 Um jgm *** n 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 LD 2lA-40m-ll, 63 
 (E1602slO)476B 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
ICLF 1 
 
 M160997 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY