n n
 
 POPULAR 
 
 TALES AND ROMANCES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Kortjcrn Xation^, 
 
 IN TflREC VOLUMES. 
 
 The -rreasurf Seeker, p. 48. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 TRSNTEDFOR W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL, STATIONER'S 
 
 HALL COURT, LUDGATE STREET; AND 
 
 J. H. BOHTE, YORK. STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1823. 
 
 Ai Li>
 
 rj r) fjf^ 
 
 ill 1
 
 PN 
 3l I 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Ihe English reader of these volumes 
 must not expect to find in them the 
 style of romance, which is now so po- 
 pular, and justly popular, in his own 
 country. These tales do not pretend 
 to be a picture of human nature or hu- 
 man manners ; they are either imita- 
 tions of early traditions, or the tradi- 
 tions themselves, amplified by some 
 modern writer, and mustbe judged of in 
 reference to such origin. Stories of this 
 kind form an important feature in the 
 literature of the Germans, who seem to 
 be the authenticated historians of Satan 
 in all his varieties of name and attribute. 
 Of such tales, no small portion has been 
 
 ^t: iTi/i .^ 

 
 W PREFACE'. 
 
 derived from the Harz Mountains; 
 nor is this to be wondered at ; the be- 
 lief in supernatural agents has its native 
 home among* mountains and deserts, 
 and snows, and in short wherever society 
 is broken into small masses and de- 
 tached from the frequent intercourse 
 of the general world ; scepticism is the 
 inhabitants of cities as credulity is of 
 solitude, and the man, who was an 
 unbeliever of all things amidst crowds, 
 will become a believer of all things in 
 loneliness. 
 
 The legends of these volumes have 
 been gathered from various sources, 
 and, of course, will be found to have 
 characters as various ; the elegant and 
 playful Musilus has nothing at all in 
 common with the dark, wild fancy of 
 La Mottc Fouqu6 ; just as little simi- 
 larity is there between Veit Weber and
 
 PREFACE. VJl 
 
 the author of the Freischutz ; and 
 though supernatural agency forms the 
 basis of all, the superstructures vary 
 with the varying characters of the au- 
 thors. It may be said, that reason has 
 nothing to do with any of them, either 
 with sylphs or gnomes, spectres or sor- 
 cerers, and this no doubt is true ; but 
 reason is not always the most agreeable 
 companion, nor is her constant presence 
 any way condusive to the expansion 
 of the kinder feelings ; fiction is the 
 natural point of rest for the mind, when 
 worn out by the stern realities of life : 
 those realities present little that is 
 agreeable, and it is no wonder, therefore, 
 if we seek to escape from them in the 
 dreams of falsehood. There is some- 
 thing too, in such tales, that touches 
 a spring common to all hearts ; the 
 connexion between the visible and
 
 Vfll PREFACE. 
 
 invisible world is a thing which all 
 reason denies, but all feeling allows, 
 and which it always must allow, or 
 fancy will be so completely subdued to 
 truth that even poetry will have lost its 
 value. Philosophy, or what is called 
 philosophy, is, indeed, very busy in its 
 vocation ; fiction is banished from the 
 nursery ; Jack the Giant Killer is su- 
 perseded by moral essays, and the reign 
 of reason is speedily about to commence, 
 when we shall believe nothing but what 
 can be proved to be, and shall attain a 
 happy exemption from those vulgar 
 prejudices, which have hitherto held 
 society together. But the dawn of 
 that glory has not yet appeared ; the 
 dreams of Homer, Shakspear, and Mil- 
 ton are still tolerated ; they still shine 
 on in the night of our darkness — long 
 may they do so ! the daylight, that
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 would extinguish them^ would be worse 
 than darkness. 
 
 It must however be allowed that, 
 •with the Germans, fancy has had too 
 much sway, for it has seldom been un- 
 der the guidance of sound taste, and 
 the consequence is, that the multitude 
 of their original fictions is disgraced 
 by the most babarous absurdities. The 
 same may, in some measure, be said of 
 their modern romance, but at the same 
 time the reader can not fail to be de- 
 lighted with the variety and richness of 
 its inventions, diablerie with the Ger- 
 mans being as inexhaustible as the 
 fairyism of the Eastern world. Some- 
 times it is presented to us under its 
 most terrific forms ; at others it appears, 
 as in Musaus under a light veil of 
 irony, in a tone half jest, half earnest 
 and that is, indeed, its most beautiful
 
 Xx PREFACE. 
 
 form. Few tales are more pleasing than 
 the Spectre Barber, one of the happiest 
 illustrations of this class of writing-, 
 where a playful fancy sports with a fic- 
 tion, that was at no distant time the de- 
 light and terror of the peasant's fireside. 
 La Motte Fouqu^, on the contrary, is 
 altogether a magician of darkness, who 
 loves to treat the wild and impossible 
 as serious matters, but who always en- 
 deavours to draw from them some mo- 
 ral conclusions. Veit Weber, another 
 great name of romance, builds his tales 
 on'^the dark times of chivalry, when the 
 kinghts plundered the people with the 
 sword and the monks plundered the 
 knights with the bible. Ottmar and 
 Biisching are the antiquarians of ro- 
 mance, who have collected the scattered 
 traditions of the peasantry, and retailed 
 them to the world witli little deviation
 
 PREFACE. xr 
 
 from their originals. Madame Naubert 
 is more akin in her genius to Musaus, 
 though a spirit of an inferior order ; her 
 materials are generally of the light and 
 playful kind ; or^ if not^ she makes them 
 so by the manner in which she works 
 them up. Laun is the historian of 
 ghost-stories, which have really occurred 
 but which have subsequently been found 
 capable of rational explanation ; a 
 translation of three or four of his tales 
 has lately been published byAckermann; 
 the work is well executed and affords 
 much wholesome food for the over-cre- 
 dulous. Grimm is the collector of 
 Nursery Tales, and as such is well 
 known to the English reader Lothar 
 has a volume on the plan of Ottmar's 
 the most essential difference being its 
 inferiority. On the same principle are 
 two volumes of Popular Tales, published 
 at Eisenach, without the author's name.
 
 XII PREFACE. 
 
 but many of them are exceedingly 
 entertaining. Lebrecht and Tieck are 
 the authors of many beautiful legends, 
 but they have generally trusted to their 
 own fancy instead of building them- 
 selves on antient traditions. Backzo's 
 legends are something in the manner of 
 La Motte Fouque, though neither so 
 fanciful nor so original. But to detail . 
 all the volumes of German legend and 
 romance would be to give a bookseller's 
 catalogue ; for, not only has Moravia, 
 Silesia, Thuringia, and Austria, each its 
 distinct legends, but every quarter of 
 the Harz Mountains, east, west, north, 
 and south, has its own exclusive terrors; 
 and when to these are added the fictions 
 of later writers, the catalogue swells 
 beyond all reasonable limit. .^[ j^ 
 
 It may perhaps be objected to the 
 present collection that, in two instances, 
 it goes over grouj^^^^that has already
 
 , .. PREFACE. XIII 
 
 been trodden ; the Spectre-Barber has 
 appeared in the Tales of the Dead, 
 and Kibitz, in the Ladies Magazine, 
 but the first of these translations was 
 given in a mutilated form, nearly one 
 half the tale having been omitted, and 
 Kibitz seems to have been nearly re- 
 written, so that neither interferes with 
 the plan of the present work, where the 
 alterations, with very few exceptions, 
 are purely verbal. But this objection, 
 if it be an objection, is confined to 
 the two legends already mentioned ; 
 the remaining tales, to the best of our 
 knowledge, have not hitherto been 
 translated, so that, whatever may be 
 their faults in other respects, they will 
 at least have the merit of novelty with 
 the English reader, and that, though 
 not the highest, is certainly not the 
 least, of commendations.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 TA« Treasure-Seeker 1 
 
 J'he Bottle-Imp 65 
 
 The Sorcerers 123 
 
 The Enchanted Castle 191 
 
 Wake not the Dead 233 
 
 Auburn Egbert 293
 
 THE 
 
 TREASURE-SEEKER 
 
 On the Tuesday after Bartholomew's day, in 
 the very year that the emperor Wenceslaus 
 fled from the prison at Prague with the fair 
 damsel of the Bath, according to an ancient cus- 
 tom, the guild of shepherds at Rottenburg held 
 their annual procession, at which was present all 
 the country for about three miles round. After 
 hearing mass at the church of St. Wolfgang, they 
 proceeded to mine host's of the Golden Lamb, 
 where they spent the rest of the day in quaf- 
 fing- their cups, playing on their rustic instru- 
 ments, and dancing too in the open square until 
 sunset. The younger part of the company then 
 dispersed homeward; notso,however, the elders, 
 and the more substantial shepherds, for they 
 continued to carouse over their wine till the 
 night was far advanced; and, when the liquor 
 Vol. I. B
 
 a THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 had somewhat thawed their tongues, began to 
 indulge in loud and lengthy discourse. Some 
 made sage predictions as to the Aveather, 
 on which subject they were in no wise inferior 
 to some of our modern seers ycleped almanack- 
 makers. Indeed, they prognosticated very 
 shrewdly what the approaching season would 
 be, from the aspect of Our Lady in the procession 
 over the mountain, and the appearance of the 
 heath flowers.— Others related stories of their 
 youthful adventures, recounting how valiantly 
 they had defended their flocks against the attack 
 of the wolf, by aid of their faithful ally their 
 dog; or put to flight the still more terrible 
 were-wolf by devoutly crossing themselves, and 
 repeating a prayer to St. AndrcM'. Or, they 
 told how they had been led out of their way 
 across wild and through wood: and had been 
 mocked and perplexed by witches and spectres. 
 So terrific were most of these narratives, that they 
 caused to shudder that part of the auditory 
 which consisted of the town's folk, and made 
 their hair to stand erect with horror. Of these 
 latter, in fact, no inconsiderable number attend- 
 ed to share in the festivities of this rustic hob-
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 3 
 
 day ; for many a boon companion, and mecha- 
 nic, generally betook him on this evening to 
 mine host's of the Lamb. 
 
 Among all the company no one was more 
 jovial, or contributed more to the conver- 
 sation than the silver-headed Martin, a lively 
 old man of eighty years ; who, like the patriarch 
 Jacob had seen a whole race of shepherds de- 
 scended from himself. When the room began 
 to clear somewhat of the guests, he ordered 
 mine host to bring him a cup, by way of a fare- 
 well glass before retiring, not displeased to 
 find that the tumult had somewhat subsided, 
 and that it would now be in his power to make 
 himself better heard. 
 
 " Good neighbours," quoth the old sire," you 
 have been recounting some wondrous, marvels ; 
 nor have they, methinks, lost any thing of their 
 worth by savouring a little of the wine cup. I 
 myself, however, can tell you an affair, which 
 although I give you nothing but the pure truth 
 will appear more wonderful than any of your 
 tales: — but the evening is now rather too far 
 advanced, and I should never come to the end.'* 
 
 B'2
 
 4 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 All were silent while the old man was speak- 
 ing; and such was the hushed attention in the 
 tavern-room, that you might have supposed the 
 bishop of Bamburg was reading mass. When he 
 ceased, however, there were voices enough to be 
 heard, for his neighbours cried outunanimously: 
 " Father Martin, let us hear this strange adven- 
 ture of thine, never spare us the pleasure on a 
 holiday-night like this." Even some of the 
 town's folk, who had been preparing to depart, 
 now hung up again their cloaks, and beseeched 
 him to relate his marvels as their parting cup. 
 Their earnest solicitations were more than old 
 Martin could withstand, he commenced there- 
 fore as follows : 
 
 " Affairs went sorrowfully enough with me in 
 the world, at first. Being a destitute orphan boy 
 I was forced to beg my bread from door to door ; 
 1 had no place that 1 could call my home, but 
 strolled about with my wallet from one village 
 to another. When, however, 1 grew up to be a 
 sturdy lad, 1 hired myself to a shepherd on the 
 Ilarz Mountains, whose flocks I tended for three 
 years. Atthattime,one evening, about the begin-
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 5 
 
 ningof the autumn, ten of the sheep were miss- 
 ing-, on which I was sent into the wood to search 
 for them. My doof got upon a wrong scent, and 
 hunted about the under-wood ; night began to 
 fall, and I being unacquainted with the place, 
 and not knowing how to find my way, deter- 
 mined to pass the night beneath a free. Towards 
 midnight the dog became uneasy, began to 
 howl, slunk his tail, and crouched close to me: 1 
 then perceived that all was not aright, and look- 
 ing up discerned by the clear moonlight, a figure 
 standing opposite to me, resembling that of a 
 man whose body was entirely covered with 
 shaggy hair. He had a long beard reaching to 
 his middle, a garland upon his head, and around 
 his loins an apron of oak-leaves, while, in his 
 right hand, he held a fir-tree that had been torn 
 up by the roots. At this apparition I trembled 
 like an aspen leaf, and my very soul was shaken 
 with horror. The terrific spectre motioned with 
 his hand that I should follow him ; yet I stirred 
 not from the spot: I then heard him exclaim in 
 a hoarse growling voice : " Coward heart, take 
 courage, I am the Treasure-Keeper of the Harz. 
 Come with me, so shalt find a treasure." A\-
 
 b THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 though my apprehension threw me into a cold 
 sweat, 1 at length roused myself and, making a 
 sign of the cross, replied: ' A vaunt thee Satan 
 I desire none of thy treasures !' Oa this the 
 fiend grinned horribly in my face, and pinching 
 me, said : ' Loon, thou rejectest good fortune ! 
 continue then a sorry varlet all thy days*. He 
 then turned away as if to depart ; but again ap- 
 proached me, saying : * Bethink thee, bethink 
 thee well, thou heedless wight. 1 will fill thine 
 wallet, 1 will fill thine bag with a joyous bur- 
 den.' — ' It is written,' I returned, ' Thou shalt 
 not covet; away than from me, thou evil spirit; 
 nought do 1 require of thee.' 
 
 " As the spectre saw that 1 listened not to 
 him, he desisted from further importunity, only 
 adding : * Thou wilt repent this;' then looked 
 gloomily at me, and, after a short pause of re- 
 flection, continued : ♦ Give good heed to what I 
 now say, so that it may yet avail thee, shouldsl 
 thou think more advisedly. In the firocken 
 Mountain, deep under the earth, is buried an 
 immense treasure of gold and precious stones, 
 which, having been deposited there by twilight, 
 may be removed in the open day, as well as at
 
 THE TREASURE-SET'.KEU. 7 
 
 deep midnight. I have watched it for seven 
 hundred years ; but, from this day forward, it 
 becomes again free to be taken by whoever dis- 
 covers it : — ray time is up. Therefore, did I in- 
 tend to deliver this hoard to thee ; for, as thou 
 pastures! thy flock on the Brocken, I have felt 
 kindly disposed towards thee.' He then pro- 
 ceeded to acquaint me with the place where the 
 treasure was to be found, and of the manner in 
 which I ought to seek it. 
 
 " It seems to me even now as though 1 heard 
 him, so plainly do I remember his every word. 
 ' Proceed, said he, towards St. Andrew's moun- 
 tain, and there enquire for the BlackKing's val- 
 ley; or, as it is now called, the Morgenbrodsthal. 
 When arrived at a brook, named the Duder, 
 follow its track, against the current, until thou 
 reachest a stone bridge, hard by a saw-mill. 
 Pass not, however, over the bridge, but still 
 continue to advance with the stream on thy 
 right hand, until ihou seest before thee a steep 
 rocky crag. A bow shot distance from this, thou 
 wilt perceive a hollow, resembling a grave pre- 
 pared for a dead body. Do not fear, but clear
 
 8 THK TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 it out without apprehension, although thou wilt 
 find it no very easy labour: thou wilt perceive 
 that it has been filled up with earth intentionally. 
 Having now discovered a stone wall on either 
 side, proceed manfully in thy work, and thou 
 wilt soon meet with a square flat stone, built 
 into the wall, and about a yard in height and 
 breadth. This being wrested out, thou wilt 
 be at the entrance of the vault where the trea- 
 sure is deposited. Into this opening must thou 
 creep on thy belly, with a miner's lamp in thy 
 mouth, thy hands being quite disengaged, lest 
 thou shouldst strike thy face against a stone, 
 for the descent is very great, and the stones are 
 exceedingly sharp. Should thy knees chance 
 to bleed, regard it not, since thou art in a 
 prosperous path. Nor rest until arrived at a 
 staircase of stone, of which thou wilt, without 
 ditficulty, descend the steps, in all seventy-two 
 in number; and wilt reach a spacious hall with 
 three doors, two of which are open, but the third 
 is fast closed with bolt and bar. Ileed well that 
 thou goest not through that on the right hand, 
 lest thou should disturb the bones of the former
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 9 
 
 possessor of the treasure. Neither enter that 
 on the left; it is an unclean vault, wherein 
 house the viper and the snake ; but open the 
 closed door by means of spring-root, which 
 thou must not fail to take along with thee, else 
 is all thy labour bestowed in vain; for, with 
 tool of iron, however strong", thou wilt accom- 
 plish nothing-. How thou art to obtain this pre- 
 cious root, that must thou enquire of some well 
 experienced carl ; since it is known to those 
 who track the forest, and is not very difficult to 
 be met wilh. Fear not, even though the door 
 should burst open M^ith a crash as loud as if of 
 thunder ; thou wilt receive no injury, it being- 
 merely the force of Ihe root. Only remember 
 to cover well thy lamp, so that it may not be 
 extinguished, so wilt thou needs be dazzled by 
 the noble sparkling and bravery of all the gold 
 and jewels, wherewith are covered the walls 
 and pillars of that vault ; yet stretch not out 
 thy hand towards them — beware of that as thou 
 wouldst of sacrilege. In the middle of this sub- 
 terraneous hall stands a brazen chest like as 
 it were the high altar of some church. There
 
 10 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 thoii wilt find enough of both gold and silver, 
 and niayest take all that thou cravest. Takest 
 thou as much as thou canst carry, so hast thou 
 enough to suffice for thy whole life : it is be- 
 sides in thy power to return thither three dif- 
 ferent times, but no more — the fourth would 
 prove in vain ; nor would thou escape without 
 the chastisement due to thy avarice. Forget 
 not to close well each time the mouth of the 
 cavern, by which thou enterestthe vault of the 
 treasures of king' Bructorix.' When the phan- 
 tom had ceased speaking, ray dog pricked up 
 his ears and began to bark ; I heard the sound 
 of wheels at a distance, and, looking around 
 me, perceived that the figure had vanished." 
 
 With these words did the grey -bearded ghost- 
 seer end a narration that affected his auditors in 
 very different M'ays. Some were fain to treat 
 the adventure very lightly : — " 'Tis certainly a 
 wondrously fine dream, my old sire !" exclaim- 
 ed they : others gave implicit credence to the 
 tale; while a third party, more cautions than 
 either, assumed a sagacious look, but cared not 
 to utter their opinion of the matter. As for
 
 THE TREASURE- SEEKER. 1 I 
 
 * mine host,' be very shrewdly asserted that the 
 proof of the puddingy lay in the eating ; that, let 
 them dispute, and pro and con as much as they 
 please, the question after all was, had Martin 
 really been on this subterraneous pilgrimao;^e,and 
 had he returned with his pack laden with trea- 
 sure ? In order, therefore, to ascertain this 
 important point, and keep his guest in the 
 talkative humour, he filled him a goblet from 
 a fresh flask, and as he offered it, said ; 
 
 " Come, goodman ! let us hear whether you 
 visited this said cavern, and found there all 
 that this spirit promised ? or did the mischiev- 
 ous elf play thee false ?" 
 
 '• By no means, returned honest Martin, I 
 cannot accuse him of telling me untruths 
 since I never took even so much as a single step, 
 to find out the cavern, or to open it." — " And 
 wherefore not?" — " For two reasons : in the 
 first place, 1 had too much regard for my neck 
 to expose myself to the malice of a goblin » 
 and in the next, 1 have never been able to 
 meet with any one to inform me how I am to 
 come at the spring-root, — where it groweth, or
 
 12 TIIK TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 at what season of the year, or what hour of the 
 day it must be plucked, although I have ques- 
 tioned respecting- it many a one well conver 
 sant with every kind of plant."— The innkeeper 
 was now quite aground with his inquiries, with- 
 out having obtained the slightest glimpse into 
 the business, when a shepherd, well stricken in 
 years, addressed himself to the narrator of the 
 history, and said ; 
 
 " 'Tis a thousand pities, neighbour Martin, 
 that your secret is now somewhat out of date. 
 An you had had your wits about you some 
 forty years ago, you had certainly not missed 
 of having the spring-root. And, although you 
 will never, I warrant me, climb the Brocken at 
 this day yet, if it be only for mere passing the 
 time, I will inform you by what ujeans the plant 
 may be obtained. The readiest method of all 
 is to call in the service of a black woodpecker. 
 Watch one in the spring fide, at which season 
 it makes its nest in a hollow tree, then after the 
 time of brooding, and when it flies out to seek 
 food for its young ones, drive a hard knot of 
 wood into the hole, whence it has taken its
 
 THETREASURE-SREKKR. 13 
 
 flight. Then watch behind the tree, until its 
 return. As soon as it perceives that all access 
 to its home is intercepted, it will fly round the 
 tree with a scream of loud lament, then suddenly 
 wing- its course towards the west. After this 
 you must take care to be provided with a scarlet 
 mantle; or in lieu of this, hie to a dealer in 
 such wares, and buy thee some four yards of 
 red cloth; which conceal beneath thy garment, 
 and wait by the tree until the bird return with 
 the spring-root in its mouth, even though it be 
 one, nay even two days. No sooner will the 
 bird touch the wooden plug with this won- 
 drous plant, than it will immediately fly out, with 
 a sudden bounce, just as a cork does from a 
 foaming flask. Then lose no time, but instantly 
 spread the mantle or cloth beneath the tree. 
 Terrified at the sight, supposing it to be fire, 
 the woodpecker will let fall the root. Having 
 once obtained possession of the charmed plant, 
 fail not to bind it to a piece of christ-thorn, 
 otherwise it will assuredly be lost whenever 
 you lay it out of your hand." 
 
 Many a comment was now passed upon this
 
 14 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 procedure, while the glass freely circulated ; 
 nor did the boon companions disperse until the 
 midnight hour had already chimed. 
 
 Apart from this social circle, with no other 
 companion than the cat, a solitary toper had 
 occupied mine host's well-stuffed leathern 
 chair; in which post he had, during the whole 
 evening, observed so strict a silence, that he 
 had rather seemed to be preparing himself for 
 a Carthusian Monastery, than to be the inmate 
 of an inn on a festival night. Little as he 
 was generally given to contemplation, he now 
 sat profoundly wrapped in his own cogita- 
 tions, in which he was now induced to indulge 
 on more than one account. This individual, be 
 it known, was Master Peter Block, whilom a 
 cook to a worshipful magistrate, then vintner, 
 and tapster successively ; and these honour- 
 able employments being abandoned, he oc- 
 cupied now a more private station; for, during 
 the last ten years, Peter had descended the 
 ladder of promotion with most quick retro- 
 gradation, so that he who had formerly contri- 
 buted toother men's feasting, was now obliged
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 15 
 
 to practice fasting- on his own account. In liis 
 quondam calling, he had been a man of a jovial 
 complexion, nothing loth to a merry jest, but 
 rather one who tickled the fancies and the 
 palates of his guests in pretty equal ratio, in 
 the noble art of cooking his science was indis- 
 putable. There was no dainty nor devise, in 
 which he did not exhibit the skill of a profes- 
 sor, and the zeal of a dilettante. But unfortu- 
 nately our artist would needs dress for himself 
 a sauce that requires more of the ingredient 
 called good luck, than any other article in the 
 Almanac des Gourmands: — in other words, 
 Master Block sought out for himself by times 
 a help-mate; and, in evil hour, made choice of 
 a fair one, whose venemous tongue had already 
 gained her the ill-will of all the town. Whoever 
 came in hcrway, for it little signified to her whe- 
 ther friend or foe, she was certain to cover them 
 with abuse; nor did even the saints in the calen- 
 dar,escapeherwith impunity. Nowonder, there- 
 fore, if all the gallants were shy of addressing 
 Dame Use, until Master Block, who had heard 
 her commended as a thrifty, notable housewife, 
 ventured to espouse this foulmouthed specimen
 
 IG 
 
 THF TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 of the sex denominated fair. Hardly, indeed^ 
 had she left the altar ere she gave the poor 
 wight a foretaste of connubial affection. Such 
 an union was not blessed with a numerous pro- 
 geny; for, of all their offspring, none escaped 
 from a premature death except a single girl, who 
 was of so firm a constitution as to suffer neither 
 'from the harsh treatment of her mother, or the 
 overweening fondness of her father. 
 
 In the mean while the circumstances of the 
 family had altered very materially. Even in 
 his youth, Master Peter had never been a pro- 
 ficient in arithmetic; for, of all the rules, the 
 only one in which he succeeded was substrac- 
 tion: as to addition and multiplication he could 
 comprehend neither, nor was he much more 
 successful in division. It was too great an 
 exertion for him to keep an exact credit and 
 debit account in his affairs: had he but money, 
 neither kitchen nor cellar went unprovided; 
 his boon companions too, were always sure of 
 meeting with the best cheer, long credit, and 
 open house so long as they entertained their 
 host in return, by joyous tales and witfy stories. 
 On the other hand, his kindly compassionate
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 17 
 
 nature displayed itself equally towards those 
 whose only claim consisted in their utter inabi- 
 lity to pay for their lodging*. Were his finances 
 exhausted, then, indeed, he borrowed from 
 usurers at high interest ; and, as he feared being 
 called to account by his tyrannical rib, he 
 always gave the authoritative dame to under- 
 stand that it was to clear off some old debts. The 
 accommodating principle by which, like many 
 other well disposed christians, he found it so 
 convenient to regulate his conduct, was that at 
 last all would turn out for the best. But at the 
 last, however. Master Peter found that he had 
 turned all the money out of his pockets, and 
 himself out of doors ; for, to the unspeakable 
 regret of all his good friends, and all the bou- 
 vivants of the town, he was obliged to take 
 down his sign. 
 
 In those good old times, when it was one of 
 the chief duties of a notable housewife to attend 
 herself to the affairs of the kitchen, it was in vain 
 to seek a place where he might display his 
 talents as a culinary artist. Under these unfor- 
 tunate circumstances, therefore, he was cora- 
 
 VOL. 1. C
 
 18 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 pelled to become a dependant upon his wife, 
 who set up a small flour trade: and, as an ass 
 was now become indespensable to her establish- 
 ment. Master Peter acted as substitute for that 
 respectable animal. Without the least com- 
 punction, the dame loaded the shoulders of her 
 yoke partner with many a heavy sack of flour, 
 which he was obliged to carry to the mill, 
 although not without groaning- under the unac- 
 customed weiofht : but even these services did 
 not always obtain the best of recompense, for 
 most sparingly did she meet out to him his pro- 
 vender, and not unfrequently did this female 
 satan let him feel too the additional weight of 
 her fist, whenever he ventured to complain of 
 the weight of the sacks. 
 
 Such conduct grievously afilicted the com- 
 passionate nature of his daughter, and drew 
 from her in secret many a bitter tear: she was 
 dear as the apple of his eye to her father, who 
 had trained her, from her very childhood, in his 
 own ways ; she therefore repaid all his afl^ec- 
 tion with the most submissive filial love, and 
 consoled him under all his domestic afflictions.
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 19 
 
 The amiable Gertrude supported herself by 
 needle-work, especially embroidery, in which 
 she had attained such a proficiency as to be 
 able to copy any object. She worked the robes 
 used by priests at mass, altar draperies, and 
 those variegated and fancifully figured cloths 
 with which it was then the fashion to cover 
 tables. Althouoh obliafed to g-ive her mother 
 a strict account of all her earnings, she never- 
 theless, sometimes contrived to lay by a trifling- 
 coin, which she privately made a present of to 
 her father, in order that he might occasionally 
 visit mine host of the Golden Lamb, and forget, 
 for a season, his afilictions. Previously to the 
 shepherd's festival she had secreted double her 
 usual savings, and she joyfully slipped them into 
 her father's hand as he returned one evening 
 from his labours at the mill. This kindness, on 
 the part of his child, touched his very soul, and 
 so affected him that the tears came into his eyes, 
 the more so as he was busied with a project 
 which would hardly deserve such a return from 
 the affectionate girl. 
 
 Absorbed in deep reflection, he betook him- 
 c2
 
 20 THE TREASURE-SEEKER^ 
 
 self to the Golden Lamb, where, forcing his 
 way through the boisterous assembly, he called 
 for a measure of wine; then heedless of and 
 unheeded by the rest of the company, planted 
 himself in mine host's easy chair, which, in 
 spite of its luxurious appearance, could not ob- 
 tain a tenant on account of its retired situation. 
 Here, having first of all somewhat refreshed 
 his spirits, and screwed himself up to the pitch 
 by a glass of generous wine, he gave full play 
 to his thoughts, and canvassed within his own 
 mind a certain critical proposition, that had 
 been made to him respecting the fair Gertrude. 
 A young artist, who conceived that his talent 
 lay more particularly in the representation of 
 female beauty, and who, accordingly, was con- 
 stantly on the search after the best models, no 
 matter whether a Venus or a Magdalen, a saint 
 or sinner, provided that the outward form was 
 not deficient in charms — had been struck by 
 the extraordinary beauty of Gertrude. Hav- 
 ing just before been commissioned by a noble- 
 man to paint for him a Venus rising from the 
 sea, it instantly occurred to him that he could
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 21 
 
 no where meet with a more suitable model for 
 his purpose, than the daughter of our quondam 
 cook. Fearing, however, that maiden bashful- 
 ness would feel some repugnance at making- 
 such a free display of her charms, as was con- 
 sonant with the more liberal notions of an ad- 
 mirer of virtu, he judged that his better way 
 would be to apply directly to the father of the 
 maiden ; he therefore occasionally employed 
 him to grind his colours, for which service he 
 never failed to renumerate him very hand- 
 somely. One day , when he thought that mat- 
 ters were sufficiently ripe for his purpose, he 
 ventured to make his proposal, hinting that 
 a compliance would be followed by an ample 
 present. Yet Master Peter, thinking that the 
 artist was on this occasion instigated quite as 
 much by his admiration of nature as his attach- 
 ment to art, and suspecting that he was anxious 
 for something more than merely the beau ideal, 
 replied in no very gentle manner : " What do 
 you mean, my fine master, by this sort of 
 jesting ? Though I have been a cook, you cer- 
 tainly do not suppose, that I will therefore
 
 22 THE treasure-sei:kf,r. 
 
 serve up my daughter to you with as little 
 ceremony as 1 would dish you up a well dres- 
 sed pullet?" The knight of the pencil found 
 it necessary to exert all his eloquence to ap- 
 pease the irritated feeling of the honest cook ; 
 })nd to explain to him that such a procedure 
 was perfectly compatible with the strictest 
 modesty, quoting numerous precedents for 
 both the decency and the harmlessness of this 
 method of studying.* 
 
 Satisfactory as were the examples adduced, 
 the simplicity of master Peter could not com- 
 prehend that there was neither danger nor 
 scandal in such a procedure; until at the sight 
 of some broad pieces of gold which the painter 
 took care to display, his began somewhat to 
 give way : for, in his present circumstances, such 
 a bait was a very powerful one. He promised 
 
 * Had our artist lived now he might have silenced 
 all scruples by refcring to the illustrious example of 
 the Princess Boighese who sat en nue to Canova, 
 for her statue. Being asked by an English lady how 
 she could bear it ? the Princess very naively replied : 
 " O ! very well, there was a good fire in the apart- 
 ment during the whole time." T.
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 23 
 
 therefore, to take the matter into consideration, 
 hinting however that even should he himself 
 not refuse, he anticipated a greater obstacle 
 in his daughter's reluctance; assured that she 
 would not comply. ♦* As for that matter, leave 
 me to surmount all difficulties of that nature. 
 You remember the fable of the dispute be- 
 tween the sun and the wind for the traveller's 
 cloak ? and I warrant me the coyest maiden 
 may be persuaded much more easily by a 
 young* fellow than an old father." 
 
 The contract being thus far agreed upon, 
 Peter was striving to settle the matter as well 
 as he could between his hankering after the 
 gold and his scruples of conscience, at the 
 very time that goodman Martin began his 
 tale of wonder, which so interested the solitary 
 occupier of the landlord's chair, that he in- 
 stantly dismissed his own contentious thoughts 
 in order to catch it with greedy ear. Not a 
 syllable escaped his attention, but the farther 
 the narrator proceeded the more eagerly did he 
 listen. At first, it was merely curiosity that in- 
 duced him to give his ear to the tale, but, when
 
 2i THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 neighbour Bias explained in what manner the 
 spring-root, the talisman that was to open ac- 
 cess to the treasure, was to be obtained, his 
 imagination was completely inflamed. He in- 
 stantly seemed to himself to stand before the 
 brazen chest, and heap up the bright pieces 
 of gold into his sack. The proposition of the 
 painter was now rejected with a noble indigna- 
 tion, twenty broad pieces seeming a sum too 
 paltry even to stoop for, had they been lying 
 at his feet. Inspired nearly equally by the 
 fumes of the wine and the thoughts of the 
 Potosi he had discovered, he quickly determined 
 to rest all his hopes of fortune on the success 
 of his journey to the Brocken. Buoyed up by 
 the inflammable gas of hope and that of imagina- 
 tion, his excursive fancy was among the clouds, 
 and busily employed in building airy castles. 
 
 CovetoHsness and avarice were by no means 
 his failings : as long as his prosperity lasted, 
 his money passed lightly through his fingers: 
 the more difficult therefore, was it for him af- 
 terwards to bear his indigence vvitli tolerable 
 patience. Whenever, therefore, he indidged in
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 25 
 
 dreams of wealth, it was principally in order 
 that he might resign his post of proxy to a 
 beast of burthen, and should no longer be oblig- 
 ed to carry sacks to the mill, but have it in 
 his power to bestow a handsome dowry upon 
 his dear Gertrude. Even before he had quit- 
 ted the host's dignified easy chair, he had 
 arranged every detail of his projected journey, 
 except what regarded the funds necessary to 
 accomplish it; and had fixed upon the following 
 Sunday to carry his plan into execution. 
 
 Master Peter quitted the Golden Lamb as 
 joyously as if he had obtained there the golden 
 fleece. The only circumstance that now dis- 
 turbed his ideal felicity was, that he was not 
 yet in possession of the magic root, and when he 
 considered that the black woodpecker did not 
 build its nest in those parts, he became as me- 
 lancholy as if suddenly roused from a delightful 
 fairy vision. Quite disconsolate he retired to his 
 chamber, and threw himself upon his hard mat- 
 tress, but not to enjoy repose. It seemed never- 
 theless as if something whispered to him the old 
 proverb, 'that which is delayed is not therefore 
 2
 
 26 THE TREASURE-SEEKKR. 
 
 quite stayed.' Instantly rising, lie struck a light, 
 and, taking pen and ink, faithfully set down 
 from beginning to end, the whole process of ob- 
 taining the treasure, so that not a tittle might 
 escape his memory. This being done, he felt his 
 chilled hope somewhat revived, trusting that, 
 although he might be obliged to perform the 
 part of ass for another winter, the time would 
 yet come when he should be able to discon- 
 tinue his sorrowful pilgrimages to the mill. 
 
 While busied in this occupation, daylight 
 appeared, and with it his amiable spouse, who, 
 suddenly bouncing in upon him, bestowed upon 
 him no very pleasing salutations, seeing in what 
 manner he was employed. " J3rnnkard, that thou 
 art, exclaimed she, hast thou again been spend- 
 ing the whole precious night in carousing, wast- 
 ing the money that thou hast pilfered from me ? 
 Begone out of my sight, thou sot !" Master Peter, 
 having long been accustomed to greetings of this 
 description, was not disconcerted, but replied, 
 as soon as the tempest was blown over a little : 
 ♦• Sweetheart, don't disturb thyself so monstrous- 
 ly; what 1 have in hand is an undertaking that
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKKR. 27 
 
 must be performed ; 1 am even writing my 
 last will and testament." At hearing- this the 
 affectionate Gertrude burst into wailing, since 
 she imagined that her father had had some evil 
 presentiments during the night, announcing to 
 him his last hour. She had too herself dreamt 
 that she had seen an open grave ; besides it 
 was a most unusual thing with her good father 
 to think much either about visiting the next 
 world, or quitting the present one. Dame Use, 
 on the contrary, gave little heed to any idle 
 prognostics of this nature, her flinty nature re 
 ceived with little emotion the intimation that she 
 might soon loose her spouse, who, in all proba- 
 bility, intended thereby to awaken some tender- 
 ness in his favour. On the contrary, she varied 
 her theme in every possible strain of discord. 
 *' Thou knave," exclaimed the virago, "thou 
 hast squandered aviay all thy worldly goods and 
 chattels, and now pretendest that thou art 
 making thy will. What hast thou now to 
 bequeath?"—" True Dame, of worldly goods I 
 have now but few indeed : but still I have a 
 heavenly treasure, to wit a most aflfectionate
 
 28 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 wife, whom 1 bequeath" — " To the devil with 
 thee, thou insolent varlet," returned the Dame, 
 at the same time flying upon like an enraged 
 tigress : and some blood might have been 
 spilt had not the rash testator made good an 
 immediate retreat. 
 
 Full fifty times had our good Peter witnessed 
 the return both of the stork and the swallow, 
 without paying any attention to it, and as often 
 too had he on Maundy Thursday served up to his 
 friends a mess of cresses and other herbs, and 
 the first produce of the spring without even 
 tasting them himself. But now he would not 
 have exchanged for the best martinmas goose, 
 the first sorry cabbage which his frugal house- 
 wife dished for him the following spring: 
 and no sooner did he observe the first return 
 of the swallow, than he celebrated the wished- 
 for event in a flask of wine, at the Golden 
 Lamb. He now laid by every penny of the 
 secret service money with which he was sup- 
 plied by his daughter, in order that he might 
 have wherewithal to reward the first lucky wight 
 who should inform him where to find a black
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 29 
 
 woodpecker's nest. He even retained a scout or 
 two in his service, whom he sent to reconnoitre 
 for this purpose, both wood and wild. The saucy 
 varlets would sometimes, however, make it 
 April-tide with him, sending him many a mile 
 through brake and briar, over hill and down 
 dale, where his labour was at length rewarded 
 by meeting a raven's or a squirrel's nest in the 
 hollow-tree to which he had been directed ; 
 and, if he pretended to be angry at this vex- 
 atious waggery, they would laugh at him to his 
 face, and then run away. At length, one of 
 these scouts, less knavish and more fortunate 
 than the others, having actually met with a 
 black woodpecker that had pitched its nest on 
 an old decayed tree, arrived express with the 
 important intelligence. Our anxious student 
 in ornithology instantly flew off, as swiftly as if 
 transformed to a bird himself, to ascertain the 
 correctness of the report. His guide conducted 
 him to a tree, where he saw a bird, which 
 seemed to have its nest there, fly to and fro, 
 yet the black woodpecker, not belonging to any 
 of those genera of birds which culinary orni-
 
 30 THE TREASURE- SEEKER. 
 
 tbologists Study, and being also less sociable 
 in its nature than eitber tbe sparrow or swallow, 
 and less familiar to bim than eitber tbe capon 
 or goose, be was doubtful bow far tbe infor- 
 mation was correct ; for to do bim justice, he was 
 quite as well acquainted with tbe phoenix itself 
 as with tbe black woodpecker. Fortunately a 
 fowler, who was then passing, extricated bim 
 from his perplexity, giving a decision conso- 
 nant to the querist's wishes, very kindly too, 
 describing with the exactness of a naturalist, 
 every thing relating to the history of the bird, 
 save one trifling particular, to wit, the wonder- 
 ful virtue on whose account it was now an object 
 of such anxious search. 
 
 Our mysterious projector rejoiced, to tbe very 
 bottom of his soul, at the discovery which he 
 had made : daily did be make a pilgrimage to 
 the auspicious tree, and read over his pretended 
 testament, with more zeal than ever he had done 
 his breviary. When it appeared to bim to be full 
 season to set about his great work, he began by 
 hunting out a red cloak ; unfortunately but a 
 single copy of this article was extant in the 
 1
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 31 
 
 whole town, and this unique was in the posses- 
 sion of a person to whom people in general are 
 somewhat reluctant in makinaf applications — 
 namely, to that worthy branch of the executive 
 power, and that dignified public functionary 
 ycleped the hangman. It cost him no little 
 exertion to overcome his scruples, and have 
 recourse to a step which might compromise his 
 reputation, and probably cause him to be ex- 
 pelled from the honourable society which 
 assembled in mine host's parlour at the Golden 
 Lamb : nevertheless, he found himself obliged 
 to chew the bitter fruit. His worthy neighbour 
 Redcloak readily complied with his request, 
 considering that his robe would not be greatly 
 disgraced by being seen on the shoulders of so 
 respectable a personage as our Master Peter. 
 Provided with this indispensable part of his 
 apparatus, our botanizing friend set out to 
 execute strictly, according to the prescribed 
 formula, the ceremony which was to put him in 
 possession of the mystic plant. All proceeded 
 exactly as neighbour Bias had predicted ; and, 
 when the woodpecker came flying back to the 
 tree with the root in its mouth. Master Peter
 
 32 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 suddenly advanced from behind the tree, and 
 performed his manoeuvre with such rapidity 
 and dexterity, that, in its terror at sight of the 
 flame-coloured mantle, the bird let fall the root, 
 and, at the same time that which would have 
 restored the good man to his eyesight, like the 
 aged Tobias. The project was now happily 
 accomplished, and thereby was obtained the 
 magic root, that by acting as a master key to 
 every door, threw its possessor into an extasy 
 of ineffable joy. He failed not to wrap it up 
 in a whole bunch of christ-thorn, and pro- 
 ceeded homewards as overjoyed as if he had 
 been already in possession of the treasure. 
 
 Of course, he could now no longer continue at 
 home ; but all his thoughts and wishes being 
 directed towards the Brocken, he made as hasty 
 preparations as possible to decamp privately. 
 His travelling equipage was soon put in readi- 
 ness, being only a sturdy staff, and a stout 
 wallet. It happened fortunately that, on the 
 day fixed for his emigration, both dame Use 
 and her daughter were gone to a convent of 
 Urselincs, where a nun was to take the veil ; 
 goodraan Peter availed himself of this oppor-
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. *Ju 
 
 tunity to desert his post, he having been placed 
 sentinel during- the absence of the female part 
 of the garrison. 
 
 Just as he was about to bestow his parting- 
 benediction on his household deities, it occurred 
 to him that it would not be at all imprudent 
 were he first of all to take a preparatory lesson 
 on his talisman, in order to satisfy himself, 
 beyond all doubt, of its efficacy. His worthy 
 Dame had in her chamber a cabinet built into 
 the wall, in which shrine she kept certain 
 golden relics, most religiously guarded under 
 seven locks, the keys of which she constantly 
 wore about her person by way of an amulet. 
 Not having been allowed to hold a committee 
 of inquiry on the state of his wife's financial 
 arrangements, Peter was altogether ignorant 
 of these private funds, although he had some 
 suspicion that a secret hoard existed some- 
 where: as soon, therefore, as this cabinet met 
 his eye, his heart acted the part of a divining 
 rod. With a bosom throbbing with anxious 
 expectation for the success of the experiment 
 he was about to make, he took out the root, and 
 Vol 1. D
 
 34 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 touched the door of the shrine. To his rap- 
 turous astonishment the seven locks imme- 
 diately unbolted of themselves, and the doer 
 flying open with a crash, displayed to his greedy 
 gaze the store of bright seducing mammon, 
 from whose snare his pious partner took such 
 pains to secure him. At first, he hardly knew 
 whether to be more delighted at the proved 
 efficacy of the magic root, or at the treasure 
 which he had discovered, but stood himself 
 rooted to the spot, as if the secret spell had 
 transformed him to a statue. At length, he 
 bethought himself in earnest of his intended 
 pilgrimage, and providently furnished himself 
 with this treasure as a viaticum on his journey, 
 considering it as a lucky augury of his farther 
 success in his new trade of treasure-finding. 
 Having completely emptied the shrine of its 
 valuable relics, he carefully fastened again all 
 the locks, like Master Nicholas the thief who 
 stole the golden tables at Lunenburg, and 
 forthwith departed on his expedition of dis- 
 covery, in the highest spirits. 
 
 On their return from their more devotional ex-
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 35 
 
 cursion, the females greatly wondered to find the 
 house shut up and the trusty sentinel nowhere to 
 be found. To all their knocking- and calling no 
 reply was returned except by the mewing of a 
 cat. Not being provided with so expeditious a 
 passe par-tout as the spring-root, the Dame was 
 obliged to have recourse to less supernatural 
 means, and to apply to a locksmith. While 
 the smith was employed in opening the door, 
 the pious Dame was equally busied in sundry 
 ejaculations, and in preparing a terrible philip- 
 pic (in which the figure Epanorthosis was by 
 no means spared) wherewith she intended to 
 salute the unfortunate wight whom she still 
 deemed to be sleeping at his post, for, in the 
 bitterness of her spirit she exclaimed : " Baal, 
 sleepeth." However, after the strictest search 
 had been made from the cellar to the very 
 house-top, no Baal was found. " Who knows," 
 thought she, " but that the false loon has 
 hied him to some of his tippling haunts?" 
 And struck with sudden alarm at the suspicions 
 awakened by this idea, she instantly felt for her 
 keys, thinking that her sacred amulet might 
 d2
 
 36 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 have fallen into unholy hands, she was how- 
 ever, tangibly satisfied that it was quite secure ; 
 the cabinet too looked so very composedly that 
 her suspicions were again removed. 
 
 Mid-day, evening-, and midnight came in s^ c- 
 cession : still they brought not Peter Block. The 
 business now grew serious, and mother and 
 daughter held a solemn council as to the causes 
 of this sudden absconding. The strangest con- 
 jectures were made ; and, as that gloomy hour 
 naturally suggested more alarming and mourn- 
 ful ideas, even Dame Use felt some com- 
 punctious visitings of conscience. " A|as," ex- 
 claimed she wringing her hands, " T fear, Ger- 
 trude, thy father has made an untimely end of 
 himself." 
 
 A fresh search was now made; and they care- 
 fully examined every beam and hook on the 
 premises, on which it was possible that the un- 
 fortunate wight might have been tempted to 
 render himself dependant, but they were satis- 
 fied that he had not travelled out of the world 
 by a hempen road. All the ditches, and ponds, 
 — not fororettinor the milldam were then scruti-
 
 THE TUiiASUllE-SEEKER. 37 
 
 uized, and still no trace whatever of the lost 
 sheep. So that, at length, the good Dame piously 
 resigned herself to her widowed state, consoling 
 herself with the prudent reflection, that it was not 
 now probable that she should ever see her hus- 
 band hanged, as she had so often predicted ; nor 
 were the expenses of his funeral likely to 
 be incurred. All therefore, that now remained to 
 be done, was instantly to look out for a succes- 
 sor to Master Peter in his asinine duties, and to 
 purchase a four footed beast of burthen to re- 
 place the biped. Having met with one to her satis- 
 faction, and settled the price, she went to draw 
 the sum upon her treasury, and for this purpose 
 unlocked its well-secured door. But what 
 could equal her horror at perceiving the dreary 
 scene it displayed ! For some minutes did she 
 stand as in a mute trance ; at length the dread- 
 ful conviction flashed upon her mind. Of what 
 nature were the exclamations and apostrophes 
 that now rolled in full torrent from her tongue, 
 it is easy to devine. 
 
 About a month after this domestic catastrophe, 
 a knock at the door announced some one's arri- 

 
 JJS THB TREASURE SEEKER. 
 
 val : Dame Use hastened to open it in the expecta- 
 tion of a customer, when there entered a young* 
 man, apparently a person of some consequence 
 and of prepossessing address; and bis attire 
 was that of a country gentleman of some note. 
 With a courteous salutation the youth expressed 
 his joy at seeing her so well, and enquired very 
 kindly after her daughter, although the Dame 
 could not recollect ever to have seen him before. 
 Notwithstanding that she found the visit in- 
 tended ratlier for the latter than herself, she 
 invited the stranger into the room, and having" 
 offered him a seat, enquired his business. With 
 a mysterious air he now requested permission to 
 speak with the fair needle-woman of whose 
 delicate work report spoke so exceedingly high 
 having a commission to deliver to her. Dame 
 Use had certain shrewd conjectures as to the 
 purport of this commission which the youthful 
 stranger seemed anxious to communicate to the 
 fair damsel : yet, as the interview would be in 
 her own presence, she summoned the industri- 
 ous maiden from her task. On perceiving the 
 visitor, the modest Gertrude blushed, and
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 3D 
 
 bent her eyes on the ground. Familiarly taking 
 the hand which she would fain have withheld, 
 the youth cast on her a gaze of tenderness that 
 by no means dissipated her confusion : never> 
 theless, anticipating his salutation, she exclaim- 
 ed : " Ah Frederick ! how came you here ? I 
 deemed that you were now a hundred miles 
 from hence. You know my sentiments, and 
 are returned to disturb me again." " No, my 
 dear girl, say rather that I am come to ensure 
 the felicity of us both. My destiny is now 
 altered, I am no longer the poor wight that I 
 formerly was, A wealthy relation is lately 
 dead ; I am the inheritor of all his possessions, 
 and have now store of riches: 1 need not there- 
 fore any longer apprehend your mother. That 1 
 love thee 1 feel full well : that thou lovest me 
 I venture to hope. The first is certain, and there- 
 fore, am I come to woo thee ; should 1 find the 
 other equally so, I shall be transported with 
 rapture." 
 
 During this speech the maiden's blue eyes 
 assumed a livelier expression, and, at the last 
 sentence, her beautiful mouth displayed a faint
 
 40 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 smile ; at the same time she stole a glance at 
 her mother to learn what were her thoughts on 
 the subject. She seemed wrapt in thought, so 
 great was her astonishment to discover that the 
 bashful girl had been carrying on a love affair, 
 without her having the least suspicion of it. 
 The maiden never went abroad, save accom- 
 panied by herself, and, at home, under her Argus 
 eye, there was no opportunity for any intrigue ; 
 accordingly, the good Dame was perfectly well 
 satisfied that not even the wiles of the most 
 scheming gallant would be able to gain him ac- 
 cess to Gertrude. The event however proved 
 the contrary ; and Dame Use now learnt that 
 the heart of a handsome daughter, though so 
 well guarded by her caution and experience, 
 was no safer than a hoard of gold secured by 
 seven locks. 
 
 Before she could finish her mental comments 
 on this strange discovery, the suitor produced 
 the most sufficient authority for his boldness, 
 by spreadingout on thetable a heap of sparkling- 
 gold pieces whose brilliancy so dazzled the vision 
 of llie discreet matron, both corporeal and in-
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 41 
 
 tellectual,that she could no longer see either the 
 lovers themselves, or the harm they had com- 
 mitted. Gertrude was now quite relieved from 
 the apprehension of witnessing her lover exor- 
 cised as an unclean spirit and doomed to repass 
 the threshold. With most lamb-like patience 
 the good wife considered that beauty is an article 
 not greatly improved by keeping; that,therefore» 
 for such fading ware, it is better to take the first 
 good customer that offers. She opined also 
 that a marriagable daughter was to the full, as 
 safe under a husband's guardianship as her own. 
 She had therefore already prepared her maternal 
 consent, fit to be produced as soon as the suitor 
 should solicit it : and very readily responsed 
 her yea and amen, to the proposals of the 
 wealthy wooer. 
 
 In short, the treaty of marriage was far more 
 expeditiously arranged than that had been 
 which related to the ass. Upon being accepted 
 as such, the joyous bridegroom, sweeping half 
 the gold into his hal, threw it into the lap of the 
 bride, as her marriage portion ; the other half 
 he as liberally scattered in a golden shower
 
 42 
 
 TIIK TREASURr:-SEKKER. 
 
 into the bosom of the greedy crone, whose dry 
 countenance instantly acknowledged its influ- 
 ence. This being done he requested a more 
 private audience with his betrothed, of which 
 he now claimed the privilege as a legal tete-a- 
 tete. The mother in the interim, softened if 
 not by the present she had received, by the 
 dreams of future wealth, spared no cost in mak- 
 ing* due provision for the entertainment of so 
 welcome a guest. 
 
 The preparations, now every where to be seen 
 going on, announced a speedy approach of the 
 nuptials. The report of Gertrude's espousals 
 spread like wild fire among all the gossips, as 
 the standing subject of the discussion for the 
 day. Whenever the wealthy bridegroom went 
 abroad, there never failed to appear a fine 
 show of heads at every window; and many a 
 curious group too discussed with eloquence 
 the important aflfair of this courtship. Some 
 rejoiced that so worthy a wench as Gertrude 
 M'as so fortunate; while others threw out en- 
 vious remarks ; and, although there was not in 
 all lli)ltenburg a gallant of more comely ap-
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 43 
 
 pearance or displaying more bravery of dress 
 than Frederick, still the jealous criticism of 
 the maidens detected many defects in him : one 
 censured him as being too tall, another as too 
 short, a third as too stout, while a fourth de- 
 clared that he displayed a bad taste in dress. 
 Some censured him as a braggart, others as a 
 coxcomb; while the greater part charitably 
 prognosticated that this fine fortune would not 
 last long, but that he was a mere bird of pas- 
 sage who built his nest there for the season, and 
 would then fly away. They soon perceived, how- 
 ever that, considering the prophesied shortness 
 of his stay, he intended to furnish his nest more 
 abundantly than should seem necessary, since 
 the arrival of several heavy packages of furni- 
 ture from Nuremburg indicated somewhat more 
 than a temporary sojourning. 
 
 At length the marriage day was fixed, and 
 half the town received invitations to the wed- 
 ding feast, which it was determined to celebrate 
 in the best apartment which the Golden Lamb 
 afforded. As Gertrude was trying on her bridal 
 wreath, she could not help observing: "This
 
 44 [thk treasure-seeker, 
 
 wreath would delight me, indeed, were but my 
 good father here to conduct me to church. 
 Would to Heaven that he were here with us 
 once again. While we now enjoy all the bless- 
 ings of Providence, he is suffering of hunger !" 
 Even Dame Use could not now help expressing 
 some regret, although some of it might pro- 
 bably arise from the want she experienced of 
 having some one on whom to vent her spleeu. 
 
 The eve of the wedding day was now arrived, 
 when lo! some one stopped before the house 
 with a barrow, and knocked at the door. The 
 bride opened the window to enquire what the 
 stranger wanted, and, to her surprise, discover- 
 ed that it was even Father Peter himself. All 
 now was tumultuous joy : Gertrude rushed and 
 threw herself upon his neck; even Dame Use 
 reached out her hand in token of forgiveness 
 of the theft he had committed, adding, at the 
 same time, a significant hint as she said : " Sir- 
 rah, mend thy manners !" At length the bride- 
 groom saluted him in his turn, while both mo- 
 ther and daughter expatiated at the same time 
 on his merits, as a suitor: for Master Peter
 
 T«E TREASURE-SKEKER. 45 
 
 seemed to scrutinize his person, with an eye of 
 eager inquiry. No sooner, however, was he in- 
 formed of the pretentions of the gallant, and 
 the manner in which he had acquired his right 
 to such intimate hospitality, then he appeared to 
 be well satisfied with his future son-in-law, and 
 was soon as familiar with him as though he had 
 long been acquainted with him. After having 
 first brought him some refreshment, the Dame, 
 expressed her curiosity to hear his adventures, 
 and all that had happened to him in his pere- 
 grinations. 
 
 " Heaven keep me, after all, in my native 
 land," replied he," I have travelled far and wide, 
 tried my hand at all kinds of trades, and atlength 
 am become a dealer in hardware ; but have laid 
 out more than I have gained. All my wealth now 
 consists in tbis cask of nails, of which I intend 
 to make a present to the young folks here, to 
 begin housekeeping with." Mother Use, now 
 vented herself in so rriany reproaches, that the 
 bridegroom little pleased at this specimen of fe- 
 male eloquence, was obliged to interfere, assur- 
 ing her that he was well satisfied with the offer.
 
 4() THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 Peace being restored, Gertrude requested that 
 her father might conduct her the following 
 morning to the church : accordingly Master 
 Peter appeared dressed out like a burgomaster, 
 in honour of the ceremony, which was cele- 
 brated with no ordinary splendour. Soon after 
 this happy event, the young couple set up a 
 separate establishment, the bridegroom having 
 purchased a noble mansion, where he resided 
 in the style of an opulent citizen, Peter, in the 
 mean while, set himself down at his ease, which 
 it was believed the liberality of his newly made 
 son enabled him to do, no one suspecting 
 that the cask of nails, was his real cornucopiae, 
 whence flowed his abundance of milk and 
 honey, 
 
 lie had, totally unknown to any one, accom- 
 plished his journey to the Blocksberg, with the 
 greatest success, although certainly not alto- 
 gether with the celerity, with which the wizards 
 ride thither on Walpurgis night, in order to 
 hold their sabbath there; his manner of travel- 
 ing, however, was quite as safe, and certainly 
 quite as pleasant. He visited each house with a
 
 THE TREASURE-SEFKER. 47 
 
 sign attached to it, with as much devotion as a 
 pilgrim of another description, would have 
 stopped at every oratory, cross, or chapel on 
 his journey; or with as much punctuality as 
 if he had been employed in taking a census of 
 all bouses of entertainment, and in ascertaining 
 that their cellars were well stocked, and their 
 larders well furnished. In sooth, during this 
 expedition he passed as much time in the for- 
 mer places as he did elsewhere, so that one 
 might suppose, by his frequent visits to these 
 subterraneous repositories, that he was an- 
 xiously rehearsing his descent into the cave of 
 treasures. But at length, the blue distance of 
 the landscape shew the mountains of the Harz: 
 and as the near approach to the scene of action 
 required all the power both of body and mind, 
 to be well fortified for the enterprize, he heroi- 
 cally put in practice the duty of self-denial, 
 and imposed upon himself a rigorous fast. 
 
 Until he began to ascend the Brocken bis nose 
 
 had served him as a faithful compass, but he 
 
 now found himself in a latitude in which this 
 
 magnet no longer acted with effect. He wan- 
 
 2
 
 48 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 dered in various directions, yet no one could 
 inform him whereabout the Morgenbrod'sValley 
 was situated. At length, he got, quite by chance, 
 into the right track; discovered St. Andrew's 
 Mount, and the little stream named the Eder 
 from which he quaffed a draught more inspiring 
 to his imagination, than one from Hippocrene 
 ever yet proved to a son of Apollo; he disco- 
 vered also the cave and was so fortunate as to 
 solve the problem proposed by mine host of the 
 Golden Lamb. In short, he entered the cavern ; 
 the spring-root performed its office ; he found 
 the treasure, and filled his wallet with as 
 much gold as he could carry, which sum 
 was quite sufficient for him to live the remainder 
 of his days in wealth, and to bestow a large 
 dowry on his dear Gertrude. Although the 
 burthen, which he now bore, was heavier than 
 any sack of flour, yet the seventy-two steps 
 which he ascended bearing it on his shoulders, 
 did not weary him so much as those leading to 
 the mill. 
 
 When he again beheld the light of day on 
 Lis return from the cave, he felt like a mariner
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 49 
 
 who just escaped from sliipwreck, has been 
 combating in the midst of the watery element 
 with all the horrors of death, and now again 
 presses once again the firm earth as he exul- 
 tingly scales the cliff". Notwithstanding the 
 assurances which he had received of perfect 
 security, it was not without certain apprehen- 
 sions of mischief from the spirit of the mine, 
 that he performed his subterraneous journey ; 
 he feared lest the stern guardian of the treasure 
 should again appear in his terrific form, and 
 either throw him into a mortal dread, or even 
 plunder him of the rich fruit of his daring enter- 
 prize. His flesh shuddered, and his hair stood 
 on end as he descended the stair hewed in the 
 rock, and so little did he venture to examine the 
 vault w herein the treasure was deposited, that 
 he could not afterwards say whether the walls 
 and pillars glittered with precious stones, his 
 whole soul being intent upon the brazen chest 
 alone, out of which he loaded himself as quickly 
 as possible. In the mean while, however, 
 every thing succeeded to his wish ; he neither 
 saw nor heard any evil spirit ; only the iron 
 Vol. I. E
 
 60 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 door closed to again with an awful sound, as 
 soon as he set his foot out of the vaulted cham- 
 ber. In his hurry, the alarmed treasure-seeker 
 forgot the invaluable talisman ; the spring-root 
 which he had laid out of his hand, when occu- 
 pied in scraping up the gold, on which account 
 it was impossible for him to return for another 
 freight; yet this circumstance did not cause 
 much affliction to the worthy Master Peter, his 
 desires being by no means immoderate, and he 
 having too, on this occasion, not spared his 
 back in the first instance; — and when he was 
 disposed so to do, he could shew himself a 
 sturdy labourer. 
 
 After he had performed every thing precisely 
 according to the instructions of old Martin, and 
 closed up the aperture of the cave, he departed, 
 considering how he should best secure the 
 prize he had obtained, and live comfortably 
 upon it at home, without exciting idle curio- 
 sity or malignant suspicion. It was also very 
 desirable that his shrew of a wife should know 
 nothing of the treasure of the llarz king, else 
 he feared that she would never desist from 
 harassing him until he had surrendered up to
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 61 
 
 her the fruit of his toils. She should, there- 
 fore, partake of the stream, but remain quite 
 ignorant of its source. The first point was 
 easily accomplished, the other caused him to 
 belabour his brains greatly without determining 
 any thing-. Having securely packed them up, he 
 transported his riches to the nearest village : 
 here he purchased a wheelbarrow, and ordered 
 a cooper to make him a tub with a double 
 bottom ; in the centre of this he deposited his 
 treasure, filling up the false bottom at either 
 end, with nails. With this load he returned 
 home very leisurely; and, as he was in no great 
 hurry to arrive there, tarried at every hospitable 
 tavern, desiring the obsequious master to set 
 before him of the best. 
 
 As he approached towards Ellrich, he was 
 joined by a young man of smart appearance, 
 but whose countenance was marked with grief. 
 Our merry pilgrim struck by the stranger's 
 appearance enquired of him, " Young Sir, 
 whither art thou bound ?" To which the other 
 replied with a sigh, " 1 am journeying through 
 the wide world, my good father, or perhaps 
 e2
 
 52 THE TREASURE-SEEKER 
 
 out of the world — any where, iii short, where 
 my feet carry me." 
 
 "And wherefore should it be outof the world?" 
 kindly asked the compassionate Peter. " What 
 has the world done to offend thee so grievously? 
 
 " To me the world has done nothing, neither 
 have I done aught amiss to the world, and yet, 
 methinks, we do not agree well together," 
 
 Our good natured traveller of the wheelbar- 
 row, who, when things went well with himself, 
 always delighted in seeing others in equally good 
 spirits, exerted himself to cheer the desponding 
 youth ; but finding, at length, that his powers of 
 eloquence Avere oi" no avail, he suspected that his 
 gloomy mood might be occasioned chiefly by 
 a vacancy in the region of the stomach, and that 
 it was that organ, not either the heart or head of 
 the patient, that was affected. He accordingly in- 
 vited him to enter an inn, promising not to call 
 upon him for his share of reckoning, a proposal 
 which his melancholy companion did not refuse. 
 They here found a mirthful set of revellers, in 
 whose society Master Peter soon found himself 
 quite in his element; and, by degrees, waxed so
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 53 
 
 full of joyous glee, and so liberal withal, that he 
 insisted that no one but himself should have 
 the honour of discharging* the landlord's bill. 
 This proposition tended by no means to throw 
 a damp upon these choice spirits; on the con- 
 trary, they in return became most liberal of 
 jests and repartees, so that it was doubtful 
 whether the number of good things that went 
 into their mouths was not exceeded by that of 
 those which proceeded out from then). Peter's 
 young companion was the oidy one presentwho 
 seemed insensible to the wit and gaiety round 
 him ; he sat in a corner of the room with his eyes 
 fixed on the floor, so coy too did he appear with 
 his glass that he but rarely saluted it with his 
 lips, and even then he did it in most maidenly 
 
 guise. 
 
 Perceiving him so inaccessible to all social 
 
 mirth, it now occurred to the good Peter that 
 
 some heavy affliction, which was gnawing 
 
 at his heart, was the real cause of the poor 
 
 youth's despondency. His curiosity therefore 
 
 became equally excited with his compassion. 
 
 " My good lad," enquired he the following 
 
 morning, " what is it that disturbs thee so
 
 54 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 greatly? Acquaint me with the cause of thy 
 uneasiness V 
 
 " Alas, my worthy father," returned the 
 youth, "what can it avail me, should I dis- 
 close the cause of my sorrow : you can serve 
 me neither by your pity nor your advice." 
 
 " Who knows how that may be ? the old pro- 
 verb says: Comfort travelleth with no out- 
 rider." Peter was now so urgent with him 
 to disclose the cause of his disquietude, that the 
 cheerless gallant was at length fain to comply. 
 
 " It is no trifle, no boyish misfortune," said 
 he," that causes my distress, but the calamitous, 
 unpropitious destiny of virtuous afTection. 1 am 
 the forrestcr, and the born vassal of Count 
 
 Oettingen at , who took me into his house 
 
 when a child, and bestowed such pains on my 
 education, that the gooduatured world whis- 
 pered it about that I w as his son. A painter 
 lately offered him for sale a number of pictures, 
 to decorate his new castle ; among the rest 
 was one representing a damsel of most extraor- 
 dinary beauty, the original of which, the artist 
 said, was a young girl, whose portrait he had 
 sketched surreptitiously, she being too reserved
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 55 
 
 to sit to him for that purpose. Never could 1 
 satisfy myself with gazing on this charming- 
 figure ; I always found myself in the apartment 
 where it hung', so that, at length, with continu- 
 ally devouring its beauties, my heart was inflam- 
 ed to such a degree, that I could no longer find 
 either rest or tranquillity. One day, therefore, 
 I called the painter aside, and conjured him to 
 inform me where was to be found the maiden 
 who had served as the model for this exquisite 
 work; promising him no inconsiderable boon 
 if he would but declare to me the truth. The 
 artist laughed at my simplicity, and at the 
 warmth of my imagination, but revealed to me 
 all that I had sought. ' The fair maiden,' said 
 he, ' dwells at Rotenburg, in which place her 
 father was once a noted cook. You may, if you 
 please, try your luck with her ; but, I can assure 
 you, the dame is both prudish and proud,' I 
 now requested permission of the Count to quit 
 his service, but this he denied me; one night, 
 therefore, I departed without either permit or 
 permission, and, having arrived at Rotenburg, 
 soon traced out my inamorata. Still I found that
 
 56 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 my efforts to gain access to her were in vain. She 
 Jives under a mother who is a very drag-on in 
 watchfulnessj and snffers her to appear neither 
 at door nor window, but keeps her as closely 
 confined from the profane gaze of men, as if 
 she were the inhabitant of a nunnery, 
 
 " This caused me no small uneasiness, I de- 
 termined, therefore, to accomplish my aim by 
 stratagem : I put on female apparel, concealed 
 my face in a hood, and thus attired, knocked at 
 the door. On her opening it, I was so struck 
 with her loveliness as to be near discovering 
 myself, yet, quickly recovering from emotion, I 
 gave her an order for a carpet of rich needle- 
 work ; for you must know that she is one of the 
 most skilful embroiderers in the whole country. 
 1 had now free access to her every day, under 
 the pretence of coming to see how the work 
 proceeded; and enjoyed the pleasure of gazing 
 upon my beloved, and chatting with her for 
 hours each time. 1 soon perceived that my 
 company was fur from being disagreeable to 
 the damsel, so well did 1 perform the character 
 of an honest matron. At length, one day, when
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 57 
 
 her mother was absent, I ventured to discover 
 myself to the charming creature, when, starting* 
 up from her work, she attempted to flee; I 
 prevailed upon her, however, not to make any 
 alarm, pledging to her my honour, that I came 
 with fair designs, and for the purpose of wooing 
 her as a fair suitor. 1 then explained to her 
 the whole plan, and the singular manner in 
 which [ had become fascinated by her charms. 
 She chided my rashness for having so lightly 
 quitted my patron, and enquired in what man- 
 ner I intended to support a wife? This per- 
 plexing question quite stopped my mouth, for, 
 although 1 have a pair of strong arms, I cared 
 not to reply that these were able to support us, 
 fearing that a poor labourer would seem un- 
 worthy so lovely a creature. 
 
 " Casting upon me a look full of the kindest 
 sympathy, she said : ' We must part : never 
 must we meet again in this suspicious manner. 
 My virtue is irreproachable, yet is my heart 
 weak. Thou hast taught me how easy it is for 
 the seducer to pass through bolted doors. My 
 father destines me for a convent, and I hasten
 
 58 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 to comply M'ith his desires; and for this purpose 
 am anxious to earn, by my needle, a sum suffi- 
 cient to place me there. Adieu, and remove to 
 such a distance, that no suspicious tongues may 
 raise evil reports concerning us." 
 
 I was obliged to com[)ly, and to tear myself 
 from her; that was indeed a bitter cup. I depart- 
 ed almost in despair; abandoned myself to my 
 forlorn destiny, continually weeping and lameu- 
 ting, both day and night. A hundred times a day 
 did I walk up and down the street where she re- 
 sided ; and whenever a bell rung for mass, I in- 
 stantly hurried away in the hope of meeting her, 
 and enjoying the consolation of beholding her 
 once aoain. But in vain ! she was no more re- 
 vealed (o my anxious gaze. Three times did I 
 prepare to quit the town ; yet could not tear my- 
 self away, for it seemed to me like departing 
 into banishment. Once more did I seek to gain 
 admission into the Iiouse in my former disguise, 
 for the purpose of bidding her eternally adieu. 
 1 knocked at the door with the most anxious soli- 
 citude : the mother put her head out of the case- 
 Uicnt, and, on seeing me, began lo load me with
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 59 
 
 reproaches, taxing me with having attempted to 
 defraud her daughter, of the sum we had agreed 
 upon. I instantly perceived what reason the 
 prudent Gertrude had assigned to her mother 
 for the abrupt manner in which my visits were 
 discontinued. J. now resigned all hope of again 
 beholding the lovely maiden ; and quitted the 
 town, and am now wandering about the coun- 
 try in the hope that my grief may speedily 
 devour my heart." 
 
 Master Peter listened with extreme attention 
 to the plain and candid narrative of his com- 
 panion, highly overjoyed at the lucky coinci- 
 dence which had brought him acquainted with 
 one, who was able togive him such well authen- 
 ticated tidings of his home, during his absence. 
 
 " Your history," said he, '* is a strange one 
 enough ; there is one point however, which I 
 do not exactly comprehend : you spoke of the 
 father of your mistress — why did you not ad- 
 dress yourself to him? He would hardly have re- 
 jected such an honest suitor to his daughter, as 
 thou appearest to be." 
 
 " Ah," replied Frederick little weening, whom 
 he was now speaking to," the father is naught; —
 
 GO THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 he is a sottish, idle fellow, who has left his wife 
 and child, nor does anyone know what has be- 
 come of him. Yet, 1 do not much blame the poor 
 wight forhaving run ofFfrora such a cross-grained 
 vixen as his wife is — but, then, to desert his sweet 
 child ! — she who is so mild, and meekly temper- 
 ed, and who,even now, always takes his part, and 
 still speaks of him with the kindest affection [ — 
 were he here 1 could pluck his beard for him." At 
 hearing this unexpected eulogium upon himself, 
 Master Peter redoubled his attention, and was 
 surprised to learn how minutely his companion 
 was acquainted with all his family secrets, with- 
 out, however, being offended at the indignation 
 expressed against hiin. He thought, on the 
 contrary, that Frederick would serve his de- 
 signs most admirably ; that he could make him 
 the depository of his wealth, so as thereby to 
 avoid all inquisitive curiosity as to the sudden 
 change in his affairs, and, at the same time, con- 
 ceal his treasure from the greediness of his wife. 
 *' JMy good friend," said he, " shew me thy 
 hand, and let me see what luck thy stars 
 destine for thee." 
 
 " What should they forbode, save evil ?"
 
 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 61 
 
 returned the hopeless lover. Nevertheless the 
 pretended dealer in chiromancy would not 
 be so put off", and as his companion did not 
 care for such a trifle, to offend one who had 
 treated him so generously, he reached out 
 his hand to him. Mustering- up a look of pro- 
 found sagacity, Master Peter considered all the 
 lines very attentively, shook his head occasi- 
 onally in the mean while, and, after he had car- 
 ried on the game for a suflicient time, said : 
 " Friend ! he who has luck has also the bride ! 
 To-morrow, as soon as the sun rises, hie thee 
 with all speed to Rotenburg. The maiden is 
 faithful, and well inclined towards thee, nor 
 will she fail to receive thee with affection. A 
 rich inheritance, will shortly fall to thee from 
 an old relation, of whom thou little dreamest; 
 and wilt then have wherewith to support a wife 
 handsomely!" 
 
 " Comrade," returned the youth, supposing 
 that the prophet was making himself merry 
 at his expense, " methinks it becomes you 
 but ill to jeer the unfortunate. Seek some 
 one on whom you can play your tricks, for 
 I am not your man."
 
 62 THE TREASURE-SEEKRR. 
 
 " Nay, my fine spark ! I am not he that 
 would deceive you, or amuse myself at your 
 cost: on the contrary, I eng-age to accomplish 
 my predictions to a hair. To convince you 
 of it, T will now pay you, as much of the said 
 bequest as you choose to demand. Follow 
 me into my chamber, and 1 will convince you 
 of the truth of my words by the most satis- 
 factory evidence." 
 
 At hearing his friend, the dealer in iron, 
 speak of his gold, in a tone of such confidence, 
 the youth's cheek burned with the glow of 
 joy, and sudden astonishment; nor did he 
 know whether he was dreaming or awake, 
 when, following his mysterious companion, 
 he beheld him, after havitig secured the door, 
 display the secret contents of his cask, — a 
 golden yolk within an iron shell. 
 
 Master Peter now discovered himself to the 
 loverof Gertrude, and confided to him the mys- 
 tery of the treasure, and also hisintenlion of let- 
 ting him support the character of a wealthy sui- 
 tor, while he, on the contrary, would enjoy him- 
 self more snugly. The deep molanchoiy of the 
 youth, now allogetlier disappeared: he could
 
 TITE TREASURE-SEEKER. 63 
 
 find no words to express his gratitude, for being 
 thus suddenly rendered the most happy of ail 
 mortals. The following- morning both the tra- 
 vellers set out for Ellrich, where the young one 
 equipped himself in all the bravery of a noble 
 gallant. Master Peterpaid him in advance a con- 
 siderable portion of the promised inheritance, 
 and agreed with him that he should privately 
 let him know of the success of his undertaking, 
 in order that he might dispatch a load of costly 
 furniture, befilting the station and character 
 he now had to support. At their parting with 
 each other the presumptive father-in-law made 
 the youth a present of a piece of advice: 
 " Take good heed to thy tongue, and disclose 
 our secret to no one, save to the discreet Ger- 
 trude, when she becomes thy bride." 
 
 Master Peter now enjoyed the golden fruit 
 of his trip to the Harz Mountain, yet wisely 
 forbore to entertain the public with any des- 
 cription of it; and possessed so much wealth, 
 that he hardly knew its amount. Frederick, 
 however, was supposed to be the source of this 
 sudden prosperity, and, as honour follows quick 
 I
 
 64 THE TREASURE-SEEKER. 
 
 on the heels of riches, he soon attained the 
 highest dig-nities which the town of Rotenburg 
 could bestow on so worthy a citizen. From 
 this time it has become a proverb there, which 
 still remains in vogue, when the people of 
 Rotenburg wish to describe a person in pros- 
 perous circumstances, to say, that he is as rich 
 as the son-in-law of Peter Block, the cook.
 
 THE 
 
 BOTTLE IMP. 
 
 It was a lovely Italian evening", wlien a 
 young- Gernrian merchant, named Richard, 
 entered Venice, the widely celebrated seat of 
 traffic and commerce. In consequence of it 
 being then the period of the thirfy years war, 
 all Germany was, at that lime, a scene of dissen- 
 sion; nowonder,therefore, if the young' merchant, 
 who was a gallant more inclined to banqueting 
 and luxurious indulgence, than feats of chivalry, 
 was not greatly displeased at his affairs calling 
 him for some time towards Italy, where things 
 wore a less hostile appearance, and where too, 
 he had heard, that there was no lack either of 
 the richest wines, or the most delicious fruits — 
 to say nothing of fascinating beauties, in which 
 latter article our gallant piqued himself on be- 
 ing no ordinary connoisseur. 
 Vol. I. F
 
 66 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 Seated in bis gondola, be traversed tbe various 
 canals of tbe city, struck witb admiration at 
 tbe beautiful buildings, and still more so at tbe 
 lovely tenants, wbom he frequently beheld, 
 peeping from their lattices. At length be ar- 
 rived at a magnificent mansion, at whose win- 
 dows, be saw some ten or twelve charming 
 girls. 
 
 " Now, would to heaven," exclaimed the cap- 
 tivated gallant, •' that I had but the opportunity 
 of saying a few words to one of those rare 
 creatures !" 
 
 •' Well!" returned his gondolier " an that be 
 all, you have only to step out, and go boldly into 
 the house at once: — your time, I warrant me, 
 will pass pleasantly enough." 
 
 " It may be pleasant enough, friend, to thee, 
 to put thy jeers upon strangers; but dost thou 
 suppose that I am such an arrant loon as to foU 
 low thy knavish counsel, and to venture where 
 1 should not only be hoofed out, but receive 
 too a sound drubbino-, into the barafain?" 
 
 " My good master," replied the other, " do 
 not think to teach me the customs of our city;
 
 THE BOTTLE-TMP. 67 
 
 only follow my advice, and, if you are not wel- 
 comed with open arms, — why then I am well 
 content to lose my labour and my fare." 
 
 The youth now began to think the experi- 
 ment worth trying; and soon found that the 
 Gondolier had not imposed upon him. These 
 beauties, he quickly discovered, were far from 
 being prudish or tyrannical ; on the contrary, 
 they were of that courteous sort, who are ne- 
 ver backward in shewing hospitality to the 
 stranger, but ready to extend their complai- 
 sance to the utmost, for the triffling consider- 
 ation of some fifty ducats. " This same Italy," 
 though the unwary spark, intoxicated by their 
 voluptuous caresses, " is assuredly the most 
 delightful place beneath heaven ;" for he did 
 not fail to impute the flattering reception he 
 had experienced, in no small degree to the 
 comely person, with which nature had favoured 
 him. The demand, however, that was made 
 upon his purse, soon dissipated some of these 
 pleasing reflections, as he discovered, that in- 
 stead of having made a conquest of some 
 princess, he had only been entertained by 
 
 f2
 
 68 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 a courtisan, who now made a demand that 
 nearly drained his purse. Yef did he not Jose 
 all Ills patience, since he was a gallant that did 
 not consider the cost bestowed upon his plea- 
 sures, flung away: he therefore retired with as 
 good a grace, as he could muster on such an 
 occasion, and repaired to a tavern for the sake 
 of diverting- his spleen. 
 
 Having' commenced his affairs in so notable 
 a manner, the M'ild spark continued daily to 
 indulge in revels, and in the society of mirth<- 
 ful faces. In all the company of brave gallants, 
 with whom Richard now constantly associated, 
 there was but one countenance overcast with 
 gloom. It was that of a Spanish captain, who, 
 though he never failed to be present at these 
 scenes of riot, rarely bestowed a word upon the 
 company, while his dark features were render- 
 ed still more gloomy, by the visible uneasi- 
 ness that sat upon them. Still his presence 
 was endured, as he was a man of rank and 
 wealth, and one too who regarded lightly the 
 expence of treating his friends evening after 
 evening.
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 69 
 
 Richard, in the mean while, altliongh less 
 liberal of his purse than on the first evening of 
 his arrival at Venice, found his finances rapidly 
 decreasing-; and reflected with no small sor- 
 row, that this gay and joyous kind of life, must 
 quickly terminate. His associates were not 
 slow in observing his melancholy, or in devining 
 the cause of it, — this being, by no means, the first 
 instance of the kind, that had occured within 
 their society, — neither did they spare their 
 taunts upon the occasion, so that our gallant 
 was fain to venture among them the last pre- 
 cious relics of his purse. At this prosperous 
 period of his history, the Spaniard called him, 
 one evening, aside and, with unexpected cour- 
 tesy, requesting that he would accompany him 
 abroad, conducted him to a lone and retired 
 spot. The poor youth was, at first, rather 
 alarmed ; but, at length, somewhat quieted his 
 apprehensions by reflecting, that his compa- 
 nion well knew; that he had little about him 
 worth aught, save his skin, and in that he was 
 determined a hole should not be picked with- 
 out returning the compliment.
 
 70 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 The Spaniard, however, having^ first seated 
 himself on the ruins of an old building, and 
 compelled his companion to do the same, ad- 
 dressed him as follows : 
 
 " I cannot help imagining-, my dear young 
 friend, that you stand greatly in need of that 
 which has long become a burthen to myself — 
 namely, the power of procuring whatever sum 
 of money you choose, and whenever you please. 
 This power, such as it is, 1 am willing to dis- 
 pose of to you for a triffling consideration, 
 besides some other advantages into the bar- 
 gain.** 
 
 " What occasion," enquired Richard, " can 
 you possibly have for money, if you wish to 
 part with the power of obtaining it yourself?" 
 
 " The case stands thus," returned the cap- 
 tain, " I know not, whether you are acquainted 
 with certain little spirits, that are called bottle- 
 imps ; they are small black devils, inclosed in a 
 little phial. Whoever possesses one of these, 
 can command from it whatever worldly posses- 
 sion he desires most, especially abundance of 
 gold. In return for these services, the soul of the
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 71 
 
 person Avho possesses the imp becomes forfeit 
 to Lucifer, in case he die without having- previ- 
 ously disposed of him. But this can be done only 
 by receiving a less sum than that which he first 
 paid for the spirit. Mine cost me ten ducats: 
 — for nine it is yours." 
 
 While the youth was reflecting on this ex- 
 traordinary offer, the Spaniard continued, " I 
 could, if I pleased, easily get rid of the thing, 
 by palming it upon some one as a mere curi- 
 osity, in which manner a knavish fellow in- 
 veigled me to purchase it. But 1 wish not to 
 have the weight of such an ill-deed upon my 
 conscience, and therefore, very honestly and 
 fairly, acquaint you with the bargain. You are 
 still young and high-spirited, and will not fail 
 to meet with opportunities enough of disposing 
 of your purchase, whenever you may become as 
 weary of, as I am even now." 
 
 "My noble Sir," replied Richard, "an you 
 would not take it ill at my hands, so could I 
 inform you, how often I have been imposed 
 upon already, in this good city of Venice." 
 
 « Why thou foolish varlet," exclaimed the
 
 72 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 enraged Spaniard, " thou needest but call to 
 mind the brave entertainment I gave last even- 
 ing, to judge whether I would cheat thee for 
 the sake of a paltry nine ducats!" 
 
 "Who spends much, wants much:" gently 
 observed the young merchant, " and the longest 
 purse we know has a bottom, although not a 
 golden one. If, therefore, you yesterday spent 
 your last ducat, to-day you may be hankering 
 after mine." 
 
 " Excuse me if I do not chastise thee with a 
 cold steel for this insolence : — that I do not do 
 it, is because I still hope that you will help to 
 rid me of my bottle-devil. Besides it is my in- 
 tention to perform penance, which would only 
 be rendered still heavier thereby. 
 
 " Might M'e not, at least be favoured with 
 some specimen of the thing's abilities T' en- 
 quired the wary merchant. 
 
 " How may that be V answered the other. 
 " It will neither remain with any one, nor aid 
 any one, save him who has fairly purchased and 
 paid for it." 
 
 The youth could not help feeling some alarm, 
 3
 
 THE ROTTLE-IMP. 73 
 
 for the place where they were sitting, seemed 
 a particularly lone and gloomy spot,— although 
 the Spaniard assured him, that he would not 
 employ compulsive means. Yet, in spite of 
 his fears, his imagination dwelt upon the enjoy- 
 ments that would be in his power, should he 
 become possessor of the little spirit ; he deter- 
 mined, therefore, to try whether he could obtain 
 the bargain at a cheaper rate. 
 
 " Witless fellow that thou art," exclaimed 
 the Spaniard with a laugh, " it is for thy sake, 
 and for the sake of those who shall come after 
 thee, that I demand the highest sum I can, that 
 1 may delay, as long as possible, the time when 
 it shall be purchased for the smallest coin pos- 
 sible, and the purchaser thereby become inevi- 
 tably forfeit to the devil, even because he can- 
 not sell it again at a lower price." 
 
 " Well" said Richard, with a tone of delight, 
 " let me but have it. 1 warrant me I shall not 
 be very eager to get quit of my purchase in a 
 hurry. If, therefore, 1 could have it for five 
 ducats——" 
 
 " It is all one to me," returned the Spaniard,
 
 74 THE EOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 " but remember you are hastening- on the 
 minute when the evil spirit shall claim the last 
 unhappy possessor as his own," 
 
 With these words he delivered up to his 
 companion, in return for his gold, a small glass 
 phial, wherein Richard could just discern, by 
 the light of the stars, something dark that kept 
 leaping up and down. 
 
 By way of making an experiment he de- 
 manded, although but mentally, to have double 
 the amount of the sum he bad just expended, 
 in his right hand, when he instantly felt ten 
 ducats there. He now returned in glee to Che 
 tavern, and the rest of the company, who were 
 still carousing- there, were not a little astonish- 
 ed at perceiving what cheerful countenances 
 were now worn by those, who were lately in so 
 melancholy a mood. But the Spaniard quickly 
 retired without awaiting the costly banquet 
 which, late as it was, Richard had ordered to be 
 prepared, having first satisfied the demands of 
 the wary host before hand, for his pockets were 
 now well lined with brave new ducats, which 
 flocked thither merely at his wishing.
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 75 
 
 Those who are most anxious for a similar 
 bargain, will best imagine what kind of a life 
 our wild gallant now led : — unless, indeed, they 
 should be devoted to mere sordid avarice. 
 Even the most charitable, may well suppose 
 that he spent not his days or nights in absti- 
 nence and fasting. The first thing he did was 
 to choose, as the minion of his pleasures, the 
 courtisan whose acquaintance cost him so dear 
 at his first arrival at Venice. On this worthless 
 creature did he lavish unheard of sums, pur- 
 chasing for her a mansion in the city, and two 
 villas, all of which he furnished with the 
 utmost sumptuousness. 
 
 It chanced one day, as he was sitting with 
 Lucretia, such was the name of his harlot 
 mistress, in the garden of one of his villas, upon 
 the bank of a little stream, that she suddenly 
 snatched the phial which Richard constantly 
 wore in his bosom, attached to his neck by a 
 chain of gold. She had seized it before he was 
 aware, and now held the little bottle up against 
 the light. At first she was highly amused at 
 beholding the antics of the little black figure;
 
 76 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 but at length shrieked out in a voice of terror: 
 — •' Ah ! the nasty creature is a toad 1" and 
 immediately flung chain, phial, and bottle-devil, 
 altogether into the wafer, where the current as 
 quickly carried them away. 
 
 The youth endeavoured, as well as he could, 
 to conceal his distress, lest his mistress should 
 enquire farther into the matter, and perhaps 
 accuse him publicly of witchcraft. He pretend- 
 ed therefore, that it was merely a curious toy ; 
 then, as soon as he could, he quitted Lucretia, 
 in order to consider what was best for him now 
 to do. He was still in possession of his palace 
 and villas, and had, moreover in his pockets, no 
 inconsiderable sum, in the shape of bright du- 
 cats. 13ut how great was his joy when, on put- 
 ting his hand into his pocket to examine the 
 latter, he discovered there his lost phial. The 
 chain probably remained at the bottom of the 
 stream, but the phial and its little black tenant 
 Jiad faithfully returned back to their owner.—" 
 " Now then," exclaimed he, in a burst of trans- 
 port, " now then, 1 find that 1 possess here a 
 treasure, of which no accident, no earthly power
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 77 
 
 can possibly deprive nie!" Nay, lie had even 
 kissed the very phial, had not the little jump- 
 ii)g* black figure excited his aversion, so loath- 
 some did it appear. 
 
 If his doinos were wild and mad enonoh be- 
 fore, they were now ten times worse. The infa- 
 tuated youth regarded even the potentates and 
 princes of the world with a disdainful compas- 
 sion ; convinced that not one of them was able 
 to indulge in such a luxurious life as himself. 
 Even Venice, the most opulent martin the world, 
 could hardly find dainties enough for his ex- 
 travagant banquets. Did a well meaning friend 
 hint at the imprudence of this continual rioting-, 
 he would indignantly reply: " Richard is my 
 name, and my riches are boundless." Often 
 would ho, in a fit of intemperate mirth, rudely 
 jest at the folly of the Spaniard, who had cast 
 such a prize from him, and, as he had heard it 
 reported, had retired into a convent. 
 
 On this earth, however, there is nothing- that 
 lasts for ever. This too our gallant soon expe- 
 rienced to be truth, much sooner, indeed, than 
 he would otherwise have done, in consequence
 
 78 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 of the intemperance with which he plunged 
 into all sensual delights. A languor like that 
 of death seized his exhausted frame, in spite of 
 all the virtue of his phial, which he vainly kept 
 invoking for health, at the first attack of his 
 disease. Recovery visited him not, but on the 
 contrary frightful dreams. 
 
 It seemed to him that one of the phials 
 which were standing by his bed-side, began to 
 set up a wild dance, jostling against the rest in 
 a furious manner. After gazing at it for some 
 minutes, Richard recognized it to be that in 
 which the little spirit was inclosed, and ex- 
 claimed : " Bottle-devil, bottle-devil, thou assist- 
 est me no more, but rather destroyest that which 
 should work my cure." Whereupon the little 
 black thing sang in a hoarse voice: 
 
 "Richard! Richard! praycst in vain: 
 Prepare thee now for eternal pain; 
 Therein must thou ahide and endure. 
 Since spirit's power can work no cure. 
 No herb that groweth, death can heal : — 
 I joy, for that thou'rt mine I feel." 
 
 After which it immediately stretched itself out,
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 79 
 
 quite long and thin, and, notwithstanding- that 
 Richard held the phial stopped as closely as 
 possible, it crept out between his thumb and 
 the cork : it then suddenly became a large black 
 man, who began to dance in the most hideous 
 manner, clapping to and fro, at the same time, 
 his huge dusky wings; and at length placed his 
 hairy, leathern breast upon Richard's bosom, 
 and his grinning face upon Richard's face, so 
 that the latterfelt asif he were himself assuming 
 the hideous figure, and in tone of wild agony 
 screamed out for a mirror. 
 
 A cold sweat stood upon his brow, as he 
 awoke out of the ghastly dream, and he thought 
 that he perceived a monstrous black toad creep 
 down beside him into his bed ; but, upon 
 putting down his hand, he felt only the phial, 
 in which the little black figure lay panting and 
 apparently exhausted. 
 
 How awfully long did the remainder of this 
 horrible night seem to the sick and phrensied 
 wretch. He dared not again to resign himself to 
 sleep, lest the terrific vision should re-appear; 
 hardly too, did he venture to open his wearied 
 eyes even in the dark, lest he should perceive
 
 80 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 the monstrous fienil squatted in some corner of 
 the apartment. Yet did he shut his eyes but 
 for a moment, he thought that it was again 
 upon him, and started up with horror. He 
 rang aloud for his attendants, but no one came, 
 al! was still as the grave ; as for Lucretia he 
 had not beheld her since he was first attacked 
 by his disorder. Thus did he lay in a state of 
 torturhig horror, throughout the whole of that 
 Jong, dreary night, the terror of which was in- 
 creased, when he reflected that, if this single 
 night appeared almost an eternity of terrors, 
 what must seem the eternal night of hell, 
 on which no day would ever dawn — that 
 night to whose dreadful visions there would 
 be no end ? — He determined, at all events, 
 upon getting rid of the fatal phial the very 
 next morning. 
 
 When, however, the morning came, he felt his 
 spirits so much revived, that he began to ask 
 himself whether he had yet turned the bottle- 
 imp sufficiently to account. Palace and villas, 
 and all the luxuries wherewith they were fur- 
 nished, seemed hardly enough; he, therefore, 
 instantly demanded a great heap of ducats to
 
 THK BOTTLK-IMP. 81" 
 
 be placed beneath his pillow, and, on finding 
 them there instantaneously, he then began to 
 reflect how best to dispose of the talisman. He 
 knew that his physician was a great naturalist, 
 and one who sought much after all monsters, 
 and all snch wonderful productions as are gene- 
 rally kept in spirits; he hoped, therefore, that 
 he should be able to pass oflT the bottle-imp 
 to the learned man as a curiosity of this des- 
 cription ; for else the doctor was too good a 
 christian to have any thing to do with the evil 
 creature. The deceit indeed could hardly be 
 termed an innocent one, but need knows no 
 niceties. 
 
 Accordingly he oflTered the doctor the little 
 spirit which was now become again exceed- 
 ingly lively, jumping to and fro in the bottle 
 with great vivacity ; insomuch that, anxious to 
 examine what he considered a M'onderful lusus 
 naturfe, the learned man agreed to purchase it, 
 if the price demanded for it were not too high. 
 In order to satisfy his conscience as well as he 
 could, Richard asked a sum as nearly approach- 
 ing- to five ducats as was possible: the doctor, 
 
 Vol I. G
 
 82 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 however, would give no more than three, which, 
 fearing- to lose his customer altogether, the 
 other at last accepted, taking care, however, to 
 bestow it all in alms upon the poor. But the 
 money which he had found under his pillow, he 
 carefully laid by, as the only fund upon which 
 his future wealth and prosperity depended. 
 
 In the mean while, his disorder continued to 
 increase ; he lay in a constant delirium, and had 
 he still been tormented by the possession of the 
 bottle-devil, there is no doubt but that he 
 would have actually died of terror and anxiety. 
 At length, however, he gradually grew better ; 
 and now the only thing that seemed to retard 
 his recovery, was his solicitude about the du- 
 cats, which he could no longer find beneath his 
 pillow. At first he was very loth to make any 
 enquiry after them ; when, however, he did so, 
 no one could give any account of them. Being 
 able to obtain no information respecting (he 
 gold, it now remained for him to consider how 
 he might best convert his mansion and villas 
 into money. But here, too, he was reckoning 
 without his host, for a throng of creditors
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 83 
 
 appeared with various claims upon his estates, 
 all duly sio^ned by himself, and scaled (vith his 
 own signet, he having, at the time of his bound- 
 less prosperity, given these papers to Lucretiato 
 fill up as she judged proper: all that he could 
 do, therefore, was to depart as quickly as pos- 
 sible with the little he could save from the fanofs 
 of these harpies ; so that he quitted all his 
 splendour very nearly a beggar. 
 
 At this juncture, his physician made his 
 (jppearance, with a countenance betokening 
 serious displeasure. " Doctor," exclaimed the 
 unfortunate young merchant, " if it so be, that 
 you are come hither like the rest of your frater- 
 nity with a large bill, I prithee, add another 
 item to the account, and see, good doctor, that 
 it be for opium, or some equally potent drug : 
 for my last bread is now baked, as I know but 
 too well, 1 having no money to buy more." 
 
 " Nay, nay," replied the physician, " things 
 are not yet so bad as that. 1 am not only ready 
 to renounce every demand upon you, but have 
 also prepared a certain, most efficacious medi- 
 cine, that will quickly revive you from this des- 
 g2
 
 84 T|IE BOTTLE-I5IP. 
 
 pondency ; all that I ask for it is, two du- 
 cats." 
 
 " And most readily will 1 pay them," replied 
 the youth, which, having done, the doctor forth- 
 with departed. On opening the box wherein he 
 expected to find this cordial restorative, he dis- 
 covered a phial, but how great was his dismay 
 on perceiving that it was that which contained 
 the little bottle-devil; and that, affixed to it, 
 it had a label containing the following lines : 
 
 Thy body I strove to cure from ill. 
 But thou my soul hast sought to kill ; 
 Yet, has my art, 'hove craft of thine, 
 Perceived full soon thy base design. 
 Let me then now retaliate. 
 To thee again revert thy fate : 
 Be thine once more the dreadful sprite; 
 And may'st thou feel his fellest might 
 
 Great, indeed, was Richard's alarm, at finding 
 that he had re-purchased his phial, at so much 
 lower a price. The only consolation that now 
 remained, was to employ it as an instrument of 
 revenging himself upon his treacherous para-
 
 THI! BOTTLfe-lMP. 85 
 
 niour, Svbicli he effected in the following^ 
 ma D tier. 
 
 Having- first of all Summoned by a wish, a 
 sum of money double to that which he had 
 lost, he carried and deposited it all with the 
 nearest scrivener, excepting one hundred and 
 twenty pieces, with which he betook himself to 
 the abode of the faithless Lucretia. His re- 
 ception was exactly such as he supposed that 
 his g-old would procure him : his mistress was 
 as lavish of her caresses towards him, as 
 she had ever been on any former occasion. 
 After some time, he displayed the curious toy 
 he had brought, making the little black puppet, 
 inclosed in the phial, perform abundant antics 
 and tricks. This, he informed Lucretia, was ex- 
 actly like the one which she once flung into the 
 water. She, like the rest of her sex, was desirous 
 of obtaining such a droll plaything ; and, on the 
 youth's sportively demanding a ducat for it, 
 she paid it without hesitation. This bargain 
 being completed, Richard hastened away as 
 quickly as he could, and repaired to (he scri- 
 veYief, with whom he had deposited his money. 
 He now found, however, that gold sticks so fast
 
 86 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 to certain people's fingers, that they cannot 
 shake it off. The honest man stared with the 
 utmost astonishment, protesting most vehe- 
 mently, that he had never clapped eyes on the 
 young fellow before. This worthy specimen of 
 probity, had written his receipt for the sum de- 
 posited with a kind of ink that totally disap- 
 peared in the space of a few hours: therefore, 
 when Richard produced his voucher, he found 
 that he had merely a piece of plain paper. He 
 thus found himself suddenly reduced to poverty, 
 and would, indeed, have been completely a 
 beggar, had he not still thirty ducats remain- 
 ing from what he had been squandering at 
 Lucretia's. 
 
 He who lies in too short a bed, must even pull 
 up his legs ; who has no bed, must couch on the 
 bare floor; who cannot afford to ride, must 
 walk : — so Avas it with our merchant, who was 
 now fain to become a pedlar. 
 
 For this purpose he provided himself with a 
 suitable box ; but with what a heavy heart did 
 he first buckle it on, to take his stand with some 
 stnall ware in those very streets where, but a 
 few weeks before, he used to pass with a splen-
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 87 
 
 did retinue. In a little while, however, he be- 
 came somewhat reconciled to this new occupa- 
 tion, having no lack of customers. " If I pro- 
 ceed at this rate," thought he, " 1 may yet again 
 become a prosperous man, and that too at no 
 very distant time. I will then return to my native 
 Germany, where I shall find myself more com- 
 fortable than ever, after been in power of the 
 accursed bottle-devil, and having got out of 
 his clutches by my own skill and dexterity." 
 
 With such thoughts did our newly-made 
 pedlar cheer and console mimself, on retiring 
 for the niofht to an obscure inn. On his takinc: 
 off" his box, several of the guests, attracted by 
 curiosity, began to examine the various wares 
 it contained. 
 
 '* My good friend," exclaimed one of these 
 inquisitive gentry," prithee, what queer kind of 
 animal is this which you have got here in this 
 phial, and which keeps jumping about at so 
 strange a rate?" 
 
 To his great terror Richard now, for the first 
 time perceived, that along with the other ar- 
 ticles in his box, he had purchased the fatal 
 bollle-devil. Instantly did he offer it to the
 
 88 THE BOTTLE-IMF. 
 
 bystanders for a mere trifling sum, but not one 
 of them could endure the hideous creature, 
 neither could Richard inform them of aay par- 
 ticular use it was of; he, nevertheless, conti- 
 nued to harass them at such a rate with his 
 entreaties to purchase it, that, at length, they 
 thrust the impertinent chapman and bis wares 
 into the street. 
 
 In the anguish of bis distress he now re- 
 turned to the person who had sold him the box, 
 and pressed him to take back the little imp, at 
 a lower price. The fellow, however, quite out 
 of temper at being disturbed at such an unsea- 
 sonable hour, and little disposed to become a 
 dealer in such strange commodities, bade him 
 begone, and take his trumpery to Lucretia, for 
 she was the person that had lately sold him the 
 stock of trinkets, among which was that queer- 
 looking phial. 
 
 Without waitirjg to hear another syllable, 
 Richard ran off to Lucretia, as quickly as if he 
 had a devil driving him, instead of himself car- 
 rying a devil. He found the lewd creature 
 along with a couple of gallants. At first they 
 rated the uncourteous pedler for daring' to in-
 
 THE BOTTLE JMP. 89 
 
 trude upon them; but afterwards they purchas- 
 ed nearly his whole stock, for Lucretia, had 
 now recognized some of her old valuables, and 
 also their present vendor: nor did the sight of 
 him, in such a condition, seem by any means to 
 damp her mirth. As to the bottle-imp, no one 
 would purchase it ; for Lucretia protested that 
 she could not endure to look at the ugly thing. 
 
 "Say not so," replied Richard," my fair in- 
 considerate : permit me but to whisper in your 
 ear some of its virtues, and, I am sure, you will 
 hesitate no longer." 
 
 She now retired a little aside, and the pedlar 
 disclosed to her all the powerful, occult quali- 
 ties, of his little bottle-imp. 
 
 " How now ! thou cheating varlet," cried 
 the incredulous dame, " dost thou think to 
 impose upon people by such fine tales as these. 
 Were it true, 1 warrant me, thou hadst taken 
 care first to provide thyself with something 
 better than those filthy rags. Out with thee, 
 for a knave ! Begone, or I'll denounce thee 
 for a sorcerer and dealer in the black art:
 
 .90 THE BOTTLE- IMP. 
 
 and then both thyself and thy devil may be 
 burnt together." 
 
 Both the gallants now took part in the fray, 
 and kicked the unfortunate pedlar, and his wares, 
 down stairs; whereupon, that the poor wight un- 
 able to resent the indignity, and terrified at the 
 idea of being roasted for a wizard, hastened to 
 leave Venice with all possible expedition; inso- 
 much that, on the following day, he had quitted 
 a territory >vhich he now regarded as the land 
 of all his misfortunes. 
 
 In the mean while he did not forget a nearer 
 cause of his unhappiness, but, drawing the little 
 dusky imp frotn his pocket, he cried: 
 
 " Thou miscreant devil ! If I again call on 
 thee for thy services, it is, that I may rid myself 
 of thee forever." 
 
 Having thus vented the bitterness of his 
 feelings, be forthwith desired to have a sum 
 much more considerable than the last, and 
 then, almost sinking under its weight, he pro- 
 ceeded to the next town. Here he purchased 
 a splendid equipage, hired a numerous retinue,
 
 THE BOTTLIi-lMl'. fH 
 
 aud set out for Rome, convinced that there he 
 should soon be able to find some one, who would 
 not scruple to take his unwelcome little compa- 
 nion ofl his hands. As often as he expended 
 a ducat, did he require the imp to replace it by 
 another, in order that, after selling his phial, he 
 might still have the entire sum. This seemed 
 to him no more than a fair compensation, for 
 the horrors he constantly endured ; for, in addi- 
 dition to the nightly visits of the black appari- 
 tion, that never failed to come, and lay upon his 
 breast, he saw also the bottle-devil constantly 
 frisking about the phial, M'ith the most horrible 
 glee, as if now quite certain of his prey, at the 
 expiration of the due period of his service. 
 
 Hardly had his wealth and the figure which 
 he made, procured him admission into the first 
 circles of Roman society, than his constant 
 dread would not allow him to wait until a pro- 
 per opportunity should offer, of freeing him- 
 self from his tormentor. He was continually 
 offering his phial to every person, demanding for 
 it three groschen in German money; insomuch 
 that he, in a short time, became to be consi-
 
 92 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 dered as a lunatic, and was a subject of ridi- 
 cule to every one. Money makes a good mood, 
 and many a fair friends withal : so was it with 
 our Richard ; yet no sooner did he produce his 
 phial, and begin to talk of three groschens, 
 than all present were glad to escape his impor- 
 tunity. 
 
 So great, at length, was his despair, that he 
 could no longer endure to remain at Rome, but 
 determined to try his fate in war, hoping that by 
 some chance he might there, at least, get rid of 
 the cause of his misery. He had heard, that two 
 small Italian states were engaged in hosti- 
 lities towards each other, and prepared to 
 espouse the cause of one party. Adorned 
 with a rich golden cuirass, and a superb 
 crest of plumeB, and armed with two light 
 hunting pieces, an admirably tempered sword, 
 and two beautiful daggers, did he set out, 
 mounted on a noble Spanish steed, and at- 
 tended by three followers, all of whom were 
 bravely equipped. 
 
 A volunteer ofso gallant a beariligjueeded not 
 to offer his services in vain. Richard soort saw
 
 TUn BOTTLE-IMP. 93 
 
 himself, therefore, attached to a troop of brave 
 comrades, and led such a jovial life in camp, with 
 drinking and singinaf, that his mortal apprehen- 
 sions, and nocturnal visions, gradually left him. 
 Having received a good lesson from what he 
 had experienced at Rome, he was now cautious 
 in offering bis strange ware to sale ; observing 
 not to urge it with such suspicious earnestness. 
 Indeed, he had hardly spoken of it to any one, 
 hoping thereby to have an opportunity of meet- 
 ing with some who would not refuse it, if of- 
 fered quite unawares, and with seeming indif- 
 ference. 
 
 One morning, as Richard was playing at dice 
 with some companions, they were suddenly 
 summoned to battle, by an alarm sounded on 
 the trumpet. The cry was instantly" to horse !" 
 With joyous spirits did our warrior leap upon 
 his steed as it neighed and pawed the ground : 
 the leaders, encouraged on their troops, the 
 signal sounded for the combat. A troop of the 
 enemy's cavalry advanced, apparently for the 
 purpose of hindering their attack : yet they
 
 94 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 soon retired before the powerful charge of their 
 adversaries, nor were Richard and his followers 
 the last among the pursuers. The balls now 
 began to whiz in the air, and many a rider fell 
 from his horse, rolling to the earth in his blood. 
 Spite of his personal courage, Richard could 
 not think without shuddering of the immediate 
 peril in which he was placed, fearing that some 
 fatal ball might, in a single moment, deliver 
 him into the power, not only of the bottle- 
 devil, but of the great Satan himself. — Scarcely, 
 however, had he expressed a wish to escape 
 from the scene of danger, ere his steed bore 
 him away to a wood, which was situated at no 
 great distance. 
 
 So hard did he spur the animal, and urge 
 liim to flight, that it at length stopped quite 
 exhausted. He then alighted, being himself 
 greatly fatigued; unbuckled his own cuirass 
 and sword, and the trappings of his horse, and 
 laying himself down on the grass, said : " This 
 fiohtinof is danarerous work at the best, but 
 nmch more so with a devil in one's pocket T '
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 95 
 
 He now wished to devise what course it would 
 behove him next to pursue, but fell into a pro- 
 found sleep. 
 
 After he had indulged in a repose of several 
 hours, he was awakened by the sound of voices 
 and approaching- footsteps. He stirred not, in 
 hope that he might be passed by unnoticed, 
 but soon found that the attempt would not suc- 
 ceed, for a voice, of no very friendly or musical 
 tone, thundered out; "Ho! Fellow, art thou 
 already dead, or are we to have the honour of 
 killing you?" Looking up perforce at this un- 
 couiteous address, the unfortunate Richard per- 
 ceived a musket levelled at his breast. The 
 fellow who held it, was a ruffianly-lookingfoot- 
 soldier, and the otliers had already seized upon 
 his steed and equipments as their booty. Struck 
 with terror, he supplicated most earnestly for 
 mercy, but if they were determined upon shoot- 
 ing him, requested that one of them would first 
 purchase a little phial, which he had in his 
 pocket. • 
 
 " Senseless poltroon that thou art !" cried 
 one of the fellows, with a grin, "to suppose
 
 96 THE BOTTLE- IMP. 
 
 that we here barter for any thing; although 
 that we will take the bargain off thy hands, 
 thou needest not fear :" and so saying, he seiz- 
 ed hold of the phial, and thrust it into his 
 bosom. 
 
 " In God's name thou art welcome to it," 
 cried Richard, " if thou canst keep it. Yet 
 that thou canst not do, unless thou first pur- 
 chase it." 
 
 The soldiers laughed at hearing him speak 
 thus, and, thinking him somewhat crack-brain- 
 ed, rode off without paying farther attention to 
 him. On feeling in his pocket, however, Richard 
 found that the phial was there again, whereupon 
 holding it up that they might see it, he called 
 after them. The fellow who had taken it was 
 struck with amazement; and as, on thrusting 
 his hand into his bosom, he did not feel it, he 
 ran back in order to recover his booty. 
 
 " Did I not tell thee," said Richard mourn- 
 fully, " that it would not continue with thee. 
 Pay me but the trifle I demand, and it is thy 
 own." 
 
 " Juggler !" returned the soldier, " dost thou 
 2
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. J*f 
 
 think to defraud me of my well-earned spoils, 
 by these conjuring- tricks of thine ?" 
 
 And holding the phial carefully in his hand, 
 away he ran to overtake his companions : sud- 
 denly, however, he stopped short, exclaiming, 
 wilh an oath, that it was gone again. Whilst he 
 was searching for it on the ground, Richard 
 called out to him once more : " Return hither, 
 my good friend, for it is again in my pocket." 
 On finding this really to be the case, the soldier 
 became more desirous of possessing so curious 
 and wonderful a thing. On these occasions in- 
 deed it always manifested more than usual 
 liveliness and agility, knowing that such bar- 
 gains accelerated the final term of its servi- 
 tude. — Three groschen, however, still seemed 
 too much to the soldier. " Well then since thou 
 art so unwilling to part with thy coin, let it be 
 a single groschen, and take away thy purchase 
 in good hour." Thereupon was the bargain 
 concluded, the money paid, and the little bottle- 
 devil delivered up to his new master. — While 
 the soldier and his companions were examining 
 the singular creature, and amusing them- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 selves with its grim antics, Richard was reflect- 
 ing upon his future destiny. His heart now felt 
 quite light ; but unfortunately, his purse was 
 quite as light as his heart ; nor did he know to 
 .what to betake himself, since he would not ven- 
 ture to return to his troop, although he left there 
 not only his followers and his equipments, but 
 all his money. He was partly ashamed of his 
 disgraceful flight, and partly afraid lest if he 
 returned, he should be put to death as a deser- 
 ter. It then occurred to him, that it would not 
 be amiss were he to oflfer to accompany these 
 troopers, having gathered from their discourse 
 that they belonged to the other party, among 
 whom he was certain of remaining unknow n ; 
 and now that he had lost all his cash, and gotten 
 rid of his little devil to boot, he felt that he had 
 gotten back some of his courage in exchange, 
 and was, by no means, disinclined to venture 
 his life once again, in the hope of obtaining some 
 valuable spoil. He accordingly gave utterance 
 to his wishes ; and his proposal being accepted, 
 he forthwith set off with his new comrades. 
 The captain was not very scrupulous in
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 99 
 
 taking- into liis service such a tall and well-built 
 young fellow as Richard, Avho was therefore con- 
 sidered as fairly enlisted among them. He was 
 still, however, displeased with his lot: for, since 
 the last battle, the two armies remained quite 
 inactive, without either attacking the other, a 
 treaty of peace being in agitation. Under 
 these circumstances, there was little danger of 
 wounds, but, at the same time, very little op- 
 portunity of fattening on booty and plunder. 
 Instead of the latter, the troops must perforce 
 content themselves with their camp fare, and 
 their scanty pay. In addition to this, while most 
 of his comrades had already enriched them- 
 selves in the preceding engagements, Richard, 
 the once wealthy merchant, was almost the only 
 one who was a beggar among opulent neigh- 
 bours. Very naturally, therefore, he grew weary 
 of such a life, so that once having received his 
 monthly pay — too inconsiderable for his wants, 
 and yet too much for him not to attempt some- 
 thing with it — he determined togo toa sultling 
 booth, and seek whether the dice Avould not 
 befriend him more than either traffic or war 
 had hitherto done. 11 2
 
 100 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 His success at play was as chequered as usual, 
 now winning, now losing: and so did it con- 
 tinue, until late at night, when all the dice 
 turned up against Richard, whose cash was now 
 quite gone,nor would any one give him creditfor 
 a doit. He now offered to stake his cartridges, 
 havings nothing- else to offer ; the proposal was 
 accepted ; and, as the throw was about to be 
 made, Richard perceived that the soldier, who 
 had accepted the stake, was the very same who 
 had purchased the bottle-devil, by the assist- 
 ance of which he would, doubtless, be certain of 
 winning. He would fain have cried" Hold !" 
 but the dice had already decided in favour of 
 his opponent. Uttering curses at his ill fate, he 
 quitted the company, and retired in the dark 
 to his own tent. A comrade who had been 
 equally unfortunate at play, but whose brain 
 was less heated by wine, now took him by the 
 arm, and, as they were proceeding" together, 
 enquired whether he had any more cartridges 
 in his tent? 
 
 " No," returned Richard, furiously, " did 1 
 possess any, they too should serve me for the 
 same purpose."
 
 THR BOTTLE-IMP. 101 
 
 " Then," said his companion," you woultl do 
 well to provide yourself with fresh ones, for 
 shouhl the commissary come to examine you, 
 and find you without them, he will order you 
 to be shot." 
 
 " Zounds ! that were plaguy work indeed ! 
 — but 1 have neither cartridges nor wherewith- 
 al to procure them." 
 
 " Thine is a sorry case indeed then," replied 
 the other, " for the commissary comes hither 
 on the morrow," 
 
 This intelligence, althongh it did not tend 
 greatly to tranquillize Richard, served in some 
 degree to sober him : he went therefore to en- 
 quire of his comrades, if any one would lend 
 him some cartridges. All, however, flouted him 
 as a wild, idle fellow, and bade him not inter- 
 rupt them with unseasonable stuff. In the ut- 
 most apprehension, lest he should be ordered to 
 be shot the very next day, he rummaged every 
 where, in the hope of finding some loose coin, 
 but could meet with no more than five hellers. 
 Late as it now was, he hurried from tent to tent 
 in order to find some one who would supply 
 him with the cartridges. Some laughed at.
 
 102 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 others abused him, but not one made any reply 
 to his demand. At length, he came to a tent, 
 the occupant of which he discovered to be the 
 very soldier who had so lately stripped him of 
 his cartridges at play. 
 
 " Comrade," cried Richard, with great agita- 
 tion, " if any one, it is yourself who must assist 
 me in this extremity. But just now you plun- 
 dered me of all my cartridges, nor is it the first 
 time in my life, that you have proved the cause 
 of my misfortunes. On the morrow the com- 
 missary comes, and he, unless I can produce 
 my cartridges, will certainly give orders for me 
 to be shot : you must therefore either give or 
 lend, — at least sell me some." 
 
 "As (o either giving or lending, that I have 
 long ago forsworn : yet, to ease your distress, 1 
 will agree to sell you some. What money there- 
 fore have you V 
 
 " But five hellers,^' replied Richard in a 
 melancholy tone. 
 
 *• Well," said the soldier, " to shew thee 
 that 1 am willing to do thee a comrade's turn, 
 there are five cartridges for thy five hellers. — 
 Now then, betake thyself to thy rest, and
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 103( 
 
 disturb neither me nor ray neighbours any 
 longer ;" which request, as soon as he had 
 received what be sought, Richard instantly has- 
 tened to comply with. 
 
 On the following day, the troops were ex- 
 amined, and Richard passed muster with his 
 five cartridges, at which he, for a while, consi- 
 dered himself supremely happy, in spite of all 
 the misfortunes he had undergone. His feli- 
 city was, however, but of very short duration : 
 the joy he at first felt, at finding himself out of 
 actual danger, soon subsided, when, on retiring 
 to his tent, he found himself obliged to dine off* 
 coarse bread, without any better sauce to it 
 than bis own reflections. " What would I not 
 now give," sighed he, " had I but one of all the 
 ducats which in the days of my folly I so wan- 
 tonly squandered away." — Hardly had he form- 
 ed the wish, when lo ! a beautiful bright 
 golden ducat was in his hand. But, alas ! 
 the thought of the bottle-devil, which instantly 
 flashed across his mind, damped all the satis- 
 faction he had otherwise felt, at finding himself 
 possessor of so acceptable a piece of gold. 
 
 At this instant, the comrade of whom he had
 
 lOi THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 purchased the cartridges entered the tent, with 
 a look of anxiety, and said : " Friend, I have 
 missed the phial with the little black creature, 
 you must remember it well ; it is the same that 
 I formerly purchased of yourself. Has it hap- 
 pened that I sold it to you by mistake for a 
 cartridge, for 1 wrapped it up in a piece of 
 paper, and it was lying close beside them?" 
 With a trembling hand did Richard now search 
 in his cartridge-box, and found, the first thing he 
 took hold of, to be the fatal phial wrapped up in 
 the form of a cartridge. 
 
 " Ha !" cried the soldier, " this is all right. 
 To say the truth, ugly as the creature is, 
 1 should be exceedingly loth to lose it, since 
 1 somehow cannot help fancying that it helps 
 me to good luck. So, comrade, take one 
 of thy hellers back again, and return me my 
 bottle." Most readily did Richard accede 
 to this demand, and the soldier departed equally 
 pleased. 
 
 Yet was poor Richard ill at ease, after having 
 met with his bottle-devil once more, and having 
 had it again in his own possession, he could 
 not help imagining that he saw it grinning at
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 105 
 
 him, between the folds of his tent, and that it 
 would strangle him in his sleep. Much as he 
 stood in need of refreshment, he now flung the 
 piece of money from him; and, at length his 
 terror, lest the accursed being should once more 
 return while he continued there, arose to such 
 a pitch, that he fled from the camp, and entered 
 a thick wood, where, exhausted by alarm and 
 fatigue, he sunk down in a wild, lonesome spot. 
 
 " Ah me !" he exclaimed, as he lay there 
 panting, " that 1 had but a camp bottle with 
 water to keep me from dying with faintness !" 
 And the bottle with the Mater stood beside him. 
 It was not till after he had drank a hearty 
 draught out of it, that he thought of asking him- 
 self by what means it came there. The bottle- 
 devil now occurred to him ; when, putting 
 his hands into his pockets, and flnding the 
 phial there, overcome with sudden horror, he 
 fell down in a deep swoon. 
 
 While he continued in this state, his former 
 horrible dream returned, wherein he beheld 
 the little bottle-imp stretch himself out longer 
 and longer, and at last fix himself, grinning
 
 106 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 most hideously, upon his breast ; he expostulated 
 with the monster, asserting, that it no longer 
 belonged to him, but the creature replied, with 
 a hollow Satanic laugh: "Thou bought me for 
 a heller, — must therefore either sell me for less, 
 or the bargain will not hold good." 
 
 Richard leaped up in horror, and thought 
 he still beheld the terrific figure, as it re- 
 entered the phial in his pocket. In a state of 
 agonized phrenzy, he dashed the phial from 
 him down a steep hollow, but, instantly after- 
 wards, felt it again in his pocket." Alas ! alas !" 
 screamed the unhappy wretch, " how fortunate 
 did 1 at one time consider myself, at finding-, 
 that let me cast away the phial ever so far, it 
 always returned to me — but that it does so, is 
 now my misery — yes, my everlasting misery." 
 And he, thereupon, began to run furiously 
 among the wild bushwood, dashing in the dark 
 against trunks of trees, and pieces of rock, 
 and hearing, at every step he took, the phial 
 clinking in his pocket. 
 
 At day break, he arrived at an open plain 
 which had the appearance of being well culti-
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 107 
 
 vated, and had a cheerful appearance; some- 
 what revived by this prospect, he began to hope 
 that what he had experienced, was merely a 
 wild dream, and that the phial would prove 
 to be no more than a common bottle. He took 
 it out therefore, and held it up against the sun : 
 but, alas! he still perceived the little black mon- 
 ster dancing up and down, and stretching out 
 towards him as usual, its little ugly, mishapen 
 arms, as if it would seize hold of him. Utter- 
 ing a loud cry of agony, he let the phial fall on 
 the ground, but only to feel it in his pocket im- 
 mediately afterwards. The thing of the utmost 
 consequence for him now to do, was to enquire 
 every where for some coin of less value than a 
 heller. Nowhere, however, could he meet with 
 any such piece of money ; so that, at length, 
 despairing of being ever able to get rid of the 
 monster that now threatened inevitably to be- 
 come bis master, he no longer thought of 
 calling upon it for its services : his increasing 
 horror on the contrary, would permit him to 
 think of nothing but his miserable situation. 
 Thus did he wander up and down, subsisting
 
 108 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 upon charity and alms ; and as he had a wild, 
 crazed appearance, and was continually be- 
 seeching- every one for some piece of money 
 less than a heller, he was considered as a mad- 
 man, and was called, * Crazy Half-heller^ by 
 which appellation he was soon known far and 
 wide. 
 
 It is said that the vulture sometimes fixes 
 itself with its talons into the back of a young 
 deer, and thus hunts to death the poor animal, 
 Avhich, as it flees, in agony, still carries along 
 with it, its savage, relentless enemy. Thus was 
 it with poor Richard, and the satanic imp in 
 his phial : — but instead of accompanying him 
 through his continual and unvaried misery, let 
 us pass over a considerable interval and arrive 
 at an import.int event. 
 
 He had one day lost himself in a wild rocky 
 country, and had set down to rest beside 
 a little stream, whose murmuring seemed to 
 sympathize with his affliction. A loud sound of 
 a horse's feet rung on the rocky surface of the 
 oTound, when there came riding upon a large, 
 black, wild-looking steed, a man of gigantic
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 109 
 
 figure, and exceedingly terrific countenance ; 
 be was attired in a deep blood-red garment, 
 and approached the spot where Richard was sit- 
 ting, 
 
 " Wherefore so melancholy, young stranger ?" 
 said he addressing himself to the youth, who, 
 involuntarily shuddered at his voice, as if with a 
 vague presentiment of something evil; — "I 
 should take thee to be a merchant : — hast thou 
 then been making a bad bargain ?< — hast pur- 
 chased any thing at too high a price?'* 
 
 " Alas no ! rather at too low a one," returned 
 Richard in a tremulous tone. 
 
 " Aye, so I should think indeed :" rejoined 
 the grim horseman, with a horrible laugh. 
 " And hast thou then got for sale a thing that 
 they call a bottle-imp ? Or am 1 mistaken in 
 conjecturing you to be a crazy Half-heller?" 
 
 The poor youth was hardly able to reply 
 " yes," so great was his horror, expecting every 
 instant to behold the apparition's mantle expand 
 itself into a pair of bloody wings, and his 
 steed to assume a more terrific, spectral appear- 
 ance, breathing forth infernal flames from its 
 nostrils; and, lastly, that the monster would
 
 110 THE BOTTLE- IMP. 
 
 carry off his wretched soul to the regions of 
 eternal misery. 
 
 But the ghastly horseman said, in somewhat 
 milder voice, and with less appalling mien : " I 
 perceive for whom you take me : yet be com- 
 forted, for I am not he, I rather present myself 
 to rescue you, if so may be, from his power ; 
 having for some days past been searching for 
 you, in order to become the purchaser of your 
 phiaJ. To confess the truth, my friend, thou 
 hast paid indeed a most damnable small sum for 
 it, nor can even I myself inform you where it is 
 possible to meet a coin of less value. But, lis- 
 ten and obey me. On the other side of this 
 mountain there resides a prince who is a sad 
 dissolute young fellow. When he comes to the 
 chase on the morrow, I will first withdraw him 
 from his attendants, and then cause a frightful 
 monster to fall upon him. Wait thou here till 
 midnight, and then proceed, just as the moon 
 rises above that jagged rock, towards that 
 gloomy defile to the left, but neither hurry nor 
 loiter in thy pace, so wilt thou arrive at the 
 spot precisely as the monster has seized the 
 prince in his frightful paws. Attack it, but
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. Ill 
 
 courageously ; — it must yield to thee ; and drive 
 it down \he steep ciifFinto the sea. Then, as a 
 recompense for having delivered him, demand 
 of the prince that he cause two half hellers to 
 be coined for thee ; let me have them, in order 
 that, with one, I may become the purchaser of 
 thy bottle-devil." 
 
 So spoke the grisly horseman, and then, with- 
 out waiting for any reply, rode off slowly into 
 the wood. 
 
 " But where am I to find thee when I have 
 obtained the half-hellers?" cried out Richard. 
 
 " At the black fountain ; of which each old 
 crone hereabouts will be able to inform thee ;" 
 and then with solemn but wide outstretching 
 pace did the horrible steed bear away its no 
 less terrific rider. 
 
 He who has already lost nearly every thing, 
 ventures not much by any further risk : Richard, 
 therefore, determined, as his situation was so 
 desperate, to follow the councils of the grisly 
 spectre. 
 
 Night closed in, and the rising moon shortly 
 after appeared above the craggy tops of the 
 
 1
 
 112 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 rocks which had been marked out to him. The 
 pale wanderer then raised himself tremblingly, 
 and entered the dark defile. All seemed there 
 cheerless and gloomy ; seldom was a pale moon- 
 beam able to penetrate above the lofty precipi- 
 ces ; a dark oppressive vapour too, as if exhaled 
 from graves, seemed to fill the narrow pass ; in 
 other respects there was nothing particularly 
 terrible in its appearance. Richard felt himself 
 by no means disposed to linger in the gloomy 
 valley, yet adhering to the strict injunction laid 
 upon him by the mysterious horseman, he did 
 not venture to quicken his pace, resolutely 
 determined not to snap short at once the only 
 slender thread that still attached him to iio^ht 
 and hope. 
 
 After the lapse of several hours, some red 
 streaks of dawn cast a glimmering light across 
 his path ; a reviving breeze played upon his 
 forehead. But, just as he was about to emerge 
 from the deep valley, and to enjoy the forest 
 scenery, and the azure waters of the sea, that 
 lay expanded at no great distance before him, 
 he was disturbed by a piercing cry of distress.
 
 THE BOTTLE IMP. 113 
 
 On looking around, he perceived a horrible ani- 
 mal attacking a youth in a magnificent hunting 
 dress, who had fallen on the ground, Richard's 
 first impulse was to rush instantly to the stran- 
 ger's rescue ; yet his courage failed him as soon 
 as he clearly discerned the monster, and saw 
 that il resembled a huge grisly bjiboon, with a 
 stag's antlers on its forehead; and, notwith- 
 standing the cries of the wretched man for suc- 
 cour, he was about to turn back. But suddenly 
 calling to mind all that the horseman had said, 
 and inspired by the dread of his eternal doom, 
 he ran and attacked the monster of an ape with 
 a knotty club, just as it had seized (he unfor- 
 tunate hunter in its paws to fling him up into 
 the air, and then catch him upon his branching 
 horns as he descended to the ground. At the 
 approach of Richard, however, it let fall its prey, 
 and began to flee with a hideous, terrifying 
 cry; he pursuing it all the while, till, leaping 
 from a precipice into the sea, it turned its fright- 
 ful visage upon him, and then disappeared be- 
 neath the waves. 
 
 Flushed with success, the youth now returned 
 Vol. I. I
 
 114 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 triumphantly to the hunter whom he had just 
 rescued, and who, as he expected it would be, 
 announced himself as the prince of that terri- 
 tory. After extoHing the bravery of his deli- 
 verer, he requested that he would boldly de- 
 mand whatever boon he should think fit. 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Richard, in a transport 
 of joyous hope, " and are you serious? and will 
 you pledge me your princely word that you will 
 grant what 1 shall demand of you?" 
 
 Again the prince confirmed his promise, as- 
 suring him, in the most solemn manner, that he 
 would gladly comply with whatever he should 
 request. 
 
 " Then, I supplicate you, for the love of God, 
 to order that some half-hellers be immediately 
 struck for me, even though it be only two." 
 Whilst the prince was regarding his strange 
 petitioner with fixed astonishment, some of bis 
 train came up, and, on hearing the adventure, 
 and the singular boon that had been craved, one 
 of them recognized, in the person of the suitor, 
 the poor crazed HalJ'-heller. 
 
 The prince began thereupon to laugh, whilst 
 3
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 115 
 
 Richard, clasping his knees, conjured him in 
 the most moving manner, protesting that, unless 
 he obtained the half- hellers, his soul was doomed 
 to everlasting perdition. 
 
 To this the prince replied, while he still con- 
 tinued to laugh, " Rise up, my friend, I have 
 pledged my princely word, and, if you persist 
 in demanding them, I will engage to supply 
 thee with half-hellers to thy very heart's con- 
 tent. But, if a still lesser coin will suit your pur- 
 pose, I can accommodate thee without the aid 
 of my mint-master, for the neighbouring pro- 
 vinces all maintain that my hellers are so light 
 that three of them are requisite to pass for a 
 single ordinary one." 
 
 " Were that, indeed, the case — " said Richard. 
 «« Thou art indeed the first," returned the prince, 
 " that has ever doubted it. Should they, how- 
 ever, upon trial, prove not suitable for your pur- 
 pose, I here promise to order some less valuable 
 to be coined for your especial use — provided, 
 however, that it be possible so to do." 
 
 Having said this, he gave orders that Richard 
 should forthwith receive a whole bagfull of 
 I 2
 
 116 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 hellers. The latter instantly set off at a furious 
 rate towards the adjoining province, where he 
 became more delighted than he had been with 
 any occurrence for a long- time past, at finding, 
 at the very first inn, that the people were ex- 
 ceedingly unwilling to exchange one heller in 
 return for three which he offered them, by May 
 of experiment. 
 
 He now enquired his way towards the Black 
 Fountain, when some children, who were pre- 
 sent, ran away, shrieking with affright; and the 
 host informed him, not without shuddering him- 
 self, that it was a place frequented by demons 
 and evil spirits, but hardly ever visited by mor- 
 tal being. He knew perfectly well, however, 
 that the entrance to it was at no very great dis- 
 tance, through a cavern, at the mouth of which 
 stood two decayed cypress trees, so that Richard 
 could not mistake finding it; ' yet, God forbid, 
 that he, or any other Christian person, should 
 ever seek it !' 
 
 At hearing this account, Richard was again 
 greatly disturbed, but let the event be what it 
 would he must make the attempt, and therefore
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 117 
 
 set out to discover it. Even at a distance, the 
 cavern had a most dismal and terrifying- ap- 
 pearance : it seemed as if the two cypresses had 
 died with horror at the ghastly hollow, which, as 
 he approached it, displayed just above its 
 mouth, a singular stone. It seemed to be en- 
 tirely covered with grim countenances, some of 
 which, bore a resemblance to the hideous 
 baboon-monster on the sea-shore. Yet, on look- 
 ing fearlessly and attentively, one might per- 
 ceive that it was merely the rugged stone. Not 
 without trembling, did Richard pass beneath 
 these horrible visages. The bottle-imp now be- 
 came so heavy in his pocket, that it seemed as 
 if it wished to prevent his advancing further. 
 This circumstance inspired him with courage to 
 proceed : " for," thought he," it behoves me to 
 do that which this creature wishes 1 should not 
 do." On penetrating farther into the cavern, 
 the darkness became so great, that he could 
 no longer discern any terrifying shapes. He 
 now proceeded, with the utmost caution, groping 
 his way with a stick lest he should fall into 
 some abyss, yet found nothing but a soft, mossy
 
 118 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 turf; and had he not heard at times, a strange 
 groaning noise, his fears would have ceased 
 altogether. At length, he reached the outlet 
 of the cavern. He now found himself in a dreary 
 hollow, quite inclosed by steep hills. On one 
 side, he perceived the large sable steed of the 
 mysterious customer for his phial, which was 
 standing motionless as a brazen statue. Oppo- 
 site to him was a spring gushing from the rock, 
 and in this, the grim horseman was washing 
 both his face and hands. But the horrid stream 
 was of an inky hue, with which it stained what- 
 ever it touched ; for when the gigantic figure 
 turned round towards Richard, the latter per- 
 ceived that his visage was become like that of a 
 Moor, and thereby formed a terrific contrast 
 against his blood-red garments. 
 
 " Shudder not," cried the hideous being 
 " this is only one of the ceremonies which I am 
 obliged to perform in honour of the devil. Each 
 Friday am I bound to wash myself thus, iu scorn 
 of him whom ye call your God. I am also com- 
 pelled to stain my garment afresh with my own 
 1)|ood — it is this which gives it a hue of so much
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 119 
 
 deadly lustre : — besides a number of still more 
 horrible ceremonies which I am obliged to un- 
 dergo. I have, moreover, formed so strong- a 
 compact with the powers of darkness both for 
 body and soul, that it is now utterly impossible 
 for me to obtain redemption on any terms. And 
 what do you imagine are the terms on which 
 I have sold myself? — for a hundred thousand 
 pieces yearly. Thus seeing how desperate is 
 my own condition, still 1 am willing to serve 
 thee, by purchasing the imp thou carriest in thy 
 phial, and thus to frustrate the end of all his 
 long servitude ; besides, the rescuing thee from 
 the powers of hell, will so enrage (hem, that, 
 reckless of ought else, I'll do it. Then how will 
 their impotent curses peal through the vaults of 
 deepest hell ; ha ! ha! ha !" So saying, he be- 
 gan to laugh in the most frightful manner, that 
 the very rocks re-echoed, and the sable steed, 
 which had hitherto stood motionless, seemed to 
 ishrink with terror at the awful sound. 
 
 « Now then, friend," added he, after a while, 
 " hast thou brought me any half-hellers ?*' 
 
 Upon Richard's shewing him his purse, he
 
 120 THE BOTTLE IMP. 
 
 took three of the pieces and gave him a hel- 
 ler in exchange; one of which he directly paid 
 back again, as the purchase money for the bot- 
 tle-devil, that now lay crouched up melancholy 
 at the bottom of the phial, so that he felt 
 quite heavy. At perceiving this, the unknown 
 purchaser laughed again most violently, and 
 exclaimed, " Nothing can avail thee, fiend : all 
 resistance is in vain. In token, therefore, of thy 
 obedience, let me have instantly as much gold 
 as my strong steed can bear.' And no sooner had 
 he uttered the command, than the enormous 
 beast stood panting beneath the golden load. 
 Then the blood-red horseman having mounted 
 on its back, it began to crawl up the perpendi- 
 cular sides of the rock, just as a fly does up a 
 wall ; — and disappeared for ever. 
 
 Richard stood for some minutes fixed to the 
 spot in a stupor of astonishment and joy ; but 
 the air of that Stygian recess seemed troublous 
 and heavy, while a hollow voice issuing from 
 the dusky waves of the Black Fountain, ex- 
 claimed : " Now then are all our labours fru- 
 strated, for he who while doomed to destruc-
 
 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 121 
 
 tidn could attempt the rescue of another may 
 even yet be saved himself."* Struck with 
 horror at the sounds, although exulting at their 
 import, Richard rushed again through the ca- 
 vern to feel again the atmosphere of heaven. 
 
 He now felt assured that he was delivered 
 of bis evil fiend for ever, and looked once 
 more on the face of nature with feelings that had 
 long been strangers to his bosom. Throwing 
 himself upon the grass, he gazed in an extasy 
 of delight on the pure, tranquil, sunny sky, 
 while a warm gush of tears expressed that rap- 
 ture and that gratitude for which he could find 
 no words. The young merchant now became 
 light and gay as an innocent boy, yet without 
 any thing resembling his former levity. With- 
 
 * The translator has given a somewhat diflferent 
 form to the conclusion of the tale, so as to render it 
 more satisfactory, by not leaving it to be conjectured 
 that the being by whom Richard is saved, is himself 
 allied irrecoverably to the powers of darkness, else, 
 it should seem, that he would rather have hastened 
 the final perdition of another.
 
 122 THE BOTTLE-IMP. 
 
 out boasting", as he mig-ht well have done, 
 how he had contrived to outwit the powers of 
 hell, he devoted himself henceforth to the ser- 
 vice of heaven, and soon found himself thriving 
 far greater prosperity, from the efforts of honest 
 industry, than he had even enjoyed by means 
 of the fatal talisman. And, whenever he used 
 afterwards to relate to his awe-struck grand- 
 children the adventures of his early days, after 
 uttering a pious orison for the soul of his deli- 
 verer, he would add, by way of moral to his tale, 
 "Lust not, my dear children, after ill-gotten and 
 ill-to-be used mammon, for it is the Bottle-Imp, 
 that serves us to our own destruction "
 
 THE 
 
 SORCERERS. 
 
 J.N those legions in which, when the snow has 
 dissolved upon the Carpathian Mountains, 
 where, after heavy showers, rapid torrents rush 
 down into the vallies, and the swollen Vistula 
 suddenly overflows its banks, there stood 
 upon a height, which commanded the whole 
 country, a stately castle (built in the times of the 
 Jegellons) which, together with the surround- 
 ing territory, belonged to the Vayvod Zocha- 
 nowski. This prince had, at various periods, 
 served his country by his influence at the Diet, 
 and he had rendered her even greater service, by 
 the valour which distinguished his arms, in 
 protecting her against the inroads of the Turks 
 and Tartars. He had now retired, with his 
 beautiful and accomplished lady, to a favourite
 
 124 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 country domain be inherited from his fore- 
 fathers. That tranquillity and contentment how- 
 ever, which he promised himself, in this retreat 
 from the cabals of court, were clouded by the 
 death of his children. Antonia was the only 
 surviving child of nine boys and girls. Her 
 lovely features, and personal charms, combined 
 with a lively imagination, increased the love 
 her parents naturally bore her; whilst, at the 
 same time, they created painful apprehensions, 
 that, from the delicate state of her health, ana 
 her tender frame, she might shortly share the 
 fate of their departed children. The amiable 
 parents might therefore look for some allow- 
 ance, if the excessive indulgence they showed 
 her, somewhat spoilt her, as they granted her 
 inconsiderately every wish which her puerile 
 fancy suggested to her. Antonia never knew 
 what contradiction was ; it consequently be- 
 came irksome to her; every youthful error she 
 conuuitted Avas ascribed to her lively character, 
 and was the more readily excused; nay, even 
 her goodness of heart was highly extolled, when 
 she requited her companions for the severity
 
 THE SORCERERS. 125 
 
 and ill-tieatnient she had shown towards them 
 in the ebullitions of her anger. 
 
 The pious Damasus was the only person 
 who considered this rash indulgence in another 
 point of view, and was bold enough, particu- 
 larly in the confessional, to give his advice upon 
 it. But whenever the parents, who wished to 
 bring up their child for the inheritance of 
 heaven, were made to reflect upon their injudi- 
 cious conduct by the exhortations of the confes- 
 sor, all the good they had effected, was again 
 frustrated by the flattery of the courtiers who 
 surrounded them, and who extolled Antonia's 
 merits, even in her presence, that, instead of 
 coming to any fixed resolution, to counteract 
 the evils of her education, they only ridiculed 
 the old monk, for the troubles which his scru- 
 ples of conscience gave him. Nay, when the 
 latter was one day speaking earnestly upon the 
 subject, the sister of the Vayvod's lady, who 
 was dame d'honneur at the court of Warsaw, 
 and was at this period upon a visit to the castle, 
 answered him in a petulant manner: 
 
 " Make yourself happy, venerable father !
 
 126 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 what signifies it that Antonia suffers a little pur- 
 gatory in the other world, so that she passes 
 her time gay and merrily in this." 
 
 The anxious countenance however, which 
 Damasus turned towards heaven, was not ob- 
 served in the general laugh which this occa- 
 sioned. Agreeably with the advice of Mary 
 (the Vayvod's sister-in-law) a Parisian lady 
 was written to, through a mercantile house at 
 Warsaw, to repair to the castle, in order to finish 
 Antonia's education. Elegance of manners, 
 a graceful deportment, with the facility in the 
 French language, which she soon acquired, 
 only served to increase Antonia's vanity by the 
 unqualified encomiums which were bestowed 
 upon her. 
 
 The parents, at the first sight of Demoiselle 
 Marie, were by no means prepossessed by her 
 personal appearance, which exhibited a picked 
 chin, a crooked nose, a toothless mouth, catlike 
 eyes, black bushy hair, and a certain yellowish 
 brown complexion, which mark the old French 
 women. But, observing the improvement which 
 iheir daughter made under her superin-
 
 THE SORCERERS. 127 
 
 tendence, they began to consider her in the 
 light of a benefactress and friend ; and her in- 
 fluence over them daily increased. The indif- 
 ference towards all the dutiesof religion, which 
 at first surprized them in Marie, was now 
 overlooked. They first ridiculed the old 
 shivering Damasus; then brought the priesthood 
 into contempt, and, finally, proceeded to mock 
 even religion itself. Marie interceded, that 
 the court Jew, Ezekiel, who had been turned 
 away, from having been convicted of various 
 frauds and all kinds of scandalous practices 
 might be once more received into favour. The 
 Jew was therefore allowed to make his re-ap- 
 pearance at the castle, and he came with fresh 
 articles of dress every day, which were imme- 
 diately purchased for Antonia. The vain young 
 lady was provided with sumptuous apparel, 
 without regard to economy, as she never ex- 
 pressed a wish for any thing that was not imme- 
 diately granted her. She disdained to associate 
 with any of her juvenile friends and playmates, 
 who had once shared her confidence; and the 
 latter were probably as anxious to abandon her
 
 128 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 society that they might no longer be exposed 
 to her caprices and ill humour. 
 
 Agnes alone, whose father was a country 
 gentleman of very small fortune, renting his 
 farm from the Vayvod, faithfully adhered to her 
 young friend. She was only two years older 
 than Antonia, although she assisted her mother 
 in carrying on her household affairs, on which 
 account her parents declined the offer made to 
 them by the Vay vod to have Agnes educated 
 at the same time with Antonia, representing to 
 him, ♦'that a poor girl, whose fortune depended 
 entirely upon her industry and good behaviour, 
 did not require such an education as would fit 
 her only for ihe society of the opulent and per- 
 sons of quality, and which, for that reason, 
 would fill their daughter with lofty ideas and 
 expectations, incompatible with her fortune. 
 They adhered to this decision; although the 
 Vay vod frequently pressed the offer at the insti- 
 gation of Marie, who, disappointed at not gain- 
 ing Agnes over to her purposes, viewed her only 
 with supercilious contempt. Marie found means 
 to assure the parents of Antonia, that the rustic
 
 THE SORCERERS. 129 
 
 and uncultivated manners of Ag-nes would be 
 prejudicial to their daughter's education, and 
 thus endeavoured to break off the intercourse 
 between the two young girls, whose early habits 
 had closely attached them to each other. The 
 ridicule passed upon Agnes, who bent her knee 
 as often as she went by a crucifix, or a picture 
 of the Virgin Mary, the contempt which her 
 simple attire, for the most part the work of her 
 own hands, excited, her blushes and bashful- 
 ness represented as awkwardness, gradually 
 lessened the warmth of attachment towards the 
 friend of her early'youth. Agnes and her pa- 
 rents perceiving the charge wrought upon An- 
 tonia's mind by Marie's address, modestly with- 
 drew; and Agnes henceforward presented her- 
 self only on birthdays and other anniversaries, 
 either to express her humble congratulations or 
 to offer some trifling present to Antonia. 
 
 It happened on one of these mornings, that 
 she came when Antonia was at her toilet, at 
 which two waiting maids, under Marie's super- 
 intendance, were busied about her person. 
 Antonia exchanged a few friendly words with 
 
 Vol. I. K
 
 130l THE SORCERERS. 
 
 Agues, whilst her hair was arranging and adorn- 
 ing' with costly jewels ; when, suddenly turning 
 to the glass, to which, in her conversation with 
 Agnes, she paid no attention, her cheeks began 
 to flash with anger, and she exclaimed ; " Hey !" 
 " what stupidity !" addressing herself to her 
 waiting women, " how ugly I look!" " you stu- 
 pid creatures." One of the poor girls endea- 
 vouring to exculpate herself, when Aiitonia, in 
 a rage, thre>v the glass at her head ; the poor 
 girl was severely hurt by the breaking of the 
 glass, and some drops of blood ran down her 
 cheeks. Agnes trembled with fear: Antonia 
 too seemed to repent of what she had done, 
 but upon Marie calling out to her in the French 
 language, that the greatest fault a person of 
 quality could commit was to acknowledge her- 
 self in error, she then ordered the girl, in an 
 angry voice, to go on with dressing her, but if 
 she committed any other mistake, she should be 
 punished more severely. 
 
 Agnes, shocked at Antonia's intemperate 
 conduct, looked out of the window without ut- 
 tering a word ; and, as soon as the toilet was fin-
 
 THE SORCERERS. 131 
 
 ished, and that Marie and the maids had retired, 
 Antonia came up to her, and observing a tear 
 in her eye, asked Agnes what was the matter 
 with her ? " Oh my dear lady," said she, " I am 
 praying for you." Antonia felt some emotion, 
 but Marie's quick return prevented the favor- 
 able impression having any effect ; and Marie 
 now endeavoured the more to keep Agnes out 
 of Antonia's company. 
 
 Antonia had now completed her thirteenth 
 year. Her beauty, together with the hope of 
 becoming the possesser with her hand, of her 
 ftuher's splendid estates, attracted the first 
 young noblemen of the country to the Vay vod's 
 castle, when one festivity was followed rapidly 
 by another. Antonia, the heroine of all these 
 fetes, thought of nothing but entertainments 
 and of herself, when she was taken ill ; and, dur- 
 ing the many cheerless nights which the pain 
 she endured occasioned her, she recalled to her 
 recollection how Agnes had sat by her bedside 
 in similar circumstances when they were child- 
 ren together ; and, by the tender anxiety she 
 evinced for her, afforded her every alleviation 
 K 2
 
 132 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 of her sufferings. Antoiiia bad no sooner made 
 this known to the mother of Agnes, when she 
 was ordered to the castle to take care of her 
 sick friend. With a willing heart she under- 
 took the task. It was not merely the recovery 
 of her friend's health, but the care of her soul 
 that engaged her attention. Upon her touching 
 lightly, however, for the first time, upon the idea 
 of death, Antonia trembled with fear. Agnes 
 threw herself on her knees before the bed, be- 
 dewed her hands with tears, and conjured her 
 to have regard for her soul. She then began 
 to pray; but Antonia assured her she was not 
 in a state to accompany her in prayer, as the 
 dread of death deprived her of the use of her 
 intellectual faculties. 
 
 Agnes knew that Damasus was accustomed 
 to leave his abode at sunrise, and go to prayers 
 in the chapel of the castle. She went to hiui 
 and found him kneeling before the altar, at 
 which Agnes also fell down, and prayed for An- 
 tonia. Damasus, as he rose up, observed her, 
 Agnes explained to him the motive that had 
 brouffht her in search of him. The venerable 
 3
 
 THE SORCERERS. 133 
 
 old man highly commended her, promised 
 forthwith to say mass for Antonia, to implore 
 the Holy Angel to come to her protection, and 
 to visit Antonia himself. Agnes begged of him 
 to pay his visit early in the morning, before 
 Marie, who would hear nothing of Antonia 
 being reminded of death, could prevent their 
 meeting. Agnes returned to her sick friend, 
 prepared her for a visit from the venerable Da- 
 masus, who soon after tottered into the room, 
 supporting himself upon his staff. The old 
 man, who, from her earliest infancy, had parti- 
 cipated in all her little sorrows, who had en- 
 deavoured to warm her heart for every thing 
 that was holy, and to make her acquainted with 
 God and the duties she owed him, failed not, 
 in the present instance, in producing a right im- 
 pression. When he sat himself down at her sick 
 bed-side, and spoke like an inspired person, of 
 the probability of the approaching hour of 
 death, of the goodness of the All-merciful, of 
 the great hopes which were held out beyond 
 the grave, of the joys of eternity; when his 
 sanctified features and his eye became more
 
 134 THC SORCERERS. 
 
 animated, tears began to trickle down the 
 cheeks of Antonia. She repented of her childish 
 errors, and felt sufficient strength to pray. She 
 begged the further assistance of the venerable 
 father ; and every sentiment of early friend- 
 ship, of sisterly love for Agnes, again awakened 
 in her breast. She ordered a picture of our 
 Saviour on the cross to be taken down from an 
 adjoining room, to be placed by her bed-side 
 forbidding the astonished Marie to have it re- 
 moved. The latter now loaded poor Agnes 
 with the bitterest reproaches, telling her that she 
 endeavoured only to increase Antonia's malady, 
 by holding before her the fear of death. But 
 when the physician declared that Antonia's 
 pulse had abated since the preceding day, and 
 she never found herself more happy than when 
 Damasus and Agnes were about her, Marie 
 found herself compelled to yield, although her 
 choked rage was depictured in every trait of 
 her countenance. 
 
 As Antonia gradually grew better, entertain- 
 ments were given to celebrate her recovery. 
 Ezckiel made his appearance with fresh articles
 
 THE SORCERERS. 135 
 
 of apparel and jewellery : the surrounding 
 gentry returned the festivities that had been 
 given them; the time was filled up with music, 
 dance and pleasure ; and the promises made 
 to God and the holy angels were soon forgotten. 
 The pious Damasus moreover,who had long been 
 in a bad state of health, was found one morn- 
 ing lying dead in his room before a cross ; and 
 a young priest, who adapted his ideas entirely 
 to ihe ton prevalent in the house, obtained his 
 situation upon Marie's intercession. Every effort 
 was now made to keep Agnes out of the way; 
 and all the good impressions which had been 
 made on the mind of Antonia, were soon obli- 
 terated. The good Agnes was deeply sensible 
 of this. The expectation of being once with 
 Antonia, in the presence of God and all that 
 was holy, had taken such strong possession of 
 her heart, that she had seized every opportunity 
 of bringing her back to the path of righteousness. 
 At times, Antonia appeared somewhat irritable 
 at this assiduity ; but the sincere cordiality with 
 which her friend treated her, the amiable lan- 
 guage and manner she adopted towards her,
 
 136 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 brought her always back to her. Marie ob- 
 served this with malignity. " My Lady," said 
 she one day to Antonia, " since you are now 
 grown up, I allow myself no further influence 
 over you than you yourself grant me, but is 
 this miserable Agnes, who is so greatly your in- 
 ferior in talent, in understanding, and polite 
 education, to become your tutoress? She ought 
 to know of herself that the daughter of a little 
 country gentleman is not at all adapted to be 
 the companion of the daughter of a Vay vod." 
 Thus she poisoned the friendship of youth. The 
 more Ajjnes observed the coolness with which 
 she was treated by Antonia, the more she re- 
 doubled her efforts to regain possession of An- 
 tonia's heart by the most zealous attention, and 
 giving her constant proofs of the warmth of her 
 affection, Marie considered this nothing more 
 than troublesome impertinence ; and instigated 
 Antonia to make use of bitter words towards 
 Agnes; until, finally, by evincing towards her 
 the greatest indifference, she succeeded in les- 
 sening the close familiarity which had existed 
 between these young friends.
 
 THE SORCERERS. 137 
 
 Agnes had reared two little doves, as white 
 as snow, and taiigiit them to eat out of her 
 hand. These, together with a rose-tree, which 
 she had taken care of in her own room for se- 
 veral months, and other flowers, she intended 
 to present to Antonia on her birthday. She set 
 out early one morning with a superb nosegay 
 and her two little doves, and again found An- 
 tonia at her toilet. She handed her the nosegay 
 and the doves. " May every day of your life," 
 said she, " be productive of a fine flower for 
 eternity, and may your spirit one day ascend 
 in mildness, innocence, and purity, to the man- 
 sions of eternal peace." While she was laying 
 the nosegay upon Antonia's dressing table, and 
 placing the two little doves by the side of it, 
 Marie cast a significant look at Antonia, who, 
 as she was reaching for a dressing pin, pushed 
 from the table the nosegay, which was imme- 
 diately seized by the lap-dog. "Oh i" said An- 
 tonia, as Agnes was about to take it away from 
 him, " let the playful little animal have the 
 nosegay, see how pleased he is with it, and how 
 he pulls it about." Agnes stood as if petrified.
 
 138 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 "Gertrude," said Marie to one of her cham- 
 bermaids with a mah'cious sneer, " take these 
 doves to the cook, to be killed and dressed." 
 
 *' What?" said Agnes, stroking her doves, and 
 casting an anxious look at Antonia. 
 
 " Well" said the latter, " what other pur- 
 pose are they good for ?" 
 
 " I did not bring my doves hither, to be 
 killed," said Agnes. 
 
 " Oh then, take them back," replied Antonia, 
 ** for they can be of no other use to me." 
 
 Agnes took up her doves, and left the room 
 deeply affected. She heard Mario laughing 
 and sneering at her upon the stairs, and resolv- 
 ed never more to appear at the castle. 
 
 Antonia's guardian angel appeared now to 
 have taken liis final leave of her. She loved 
 and valued nothing but herself. She gave her- 
 self up to the violence of her passions, without 
 restraint; and the high wages she paid her 
 waiting maids, together with frequent presents, 
 indemnified them only, in some measure, for the 
 overbearing ill-treatment they were obliged al- 
 most daily to put up with. Upon one or two
 
 THE SORCERERS. 139 
 
 of these occasions, when their tears and com- 
 plaints appeared to have re-kindled some feel- 
 ing of compassion in Antonia's breast, Marie 
 said to her in French: "Oh, such creatures 
 neither feel nor understand such sentiments ! 
 throw them only a piece of money, now and 
 then, and their pain is immediately paid for."— 
 By this and other means, Antonia conceived 
 an opinion that money did every thing. She 
 saw gambling continually going on in her 
 father's house, and observed, that many of the 
 visitors made money by it. She now made a 
 trial herself; fortune was favourable to her. 
 This encouraged her to go on ; and thus arose 
 the passion for gambling, which now became 
 a daily necessify. At first without disguise, 
 she betrayed her feelings whenever she either 
 won or lost; but Marie havinof warned her 
 that this was not becoming a person of quality, 
 she accustomed herself to conceal her passions, 
 and, although she was inwardly consumed by 
 rage whenever she lost, she gave the money 
 over to the winner, with an affected smile — 
 Antonia was going on in this manner, when
 
 140 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 her mother was taken ill and died. On other 
 mournful occasions, respect to 'propriety had 
 put some bridle upon her passions; but now 
 even the death of her mother was only dissolv- 
 ing; a troublesome tie of parental influence; 
 and her manifestation of grief was consequently 
 nothing but hypocrisy. She availed herself, 
 however, of this opportunity, to induce her 
 father, who was deeply affected, to farther ex- 
 pense, and to give many an entertainment, 
 under the plea that diversion was become in- 
 dispensable. A diet that was held at War- 
 saw, furnished a pretext for a journey to that 
 capital, and the Vayvod was the more willing to 
 correspond with Antonia's wishes to take her 
 with him, as he hoped he might probably 
 meet with some wealthy young nobleman of 
 the country to marry her to, and thus to miti- 
 gate, in some measure, the pain arising from 
 the loss of his dear consort, by the happiness 
 which a good son-in-law might afford him 
 Antonia, under the superintendance of Marie, 
 was totally left to herself, and the weak father 
 rejoiced when he saw Antonia's charms pro-
 
 THE SORCERERS. 141 
 
 duce an impression far beyond his own expec- 
 tation. She was the heroine of every fete, the 
 theme of every poet's ode; and all the young 
 men, who could at all approach her, or obtain 
 the favour of her hand at a dance, considered 
 themselves truly happy. Among- the rest there 
 Avere two. Count Ignatius Dembinski, who 
 possessed vast estates, and Count Stanislaus 
 Rogowski, the only heir to an immense pro- 
 perty. Both of these young noblemen were 
 superior to all their cotemporaries in personal 
 elegance, and refinement of education; and 
 were consequently treated even in an indulgent 
 manner, by many of the fair sex. These were 
 the two young men who rivetted Antonia's 
 attention. Not that she felt any inclination for 
 one or the other, for she was only capable of 
 loving herself; nor had she at all made up her 
 mind, whether she would take either of them 
 for her husband ; the fame which the vain An- 
 tonia wished to carry on, with the hearts of her 
 lovers, was, to chain them both to her trium- 
 phant chariot, to receive their homages and 
 assurances of respect with apparent indiffer-
 
 142 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 ence; sometimes, to favour the one, and, when 
 the other, in consequence thereof, modestly 
 withdrew, to regain them over to her hy some 
 apparent testimony of favourable consideration. 
 In this manner she maintained her influence 
 over both, and even encreased the crowd of 
 her adorers. The most distinguished beauties 
 were now deserted, on account of Antonia, who 
 became an object of envy of all the fair, and 
 g'ained the most bitter hatred of many of them 
 A masked ball was given. Antonia entered 
 in a magnificent turkish dress, and was not un- 
 perceived by the enquiring- eyes of her lovers. 
 As soon as she took off the mask " What a 
 beautiful, what a divine girl !" was every where 
 whispered about the room. Surrounded by 
 her lovers, she cast a pleasing smile upon all 
 around her. A fresh dance was led off, and the 
 fine figure, displayed by a Spanish lady in the 
 first couple, attracted universal attention. No- 
 body knevv who sheAvas; but no sooner had 
 she taken off the mask, when she excited only 
 one impression of pleasure and astonishment 
 throughout the whole assembly. She was the
 
 THE SORCERERS. 143 
 
 Countess Constance, who, in company with her 
 mother, a very rich widow, had arrived in War- 
 saw a few days since from their estates in 
 Volhynia. All eyes were now directed towards 
 Constance, and Count Ignatius, who was at 
 that moment eno^ased in a conversation with 
 Antonia, became absent, broke off the discourse 
 and drew near the beautiful stranger. Antonia, 
 in order to punish him, went in search of Count 
 Stanislaus, and painful indeed was the sensa- 
 tion she experienced, when she saw him getting 
 up to dance with Constance. In a few days 
 Antonia saw herself unnoticed and deserted, 
 and, what still more increased her anguish, she 
 became the laugh and ridicule of every body. 
 She tried another method to recaptivate her 
 lovers, by appearing at the next masked ball 
 that was given, in a Romish dress ; and, availing 
 herself of the license granted by a mask, she 
 endeavoured to fix their attention in various 
 ways. She observed Count Ignatius writing 
 down a word in the hand of a lady who was 
 standing next to her. She offered him her 
 hand to do the same. He surveyed her with a 
 penetrating look, and, smiling at her, wrote
 
 144 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 down the name of Dido. Antonia felt the se- 
 verity of this allusion; and vengeance became, 
 from that moment, the predominant passion of 
 her breast. 
 
 There was another of her talents, which she 
 had not hitherto called into action : this was 
 singing. She happened to meet her rival the 
 following day at a fete. An instrument was in 
 the room. She sat herself down to it. Only a 
 few old gentlemen, however, paid her some 
 attention, and begged of her to favour them 
 with letting them hear her voice. She used 
 her utmost efforts, and attracted general notice, 
 which awakened another flattering hope in her 
 breast. When she had quitted the instrument, 
 Constance was conducted to it by Count Sta- 
 nislaus; her play was admirable; her voice 
 charmed every one. Antonia, felt herself far 
 surpassed, and was hardly able to conceal her 
 rage. Marie, into whose bosom she poured 
 Gilt all her griefs, shrugged up her shoulders. 
 *'lf we were in Italy," said she, " I would soon 
 take the trouble to find a quieting draught for 
 Miss Constance, and a couple of stilettos for 
 the faithless Counts ; but here in cold Poland,
 
 THE SORCERERS. 145 
 
 I suppose, we must patiently bear all this 
 ignominy." 
 
 Ezekiel now entered the room. He came 
 from the estates, and brought the information, 
 that miss Agnes had obtained a very handsome 
 and accomplished young gentleman, for her 
 husband ; and, upon being asked what other 
 news he brought, he added, Gertrude, who had 
 been in the service of her ladyship Antonia,was 
 grown quite lame, and contracted together; 
 that she cried out day and night, that she was 
 bewhitched by another girl, who had alienated 
 from her the affections of her intended husband ; 
 and that some white people were fixed upon 
 her neck.* 
 
 * The Prussians of old believed in the assistance 
 of little men, whom they callad Bastukai, who 
 sucked the blood of men. Hence appears to have 
 arisen the popular superstition, which still prevails 
 in Poland and Prussia, that there existed sorcerers, 
 who fix certain bad creatures, whom they call white- 
 people, (biali cuderi) by couples both on men and 
 cattle, or send them even into their bodies, whereby 
 the bewitched became tortured in the most dreadful 
 manner, and finally died. 
 Vol. I. L
 
 146 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 " How is that possible ?" said Marie laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " In the name of God," cried the Jew, " the 
 ladies will not deny the existence of such a 
 thing as sorcery ! 1 could give you thousands 
 of instances of both men and cattle tormented 
 by it." 
 
 " Now," said Antonia, turning herself to 
 Marie, I wish Ezekiel may be in the right, and 
 such a sorcerer were at my commands." 
 
 " What do you say, Ezekiel," asked Marie, 
 " do you know of any ?" 
 
 Ezekiel shook his head in a dubious manner. 
 
 " We must not," said he, " even mention it ; 
 for no sooner does a bishop, an officer, or even 
 a monk hear of it, than the burning pile is im- 
 mediately prepared. But that such things 
 exist as witches, I will swear to be as true, as I 
 am au honest Jew; and one half of Warsaw 
 knows well enough, that more than one Avitch 
 inhabits Praga." 
 
 The conversation was broken off; but the 
 seed of the poisonous plant was now sown ; and 
 consequently Antonia, as soon as she found her- 
 2
 
 THE SORCERERS. 147 
 
 self alone with Marie, renewed the discourse. 
 Marie now told her a number of stories, of per- 
 sons liaving- taken revenge by means of witch- 
 craft, and having affected marvellous things. 
 " What is the most strange of all," added she, 
 " there is nothing baneful in the whole doctrine 
 of witchcraft, for it is nothing more than cer- 
 tain secret weeds, some plants and such things 
 which have it in their power, to force the world 
 of spirits, to act according to the pleasure of 
 the person, who is in possession of this secret 
 science." Antonia, with her head filled with 
 these tales, went into another company, where 
 she overheard it said, immediately as she en- 
 tered, that the two young noblemen were of 
 one opinion that Constance, was the first female 
 dancer in all Warsaw. She was now in an ill 
 humour, and determined she would not dance, 
 but repaired to the gambling table. Ill luck 
 however, persecuted her even here; Count Sta- 
 nislaus held the bank. She lost as often as 
 she staked a card, and came off* in his debt a 
 considerable sum, which she promised to send 
 
 l2
 
 148 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 him the day following. Shame prevented her 
 discovering" her situation to her father; and 
 Ezekiel was applied to, to sell a great part of her 
 jewels, the following morning. He could only 
 dispose of them for a trifling sum. Count 
 Ignatius was the purchaser. Antonia lost all 
 command of herself, when she saw Constance 
 adorned with them, the very same evening, and 
 learnt that Count Ignatius was engaged to her. 
 She now determined upon giving her hand to 
 Stanislaus. She expected he would throw him- 
 self at her feet in repentance; but her adver- 
 saries knew how to play their cards; and the 
 answer, which Count Stanislaus had given to 
 one of his friends (who anticipated his union 
 with Antonia) namely, that it was far from 
 his intention to make his life unhappy, by a 
 marriage with a proud fool, and determined 
 gambler, soon reached the ears of Antonia. 
 
 Antonia burst into tears of rage, and flung 
 her arms about Marie's neck. •' Vengeance," 
 cried she, gnashing her teeth, " vengeance 
 upon these horrid men."
 
 THE SORCERURS. 149 
 
 " llow willingly, my dear child," said the 
 crafty old French woman " would I take ven- 
 p^eance for thee," " would that witchcraft were 
 in my power." Thus the opinion that witch- 
 craft alone could give consolation by aifording- 
 the means of vengeance daily gained ground in 
 Antonia's mind. A few days afterwards ap- 
 peared a ludicrous caricature, in which Antonia 
 was held up to the most bitter shafts of ridi- 
 cule. Antonia now almost lost her senses; 
 and Marie promised her, if it were possible, to 
 find out the sorceress which Ezekiel had con- 
 fidently spoken of as existing in Praga. Anto- 
 nia, overcome by mortification, now feigned 
 illness, to avoid going into any society. Marie 
 went out daily, and returned three times in a 
 sorrowful mood. Antonia's rage continually 
 encreased ; whosoever came near her felt proofs 
 of it. At length the fourth evening-, when 
 Marie returned, Antonia thought she could 
 read something consolatory in her countenance. 
 Marie gave her to understand by a wink, that, 
 when all the house were asleep, and they were 
 both together in their own room, she would
 
 150 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 impart to her the wished for information ; and 
 she then signified to her that she liad found 
 what she had been in search of. 
 
 " There lives at Praga" said she, " a woman 
 well known by the name of the doctress. She 
 removes, in a few days, all diseases, which 
 physicians declare to be incurable." " The 
 general opinion is, that she understands some- 
 thing more ; but she does every thing with the 
 greatest secrecy. I have finally however so 
 far prevailed upon her, as to unfold to me the 
 nature of her connexion with the supernatural 
 world." 
 
 " What is that" said Antonia, " and will she 
 be serviceable to our purposes ?" 
 
 " Perhaps" rejoined Marie, " you will soon 
 carry these purposes yourself into execution. 
 Listeu to what Zarowka has confided to me, 
 under the seal of secresy. The Supreme being-, 
 which has created so many thousand worlds, 
 cannot possibly occupy himself with looking 
 after and controuling all the little minutiae 
 which he has created. On that account, spirits 
 were placed over our world, who partly act
 
 THE SORCERERS. 151 
 
 out of their own planets, partly upon the earth 
 itself, each in the respective sphere allotted to 
 it. The ancients called them deities. As they 
 have a kind of corporeal substance, and are 
 subject to wants and passions, the fragrance 
 of sacrifices, and proofs of reverence, are by 
 no means unacceptable to them. Whoever is 
 acquainted with the manner of acquiring- a 
 connexion with them, and gaining their favour, 
 obtains, by his influence over the world of 
 spirits, that indiscribably wonderful power, of 
 which 1 have already read to you in fairy 
 tales."— 
 
 " And of what avail is all (his prattle to me ? 
 cried Antonia in an angry voice. 
 
 " For the present it is of no avail," replied 
 Marie, " but for the future it is every thing." 
 For, " Zarowka declares that she will not ex- 
 pose herself to the risk of perishing on the 
 burning pile, on account of services which she 
 renders you in any fit of piety and repentance, 
 which you may please to take into your head.'' 
 '* But I have prevailed upon her, by my own 
 entreaties, to make you privy to those secrets,
 
 152 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 which subject the whole supernatural world to 
 your controul." 
 
 " What" said Antonia shuddering, " must I 
 then become a witch ?" 
 
 " Change this name," replied Marie, for that 
 *' of a good fairy, and every prejudice becomes 
 removed. But I am weary from Avalking ; I 
 cannot keep my eyes open ; therefore, good 
 night, dear Antonia !" 
 
 Antonia combated violently with herself. 
 Every thing that had been told her of Avitches 
 and fairies, floated before her imagination ; she 
 lay in the height of a fever until morning 
 dawned. She then fell into a gentle slumber ; 
 and during this, it appeared as if her protecting 
 genius whispered in a dream to her soul. She 
 saw herself upon a narrow tottering board, 
 which conducted over a deep abyss. On one 
 side thereof stood Damasus, as she had beheld 
 him in the last days of his life, scarcely able to 
 keep himself on his feet with his staft', reaching 
 to her a cross with a trembling hand, accompa- 
 nied with the words " Hold fast thereon." 
 She was about to take hold of it, when Marie
 
 THE SORCERERS. 153 
 
 appeared on the other side of the abyss, holding^ 
 a costly fillet in her hand, worked with gold 
 and purple, and decorated with whimsical 
 characters, one end of which she threw to her, 
 and ordered her to hold fast by it. Antonia 
 stretched her hand to the fillet ; a dreadful 
 clap of thunder followed ; the board gave way 
 under her feet, and she awoke. 
 
 " You are mistress," said Marie, as Antonia 
 related this dream to her, " of a lively poeti- 
 cal imagination, but do not give way to an- 
 guish ; not a step has yet been taken in the 
 business, and, as it occasions you such painful 
 sensations, we will say no more about the 
 matter." 
 
 Marie never touched farther upon the sub- 
 ject. Antonia, however, who could not get 
 rid of the idea, returned into society, where 
 she saw Constance upon the arm of her beloved, 
 and herself deserted by her former adorers. 
 She took her seat accidentally by the side of 
 an old lady, who had passed in her youth, 
 for the first beauty at court ; a woman who 
 was endowed with a good understanding, had
 
 154 THE SORCEREHS. 
 
 received an excellent education, and was now 
 leading- a miserable life. She related this in 
 confidence to her neighbour herself. — " My 
 dear, said she," our sex is very unhappy. 
 Man gains, as his years increase, greater merit 
 and respect; poor womankind loses every 
 thing', together with her outward charms, and 
 therefore, 1 frequently wish 1 were carried 
 back to those fabulous times, in which good 
 fairies made beauty and youth unperishable 
 gifts." " You might then have taken advantage 
 of these qualities, thought Antonia to herself; 
 and Marie's proposal assumed thereby a favor- 
 able aspect. The indifference with which 
 Marie appeared to treat the subject, was the 
 occasion of Antonia brooding over it the more. 
 She sat one day, thus immersed in thought, 
 when Marie entered, and asked her, if she had 
 heard that Count Stanislaus had made his 
 bethrothment to Constance publicly known. 
 
 " Why do you come to me," asked Antonia, 
 " with such intelligence ; why do you not rather 
 remind me of the other subject ?" 
 
 " 1 ihoughl," replied Marie, '• that you gave
 
 THE SORCERERS, 155 
 
 it no furtlier consideration, and it was my 
 wish to avoid bringing' to your recollection 
 any thing which may be obnoxious to your 
 feelings." 
 
 Thus the matter was again brought upon the 
 tapis. It was now agreed upon, that Antonia 
 should represent herself as unwell the follow- 
 ing day, and go to bed early; slip out with 
 Marie, at the back gate of the palace, and both 
 of them were to make the best of their way to 
 the old sorceress in a sledge, which Ezekiel 
 was to have in readiness for them. 
 
 All this was carried into execution. Za- 
 rowka received her with a friendly welcome, 
 and promised to summon the spirits for the oc- 
 casion of making a solemn offering, at which 
 Antonia had nothing farther to do, than to hand 
 over to the spirits a parchment, to be filled up 
 by Zarowka. In all other matters, Antonia 
 was to act according to Zarowka's instruction, 
 Antonia enquired whether the preparations were 
 alarming. Upon being assured that she would 
 only have an interview with the beautiful and 
 well proportioned deities of the Greeks and 
 Romans, and make a covenant with them, every
 
 156 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 thincr was approved of, after a few shudders, 
 which Marie ridiculed, as arising- from an irreso- 
 lute state of mind. *' Antonia is not yet accus- 
 tomed to travel in our way," said Zarowka," and 
 therefore I would wish to transport her, whilst 
 asleep, to the proper place." She touched Anto- 
 nia's forehead with a little wand ; and when the 
 latter awoke, she found herself in a wood upon 
 a crossway, by the side of a little aitar, from 
 which a flame issued. Marie, Zarowka, and 
 Ezekiel, were standing by her in sumptuous 
 oriental attire. First a lamb and a dove, and ihen 
 a black ram, and a raven, were offered up as 
 sacrifices. The blood was carefully preserved. 
 Marie then laid hold of Antonia's hand; made 
 a small incision in it with the offering knife ; 
 let a few drops of her blood fall into the bowl ; 
 cut a lock of her hair off, and threw it into the 
 flame. Antonia trembled. At that moment a 
 grand music resounded ; and the deities of 
 Greece and Rome, in far more charming shapes 
 than either the pencils or chisels of (he greatest 
 artists could have represented them, came for- 
 ward. All of them appeared to tarry a few 
 moments, and refresh their senses with the fra-
 
 THE SORCERERS. 157 
 
 grant odour which was produced by Antonia, 
 so often as a form appeared, spouting some- 
 tliing liquid into the flame, and throwing into 
 it a handful! of frankincense. At last appear- 
 ed a superb triumphant chariot, upon which 
 sat a man of dignified aspect, surrounded by a 
 number of spirits. All that were present pros- 
 trated themselves upon the ground; and at 
 their nod, Antonia, who held out the parch- 
 ment did the same. A genie took this out of 
 her hand, and gave it to the man upon the 
 chariot. " You wish, said the latter to Antonia, 
 throwing a look upon the parchment, " to be 
 cousacrated a priestess of the Gods, and made 
 acquainted with the secrets of former ages?" 
 Antonia affirmed, she did. 
 " You are sureties for her," he asked again." 
 " We are sureties," cried Marie, Zarowka, and 
 Ezekiel, steeping their fingers in the blood of 
 sacrifice, and laying them upon Antonia's fore- 
 head. 
 
 " So I take thee," said the spirit, " for thirty 
 years into my covenant, and mark thee with
 
 158 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 the sig-n of the same." He laid a finger upon 
 Antonia's shoulder. She felt a pain which 
 pierced every nerve, but which quickly left 
 her. Two genies flirtedby, who put a costly 
 antient garment upon Anton ia, gave her a wand 
 in her hand, and bound a fillet round her brow. 
 One of the spirits asked her : 
 " In what form shall 1 henceforth appear ?" 
 " Assume," replied Autonia, that of a par- 
 rot." 
 
 " I will," said the genie, " fulfil thy com- 
 mands, as often as thou beckonest to me, 
 three times with the wand in thy hand. — 
 
 " And ye three," said the man upon the cha- 
 riot, " gradually inaugurate the new priestess 
 into the secrets of former ages." 
 
 The music resounded again ; and the trium- 
 phant chariot disappeared. 
 
 *' We now salute thee as our sister," said 
 Marie and Zarowka to Antonia, and they folded 
 her in their arms. As Ezekiel was about to do 
 the same, Antonia repulsed him. 
 
 " AVhy dost thou refuse the sister's kiss" cried
 
 TMR SORCERERS. 159 
 
 out Ezekiel simpering? " we are now all 
 equals ; and he then encircled her in his arms, 
 in spite of her resistance. 
 
 The lofty Antonia began now to feel, to what 
 a low ebb she was sunk. In tlie meantime, 
 Ezekiel spread out his mantle, upon which all 
 present set themselves down, with Antonia in 
 the midst of them. A wind took the mantle 
 into the air, and left it, in a few seconds, in 
 Zarowka's court yard. Antonia and Marie 
 now wrapt themselves up in their cloaks, and 
 hastened, in Ezekiel's sledge, to their dwelling. 
 How thunderstruck was Antonia, upon taking- 
 the fillet from her brow| for it was exactly such 
 a one as she had beheld in her dream, of the 
 colour of fire; worked with gold and black 
 magic letters; and, upon undressing herself, 
 she beheld upon her shoulder, a spot as red as 
 fire, in the shape of a pitchfork ! " Into what 
 hands have I fallen," said Antonia, and looked 
 at Marie. 
 
 " Into the hands of thy friends," replied 
 Marie, " and thou wilt get an insight into every 
 thing, as thy inauguration proceeds."
 
 160 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 Every thin^ that she had brought with her 
 was carefully concealed; Antonia's blood rolled 
 wildly in her veins. " Wilt thou not invoke 
 thy spirit ?" asked Marie the following morn- 
 ing. 
 
 " What can the spirit do for me ?" said An- 
 tonia anxiously. 
 
 " Hast thou forgotten Ignatius and Cons- 
 tance?" asked Marie, " this is their wedding 
 
 day!" 
 
 " I will send them a wedding present," said 
 
 Antonia. Thrice she waved her wand, when 
 a beautiful parrot appeared upon her dressing 
 table — " Revenge me to the height of ven- 
 geance," cried she. 
 
 " I obey thee, mistress," answered the parrot; 
 and vanished. 
 
 Antonia now learnt that the count's horses 
 had taken fright, as he was driving to see his 
 bride; and that he himself had been seriously 
 wounded by the overturning of his carriage. 
 In this state, his servants had taken him into a 
 small cottage, in which three children were 
 then lying' dangerously ill of the small pox.
 
 THE SORCERERS. 161 
 
 Ignatius, who had never had this disease, was 
 immediately seized with it. It was therefore 
 found necessary to postpone the nuptial festi- 
 vals, which Constance consented to, as far 
 as regarded the festivities ; but the marriage 
 was solemnized. The Count's illness increased 
 every day, and the physicians declared his 
 death to be inevitable, Antonia, much as she 
 had at first panted for vengeance, now per- 
 ceived that vengeance did not produce happi- 
 ness. 
 
 At the instigation of Marie, many a nocturnal 
 visit was paid to Zarowka. To prepare and 
 employ the arts of witchcraft, to injure both 
 man and beast by conjurations, and spells, was 
 what Antonia learnt; but she never derived 
 real satisfaction from such pursuits. 
 
 " Are these," she would ask in a pettish 
 manner, " are these your enjoyments?" 
 
 " Bring hither to-morrow in haste," replied 
 Zarowka, *' thy fairy clothes, and thou shalt then 
 become acquainted with another part of our 
 life." 
 
 Curiosity induced Antonia to be present. 
 
 Vol. I. M
 
 1(32 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 The old witch, Marie and Antonia decked them- 
 selves out; and great was the astonishment of 
 Antonia, when Marie and Zarowka laid the fil- 
 let of enchantment upon their brows, and ap- 
 peared like two juvenile beauties. They struck 
 the wainscoat with their wands, when a door, 
 which had been hitherto concealed, flew open, 
 and a small temple, beautifully decorated, from 
 the sides of which rose-colored curtains hung 
 down, received the three enchantresses. A 
 table was covered with the most dainty meats, 
 pine apples, and fruits from all quarters of the 
 world, while the glass, filled with the choicest 
 wines of Chios, of Schiras, and Cyprus, circu- 
 lated freely. 
 
 " Antonia" observed the others, " has this 
 life no charms for thee ?" 
 
 " For me," replied Antonia, " who am no 
 stranger to such enjoyments, far less certainly 
 than for you." 
 
 Zarowka then waved her wand ; when the 
 rose-coloured curtains drew up ; and paintings, 
 as if from the hands of the greatest masters, repre- 
 senting the most wanton and unblushing scenes
 
 THE SORCERERS. 163 
 
 covered the walls. Aiitonia cast her eyes down 
 to the ground ; but the loud laughter, set up 
 by ihe two others, together with the effects 
 of the exhilarating wine, annihilated all feeling 
 of shame. Three young men, of rare personal 
 accomplishments, dressed in a similar manner 
 to themselves, entered the room. Two of them 
 appeared to be friends of the old witch ; the 
 third paid homage and attention exclusively to 
 Antonia. 
 
 " How dost thou like thy friend ?" asked 
 Marie. 
 
 " He is as handsome as Apollo ;" replied An- 
 lonia, who, being alike enflamed with wine and 
 passion, imitated not the example of Daphne. 
 These dissolute bacchanalian scenes, were con- 
 tinued every night. Antonia soon remarked in 
 her glass that the ruddiness of youth had 
 abandoned her fallen cheeks. 
 
 " What harm does that do thee?" said Marie 
 smiling, " for, as soon as thou puttest on the 
 fillet of enchantment round thy brow, thou 
 immediately resemblest a goddess." 
 
 But no female soul was ever indifferent to the 
 m2
 
 164 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 loss of beauty. Antonia too appeared to return 
 somewhat to herself. Her father was taken 
 ill. The physicians advised some change of 
 scene, and the Vayvod went, in company with 
 his daughter, to a neighbouring resort of plea- 
 sure, where, soon after their arrival, another 
 carriage appeared. Constance alighted from 
 it, and offered her hand to her husband, who 
 had lost his eye-sight by the small-pox. " Oh, 
 what a noble woman," said some of the bye- 
 standers. " She is a divinity," added others. 
 She did not stay long', and soon returned, with 
 her husband, to the city. There was only 
 one voice in praise of her. Every person had 
 something to say of her magnanimity, of her 
 virtues, of her piefy. In Antonia's bosoju raged 
 an hell fire. " Why am I sunk so low?" cried 
 she, gnashing her teeth, when she was alone in 
 her apartment, "and why is this detested Con- 
 stance raised so much above me ?" — She waved 
 her wand three times, and the parrot appeared, 
 ** Take vengeance," cried she, " upon this Con- 
 stance ; she must not alone become miserable, 
 but an object of universal contempt. Hasten,
 
 THE SORCERERS. 165 
 
 execute my orders, and bring me back an 
 account." 
 
 Two days elapsed witliout his returning ; 
 on the third, he was summoned by the wand. 
 " What hast thou executed ?" said Antonia. 
 
 " Nothing," replied the parrot witli a melan- 
 choly tone of voice, " for 1 have no power 
 over pure and innocent souls." 
 
 Antonia, in a rage, had recourse to the sor- 
 cery, with which she had been acquainted. 
 Storms and hail, locusts and blight, destroyed 
 the estates of Constance, who became only 
 more firmly attached to heaven by all these 
 evils. The Vayvod, who had been detained at 
 Warsaw by illness, died about this time. An- 
 tonia, in order to avoid all further meeting with 
 Constance, returned to her estates, accompanied 
 by Marie. At the last bacchanalian scene 
 which had taken place between Zarowka and 
 the others, she had invited her Apollo (so she 
 called her lover) to follow her thither; and he 
 promised not to fail in being {here. 
 
 The first person who welcomed her return 
 to the castle, was Ezekiel. He was with her in
 
 166; THE SORCERERS. 
 
 the room alone, as the stewards were employed 
 in unloading- her luggage; he approached her 
 in a confidential manner, and caught her in his 
 arms. 
 
 " Thou madman," cried she, " how darest 
 thou presume to do this ?" 
 
 " Pardon me," said Ezekiel ; 1 forgot that 1 
 had not put on the enchanting fillet : I there- 
 fore appear before thee now as simple Ezekiel, 
 and not as Apollo." 
 
 What ! cried Antonia, am I then sunk so 
 low 1 Are deceit, disappointment, and shame 
 all that I have gained by this infernal witch- 
 craft r 
 
 Affnes and her husband were now announced. 
 She appeared with her son upon her arms, 
 taking hold of her husband. They seemed as 
 handsome and beautiful, as an holy family of 
 Rtiphael. " How do you do ?" asked Antonia. 
 
 " Oh," replied Agnes, " 1 am unspeakably 
 happy by the side of my husband, and this 
 child," pressing- her son to her breast, " still 
 heightens my happiness." 
 
 " How far," said Antonia to herself, " is this
 
 THE SORCERERS. 167 
 
 stupid creature, to whom 1 am in every respect 
 so superior, bow far is she now above me !" 
 Envy and rancour then took possession of her 
 soul. She considered herself as the only 
 unhappy mortal ; and the chief occupation of 
 her mind, was how to do all possible injury to 
 her fellow creatures. 
 
 Lipkowski, (this was the name of Agnes' 
 husband), was a man of uncommon comely 
 appearance. The sight of him excited Antonia's 
 sensuality; and every art of seduction was 
 called into action ; but, as he felt only one sen- 
 timent for his Agnes, every magic endeavour 
 failed. Even the parrot was ordered to attend. 
 
 " Hast thou, then, no power over these crea- 
 tures?" asked Antonia in a rage. 
 
 " No," answered the spirit, " for their guar- 
 dian angels protect the innocent." 
 
 Antonia became almost mad with rage, and 
 Marie advised her to seek distraction. She 
 travelled, engaged in amours, and indulged in 
 every kind of excess ; but her heart was always 
 stung with reflection, and she detested herself. 
 Thus seven years had elapsed, since the dread-
 
 168 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 ful day on the cross way, represented in her 
 dream. She returned to the castle. Agnes and 
 Lipkowski were still in her neighbourhood ; 
 she again endeavoured to enchain hira; but, 
 every thing failed. She therefore tried every 
 means of destroying the happiness of this couple, 
 and therein she fully succeeded They were 
 ruined by a series of untoward events ; and a 
 small cottage and garden were all that remained 
 to them. A neighbouring proprietor, who 
 possessed extensive forests, and knew Lip- 
 kowski to be an excellent huntsman, allowed 
 him to sport upon his grounds, upon the con- 
 dition that he would turn over to him half of 
 the game he killed, and sell the other half. 
 
 " Oh" said iVIarie, who heard this, " poverty 
 will induce Lipkowski to cheat the proprietor, 
 and thus he will fall at last into our hands." 
 
 Antonia heaped upon him every misery. 
 The blossoms were consumed by mildew ; 
 caterpillars ate up the vegetables of his little 
 garden. Agnes was taken ill; and Antonia, 
 invisible to every one, by the power of her en- 
 chanted wand, determined upon examining
 
 THE SORCERERS. 160 
 
 into their condition, with her own eyes. She 
 approached the cottage. Agnes was sitting 
 before the door, upon a miserable bench, with 
 her eldest daughter. Both were spinning: 
 The younger children were standing by the side 
 of their luother, who was teaching them to 
 pray. Antonia beheld the wan cheek of the 
 friend of her youth and she felt a generous 
 feeling awaken in her soul. At that moment 
 Lipkowski approached. " Here is our dear 
 father," cried the children. Agnes hastened a 
 few steps to meet him, and threw herself into 
 his arms. He gave each of them a small pre- 
 sent. " There," said he to Agnes, " I have 
 reserved the finest snipe for you;" the other 
 game that 1 have sold, has produced sufhcient 
 for our maintenance for a few days. The good 
 proprietor always supposes, that I reserve for 
 him more than 1 keep (or myself; and, there- 
 fore, always returns tne something back. But I 
 am very weary." They sat themselves down 
 upon the bench. " Have you a draught of milk ?" 
 said he to Agnes. Agnes could not refi-ain 
 from tears. " Oh," cried she, with a sob,
 
 170 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 " our last cow died suddenly last night." " Then 
 1 will drink water," said Lipkowski, "and, by 
 the side of thee, my dear wife, it is more deli- 
 cious than the most costly wine." Agnes 
 threw her arms around him, and kissed the 
 tears away from his cheek. — " God gave me," 
 continued he, "strength to suffer, and to work 
 for you ; be, therefore, of good cheer, dear soul ; 
 we are still happier than many of our fellow 
 creatures. I would not exchange my lot with 
 the proud Antonia, and her magnificent castle. 
 
 " How may she be going on ?" asked Agnes. 
 The tone of voice in which she said this, an- 
 nounced the heartfelt interest she took in her 
 well being. 
 
 " 1 heard strange things reported in the 
 town," replied Lipkowski. " In the inn, where 
 1 just sold my game, two gentlemen were 
 speaking of her ; one of them said she was 
 mad ; the other, that something lay heavy at 
 her heart; for the evil conscience that devours 
 her, is visible in her countenance." 
 
 " Poor Antonia," cried Agnes, " I loved thee 
 as njy sister ; oh ! 1 can now do nothing for
 
 THE SORCERERS. 171 
 
 thee ; but I and my children will pray for thee, 
 and God will not suffer the cries of innocence 
 to pass unheard." 
 
 Antonia had not expected a scene like this. 
 She could hardly support herself; and, almost 
 unconscious of what she did, she cried out, 
 with inward emotion, and in an audible voice, 
 the name of Agnes. " My God 1" said the 
 latter, " that is Antonia's voice !" They all 
 looked round, but no one could perceive her. 
 " Perhaps," suggested Lipkowski, " she has this 
 moment disappeared. " God be merciful to the 
 poor soul." 
 
 Antonia felt herself moved, nay, partly con- 
 soled by the conviction that she had not ren- 
 dered those wholly unhappy whom she had 
 done so much mischief to; and, this reflection, 
 together with the sight of the wretched situation 
 in which she found the friend of her early 
 youth, suppressed that envy of their happiness, 
 which had hitherto raged in her bosom. In a 
 sorrowful state of mind she returned to her 
 castle. Passing through the rooms, in which, 
 in her youth, she had often sat by the side of
 
 172 
 
 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 Agnes, she came, unconscious of having- ajiy 
 purpose in view, into the sleeping room of her 
 deceased father, which had never been in- 
 habited since his death, and which she had 
 consequently never visited. She opened the 
 door softly, and stood still, quaking with fear; 
 for she instantly perceived opposite to her, the 
 portrait of the venerable Damasus, with a cross 
 in his hand. A travelling painter had taken 
 his likeness in this manner a few months before 
 his death , and her deceived father had order- 
 ed the picture, out of respect to the deceased, 
 to be placed in his own chamber. " Oh, that 
 it were possible," thought Antonia, " that holy 
 spirits could stand around us as guardian 
 angels ! Could this cross, which the pious 
 Damasus offered me in a warning dream, bring 
 me salvation !" She felt so glad, and at the 
 same time so melancholy at heart ; she stepped 
 towards the window, which looked into the 
 garden, opened it, and the sight of nature 
 appeared to give her joy. She then Jieard a 
 rustling noise, looked round about, and observ- 
 ed that the wind was turning over the leaves 
 
 2
 
 Tin: SORCEHERS. 173 
 
 of a book, wliicli was lying open. Upon 
 drawinjT nearer, she perceived that it was the 
 Holy Scriptures. She cast a look upon them, 
 and noticed the place in the eighth chapter of 
 the apostles, where Simon, the magician, was 
 not thought unworthy of baptism; she read 
 further, and found Paul's conversion. The 
 darkness of her soul became illumined with a 
 ray of hope. She struck her breast in a repen- 
 tant manner, and cried out : " God be merciful 
 to rae a sinner !" 
 
 At this moment Marie entered the room. 
 "In what manner didst thou get here ?" said 
 she in astonishment. " I was seeking for thee 
 in all parts of the castle." Antonia disclosed 
 to her every thing that had passed ; exhorted 
 her also to repentance; and declared that she 
 would go to morrow to the bishop at Cracow, 
 and open her state of mind to him. Marie 
 made use of all her endeavours to dissuade her 
 from this determination ; and Antonia was at 
 last induced to make the promise, at her en- 
 treaty, to defer her intention for three days; 
 and, if she were in the same mind on the fourth
 
 174 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 day, then Marie promised to go with her to the 
 bishop; for she confessed to her that the thirty 
 years covenant with the evil spirit, were now- 
 passed; but that, couhl she induce another 
 person to enter it, the benefit of this covenant 
 would be extended to her for ten years. She 
 had succeeded with Antonia ; but, since that, 
 nearly eight years had elapsed ; and all en- 
 deavours to obtain another member of the 
 covenant had been fruitless. Antonia now per- 
 ceived for what reason she had been pluHged 
 into sin. She promised, however, to pardon 
 the wicked Marie for all that she had done, if 
 she would desist from crime, and return again 
 to God. Marie appeared affected ; she pro- 
 mised to try every effort for that purpose in 
 the three days. Antonia confided in her; 
 and spent her time for the most part, in the 
 apartment, where, from her own conviction, 
 God and the holy angels had been so merciful 
 to her. Her heart being now more tranquil, 
 the refreshing sleep, to Avhich she had been so 
 long- a stranger, returned to her pillow. In the 
 night of the third day, she felt disturbed in her
 
 THE SORCERERS. 1/5 
 
 sleep. She awoke, and beheld herself in a 
 place perfectly strange to her. Marie, Zarowka, 
 Ezekiel, with six other sorcerers, were standing- 
 before her couch, in the attire so well known 
 to her. " Thou designedst to betray us," said 
 Marie, " for that reason, have we, thrice three 
 sorcerers in council, taken away thy power, and 
 banished thee to an uninhabited island in the 
 Indian ocean. We have prepared for thee this 
 abode ; thy parrot will be thy only companion, 
 and do all that is necessary for thee. Thou 
 wilt not be missed in thy castle, for I assume 
 thy form. Thou art not to reckon upon re- 
 demption, until I go down to the deity below, 
 where, thou, however, wilt probably appear 
 first ; for I have already two maidens in the 
 right road, to become sisters of the covenant." 
 They all placed their hands upon Marie, who 
 took upon herself the perfect form of Antonia. 
 The latter trembled for fear when she beheld 
 herself personified, and all the sorcerers now 
 departed, setting up an hellish yell. 
 
 Antonia had a convenient abode. She wanted 
 nothing necessary, although she adhered faith-
 
 176 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 fully lo ber resolution, of asking nothing of the 
 parrot, who never moved from her side, and 
 endeavoured to entertain her with various sub- 
 jects. Solitude made not, upon Antonia, the 
 disagreeable impression, which it otherwise 
 would have done; since she was fuHy con- 
 vinced, that she had merited the contempt 
 of all the world. The sorcerers transplanted 
 much of her furniture and other materials to 
 her new place of abode. They even provided 
 her with books ; but, upon casting her first 
 look into them, she threw them from her ia 
 disgust, and afterwards committed them, to- 
 gether with various pictures which adorned 
 her room, to the flames. Her thoughts were 
 often employed upon the future; and she im- 
 plored God, with tears in her eyes, to have com- 
 passion upon her soul. Upon various changes 
 of the moon alone, could she, in some degree, 
 calculate the period of her stay in the island. 
 The trees had twice lost their leaves, and had 
 been twice covered again with fresh foliage. 
 She accustomed herself to consider her fate as a 
 deserved and mild chastisement, and she
 
 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 177 
 
 doubted not of the favour of the All-Merciful. 
 The parrot, receiving no commissions from his 
 mistress, but rarely presented himself. Short 
 rambles were all the recreation she allotved 
 herself. In a thick wood, she formed an arbour 
 of the boughs of some trees near each other. 
 Here she built a little altar of turf, placing 
 thereon a picture of our Saviour on the cross, 
 which she had carved with her knife. Before this 
 she frequently prostrated herself; while the 
 beating of her heart, the tears which rolled 
 down her cheeks, the wringing of her hands in 
 anguish, spoke more than words could ex- 
 press. 
 
 One day she approached the sea-side, where 
 she discovered many remnants of wrecks of 
 vessels, which had been thrown on the shore; 
 and, upon turning an angle of the rock, she 
 observed a human corpse. Notwithstanding 
 the closed eyes and paleness of death which 
 hung, upon the countenance, she observed 
 that the unfortunate stranger was a well form- 
 ed young man. " Oh that there still be life 
 in him, and that he may be sent to me, in 
 
 Vol. I. N
 
 178 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 this desert, for protection and consolation!" 
 This idea arose in her mind. She knelt down 
 by the side of him, rubbed his forehead and 
 hands, placed her own hand upon his heart, and 
 thought she felt a faint beating. She redou- 
 bled her endeavours. The cheeks of the youth 
 appeared to redden, and her joy encreased. He 
 gradually opened his beautiful black eyes, and 
 she raised her hands in gratitude to heaven. 
 The parrot, at that moment, drew near. He 
 softly enquired if she desired his assistance. 
 
 " Begone, thou curse !" cried Antonia, " I 
 seek only assistance from God." 
 
 The youth still lay at her feet, and addressed 
 her in the French language, calling her his de- 
 liveress, his benefactress, and kissing her hands 
 and bedewing them with his tears. She or- 
 dered him to get up ; but he was so faint that he 
 staggered, and she was obliged to support him. 
 
 " Only come far from this place," said An- 
 tonia, *♦ that the flood tide may not overtake 
 you, and I will get you some cordial." 
 
 She with difficulty conducted him to her 
 bower; but he sunk down in a swoon.
 
 THE SORCERERS. 179 
 
 " Dost thou wish me to get medicine, or any 
 thing- to strengthen him?" cried the parrot. 
 
 Antonia rushed into the bower quite di- 
 stracted, seized the cross, held it up, and has- 
 tened to the swooner. 
 
 " Merciful God," cried she, " send me the 
 means of saving him !" 
 
 A clap of thunder rolled through the clouds; 
 the youth awoke, and changed himself into a 
 negro of gigantic stature. The wings of a bat 
 grew upon his shoulders ; instead of feet he sup- 
 ported himself upon two frightful dragon's tails : 
 and, in the place of each finger, a serpent sent 
 forth his dreadful hisses. 
 
 " Dost thou not know the power whom thou 
 servest, and with whom thou enteredst into cove- 
 nant?" cried the horrid figure. 
 
 The earth burst under him ; the monster 
 sunk into the abyss, and, before this could 
 closOf flames of fire rushed upwards. 
 
 Antonia threw herself upon her knees and 
 
 returned thanks to God. With the cross in her 
 
 hand, she now hastened to her abode, and 
 
 found that it had disappeared. In place of it 
 
 n2
 
 180 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 stood a rock, in which she observed a cavern. 
 She looked into it; and beheld, to her astonish- 
 ment, her bed and furniture. She immediately 
 became liberated from the illusion which had 
 hitherto hung around her. She stepped softly 
 into the cavern; but found not the smallest 
 article of provision. " He who has hitherto 
 assisted me, and preserved my soul from perish- 
 ing," said she in humble reliance upon God, 
 " will take farther care of me." She fasted and 
 prayed. On the following morning she began 
 to feel the cravings of hunger, and made all 
 haste in search of nourishment. The sun was 
 burning fiercely ; and she wandered among the 
 shrubs; her strength failed her. " EternalGod," 
 cried she, " am I to die of hunger !" The par- 
 rot drew near, and offered her some delicious 
 grapes; but she made the sign of the cross, 
 looked towards heaven, and the tempter dis- 
 appeared. She came from among the shrubs to 
 the borders of the sea; there all was rocky and 
 desolate. The waves were rumbling at her 
 feet. A voice appeared to whisper to her soul: 
 " Throw thyself into them, and put an end to
 
 THE SORCERERS. 183 
 
 her own affairs; and the domestics and vassals, 
 whom Marie, under the assumption of Antonia's 
 form, had treated with tyrannical severity, were 
 at a loss to account for the difference of treat- 
 ment, they at present experienced. She pre- 
 ferred occupying the chamber of her deceased 
 father; and sent messengers to invite Count 
 Ignatius and Constance, to come and see her, 
 with the least possible dehiy. Tlie following 
 morning she ordered her carriage to be got 
 ready and drove to see Agues, who still lived in 
 the same cottage. The children, as well as Agnes 
 and her husband, came rushing out, when they 
 saw the magnificent equipage approach. Antonia 
 hastened to meet them, and encircled Agnes 
 in her arms. 
 
 " Forgive me," said she, " my worthy, pious 
 friend, for all that is past. 1 will endeavour to 
 recompense you, as far as it is possible, and re- 
 ward you too for your sufferings, in your chil- 
 dren." 
 
 She then prevailed upon them all to get into 
 the carriage with her, in order to take possession 
 of a part of the castle. Lipkowski was appointed
 
 184 THE SORCEREUS. 
 
 superintendant of the estates ; and the teuaiils 
 and dependants were forgiven al I their debts. She 
 lowered iheir rents, and lightened their services* 
 Antonia now heard only grateful blessings ; saw 
 only tears of gladness; and returned thanks to 
 heaven, from the inmost of her soul, that she 
 had been brought back to the path of righteous- 
 ness. She then hastened to Cracow, where the 
 bishop of this place, a venerable old man, en- 
 joyed the highest character for piety The day 
 following her return, Constance and Ignatius, 
 who had paid attention to the pressing invitation 
 given them, arrived ; upon which she ordered 
 the lawyers to be sent for, who drew up a deed 
 of gift, whereby Constance was to receive one 
 half and Agnes the other, of her whole estates^ 
 and they were both earnestly entreated to ac- 
 cept the donation. 
 
 " I," said Antonia, " want nothing further. It 
 is uiy intention to undertake a pilgrimage, to the 
 holiest place of Christendom, and, when 1 have 
 accomplished it, I will pass the remainder of my 
 days in solitude, or in a nunnery. I have only to 
 make one requestofyou, that is, to open the room, 
 
 1
 
 THE SORCERERS. 181 
 
 iby misery," but she gained strength, and 
 thought of God. Casting her eyes accident- 
 ally upon the ground, she saw, with extreme joy, 
 some oysters at her feet; she satisfied her 
 hunger,thanked God, and j)icked up some of the 
 oysters to keep in store. She now endea- 
 voured to find her cavern again, although she 
 suffered greatly from thirst. At that moment she 
 heard the delightful singing of a bird: " The 
 Creator who preserves this bird," said she, " will 
 also not suffer me to perish," she then hastened 
 to the spot whence the notes of the bird pro- 
 ceeded, and immediately came to a well, sur- 
 rounded with fine Cocoa-frees. Here she 
 quenched her thirst, and sunk into a refreshing 
 slumber ; in which she continued a consider- 
 able time. Upon her awaking, the morning sun 
 was just rising. She found herself in her own 
 home, with Ezekiel standing before her. 
 
 " I come to apprize thee," said he in an 
 anxious mauner, " in order that 1 may not be 
 suspected, when thou goest into thy former 
 chamber. Marie has come to her end in it, the 
 foregoing night. She had succeeded in adding 
 another sister to the covenant, and considered
 
 182 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 herself secure, when the prince of darkness 
 appeared to her yesterday evening, just as 1 
 was with her. He exclaimed in a terrific voice; 
 " Hold thyself ready about midnight; for, since 
 Antonia has escaped me, the other sister, added 
 to the covenant, was only serviceable for the ten 
 years that are past." It is not in ray power to 
 describe the horror which seized Marie ; and her 
 rage was heightened by the reflection, that thy 
 spell is now over. Come, behold the room in 
 which she came to her end, and thou wilt con- 
 vince thyself of the necessity of no one observ- 
 ing what has happened." 
 
 Antonia followed him, and found the apart- 
 ment filled with a sulphureous vapour : the walls 
 and the ground, were stained with Marie's blood, 
 and some lacerated members were still lying 
 scattered about. On which she returned thanks 
 to God, that she had escaped such a fate. Ezekiel 
 then offered to remove, and interr the scattered 
 remains: and, upon Antonia exhorting him to 
 repentance and baptism, he promised to obey 
 her, but instantly disappeared, and no farther 
 account was ever heard of him. 
 
 Antonia now resumed (he manauement of
 
 THE SORCERERS. 187 
 
 rolled down her cheeks : " Eternal God, thou 
 who convertest even the wicked unto good* 
 ness, praised be thy mercy, and thy forgive- 
 ness." *' As yet," continued she, " you under- 
 stand me not, but you shall in time learn every 
 thing." 
 
 The whole of the vassals and dependants 
 of the estates were assembled at the desire of 
 Antonia, who came amongst them in a pilgrim's 
 attire; and took her leave of them, and her 
 friends. Having distributed her money among 
 the poor and sick, she proceeded to church, 
 attended by all present ; and prayed with 
 fervour, whilst all joined in prayer for her. 
 They afterwards accompanied her some di- 
 stance; and she was followed by the benediction 
 of every one. 
 
 Aided by their husbands, Agnes and Con- 
 stance did every thing to make the vassals 
 that were given over to them, as happy as 
 possible, as they had promised their friend they 
 would. — Heaven blessed their endeavours ; and 
 the estates were brought to the highest pitch 
 of prosperity.
 
 188 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 Thus three years rolled away, when agreeably 
 to the promise g^iven to Antonia, they opened 
 room which had been closed up; where neither 
 the vapour of sulphur was gone, nor had the 
 traces of the dreadful death of Marie been en- 
 tirely effaced. Upon the table lay a note in 
 Antonia's hand writing, which ran thus : " The 
 piousbishopof Cracow, will, if you address your- 
 selves to him, three years after my departure, 
 impart to you, my unhappy and dreadful 
 history. Pardon me, for all the harm I have 
 occasioned you, and pray for me and my soul." 
 They went, therefore, to the venerable pastor at 
 Cracow, whose court chaplain had written down 
 Antonia's history, under the seal of confession, 
 just as it has been here detailed, and now 
 in)parted it to them, with the episcopal sanction, 
 according to the commission Antonia had given 
 him. Filled with astonishment at so terrible a 
 narrative, they all heartily forgave her ; remem- 
 bered her with affection, and frequently prayed 
 for her. At first they hoped to get some 
 account of her, but were wholly disappointed. 
 Agnes and Constance, who lived together
 
 THE SORCERERS. 185 
 
 which I have barred up, three years hence, and 
 then you will find every thing disclosed to you." 
 
 She fixed an early period for entering* upon 
 her pilgrimage : nor could all the entreaties, and 
 representations, which her friends made against 
 such an intention, detain her among them. 
 
 " For the last time," said she, " we are assem- 
 bled here, but perhaps it may be God's plea- 
 sure, that above we be united for ever." 
 
 It was a beautiful spring evening, and they 
 were sitting together in the garden ; the blos- 
 soms sent forth their frag^rance and the nijrht- 
 ingale was heard in the neighbouring woods ; 
 when Antonia stepped before them. 
 
 " Oh, my beloved," said she, " answer me 
 one question more ! what do you now (hink,and 
 what are your present feelings, concerning your 
 past sorro<vs?" 
 
 " I have indeed," said Ignatius, " lost my 
 eye sight ; but my good angel, Constance, 
 guides me through life : without her, I should 
 have idly wandered through the world, — should 
 not have known the real value of existence, and 
 probably should only have had this life in view, 
 nor have ever directed my thoughts to heavenJ'
 
 186 THE SORCERERS. 
 
 " And you Constance ?"— asked Antonin, 
 with emotion. 
 
 " Never," said she, 'had it not been for the 
 misfortune, which befell my husband, should 1 
 have performed my duties as 1 now do, or have 
 rendered myself so worthy of his affection. 1 
 therefore thank Providence, for having given me 
 the means of obtaining a joyful existence here, 
 together with the hope of a still more blissful 
 one hereafter." 
 
 " But what are the sentiments you entertain ?" 
 said Antonia to Agnes. 
 
 :, .** Had it not been for the oppression of 
 poverty, and the wants we suffered ; — had it not 
 been for those innumerable proofs of sincerest 
 affection, which my husband daily gave me, I 
 never could have loved and revered him as I 
 have done, from the bottom of my heart, — never 
 have gained the strength to discharge the most 
 laborious duties of a wife, and a mother. I 
 therefore, would not forego the recollection of 
 our past sorrows for worlds." 
 
 "Noil certainly,"saidLipkowski, as he pressed 
 the hand of his spouse tenderly to his breast, 
 
 " Eternal God," cried Antonia, as the tears
 
 THE SORCERERS. 189 
 
 as bosom friends, could never forget the 
 tridy unfortunate Antonia. A monk, who came 
 from Rome, finally brought the intelligence, 
 that he had seen buried in the Convent of 
 the Penitents, a nun who, according to report, 
 was born in Poland, and who often lamented 
 that she was the greatest sinner upon earth, 
 and passed her life in acts of contrition : — that 
 she enjoyed the love and esteem of all her 
 sisters, and had departed in peace and tran- 
 quillity, in hopes of the favor of the Al!-Merciful. 
 Agnes and Constance ordered a letter to be 
 written to Rome, and received for answer, that 
 the deceased nun was — Antonia.
 
 THE 
 
 ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 A tradition is still preserved by many old 
 people, (who assure us they have either seen 
 M'ith their own eyes, what they relate, or have 
 heard it said by their parents, and other persons, 
 whose assertions are deserving of full credit), 
 that a certain enchanted castle, formerly situated 
 at Konigsberg, in Prussia, was altogether unin- 
 habitable, on account of the hideous noises with 
 which it resounded, particularly, about those 
 hours at night time, at which it is said the 
 spirits make their customary perambulations. 
 These noises consisted sometimes, in piteous 
 whinings, and doleful lamentations, at others, 
 in frightful ravings, aud horrid bowlings, and 
 the hair of every person who heard them, stood 
 on end ; whilst others, who had been rash
 
 192 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 enough to attempt inhabiting the castle, preci- 
 pitately ran out of it, whenever they heard 
 them. What was more horrible than all, was, 
 that, no sooner had the steeple clock struck 
 twelve, than the side gate rushed open, and a 
 coach drawn by black horses was driven out of 
 it. In the carriage sat a lady, who, as well as 
 the coachman and the footman, were without 
 heads. The neighbours, hearing the carriage 
 rolling on rapidly, were petrified with horror, 
 and all the passengers in the street endeavoured 
 to get out of its way as quickly as possible. 
 A drunken and presumptuous fellow, however, 
 who had declared the whole to be an idle story, 
 agreed for a wager to be in the way of the 
 carriage as it drove by, in order to examine 
 into the truth of these reports : but he received 
 such a severe blow while doing so, that he 
 bore the marks of it as long as he lived. 
 After driving through a few streets, it regu- 
 larly re-entered the castle gates, as the clock 
 struck one ; when they were immediately 
 closed with a dreadful crash. Of the origin of 
 this strange mystery, and of the circumstances
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 193 
 
 attending if, the following account has been 
 preserved. 
 
 At the period when the Landgrave Albrechl, 
 reigned as Duke of Prussia, the rich Conrad, 
 who had been ten years a widower, lived in 
 this castle, together with his only daughter 
 Gertrude. Descended from a noble family, 
 they possessed large estates, and immense 
 wealth. Gertrude was beautiful, and finely 
 formed, and Conrad still preserved a freshness 
 in his old age, and enjoyed good health ; yet 
 neither of them were happy, for they never 
 turned their thoughts to God, or obeyed his 
 commands, and went to church only for the 
 sake of appearances, and to see the people. They 
 enjoyed not the blessings which heaven had 
 so amply bestowed upon them, as the whole aim 
 of their life was directed only to amass wealth, 
 whether in money or lands ; they never con- 
 sidered the many thousands of their fellow- 
 creatures who possessed far less than them- 
 selves, but always viewed with a jealous and 
 an envious eye, the smallest possessions of their 
 neighbours. 
 
 Vol. j. o
 
 194 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 Thus they lived dissatisfied, both with God 
 and man, and endeavoured, in every unjust 
 manner they could invent, and even by usury, 
 to vrring- the last mite from the poor, the widow, 
 and the orphan. Since they were thus avarici- 
 ous, and, moreover, parsimonious in what re- 
 garded themselves, it is not to be supposed 
 that they were either very liberal, or very 
 lenient towards their menials or dependants. 
 Yet two of their domestics Hans, and Peter 
 who had been for many years, the instruments 
 of their severity were treated somewhat better 
 than the rest From long- habit, they found a 
 pleasure in tormenting others, and frequently 
 even exceeded the commands they received, in 
 inflicting the punishments they were ordered to 
 execute on the other vassals. 
 
 It was now generally observed that Conrad's 
 riches had considerably increased ; but nobody 
 was acquainted with the real source whence 
 this increase had been derived ; for, although he 
 had inherited only a moderate fortune from his 
 parents, he had, in a few years, purchased con- 
 siderable estates, which he had regularly paid
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE 195 
 
 for in ready money. This brought many 
 strange reports into circulation. Many of his 
 neighbours thought he had found a treasure; 
 others asserted, with a significant shake of 
 the head, that his deceased wife, who, when 
 she died, was in the bloom of life and health, 
 had been suddenly carried off, and that she 
 had been seen frequently going about, when 
 all were asleep, in tears, wringing her hands, 
 as if agitated by a wicked conscience, which 
 disturbed her peace in the tomb. It was 
 also said that she had never received the priest's 
 consolation upon her death-bed. All which 
 gave rise to much conjecture, and to many 
 mysterious reports. 
 
 As Conrade's estates lay on both sides of the 
 Pregel, he chose to be sometimes on one side, 
 sometimes on the other, and resided, for the 
 most part, at Konigsburg. When least expected 
 by his vassals, he frequently drove, even at 
 midnight, first to one, then to another estate, 
 and inflicted dreadful chastisements, if he did 
 not find every thing executed according to his 
 orders. Gertrude was in every respect the coun- 
 o2
 
 196 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 terpait of her father. V¥herever therefore either 
 of them shewed themselves upon their estates, 
 they made every body tremble, and when they 
 left them they were followed by the curses and 
 execrations of all their dependants. A strange 
 report was current that Conrad was fre- 
 quently present at the same time at two or more 
 places, which led to the supposition, that 
 wicked spirits had assumed his form and acted 
 accordingly. Hence it happened that, although 
 Gertrude had already attained her twenty-fourth 
 year, and appeared dressed equal to a princess 
 decked with costly jewels, and seemed to those 
 who did not know her, comparable to an angel 
 on account of her beautiful person, she had 
 hitherto obtained no suitor, which augmented 
 the rancour and ill-will she bore in her heart 
 to all mankind. 
 
 About this time, Rudolph, a nobleman of di- 
 stinguished birth returned to Prussia his native 
 country. He had served in the wars of the 
 Cmperor Charles the Fifth, and afterwards under 
 the Elector Maurice of Saxony, had received 
 such a wound in the right arm by a shot, near
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 197 
 
 Magdeburg", that he was no longer able to wield 
 his sword, therefore, after the treaty of Passau, 
 when peace appeared to be re-established he 
 came back to his native home, weary of the 
 tumuWs of war. He brought with him the 
 renown which accompanies deeds of valour, 
 but he coidd neither boast of money, nor 
 did he possess estate ; he expected to find a 
 small patrimony in his native country, but, 
 after the demise of his father, many severe 
 misfortunes had befallen his mother, and Ru- 
 dolph, with a sorrowful heart, found his paternal 
 estate loaded with debts, so that he enjoyed 
 no very happy prospects for the future. 
 
 One day, at Konigsburg, while in a melan- 
 choly mood, he met Wolfe, the friend of his 
 youth in the street, and imniediately after the 
 first interchange of salutations, he made known 
 to him, in a confidential manner, the necessi- 
 ties he was in. 
 
 " What !"said Wolfe, "you are still an hand- 
 some man, in the bloom of life, and have it in 
 your power to supplant any young fellow in a 
 woman's favour. Seek a rich wife, pay oft' the
 
 198 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 debts Avhich encumber your estate, and all 
 your cares are over." 
 
 " How am 1," said Rudolph, " who am be- 
 come, by long absence, nearly a stranger in my 
 native land, to find a rich wife?" 
 
 At that moment, Gertrude passed by, and 
 Rudolph, who discovered from her deportment 
 and dress, that she was no common person, 
 took off his cap, — a courtesy that was not 
 thrown away upon the lady, since it obtained 
 for him a favourable glance in return, 
 
 " There," said Wolfe, " is a rich lady of qua- 
 lity for you immediately, there is only some- 
 thing mysterious about her." 
 
 « What is that?" inquired Rudolph. 
 
 " She is the daughter of the rich, but, at the 
 same time, cruel and avaricious Conrad, and 
 is said to be very similar in character to her 
 father." 
 
 " If it is nothing more," said Rudolph smil- 
 ing, " I have kept many wild countrymen in 
 order, and shall be able to manage a woman 
 also, however full of faults she may be ; and, 
 my dear friend, if I should succeed in gaining
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 199 
 
 her favour, and she should once become a mo- 
 ther, then she will certainly act according to 
 the will of her husband, from love to her off- 
 spring." 
 
 " You have good faith," replied Wolfe, '* and 
 if you are in earnest, I will to-morrow intercede 
 in your behalf, and I hope the event will prove 
 favourable to you." 
 
 It was agreed that, on the following morning, 
 Rudolph was to accompany Wolfe, who under- 
 took to present him to Conrad. 
 
 Upon entering the house, Gertrude, who 
 was dressed, and just going out, met them ac- 
 cidentally at the door. Wolfe, presenting Ru- 
 dolph to her, begged she would turn back, as 
 their visit principally related to herself. Ru- 
 dolph, who now viewed her more attentively, 
 and was even better pleased with her than he 
 had been the precedingday, did not conceal from 
 her the impression, which the first sight of her 
 had occasioned him yesterday. Gertrude, who 
 had been all along anxious for a suitor, now 
 blushed for joy, for she had scarcely expected 
 to have been so favourably noticed by so elegant
 
 200 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 ainan. Shereplied, with anaffected coyness, that 
 every thing depended upon her father. Wolfe, 
 however, observing- the effect produced by his 
 friend's abrupt declaratio!i to Gertrude, thought 
 it necessary to strike the iron whilst it was hot, 
 and begged of her to put in a favourable word 
 herself to her father; and, as Rudolph urged 
 her, in the most pressing way, to pay attention 
 to what he said, she gave him her hand, as an 
 earnest of her consent. Rudolph kissed it ten- 
 derly, and she conducted them to the old gen- 
 tleman, to whom she presented him, and who 
 was not a little surprised at the apparent in- 
 timacy. 
 
 The first salutations being over, Wolfe ac- 
 quainted Conrad with the object of their visit. 
 Conrad, always absorbed in interested views, 
 spoke of difficult and expensive times, observ- 
 ing that every father, upon giving away his 
 daughter, was bound to enquire, how she was 
 to live in the event of her becoming a widow j 
 and that he consequently wished to be accu- 
 rately informed of Rudolph's property. Upon 
 the latter candidly confessing (u him, the slen« 
 
 1
 
 THE KNCHANTED CASTLE. 201 
 
 derness of Lis income, Conrad shrugged up 
 his shoulders. Rudolph, whose friendly glances 
 Gertrude had not suffered to escape unnoticed, 
 gently pressed her to plead, as she had promised 
 him, in his behalf. Conrad was just about to 
 dismiss them with a refusal, when Gertrude in- 
 sinuated to her father, his future expectations 
 from the favour of his sovereign, and beggpd 
 of him to bear in mind, that a prudent and eco- 
 nomical housewife could, in the mean time, make 
 what they had suffice. Conrad now saw the 
 bent of his daughter's inclinations, and, with 
 his usual circumspection, told them he would 
 take three days to think of it. Wolfe, in the 
 mean time, invited Gertrude to visit his wife and 
 dauahters. She ena^affed to be with them at 
 noon the same day. Rudolph did not fail to be 
 of the party, and he now gave her the first 
 earnest of a bridegroom's kiss. Conrad, con- 
 stantly pressed by his daughter for his sanction 
 to her nuptials with Rudolph, and seeing that 
 his daughter's happiness was at stake, finally 
 consented, at the expiration of the three days 
 he had appointed, and their marriage was ac- 
 cordingly concluded.
 
 202 THE ENCHANTKD CASTLE. 
 
 The joys of the honeymoon were not of long- 
 duration. Rudolph soon acknowledged to his 
 friend, that he led a life of continual vexation, 
 and disappointment ; the consolation, however, 
 arising from a hope of happier days, never 
 wholly forsook him. Conrad died shortly 
 afterwards, and matters appeared for a moment 
 to assume a more favourable aspect. Gertrude 
 became a mother, and Rudolph hoped that 
 parental affection would soften her heart. He 
 at times, thought he should attain his end ; 
 but Gertrude soon returned to her old ways; 
 and, when weary of the reproaches she con- 
 stantly gave him about his poverty, of the 
 severity, the avaricious and uncharitable con- 
 duct she evinced towards him, he resolved to 
 separate from her ; he again cast his eyes upon 
 his little Elizabeth, and made up his mind to 
 submit to Gertrude's ill humours, and to edu- 
 cate his daughter in such a manner, that she 
 might not be the counterpart of her mother. 
 She bore him also a son. The little Rudolph 
 became a fresh tie, and, although the wicked 
 and obstinate Gertrude, would never deign to 
 comply with any thing Rudolph projjosed, he
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE 203 
 
 succeeded in partly counteracting' the evil she 
 occasioned. Old Conrad had ordered a con- 
 tract to be drawn up before marriage, with the 
 greatest circumspection, by a notary, and in the 
 presence of witnesses ; in whicli contract, it 
 was positively stipulated, among other condi- 
 tions, that, in the case of a separation ensuing 
 from any cause whatever, Rudolph was not to 
 have the least pretension to any part of his 
 wife's property. He was therefore obliged, if 
 he did not wish wholly to neglect his interest, 
 to put up with her bad temper, which, by de- 
 grees, habit made somewhat less intolerable 
 to him. 
 
 Four years elapsed since this truly unhappy 
 marriage had taken place, when Gertrude took 
 it into her head, to betray extreme jealousy : 
 Rudolph could never notice any female, or 
 offer her the least trifle accompanied with a 
 kind word, without her instantly becoming an 
 object of Gertrude's deadly hatred, which she 
 suffered no opportunity to escape her of making 
 sufficiently visible. When Gertrude was one 
 day ordering a poor girl to be severely cha-
 
 204 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 stised on account of some little error she had 
 committed, and which her own despicable jea- 
 lousy had given rise to: Rudolph, who did not 
 dsjre to intercede in her behalf, sent little 
 Elizabeth for that purpose. As the latter em- 
 braced her mother's knee, the mother, who had 
 observefl who had sent her, became mad with 
 rage, and kicked her away from her with her 
 foot. Elizabeth reeled backwards, fell upon 
 ihe fire-place, and remained motionless. She 
 finally came to herself; but the physician who 
 was called in, declared that she would never be 
 fully re-established ; and the poor chiM ex- 
 pired a few weeks afterwards. Rudolph now 
 demanded a separation from Gertrude, and in- 
 sisting that the son should not be entrusted to 
 so barbarous a mother, he desired to take this 
 charge upon himself. The judges, having 
 learned the cruelty of Gertrude towards poor 
 Elizabeth, granted this demand, and ordered 
 that Gertrude should pay a yearly allowance of 
 200 marks for her son's education. The 
 mother bewailed her fate, as if she had been 
 thereby reduced to the most abject misery, and
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 205 
 
 loaded both father and son, with the most 
 bitter reproaches. They both removed for 
 ever from her sight. 
 
 Some twenty years afterwards, Rudolph died. 
 The son, who had discovered an inclination for 
 a military life, had been sent into Germany, 
 and had fought in the imperial army against 
 the Turks in Hungary, where he formed a sin- 
 cere friendship with a certain Baron V^enningen. 
 When the campaign was over, and the Em- 
 peror had disbanded his army, young Rudolph 
 was desirous of returning to Prussia. Vennin- 
 gen, however, invited his friend to accompany 
 him to Franconia, and spend a few months with 
 him in that country ; a proposal which Rudolph 
 did not decline, as the various events which 
 had taken place during the war, had united 
 them in the strictest bonds of friendship. Once 
 when the brave Venningen, pushed on too 
 forward with his troops, was surrounded by 
 the Turks, and was in the greatest danger of 
 losing both his liberty and his life. Rudolph 
 then exhorted his men not to allow christians 
 who were their brethren, to be sacrificed before
 
 206 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 their eyes to infidels; but encouraged them to 
 venture every thing, and place their reliance 
 upon God. His address was listened to by his 
 brave followers, and many of the fugitives 
 joined them. They pressed upon the enemy 
 with courage, Venningen was liberated, and the 
 Turks fled. Early in the conflict, a Spahi or 
 Turkish horseman, aimed a heavy blow with 
 his sword at Rudolph, who fell from his horse 
 from the severe wound he received. Venningen, 
 in grateful remembrance of what Rudolph bad 
 done for him, took care of him in a brotherly 
 manner, and ordered him to be brought to 
 Agrani. As the town was already full of 
 wounded, he prevailed upon the monks of a 
 convent to receive him, and to aflx)rd him all 
 the assistance which his present state required. 
 Rudolph's wounds, however, being very dan- 
 gerous, the monks told him that, although God 
 might probably preserve his life, he must never- 
 theless pay regard to the state of his soul. 
 Rudolph confessed to them, that he was not of 
 their religious persuasion, and the monks urged 
 him, by prayer and exhortation, to return to the
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 207 
 
 bosom of the church. Venningen also, zea- 
 lously devoted to the creed of his fathers, 
 iirg-ed him, by tlie most sincere and friendly 
 entreaties, not to leave this world in so lamen- 
 table and hopeless a manner, but accept the 
 consolation the church could afford him. 
 Rudolph, who was a brave warrior, although 
 little informed of the articles of their faith, 
 when he saw death approaching-, agreed to 
 the desire of the monks and of his friend Ven- 
 ningen, and thereby encreased the real regard 
 the latter had always entertained for him. 
 Rudolph now, however, recovered apace, as if 
 the blessing of God had attended the prayers 
 of those worthy individuals. 
 
 When the two noble heroes arrived at the 
 paternal estate of Venningen, they were re- 
 ceived by thefather, Eberhard Von Venningen, 
 with great joy, and the old gentleman soon 
 conceived an affection for Rudolph, as if he had 
 been really his own son. It was no wonder, 
 therefore, that Rudolph should not appear 
 altogether indifferent to Rosalia. Rudolph, 
 who amidst the clamour of war had hitherto
 
 208 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 never known what real love Avas, v/hen he now 
 enjoyed a life of tranquillity and ease, and the 
 fair Rosalia was ever before his eyes, felt over- 
 powered by the most burning passion. The 
 young Venningen, who failed not in observing 
 this, was glad, in the opportunity of becoming 
 more closely connected with his friend, whilst 
 Rosalia felt a warm sentiment of interest 
 towards the handsome man, of whose high 
 courage, and noble atchievements, in the wars 
 against the Turks, Venningen had to relate 
 something fresh every day. 
 
 Whenever they sat in an evening at table, 
 and the glass went cheerfully round, the old 
 gentleman always requested them to tell him 
 some new anecdotes of the Turkish wars; and 
 whenever nothing fresh occurred to their recol- 
 lection, the son was engaged, (since the old gen- 
 tleman was never weary of hearing it), to re- 
 late in what manner Rudolph had saved him. 
 Young Venningen was recapitulatir)g this sub- 
 ject one evening, with a joyful and grateful 
 heart, and when he came to the part where Ru- 
 dolph fell lifeless from his horse, n tear escaped
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 209 
 
 the eye of the fair Rosalia. Rudolph, dehghted 
 in his g-ood fortune in inspiring- such sensa- 
 tions, modestly observed : ♦' My friend re- 
 lates only what I had the good fortune to bear 
 a part in, but says nothing of the manner in 
 which he rewarded me." — He then related, in a 
 lively manner, and with great emotion, how 
 Venningen had brought him out of the thick 
 of the battle; had taken a brotherly care of 
 him; watched by the side of his sick bed; 
 nursed and prayed for him; and had always 
 given attention to the salvation of his soul. 
 The tears fell copiously from the eyes of the 
 fair and pious Rosalia, when Rudolph ex- 
 claimed : " These precious tears, this noble re- 
 ward, the happiness of your acquaintance, ten- 
 der hearted lady, I have to thank my friend 
 for; and if the manifestation of these tears does 
 not deceive me, and if I am not indifferent to 
 you, allow me to ask your hand of your noble 
 uncle." — " Oh Rosalia," exclaimed young Ven- 
 ningen, springing from his chair with joy, *' do 
 not mar the warmest hope of my life, make my 
 friend happy." He seized Rosalia's hand, 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 placed it in Rudolph's, then took both of them 
 to his father, and said : " Bestow your blessing 
 upon this fond and deserving- couple." The 
 venerable old man was unable to utter a word 
 for joy, he pressed Rudolph and his niece to 
 his heart, then exclaimed: " May God and the 
 holy angels shower down upon you the highest 
 happiness." Rosalia and Rudolph now sunk 
 into each others arms, and all felt themselves 
 indescribably happy. 
 
 On the following morning, old Venningen 
 said to them : " Children, joy yesterday, in a 
 manner, renovated my youth ; I forgot to tell 
 you, Rudolph, that Rosalia is poor. My once 
 wealthy family has been much reduced by war, 
 and other untoward events. Accustomed to 
 the old splendour which my house kept up, 
 I never laid by any thing, particularly as my 
 only son is well provided for by my estates; 
 but these estates are all of them mortgaged, and 
 I am therefore, — with the best intentions, not in 
 a situation, to give any dowry to Rosalia." Poor 
 Rudolph, who had hitherto only thought of love, 
 now felt as cold as ice, upon reflecting that his
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 211 
 
 mother, who hated him bitterly, would be- 
 stow nothing on him as long as she lived; and 
 there was every probability she might still live 
 long enough, as she was only about fifty years 
 old. Rosalia's eyes dwelt upon him full of 
 expectation. He determined upon concealing 
 nothing from her, and began by informing 
 her, that his mother had separated from his fa- 
 ther, that she hated him bitterly, and, therefore, 
 never suffered him to appear before her ; and 
 upon his writing to her, before his departure 
 from Prussia, she left the first letter he wrote 
 unanswered, and returned the last unopened, 
 with bitter reproaches. " She is rich :" con- 
 tinued he, " her fortune must come to me after 
 her death ; for I am her only son, and my 
 grandfather Conrad, (mentioning the fa- 
 mily name, which, as well as that of Rudolph, 
 is not inserted here for various reasons.) As 
 soon as old Venningen heard this naine, he 
 clapped his hands together for joy, and ex- 
 claimed : " Praise be to God and the holy 
 angels, for having brought you to my house!" 
 — They were all thunderstruck. 
 p 2
 
 212 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 Venningen now related the following- parti- 
 culars: " When Luther's doctrine was first 
 receiv^ed in Prussia, and almost every person 
 acknowledged it, Ulric Venningen, the head 
 of the German Order, adhered faithfully to the 
 doctrine of his forefathers ; and whoever was 
 devoted to the good German Order, and had 
 any of its property in his hands, as well as the 
 priests who abandoned the country, and wished 
 to see many treasures of the church preserved, 
 committed them secretly to the care of the 
 worthy Ulric. For those, who left the country, 
 were not allowed to carry such things with 
 them, but every thing fell to the lot of the new 
 proprietor of the country ; and all the property 
 belonging to the German Order, which was 
 found in the possession of any individual, was 
 taken away from him. On this account, Ulric 
 considered of the best means for securing such 
 treasures, in the event of his leaving the country 
 himself, and of afterwards secretly transferring 
 them to Germany for the benefit of the Order. 
 Being well acquainted with your grandfather 
 Conrad, and knowing that, in adopting the
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 213 
 
 new doctrine, he had changed his principle, not 
 from conviction, but for worldly advantages, 
 which chiefly engrossed his attention, he con- 
 cluded an arrangement with him, whereby 
 Conrad was secretly to receive, and be ac- 
 countable for, the treasures deposited with 
 him; giving two receipts for them of the same 
 tenor and date, in order that, if the one was lost 
 the other might be forthcoming. It was stipu- 
 lated that, whoever presented him such a re- 
 ceipt, was to have three-fourths of the treasures 
 delivered over to him, and that he was to keep 
 a fourth for his own trouble ; if, however, he 
 should refuse to give what he had received, 
 the receipt was to be handed over to the Prus- 
 sian authorities, who would demand the deli- 
 very of every thing, and not give him the 
 smallest compensation for his trouble. Conrad 
 appeared above the possibility of any suspicion 
 attaching his honour, and soon after Ulric 
 abandoned Prussia." 
 
 " Fifteen years afterwards, when no person 
 would have supposed that property of any kind 
 belonging to the German Order existed in
 
 214 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 Prussia, Ulric sent his cousin Ferdinand Ven- 
 ningen to bring away his treasure, who, in or- 
 der not to cause the purport of his mission to 
 be suspected gave himself out for a mer- 
 chant, and, taking ship at Lubeck, arrived, 
 after a pleasant voyage, at Konigsburg. The 
 captain of the vessel, in which Ferdinand 
 sailed, informed us of this afterwards. We 
 have, till this day, heard nothing further about 
 him. Whether he has been discovered, and 
 kept in such close custody, that he has had no 
 opportunity of sending any tidings of himself, 
 or whether he has been destroyed, cannot be as- 
 certained with any degree of certainty; for hi- 
 therto no man has been found who possessed 
 sufficient boldness to persist in the adventure, 
 and go to Prussia with the second receipt; al- 
 though an offer has been made to me on the 
 part of the Order, (as Ulric gave over every 
 thing to me at his death,) that, if I would either 
 undertake to bring away these treasures myself 
 from Prussia, or get them brought away by my 
 son, we should be entitled to a second fourth of 
 their value. God and the Holy angels have sent
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 215 
 
 you, Rudolpl), to us : you have adopted our per- 
 suasion, and will certainly shew yourself worthy 
 of the religion you profess, and assist the 
 worthy Order. One fourth of these treasures 
 will be sufficient to make an ample provision 
 for you and Rosalia : and your mother, being 
 already entitled to a fourth by the stipula- 
 tion, will, however avaricious she may be, 
 doubtless acknowledge the just demand, rather 
 than expose herself to the risk of losing every 
 thing by a public exposure to the Prussian au- 
 thorities. 1 will hand over to you the necessary 
 documents to put you in possession of the trea- 
 sure : go therefore to Prussia, since God will 
 assist you in the cause of justice." 
 
 Rudolph perceived, from this relation ofVen- 
 ningen, that he would have to encounter con- 
 siderable difficulties; but love and hope alike 
 encouraged him to proceed upon his mission. 
 He had a faithful servant of his own, and Ven- 
 ningen gave him, for a guide, a man of the name 
 of Martin, who, though not young", was still in 
 the vigour of health, and had been a faithful 
 and zealous servant of the house of Venningen
 
 216 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 from his earliest years. Thus atteDiIed, Rudolph 
 set out for the place of his destination, accom- 
 panied by the blessings of the whole family, 
 and the prayers and tears of Rosalia. He met 
 with nothing that could frustrate his plans upon 
 the journey, but, when he arrived within three 
 days distance from Konigsburg, he put up, in 
 the evening, at an inn in a village which was 
 crowded with peasants, who were returning 
 from a neighbouring fair. They were all sit- 
 ting round a table, and among them were two 
 old men, talking of past times. They spoke of 
 the manner in which the Orders had been ex- 
 pelled, lamented that every thing in the country 
 had undergone a rapid change, that many no- 
 ble estates had been mortgaged, and many au 
 individual had suddenly come into possession 
 of vast riches. " Still," said one of the old 
 men, " 1 would not have upon my conscience 
 the troubles which disturb many of them. X 
 formerly knew a rich man, whose name was 
 Conrad. He grew rich, but nobody could as- 
 certain whence he derived his riches; many 
 persons were of opinion that he caiue by them
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 217 
 
 tlirougb the evil spirit.— At least strange things 
 were going on in his faraily.< — His wife, who was 
 once a religious, respectable matron, fell into a 
 deep melancholy, and was constantly shedding 
 tears, and wringing her hands. An aunt of 
 mine, who was then a servant in the house, told 
 me that, on her deathbed, she asked for the as- 
 sistance of a priest. My aunt was running to 
 call one, but Conrad ordered her to come back, 
 and reproached her bitterly for her officious- 
 ness; and the poor woman went out of this 
 world without the comforts of religion. Conrad 
 also, who hardly ever visited the church, died 
 suddenly, which gave rise to strange reports 
 among the people. His daughter is still alive, 
 and is a prey to avarice ; the uncle is an exile 
 in distant countries, and is said to have re- 
 nounced our persuasion." 
 
 Rudolph listened, attentively, to all that was 
 said. He felt strange sensations within his 
 breast, and went into the open air: the sky 
 was overcast, and lightning flashed, at intervals, 
 in the distant horizon. He stood absorbed in 
 thought; when a sort of rustling over his head
 
 218 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 attracted his attention. On looking- up, be saw 
 an owi hovering over him. " Art tliou," said 
 he, " according to the vulgar error, a messenger 
 of death ? — I can charge my conscience with no 
 crime ; and this life has no charms for me, de- 
 prived of my Rosalia." The following day was 
 cloudy and rainy. Rudolph continued his 
 journey, wrapt in profound reflection. Upon 
 approaching an inn in the evening, he observed 
 a Jew standing at the door. He was an old 
 man, with a long grey beard, and was saying 
 his evening prayer. Some persons, who were 
 at the inn, were disposed to turn him into ridi- 
 cule. Rudolph would not allow this, but de- 
 sired they would leave alone the old man, who 
 was serving his God according to the custom 
 adopted by persons of his persuasion. The old 
 Jew did not suffer this to pass unnoticed ; and, 
 upon Rudolph's enquiring of him whence he 
 came, he told him he was from Amsterdam, that 
 he was a Rabbi, and had devoted the whole of 
 his life to the literature of his nation. Rudolph 
 asked him in what this consisted? whereupon 
 the Jew entered into dissertations upon various
 
 Tim ENCHANTED CASTLE. 219 
 
 subjects, and spoke of the Kabala as a secret 
 science, which discovered the future. — Rudolph 
 smiled at this : whereupon the Rabbi said : "You 
 need not believe in it unless you please ; but I 
 will tell you your fortune, and you will then pro- 
 bably acknowledge old Mordecai to be no idle 
 prophet." He then took up a large book, and 
 writing some Hebrew characters in it, mumbled 
 certain strange words adding: " You have escap- 
 ed great danger; your prospects have only lately 
 brightened ; but what lies before you is melan- 
 choly and dark. Be therefore upon your guard ; 
 since your fortune and life are in danger." — 
 " Both are in the hands of God," said Rudolph, 
 " therefore 1 enjoy consolation." 
 
 " He did not turn a deaf ear to the old 
 man's discourse, and when he came to Brauns- 
 berg the following evening, his mind felt so 
 oppressed, that he went early the next morning 
 to church, confessed, and took the sacra- 
 ment. He continued his journey and said to 
 his faithful Martin: "Be it as it may, I am 
 prepared for every thing — nay, even for death." 
 They arrived at Konigsburg towards the evening
 
 2*20 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 and put tkeir horses up at an inn close by the 
 house of Rudolph's mother. He had never been 
 in the house from his childhood, but his father 
 had pointed it out to him. He suffered under an 
 extraordinary perturbation of mind, when he 
 entered it. He ordered old Martin to stand at 
 the doorway of the house, in order to be ready 
 to give him any assistance he might want, and 
 which he would make known to him by some 
 sign agreed upon between them. Rudolph 
 knocked a considerable time at the door of the 
 house, and when Peter opened it, he informed 
 him that he wished to speak immediately with 
 Madame Gertrude, and was conducted forth- 
 with into her own room. He had occasionally 
 got a distant glance at his mother in the early 
 days of boyhood, but he had never exchanged 
 a word with her; and now standing so near her 
 side, he Avished to make himself known to her, 
 to drop at her knees, and implore her blessing. 
 But when he casta look upon the long haggard 
 figure with pale, sunken cheeks, an invisible 
 power appeared to restrain him. He said with 
 a trembling voice: " 1 bring you the dutiful
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 221 
 
 respects of your son Rudolph, wbo is my 
 friend." 
 
 *' If nothing else brought you here, said 
 Gertrude angrily," you might Lave spared 
 yourself the trouble." 
 
 " Your son is grown a fine youth, has distin- 
 guished himself by his valour in the Turkish 
 war, and has received a golden chain of honour, 
 from his imperial majesty." 
 
 " And," replied she, " is become an apostate ; 
 can you deny that ?" 
 
 ** Be not angry with your son," said Rudolph. 
 " Had you seen how he lay mortally wounded 
 at Agram, where no priest was to be met with 
 of your persuasion, who could give him any 
 consolation, you would not be surprized, taken 
 care of as he was, by the pious, honest monks, 
 at his having availed himself of the consolation 
 offered him, and adopted their faith." 
 
 " I have no benison for such a son," ex- 
 claimed Gertrude, " rather let my imprecation 
 rest both on his head, and on his father's soul. 
 He has prepared for himself his own misery 
 by his weakness in renouncing his religion. 
 2
 
 222 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 He dare not return to this country, for he 
 M'ould become an object of universal dete- 
 station and contempt, and, in leaving my for- 
 tune to others, the world will be perfectly satis- 
 fied that I have only done an act of retributive 
 justice. You may now return, and acquaint 
 him with my determination." 
 
 She then, with a contemptuous sneer, rose 
 from her seat. Rudolph shuddered : he too 
 plainly perceived that he had nothing to ex- 
 pect from his mother. The memory of Rosalia 
 awakened his resolves, and he determined upon 
 venturing every thing to recover the treasure, 
 and declared that he was the Baron Venninofen. 
 
 Gertrude's jaundiced cheek appeared still 
 more ghastly. She answered him with an 
 hypocritical indifference. " What have I to do 
 with Venningen ?" 
 
 " You must be aware" said Rudolph, " that 
 Ulric Venningen, entrusted to your father a 
 very considerable treasure, of which you are 
 become entitled to a fourth part, for having 
 taken care of it ; and, in case of your refusal to 
 restore it to the rightful owner, 1 am instructed
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 223 
 
 to make known the whole transaction to the 
 pubh'c authorities, who will immediately take 
 possession of the whole property, and 1 shall 
 thereby secure to myself an appropriate reward 
 for the discovery I shall have made." 
 
 She cast a furious look at Rudolph, and ex- 
 claimed : " Let whoever ventures to hint at any 
 such thing, beware my vengeance, and the 
 punishment due to his audacity." 
 
 " 1 have the seals and letters of your father 
 in my hands," said Rudolph. 
 
 *' Shew me them," said she. 
 
 He did so at a distance ; " for," added he, 
 " I will not entrust them out of my possession." 
 
 She gazed eagerly upon the parchment held 
 before her. At times she appeared to be 
 clenching her hand together, as if endeavouring 
 to make a snatch at it ; at others, she trembled, 
 and said with a forced smile, " Let the Ven- 
 ningens have the property, so that my son is 
 allowed no share in it, I see by these docu- 
 ments that you are the right owner. The whole 
 of this treasure is carefully preserved in a vault 
 at one of my estates. But how will you remove
 
 224 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 it? my servants must know nothing- of it, other- 
 wise we shall both be betrayed." 
 
 " I have with me two confidential servants," 
 said Rudolph. 
 
 " Then we will go this day to my estate, re- 
 plied Gertrude, and divide every thing. When 
 you have seen the whole of the treasures, you 
 will be able to consider of the best manner to 
 be adopted for bringing them away ; I will 
 remain at the estate, while you return to 
 Konigsburg. You must provide horses and 
 carriages ; your own servants must be the dri- 
 vers. Come to me at midnight, and take the 
 property into your possession, for I am glad of 
 an opportunity of transferring it from my own 
 hands, as 1 always dreaded the possibility of 
 being betrayed. It is also no small satisfac- 
 tion to me to receive my own share of it." 
 
 Rudolph called to mind young Venningen, 
 who had been sent after the treasures, and 
 disappeared at Konigsburg. He also reflected 
 upon the warning given him by Mordecai. He 
 Mithdrew for a few moments, stepped under 
 the doorway to old Martin, ordered him to
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 225 
 
 saddle (he horses, and to remain with Conrad, 
 the second servant, in a bye street ; afterwards 
 to follow the carriage slowly, and put up at the 
 village where he would stop ; and, on the fol- 
 lowing morning, they were to endeavour to re- 
 main unobserved near the castle. If Rudolph's 
 cap appeared at the window, it was a sign that 
 every thing was going on well ; but, if his 
 white pocket handkerchief was displayed, it 
 was a warning that his person was in danger, 
 and they were to make all possible haste to his 
 succour. 
 
 " And, if in the meantime you should be 
 murdered ?" asked Martin. 
 
 " I have a shirt of mail under my waistcoat," 
 replied Rudolph, '• a pairof holster pistols, and 
 a good sword. It will not be an easy matter 
 to do me any injury ; and, in case of extreme 
 danger, I will discover who I am." 
 
 Martin was satisfied with this. About mid- 
 night, Gertrude's carriage with black horses 
 drove by. She and Rudolph got into it, attended 
 by Hans and Peter; while Martin and Conrad 
 followed at a convenient distance, that they 
 
 Vol ;. q
 
 226 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 might neither lose sight of the carriage, nor 
 approach too near it. Rudolph observed a 
 profound silence, and felt great anxiety at heart, 
 Gertrude appeared inclined to sleep, when, 
 suddenly rousing herself, she said: " What 
 a cold night it is ! as soon as we arrive, I will 
 get some warm spiced wine prepared, and we 
 will both comfort ourselves with it." On their 
 arrival Gertrude ordered some refreshments to 
 be brought, and the wine was got ready, and 
 after Rudolph drank off the last cup of the 
 spiced wine, which had been poured out for him, 
 Gertrude said : " Now good night," " to-mor- 
 row morning we will do all that we have to 
 do, and return to Konigsburg.*' 
 
 RuuQolpU men retired to his own chamber. 
 The windows of all the rooms throughout the 
 castle were provided with iron bars. Ru- 
 dolph tried if those of his own room were 
 fast. He bolted the door inside, examined 
 the wainscoat and the floor to see if any con- 
 cealed door was to be found, and, upon not 
 discovering any, he was ashamed of having 
 been so suspicious. He recommended his soul
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 227 
 
 to God, and tlirew himself upon his bed. He 
 was suddenly attacked with a dreadful pain in 
 his bowels, and the idea of his having been 
 poisoned by his own mother, floated before his 
 luind in all its horrors. He tried to open the 
 door, but it was bolted on the outside. He 
 threw open the window which looked into a 
 large garden, cried for assistance, but nobody 
 heard him. He endeavoured to split the door 
 with his sword, but his strength /ailed him. 
 Upon his pains encreasing, he considered him- 
 ^If in danger, and, agreeably to the concerted 
 signal with Martin, he displayed a white hand- 
 kerchief, fastening it to the grating outside of 
 the window, sunk to the earth, and soon expired. 
 At day break, Martin observing the handker- 
 chief wavingat the window, hastened to Conrad. 
 Both got over the garden hedge; all was yet 
 asleep. They discovered the gardener's lad- 
 der, and placed it against the open window. 
 Martin ascended the ladder. " Jesu !" cried he, 
 when he beheld Rudolph's body. It was nolonger 
 time to think of saving him ; vengeance was all 
 they thought of. They repaired accordingly 
 q2
 
 228 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 without delay to Konigsburg-, and gave the 
 magistrates a detailed account of all that had 
 occurred. 
 
 Out of dehcacy to a noble family, and as no- 
 thing* certain could be collected from the de- 
 position given by two unknown persons, one of 
 the judges was sent to Gertrude's house. She 
 was within. — upon the judge reading to her the 
 the deposition, she inveighed against the vil- 
 lainy and corruption of mankind, calling her 
 servants to witness she had not been out of the 
 town for some days. Upon the neighbours 
 being examiiied, and giving their testimony 
 that Gertrude had returned on the proceeding 
 evening, the suspicion, that had arisen against 
 her, became strengthened. 
 
 Hans and Peter were sent to goal with all 
 possible secrecy; where, being threatened with 
 the pain of torture, they confessed the crime of 
 which they had been guilty, and added that 
 Conrad, with their assistance, had some years 
 ago murdered one of the young Venningens, 
 and concealed the body in a cellar of his house. 
 His remains were dug after and discovered.
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 229 
 
 Rudolph's corpse was found in tbe same bye 
 chamber, wherein be bad died, and was given 
 over to his servanis, at their entreaty. They car 
 ried it to bis native country, and buried it with 
 appropriate honors. In a vault were found some 
 boxes, filled with silver and golden cups, can- 
 dlesticks, crosses, incensories, reliques, shrines 
 and such church utensils, all of which, together 
 with tbe estates, fell to tbe government of the 
 country. Gertrude, although accused of being 
 tbe murderess of her son, evinced the most 
 hardened heart, and appeared wholly unaf- 
 fected. She said death put an end to every 
 thing, and would hear nothing about repen- 
 tance. On account of her family, she was con- 
 demned only, together with Hans and Peter, 
 to be put to death by the guillotine; and tbe 
 sentence was secretly carried into execution 
 at night-time in the castle at Konigsburg, in a 
 subterraneous chamber which, from tbe secret 
 executions which had taken pIaceinit,bad,from 
 time immemorial, gone by the name of the 
 criminal justice room. JVlartin and Conrad 
 received a handsome sum of money for their 
 travelling expences, and returned toFranconia.
 
 230 
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 
 
 Old Venningen and his son, but above all 
 Rosab'a, were in anxious expectation of some 
 account from Rudolph. The last letter they 
 had received was from Braunsberg. Their 
 anxiety daily encreased; and Venningen was 
 no longer able to console the grieving Rosalia, 
 for he was in need of consolation himself. One 
 day as Rosalia was standing at the window in 
 tears, looking towards the road, she suddenly 
 gave a loud shriek, and sunk in a swoon. They 
 all hastened to her relief. Young Venningen 
 who now went to the window, saw two men on 
 horseback, who proved to be Martin and Con- 
 rad. Upon not seeing Rudolph with them, he 
 was filled with dreadful forebodings. Alas, 
 there was but too good foundation for his fears, 
 and they were soon informed of all that had pas- 
 sed. They ordered mass to be said repeatedly 
 for the soul of their departed friend. Rosalia 
 took the veil, and died some years afterwards 
 abbess of the convent she had entered, enjoying 
 the respect due to a saint, on account of her 
 piety, and the acts of benevolence she per- 
 formed. 
 
 Three days after the execution of Gertrude
 
 THE ENCHANTED CASTLE. 231" 
 
 as the watchman at Konigsburg was announcing 
 the midnight hour, the side gate of the Castle 
 burst open and the carriage drove out of it and 
 returned in the same manner we have already 
 described. Some of the neighbours, who could 
 give no credit to what the watchman related, 
 waited on the following night for the midnight 
 hour, and were ocular witnesses of the monstrous 
 and ghastly sight. The castle large and beau- 
 tiful as it was, was perfectly uninhabitable ; and 
 it therefore received the name of the haunted or 
 enchanted castle. After the various dilapida- 
 tions, which the hand of time had made in it 
 another building was erected upon its site. 
 No spectres were longer seen ranging about it, 
 and all who dwelt in it led a peaceable and un- 
 disturbed life. It has, however, maintained the 
 the name of the Enchanted Castle down to the 
 
 present day. ~ '^ ' 
 
 - jsiorfj lo't 
 
 < odi Aoot 
 
 '0 BB^ddB
 
 WAKE 
 
 THE DEAD 
 
 Wake not the Dead : — they bring but gloomy night 
 
 And cheerless desolation into day ; 
 
 For in the grave who mouldering lay. 
 No more can feel the influence of light, 
 Or yield them to the sun's prolific might ; 
 
 Let them repose within their house of clay — 
 
 Corruption, vainly wilt thou e'er essay 
 To quicken :— it sends forth a pest'lent blight; 
 And neither fiery sun, nor bathing dew, 
 Nor breath of spring the dead can e'er renew. 
 That which from life is pluck'd, becomes the foe 
 Of life, and whoso wakes it waketh woe. 
 Seek not the dead to waken from that sleep 
 In which from mortal eye they lie enshrouded deep. 
 
 " W ILT thou for ever sleep ? wilt thou never 
 more awake, my beloved ? but henceforth re- 
 pose for ever from thy short pilgrimage on
 
 234 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 ear(h 1 O yet once again return ! and bring 
 back with thee the vivifying dawn of hope to 
 one whose existence hath, since thy departure, 
 been obscured by the dunnest shades. What! 
 dumb 1 for ever dumb ? Thy friend lamenteth, 
 and thouheedest him not?He sheds bitter,scald 
 ing tears, and thou reposest unregarding his aP» 
 fliction ? He is in despair, and thou no longer. 
 openest thy arms to him as an asylum from his 
 grief? Say then, doth the paly shroud become 
 thee better than the bridal veil ? Is the chamber 
 of the grave a warmer bed than the couch of 
 love ? Is the spectre death more welcome to 
 thy arms than thy enamoured consort ? O re- 
 turn, my beloved, return once again to this 
 anxious, disconsolate bosom." Such were the 
 lamentations which Walter poured forth for bis 
 Brunhilda, the partner of his youthful, pas- 
 sionate love: thus did he bewail over her grave 
 at the midnight hour, what time the spirit that 
 presides in the troublous atmosphere, sends his 
 lugions of monsters through mid-air; so thattheir 
 shadows, as they flit beneath the moon and across 
 the earth, dart as wild, agitating thoughts that
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 235 
 
 chase each other o'er the sinner's bosom : — thus 
 did he lament under the tall linden trees by her 
 grave, while his head reclined on the cold stone. 
 Walter was a powerful lord in Burgundy, 
 who, in his earliest youth, had been smitten with 
 the charms of the fair Brunhilda, a beauty far 
 surpassing in loveliness all her rivals ; for her 
 tresses, dark as the raven face of night, stream- 
 ing over her shoulders, set off to the utmost ad- 
 vantage the beaming lustre of her slender form, 
 and the rich dye of a cheek whose tint was deep 
 and brilliant as that of the western heaven : her 
 eyes did not resemble those burning orbs whose 
 pale glow gem the vault of night, and whose 
 immeasurable distance fills the soul with deep 
 thoughts of eternity, but rather as the sober beams 
 which cheer this nether world, and which, 
 while they enlighten, kindle the sons of earth 
 to joy and love. Brunhilda became the wife of 
 Walter, and both equally enamoured and de- 
 voted, they abandoned themselves to the en- 
 joyment of a passion that rendered them reck- 
 less of aught besides, while it lulled them in a 
 fascinating dream. Their sole apprehensioD
 
 236 WAKE NOT THE DEA1>. 
 
 was less aught should awaken them from a de- 
 lirium which they prayed might continue for 
 ever. Yet how vain is the wish that would ar- 
 rest the decrees of destiny ! as well might it 
 seek to divert the circling planets from their 
 eternal course. Short was the duration of this 
 phrenzied passion ; not that it gradually de- 
 cayed and subsided into apathy, but death 
 snatched away his blooming victim, and left 
 Walter to a widowed couch. Impetuous, how- 
 ever, as was his first burst of grief, he was not 
 inconsolable, for ere long another bride became 
 the partner of the youth. 
 
 Swanhilda also was beautiful ; although na- 
 ture had formed her charms on a very different 
 model from those of Brunhilda. Her golden 
 locks waved bright as the beams of morn : only 
 when excited by some emotion of her soul did 
 a rosy hue tinge the lily paleness of her cheek: 
 her limbs were proportioned in the nicest sym- 
 metry, yet did they not possess that luxuriant 
 fullness of animal life : her eye beamed elo- 
 quently, but it was with the milder radiance of 
 a star tranquillizing to tenderness rather than
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 237 
 
 exciting to warmth. Thus formed, it was not 
 possible that she should steep him in his former 
 deh'rium, although she rendered happy his wak- 
 ing hours: tranquil and serious, yet cheerful, 
 studying in all things her husband's pleasure, 
 she restored order and comfort in his family, 
 where her presence shed a general influence all 
 around. Her mild benevolence tended to re- 
 strain the fiery, impetuous disposition of Walter: 
 while at the same time her prudence recalled him 
 in some degree from his vain, turbulent wishes, 
 and his aspirings after unattainable enjoy- 
 ments, to the duties and pleasures of actual life. 
 Swanhilda bore her husband two children, a son 
 and a daughter; the latter was mild and patient 
 as her mother, well contented with her solitary 
 sports, and even in these recreations displayed 
 the serious turn of her character. The boy pos- 
 sessed his father's fiery, restless disposition, tem- 
 pered, however, with the solidity of his mother. 
 Attached by his offspring more tenderly towards 
 their mother, Walter now lived for several years 
 very happily : his thoughts would frequently, 
 indeed, recur to Brunhilda, but without their
 
 238 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 former violence, merely as we dwell upon the 
 memory of a friend of our earlier days, borne 
 from us on the rapid current of time to a region 
 where we know that he is happy. 
 
 But clouds dissolve into air, flowers fade, the 
 sand of the hour-glass runs imperceptibly 
 away, and even so, do human feelings dissolve, 
 fade, and pass away, and with them too, human 
 happiness. Walter's inconstant breast again 
 sighed for the extatic dreams of those days 
 which he had spent with his equally romantic, 
 enamoured Brunhilda: again did she present 
 herself to his ardent fancy in all the glow of her 
 bridal charms, and he began to draw a parallel 
 between the past and the present; nor did ima- 
 gination, as it is wont, fail to array the former 
 in her brightest hues, ^vhile it proportionably 
 obscured the latter; so that he pictured to him- 
 self, the one much more rich in enjoyment, and 
 the other, much less so than they really were. 
 This change in her husband did not escape 
 Swanhilda; whereupon, redoubling her atten- 
 tions towards him, and her cares towards their 
 children, she expected, by this means, to re-
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 239 
 
 unite the knot tLat was slackened ; yet the 
 more she endeavoured to regain his aftections, 
 the colder did he grow, — the more intolerable 
 did her caresses seem, and the more continually 
 did the image of Brunhilda haunt his thoughts. 
 The children, whose endearments were now 
 become indispensable to him, alone stood be- 
 tween the parents as genii eager to effect a 
 reconciliation; and, beloved by them both, 
 formed a uniting link between them. Yet, as 
 evil can be plucked from the heart of man, only 
 ere its root has yet struck deep, its fangs being 
 afterwards too firm to be eradicated ; so was 
 Walter's diseased fancy too far affected to have 
 its disorder stopped, for, in a short time it com- 
 pletely tyrannized over him. Frequently of a 
 night, instead of retiring to his consort's 
 chamber, he repaired to Brunhilda's grave, 
 where he murmured forth his discontent, saying: 
 ♦ Wilt thou sleep for ever ?"' 
 
 One night as he was thus reclining on the turf, 
 indulging in his wonted sorrow, a sorcerer from 
 the neigbouring mountains, entered into this 
 field of death for the purpose of gathering, for
 
 240 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 his mystic spells, such herbs as grow only from 
 the earth wherein the dead repose, and which, 
 as if the last production of mortality, are gifted 
 with a powerful and supernatural influence. 
 The sorcerer perceived the mourner, and 
 approached the spot where he was lying. 
 
 " Wherefore, fond wretch, dost thou grieve 
 thus, for what is now a hideous mass of morta- 
 lity — mere bones, and nerves, and veins ? 
 Nations have fallen unlamented ; even worlds 
 themselves, long- ere this globe of ours was 
 created, have mouldered into nothing; nor 
 hath any one wept over them: why then should 
 thou indulge this vain affliction for a child of 
 the dust — a being as frail as thyself, and like 
 thee the creature but of a moment?" 
 
 Walter raised himself up: — " Let yon worlds 
 that shine in the firmament" replied he, ** lament 
 for each other as they perish. It is true, that 1 who 
 am myself clay, lament for my fellow-clay : yet 
 is this clay impregnated with a fire, — with an 
 essence, that none of the elements of creation 
 possess — with love: and this divine passion, 1 
 felt for her who now sleepcth beneath this sod." 
 3
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 241 
 
 "Will thy complaints awaken her : or could 
 they do so, would she not soon upbraid thee 
 for having disturbed that repose in which she 
 now is hushed ?" 
 
 " Avaunt, cold-hearted being: thou knowest 
 not what is love. Oh ! that my tears could 
 wash away the earthy covering that conceals her 
 from these eyes ; — that my groan of anguish 
 could rouse her from her slumber of death ! — 
 No, she would not again seek her earthy couch." 
 
 " Insensate that thou art, and couldst thou 
 endure to gaze without shuddering on one dis- 
 gorged from the jaws of the grave ? Art thou 
 too thyself the same from whom she parted; 
 or hath time passed o'er thy brow and left no 
 traces there '? Would not thy love rather be 
 converted into hate and disgust?" 
 
 «• Say rather that the stars would leave yon 
 firmament, that the sun will henceforth refuse 
 to shed his beams through the heavens. Otbat 
 she stood once more before me; — that once 
 again she reposed on this bosom ! — how quickly 
 should we then forget that death or time had 
 ever stepped between us." 
 
 Vol I. R
 
 243 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 i < « Delusion ! mere delusion of the brain, from 
 heated blood, like to that which arises from the 
 fumes of wine. It is not my wish to tempt 
 thee ; — to restore to thee thy dead ; else wouldst 
 thou soon feel that I have spoken sooth." 
 
 " How ! restore her tome," exclaimed Walter 
 casting himself at the sorcerer's feet. "Oh ! if 
 thou art indeed able to effect that, grant it to 
 my earnest supplication ; if one throb of human 
 feeling- vibrates in thy bosom, let my tears pre- 
 vail with thee : restore me my beloved ; so 
 shalt thou hereafter bless the deed, and see that 
 it was a good work." 
 
 " A good work ! a blessed deed !" — returned 
 the sorcerer with a smile of scorn ; *' for me 
 there exists nor good, nor evil ; since my will is 
 always the same. Ye alone know evil, who 
 will that which ye would not. It is indeed in 
 my power to restore her to thee : yet, bethink 
 thee well, whether it will prove thy weal. 
 Consider too, how deep the abyss between 
 life and death ; across this, my power can 
 build a bridge, but it can never fiil up the 
 frightful chasm."
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 243 
 
 Walter would have spoken, and have sought 
 to prevail on this powerful being by fresh en- 
 treaties, but the latter prevented him, saying-: 
 " Peace ! bethink thee well ! and return hither 
 to me to-morrow at midnight. Yet once more 
 do I warn thee, ' wake not the dead.'" 
 
 Having uttered these words, the mysterious 
 being disappeared. Intoxicated with fresh hope, 
 Walter found no sleep on his couch; for fancy, 
 prodigal of her richest stores, expanded before 
 him the glittering web of futurity ; and his eye, 
 moistened with the dew of rapture, glanced 
 from one vision of happiness to another. During 
 the next day he wandered through the woods, 
 lest wonted objects by recalling the memory 
 of later and less happier times, might disturb 
 the blissful idea, that he should again behold 
 her — again fold her in his arms, gaze on her 
 beaming brow by day, repose on her bosom at 
 night : and, as this sole idea filled his imagina- 
 tion, how was it possible that the least doubt 
 should arise ; or that the warning of the mys- 
 terious old man should recur to his thoughts. 
 
 No sooner did the midnight hour approach, 
 R 2
 
 244 WAKE NOT THK DEAD. 
 
 than he hastened towards the grave-field where 
 the sorcerer was already standing by that of 
 Brunhilda. " Hast thou maturely considered ?" 
 enquired he. 
 
 " Oh! restore to me the object of my ardent 
 passion," exclaimed Walter with impetuous 
 eagerness. " Delay not thy generous action, 
 lest 1 die even this night, consumed with dis- 
 appointed desire ; and behold her face no more." 
 "Well then, answered the old man," return 
 hither again to-morrow at the same hour. But 
 once more do I give thee this friendly warning, 
 * wake not the dead.'" ' ^a»i Mv^'^ ym 
 
 In all the despair of impatience, Walter 
 would have prostrated hinjself at his feet, and 
 supplicated him to fulfill at once a desire now 
 increased to agony ; but the sorcerer had 
 already disappeared. Pouring forth his lamen- 
 tations more wildly and impetuously than ever, 
 he lay upon the grave of his adored one, until 
 the grey dawn streaked the east. During the 
 day, which seemed to him longer than any he 
 had ever experienced, he wandered to and fro, 
 iTestless and impatient, seemingly without any
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 245 
 
 object, and deeply buried in his own reflec- 
 tions, inquiet as the murderer who meditates his 
 first deed of blood : and the stars of evening- 
 found him once more at the appointed spot. 
 At midnight the sorcerer was there also. 
 
 " Hast thou yet maturely deliberated ?" en- 
 quired he, " as on the preceding night ?" 
 
 "On what should I deliberate?" returned 
 Walter impatiently. " I need not to deliberate: 
 what I demand of thee, is that which thou hast 
 promised me — that which will prove my bliss. 
 Or dost thou but mock me ? if so, hence from 
 my sight, lest I be tempted to lay my hand on 
 thee." 
 
 " Once more do I warn thee," answered the 
 old man with undisturbed composure, • wake 
 not the dead' — let her rest." 
 
 " Aye, but not in the cold grave: she shall 
 rather rest on this bosom which burns with 
 eagerness to clasp her." 
 
 ,i " Reflect, thou may'st not quit her until 
 death, even though aversion and horror should 
 seize thy heart. There would then remain only 
 one horrible means."
 
 24(J WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 " Dotard !" cried Walter," interrupting him, 
 " how may I hate that which I love with such 
 intensity of passion ? how should I abhor that 
 for which my every drop of blood is boiling?" 
 
 " Then be it even as thou wishest," an- 
 swered the sorcerer; " step back." '- 
 
 The old man now drew a circle round the 
 grave, all the while muttering words of en- 
 chantment. Immediately the storm began to 
 howl among the tops of the trees; owls flapped 
 their wings, and uttered their low voice of 
 omen; the stars hid their mild, beaming as- 
 pect, that they might not behold so unholy and 
 impious a spectacle ; the stone then rolled from 
 the grave with a hollow sound, leaving a free 
 passage for the inhabitant of that dreadful 
 tenement. The sorcerer scattered into the 
 yawning earth, roots and herbs of most magic 
 power, and of most penetrating odour, so that 
 the worms crawling forth from the earth con- 
 gregated together, and raised themselves in a 
 fiery column over the grave : while rushing wind 
 burst from the earth, scattering the mould be- 
 fore it, until at length the coffin lay uncovered.
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 247 
 
 The nioon*beains fell od it, and the lid burst 
 open with a tremendous sound. Upon this the 
 sorcerer poured upon it some blood from out of 
 a human skull, exclaiming at the same time: — 
 " Drink, sleeper, of this warm stream, that thy 
 heart may again beat within thy bosom." And, 
 after a short pause, shedding on her some 
 other mystic liquid, he cried aloud with the 
 voice of one inspired: "Yes, thy heart beats 
 once more with the flood of life : thine eye is 
 again opened to sight. Arise, therefore, fron(i 
 thy tomb." 
 
 . As an island suddenly springs forth from the 
 dark waves of the ocean, raised upwards from 
 the deep by the force of subterraneous fires, 
 so did Brunhilda start from her earthy couch, 
 borne forward by some invisible power. Taking 
 her by the hand, the sorcerer lead her towards 
 Waller, who stood at some little distance, 
 rooted to the ground with amazement, 
 
 " Receive again," said he, " the object of thy 
 passionate sighs : mayest thou never more re- 
 quire my aid; should that however happen, 
 no wilt thou find me, during the full of the
 
 248 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 moon, upon the mountains in that spot and 
 where the three roads meet." 
 
 Instantly did Walter recognize in the form 
 that stood before him, her whom he so ar- 
 dently loved; and a sudden glow shot through 
 his frame at finding her thus restored to him: 
 yet the night-frost had chilled his limbs and 
 palsied his tongue. For a while he gazed upon 
 her without either motion or speech, and during 
 this pause, all was again become hushed and 
 serene ; and the stars shone brightly in the 
 clear heavens. 
 
 " Walter !" exclaimed the figure ; and at once 
 the well-known sound, thrilling to his heart, 
 broke the spell by which he was bound. 
 
 " Is it reality? is it truth f cried he, " or a 
 cheating delusion ?" 
 
 " No, it is no imposture : I am really living : 
 —conduct me quickly to thy castle in the 
 mountains." ' ;ttt Jmtjj neo 1 
 
 Walter looked around : the old man had dis- 
 appeared, but he perceived close by his side, a 
 coal-black steed of fiery eye, ready equipped to 
 conduct him thence; and on his back lay all
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 249 
 
 proper attire for Brunhilda, who lost no time 
 in arraying herself. This being- done, she cried: 
 " Haste, let us away ere the dawn breaks, for 
 my eye is yet too weak to endure the light of 
 day." Fully recovered from his stupor, Walter 
 leaped into his saddle, and catching up, with 
 a mingled feeling of delight and awe, the be- 
 loved being- thus mysteriously restored from 
 the power of the grave, he spurred on across 
 the wild, towards the mountains, as furiously 
 as if pursued by the shadows of the dead, hast- 
 ening to recover from him their sister. 
 
 The castle to which Walter conducted his 
 Brunhilda, was situated on a rock between 
 other rocks rising up above it. Here they ar- 
 rived, unseen by any, save one aged domestic, 
 on whom W^alter imposed secrecy by the se- 
 verest threats. 
 
 " Here will we tarry," said Brunhilda, *' until 
 I can endure the light, and until thou canst 
 look upon me without trembling : as if struck 
 with a cold chill." They accordingly continued 
 to make that place their abode : yet no one 
 knew that Brunhilda existed, save only that
 
 250 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 aged atteudanf, who provitled their meaU. 
 During seven entire days, they had no light 
 except that of tapers; during the next seven, 
 the light was admitted through the lofty case- 
 ments only while the rising or setting-siia 
 faintly illumined th^ mountain-tops, the ral- 
 lies being still enveloped in shade. 
 
 Seldom did Walter quit Brunhilda's side: a 
 nameless spell seemed to attach him to her; 
 even the shudder which he felt in her pre- 
 sence, and which would not permit him to 
 touch her, was not unmixed with pleasure, like 
 that thi illing, aweful emotion felt when strains 
 of sacred music float under the vault of soiue 
 temple ; he rather sought, therefore, than 
 avoided this feeling. Often too as he had in- 
 dulged in calling to mind the beauties of Brun- 
 hilda, she had never appeared so fair, so fasci- 
 uat)ng'» so admirable when depicted by his 
 imagination, as when uo\v beheld in reality. 
 Never till now had her voice sounded with 
 such tones of sweetness; never before did her 
 language possess such eloquence as it now did, 
 when she conversed with him on the subject
 
 WAKL NOT THE DliAD. 251 
 
 of the past. And this was the magic fairy- 
 land towards which her words constantly con- 
 ducted him. Ever did she dwell upon the days 
 of their first love, those hours of delight which 
 Ihey had participated together when the one 
 derived all enjoyment from the other : and so 
 rapturous, so enchanting, so full of life did she 
 recall to his imagination that blissful season, 
 that be even doubted whether he had ever ex- 
 perienced with her so much felicily, or had 
 been so truly happy. And, while she thus 
 vividly pourtrayed their hours of past delight, 
 she delineated in still more glowing, more en- 
 chanting colours, those hours of approachino- 
 bliss which now awaited them, richer in enjoy- 
 ment than any preceding ones. In this manner 
 did she charm her attentive auditor with en- 
 rapturing hopes for the future, and lull him in 
 dreams of more than mortal extacy ; so that 
 while he listened to her syren strain, he entirely 
 forgot how little blissful was the latter period 
 of their union, when he had often sighed at her 
 imperiousness, and at her harshness both to 
 himself and all his household. Yet even had
 
 252 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 he recalled this to mind would it have dis- 
 turbed hiin in his present delirious trance? 
 Had she not now left behind in the grave all 
 the frailty of mortality? Was she not cheer- 
 ful as the morning hour in spring — affectionate 
 and mild as the last beams of an autumnal sua ? 
 Was not her whole being refined and purified 
 by that long sleep in which neither passion 
 nor sin had approached her even in dreams? 
 How different now was the subject of her dis- 
 course ! Only when speaking of her afiection 
 for him, did she betray any thing of earthly 
 feeling; at other times, she uniformly dwelt 
 upon themes relating to the invisible and fu- 
 ture world ; when in descanting and declaring 
 the mysteries of eternity, a stream of prophetic 
 eloquence would burst from her lips. ,• 
 
 In this manner had twice seven days elapsed, 
 and, for the first time, Walter beheld the being 
 now dearer to him than ever, in the full light 
 of day. Every trace of the grave had disap- 
 peared from her countenance: a roseate tinge 
 like the ruddy streaks of dawn again beamed 
 on her pallid cheek; the faint, mouldering 
 2
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 253 
 
 taint of the grave was changed into a delight- 
 ful violet scent ; the only sign of earth that 
 Bever disappeared. He no longer felt either 
 apprehension or awe, as he gazed upon her in 
 the sunny light of day: it was not until now, 
 that he seemed to have recovered her com- 
 pletely; and, glowing with all his former pas- 
 sion towards her, he would have pressed her 
 to his bosom, but she gently repulsed him, say- 
 ing: " Not yet: spare your caresses until the 
 moon has again filled her horn." 
 
 Spite of his impatience, Walter was obliged to 
 await the lapse of another period of seven days ; 
 but, on the night when the moon was arrived at 
 the full, he hastened to Brunhilda, whom he 
 found more lovely than she had ever appeared 
 before. Fearing no obstacles to his transports, 
 he embraced her with all the fervour of a deeply- 
 enamoured and successful lover. Brunhilda, 
 however, still refused to yield to his passion. 
 «« What !" exclaimed she, ♦' is it fitting that I 
 who have been purified by death from the frailty 
 of mortality, should become thy concubine, 
 while a mere daughter of the earth bears the
 
 254 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 title of thy wife: never shall it be. No, it must 
 be within the walls of thy palace, within that 
 chamber where I once reissued as queen, that 
 thou obtainest the end of thy wishes,— and of 
 mine also," added she, imprinting a glow- 
 ing- kiss on his lips, and immediately disap- 
 peared. 
 
 Heated with passion, and determined to sa- 
 crifice every thing to the accomplishment of his 
 desires, \yalter hastily quitted the apartment, 
 and shortly after the castle itself. He travelled 
 over mountain and cross heath, with the ra- 
 pidity of a storm, so that the turf was flung up 
 by his horse's hoofs ; nor once stopped until he 
 arrived home. 
 
 Here, however, neither the affectionate cares- 
 ses of Swanhilda, or those of his children could 
 touch his heart, or induce him to restrain his 
 furious desires. Alas! is the impetuous tor- 
 rent to be checked in its devastating course by 
 the beauteous flowers over Avhich it rushes, 
 when thoy exclaim: " Destroyer, commiserate 
 our helpless innocence and beauty, nor lay us 
 waste ?" — the stream sweeps over them ' tin*
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 255 
 
 regarding*, and a single moment annihilates the 
 pride of a whole summer. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, did Walter begin to hint 
 to Swanhilda, that they were ill-suited to each 
 other ; — that he was anxious to taste that wild, 
 tumultuous life, so well according with the 
 spirit of his sex, while she, on the contrary, was 
 satisfied with the monotous circle of household 
 enjoyments: — that he was eager for whatever 
 promised novelty, while she felt most attached to 
 what was familiarized to her by habit ; and 
 lastly, that her cold disposition, bordering upon 
 indifference, but ill assorted with his ardent 
 temperament : it was therefore more prudent 
 that they should seek apart from each other, 
 that happiness which they could not find to- 
 gether. A sigh, and a brief acquiescence in his 
 wishes was all the reply that Swanhilda made : 
 and, on the following morning upon his pre- 
 senting her with a paper of separation, inform- 
 ing her that she was at liberty to return home 
 to her father, she received it most submis- 
 sively : yet, ere she departed, she gave him the 
 following warning: " Too well do 1 conjecture
 
 256 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 to whom I am indebted for this our separation. 
 Often have I seen thee at Brunhilda's grave, 
 and beheld thee there even on that ni^ht when 
 the face of the heavens was suddenly enveloped 
 in a veil of clouds. Hast thou rashly dared to tear 
 aside the awful veil that separates the morta- 
 lity that dreams, from that which drearaeth not, 
 O! then woe to thee, thou wretched man, for 
 tliou hast attached to thyself that which will 
 prove thy destruction." She ceased: nor did 
 Walter attempt any reply, for the similar admo- 
 nition uttered by the sorcerer flashed upon his 
 mind, all obscured as it was by passion, just as 
 the lightning- glares momentarily through 
 the gloom of night without dispersing the 
 obscurity. 
 
 Swanhilda then departed, in order to pro- 
 nounce to her children, a bitter farewell, for 
 they, according to the custom of his nation, be-' 
 longed to the father ; and, having bathed them 
 in her tears, and consecrated them with the 
 holy water of maternal love, she quilted her 
 husband's residence, and departed to the home 
 of her fathers.
 
 WAKR NOT THE DEAD. 257 
 
 Thus was the kind and benevolent Swanhilda, 
 driven an exile from those halls, where she had 
 presided with such grace ; — from halls which 
 were now newly decorated to receive another 
 mistress. The day at length arrived, on which 
 Walter, for the second time, conducted Brun- 
 hilda home, as a newly-made bride. And he 
 caused it to be reported among his domestics, 
 that his new consort had gained his affections 
 by her extraordmary likeness to Brunhilda, 
 their former mistress. How ineffably happy did 
 he deem himself, as he conducted his beloved 
 once more into the chamber which had often 
 witnessed their former joys, and which was now 
 newly gilded and adorned in a most costly 
 style : among the other decorations were figures 
 of angels scattering roses, which served to 
 support the purple draperies, whose ample folds 
 o'ershadowed the nuptial couch. With what 
 impatience did he await the hour that was to 
 put him in possession of those beauties, for 
 which he had already paid so high a price, but, 
 whose enjoyment was to cost him most dearly 
 yet [Unfortunate Walter ! revelling in bliss, thou 
 
 Vol. I. s
 
 258 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 belioldest not the abyss that yawns beneath 
 thy feet, intoxicated with the luscious perfume 
 of the flower thou hast plucked, thou httle 
 deeraest how deadly is the venom with which 
 it is fraught, although, for a short season, its 
 potent fragrance bestows new energy on all thy 
 feeh'ngs. 
 
 Happy however, as Walter now was, his 
 household were far from being equally so. The 
 strange resemblance between their new lady 
 and the deceased Brunhilda, filled them wish 
 a secret dismay,— an undefinable horror; for 
 there was not a single difference of feature, of 
 tone of voice, or of gesture. To add too to these 
 mysterious circumstances, her female attendants 
 discovered a particular mark on her back, ex- 
 actly like one which Brunhilda had. A report 
 was now soon circulated, that their lady was no 
 other than Brunhilda herself, who had been re- 
 called to life by the power of necromancy. 
 How truly horrible was the idea of living under 
 the same roof with one who had been an inha- 
 bitant of the tomb, and of being obliged to 
 attend upon her, and acknowledge her os
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 259 
 
 mistress ! There was also in Brunhilda, much 
 to increase this aversion, and favour their super- 
 stition: no ornaments of gold ever decked her 
 person; all that others were wont to wear of 
 this metal, she had formed of silver: no richly 
 coloured, and sparkling jewels glittered upon 
 her; pearls alone, lent their pale lustre to adorn 
 her bosom. Most carefully did she always 
 avoid the cheerful light of the sun, and was 
 wont to spend the brightest days in the most 
 retired and gloomy apartments : only during 
 the twilight of the commencing, or declining- 
 day did she ever walk abroad, but her favou- 
 rite hour was, when the phantom light of the 
 moou bestowed on all objects a shadowy 
 appearance, and a sombre hue ; always too at 
 the crowing of the cock, an involuntary shudder 
 was observed to seize her limbs. Imperious as 
 before her death, she quickly imposed her iron 
 yoke on every one around her, while she 
 seemed even far more terrible than ever, since a 
 dread of some supernatural power attached to 
 her, appalled all who approached her, A 
 malignant withering glance seemed to shoot 
 s 2
 
 260 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 from her eye on the unhappy object of her 
 wrath, as if it would annihilate its victim. In 
 short, those halls which, in the time of Swan- 
 hilda were the residence of cheerfulness and 
 mirth, now resembled an extensive desert tomb. 
 With fear imprinted on their pale counte- 
 nances, the domestics glided through the 
 apartments of the castle ; and, in this abode of 
 terror, the crowing of the cock caused the living 
 to tremble, as if they were the spirits of the 
 departed; for the sound always reminded them 
 of their mysterious mistress. There was no one 
 but who shuddered at meeting her in a lonely 
 place, in the dusk of evening, or by the light 
 of the moon, a circumstance that was deemed 
 to be ominous of some evil : so great was the 
 apprehension of her female attendants, that 
 they pined in continual disquietude, and, by 
 degrees, all quitted her. In the course of time 
 even others of the domestics fled, for an insup- 
 portable horror had seized them. 
 
 The art of the sorcerer had indeed bestowed 
 upon Brunhilda an artificial life, and due 
 nourishment had continued to support the re-
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 2G1 
 
 stored body; yet, this body was not able of 
 itself to keep up the genial glow of vitulity, 
 and to nourish the flame whence springs all the 
 affections and passions, whether of love or hate ; 
 for death had for ever destroyed and withered 
 it : all that Brunhilda now possessed was a 
 chilled existence, colder than that of the snake. 
 It was nevertheless necessary that she should 
 love, and return with equal ardour the warm 
 caresses of her spell-enthralled husband, to 
 whose passion alone she was indebted for her 
 renewed existence. It was necessary that a 
 magic draught should animate the dull current 
 in her veins, and awaken her to the glow of 
 life and the flame of love — a potion of abomi- 
 nation — one not even to be named without a 
 curse — human blood, imbibed whilst yet warm, 
 from the veins of youth. This was the hellish 
 drink for which she thirsted : possessing no 
 sympathy with the purer feelings of humanity j 
 deriving no enjoyment from aught that inte- 
 rests in life, and occupies its varied hours ; her 
 existence was a mere blank, unless when in the 
 arms of her paramour husband, and therefore
 
 262 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 was it that she craved incessantly after the 
 horrible draught. It was even with the utmost 
 effort that she could forbear sucking even the 
 blood of Walter himself, as he reclined beside 
 her. Whenever she beheld some innocent 
 child, whose lovely face denoted the exube- 
 rance of infantine health and vigour, she would 
 entice it by soothing words and fond caresses 
 into her most secret apartment, where, lulling it 
 to sleep in her arms, she would suck from its 
 bosom the warm, purple tide of life. Nor were 
 youths of either sex safe from her horrid 
 attack: having first breathed upon her un- 
 happy victim, who never failed immediately to 
 sink into a lengthened sleep, she would then in 
 a similar manner drain his veins of the vital 
 juice. Thus children, youths, and maidens 
 quickly faded away, as flowers gnawn by the 
 cankering worm : the fullness of their limbs 
 disappeared ; a sallow hue succeeded to the 
 rosy freshness of their cheeks, the liquid lustre 
 of the eye was deadened, even as the sparkling 
 stream when arrested by the touch of frost; 
 and their locks became thin and grey, as if
 
 WAKi: NOT IIIE ui:ai). 26^ 
 
 already ravaged by the storm of life. Parents 
 beheld with horror this desolating pestilence 
 devouring their offspring-; nor could simple or 
 charm, potion or amulet avail aught against it. 
 The grave swallowed up one after the other ; 
 or did the miserable victim survive, he became 
 cadaverous and wrinkled even in the very morn 
 of existence. Parents observed with horror, 
 this devastating pestilence snatch away their 
 offspring — a pestilence which, nor herb how- 
 ever potent, nor charm, nor holy taper, nor 
 exorcism could avert. They either beheld 
 their children sink one after the other into (he 
 grave, or their youthful forms withered by (he 
 unholy, vampire embrace of Brunhilda assume 
 the decrepitude of sudden age. 
 
 At lengthstrange surmises and reports began 
 to prevail ; it was whispered that Brunhilda 
 iierself was the cause of all these horrors; 
 although no one could pretend to tell in what 
 manner she destroyed her victims, since no marks 
 of violence were discernable. Yet when young 
 children confessed that she had frequently 
 lulled them asleep in her arms, and elder ones
 
 264 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 said that a sudden slumber had come upon 
 them whenever she beoan to converse with 
 them, suspicion became converted into cer- 
 tainty, and those whose oflTspring- had hitherto 
 escaped unharmed, quitted their hearths and 
 home — all their little possessions — the dwell- 
 ings of their fathers and the inheritance of their 
 children, in order to rescue from so horrible a 
 fate those who were dearer to their simple 
 affections than aught else the world could 
 give. 
 
 Thus did the castle daily assume a more de- 
 solate appearance ; daily did its environs be- 
 come more deserted : none but a few aged de- 
 crepid old women and grey-headed menials 
 were to be seen remaining of the once numer- 
 ous retinue. Such will, in the latter days of the 
 earth, be the last generation of mortals, when 
 child-bearing shall have ceased, when youth 
 shall no more be seen, nor any arise to replace 
 those who shall await their fate in silence, 
 
 Walter alone noticed not, or heeded not, the 
 desolation around hin> ; he apprehended not 
 death, lapped as he was in a glowing clysium
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 265 
 
 of love Far more happy than formerly did he 
 now seem in the possession of Brunhilda. All 
 those caprices and frowns which had been wont 
 to overcloud their former union had now en- 
 tirely disappeared. She even seemed to dote 
 on him with a warmth of passion that she had 
 never exhibited even during the happy season of 
 bridal love ; for the flame of that youthful blood, 
 of which she drained the veins of others, rioted 
 in her own. At night, as soon as he closed his 
 eyes, she would breathe on him till he sank into 
 delicious dreams, from which be awoke only to 
 experience more rapturous enjoyments. By 
 day she would continually discourse with him 
 on the bliss experienced by happy spirits be- 
 yond the grave, assuring them that, as his affec- 
 tion had recalled her from the tomb, they were 
 now irrevocably united. Thus fascinated by a 
 continual spell, it was not possible that he 
 should perceive what was taking place around 
 him. Brunhilda, however, foresaw with savage 
 grief that the source of her youthful ardour was 
 daily decreasing, for, in a short time, there re- 
 mained nothing gifted with youth, save Walter
 
 266 WAKE NOT THE DEAD; 
 
 andi'his children, and these latter she resolved 
 should be her next victims. 
 
 On her first return to the castle, she had felt 
 an aversion towards the ofl^spring of another, 
 and therefore abandoned them entirely to the 
 attendants appointed by Swanhilda. Now, 
 however, she began to pay considerable atten- 
 tion to them, and caused them to be frequently 
 admitted into her presence. The aged nurses 
 were filled with dread at perceiving these marks 
 of regard from her towards their young charges, 
 yet dared they not to oppose the will of their 
 terrible and imperious mistress. Soon did Brun- 
 hilda gain the afl^ection of the children, who 
 were too unsuspecting of all guile to appre- 
 hend any danger from her ; on the contrary, 
 her caresses won them completely to her. In- 
 stead of ever checking their mirthful gambols, 
 she would rather instruct them in new sports; 
 often too did she recite to them tales of such 
 strange and wild interest as to exceed all the 
 stories of their nurses. Were they wearied 
 either with play or with listening to her narra- 
 tives, she would take them on her knees and
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 267 
 
 lull them to slumber. Then did visions of the 
 most surpassing magnificence attend their 
 dreams: they would fancy themselves in some 
 garden, where flowers of every hue rose in rows 
 one above the other, from the humble violet to 
 the tall sun-flower, forming a party-coloured 
 broidery of every hue, sloping upwards towards 
 the golden clouds, where little angels, whose 
 wings sparkled with azure and gold, descended 
 to bring them delicious cates, or splendid 
 jewels; or sung to them soothing melodious 
 hymns. So delightful did these dreams in short 
 time become to the children, that they longed for 
 nothing so eagerly as to slumber on JBrun- 
 hilda's lap, for never did they else enjoy such 
 visions of heavenly forms. Thus were they 
 raost anxious for that vrhich was to prove their 
 destruction : — yet do we not all aspire after 
 that which conducts us to the grave — after 
 the enjoyment of life? These innocents 
 stretched out their arms to approaching death, 
 because it assumed the mask of pleasure ; for, 
 while they were lapped in these exstatic slum- 
 bers, Brunhilda sucked the life-streaui from
 
 2GS WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 their bosoms. On waking, indeed, they felt 
 themselves faint and exhausted, yet did no 
 pain, nor any mark betray the cause. Shortly, 
 however, did their strength entirely fail, even 
 as the summer brook is gradually dried up: 
 their sports became less and less noisy | their 
 loud, frolicksome laughter was converted into 
 a faint smile; the full tones of their voices 
 died away into a mere whisper. Their atten- 
 dants were filled with horror and despair; too 
 well did they conjecture the dreadful truth, yet 
 dared not to impart their suspicions to Walter, 
 who was so devotedly attached to his horrible 
 partner. Death had already smote his prey : 
 the children were but the mere shadows of their 
 former selves, and even this shadow quickly 
 disappeared. 
 
 The anguished father deeply bemoaned their 
 loss, for, notwithstanding his apparent neglect, 
 he was strongly attached to them, nor until 
 he had experienced their loss, was he aware 
 that his love was so great. His affliction could 
 not fail to excite the displeasure of Brunhilda : 
 « Why dost thou lament so fondly," said she, 
 2
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 269 
 
 " for these little ones? What satisfaction could 
 such unformed beings yield to thee, unless 
 Ihou wert still attached to their mother? Thy 
 heart then is still hers ? Or dost thou now regret 
 her and them, because thou art satiated with 
 my fondness, and weary of my endearments ? 
 Had these young ones grown up, would they not 
 have attached thee, thy spirit and thy affections 
 more closely to this earth of clay — to this dust, 
 and have alienated thee from that sphere to 
 which I, who have already passed the grave, 
 endeavour to raise thee ? Say is thy spirit so 
 lumpish, or thy love so weak, or thy faith so 
 hollow, that the hope of being mine for ever is 
 unable to touch thee T' Thus did Brunhilda ex- 
 press her indignation at her consort's grief, and 
 forbade him her presence. The fear of offend- 
 ing her beyond forgiveness, and his anxiety to 
 appease her soon dried up his tears; and he 
 again abandoned himself to his fatal pas- 
 sion, until approaching destruction, at length 
 awakened him from his delusion. 
 
 Neither maiden, nor youth, was any longer 
 to be seen, either within the dreary walls of the
 
 270 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 castle, or the adjoining territory: — all hatl dis- 
 appeared ; for those whom the grave had not 
 swallowed up, had fled from the region of 
 death. Who, therefore, now remained to quench 
 the horrible thirst of the female vampire, save 
 Walter himself? and his death she dared to 
 contemplate unmoved ; for that divine senti- 
 ment that unites two beings in one joy and one 
 sorrow was unknown to her bosom. Was he 
 in his tomb, so was she free to search out other 
 victims, and glut herself with destruction, un- 
 til she herself should, at the last day, be con- 
 sumed with the earth itself: such is the fatal 
 law, to which the dead are subject, when awoke 
 by the arts of necromancy from the sleep of 
 the grave. 
 
 She now began to fix her blood-thirsty lips 
 on Walter's breast, when cast into a profound 
 sleep by the odour of her violet breath, he re- 
 clined beside her quite unconscious of his im- 
 pending fate : yet soon did his vital powers 
 begin to decay ; and many a grey hair peeped 
 through his raven locks. With his strength, 
 his passion also declined; and he now fre-
 
 Vake not the dead. 271 
 
 quently left Ler in order to pass the whole day 
 in the sports of the chase, hoping thereby, to 
 regain his wonted vigour. As he was reposing 
 one day in a wood beneath the shade of an oak, 
 he perceived, on the summit of a tree, a bird 
 of strange appearance, and quite unknown to 
 him ; but, before he could take aim at it with 
 his bow, it flew away into the clouds ; at the 
 same time, letting fall a rose-coloured root 
 which dropped at Walter's feet, who imme- 
 diately took it up, and, although he was well 
 acquainted with almost every plant, he could 
 not remember to have seen any at all resem- 
 bling this. Its delightfully odoriferous scent 
 induced him to try its flavour, but ten times 
 more bitter than wormwood, it was even as 
 gall in his mouth; upon which, impatient of 
 the disappointment, he flung it away with vio- 
 lence. Had he, however, been aware of its 
 miraculous quality, and that it acted as a 
 counter- charm against the opiate perfume of 
 Brunhilda's breath, he would have blessed 
 it spite of its bitterness : thus do mortals 
 often blindly cast away in displeasure, the
 
 272 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 unsavoury remedy that would otherwise work 
 their weal. 
 
 When Walter returned home in the evening, 
 and laid him down to repose as usual by 
 Brunhilda's side, the magic power of her breath 
 produced no eflect upon him; and, for the first 
 time during many months did he close his eyes 
 in a natural slumber. Yet hardly had he fallen 
 asleep, ere a pungent, smarting pain disturbed 
 him from his dreams ; and, opening his eyes, he 
 discerned, by the gloomy rays of a lamp, that 
 glimmered in the apartment, what for some 
 moments transfixed him quite aghast, for it 
 was Brunhilda, drawing with her lips, the warm 
 blood from his bosom. The wild cry of horror 
 which at length escaped him, terrified Brun- 
 hilda, whose mouth was besmeared with the 
 warm blood. " Monster !" exclaimed he, spring- 
 ing from the couch, " is it thus that you love me ? 
 " Aye, even as the dead love," replied she, 
 with a malignant coldness. 
 
 "Creature of blood !" continued Walter, "the 
 delusion which has so long blinded me is at aii 
 end : thou art the fiend who hast destroyed
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 273 
 
 my children — who hast murdered the offspring 
 of my vassals." Raising- herself upwards, and, 
 at the same time, casting on him a glance that 
 froze hira to the spot with dread, she replied : 
 " It is not I who have murdered them : — 
 I was obh'ged to pamper myself with warm 
 youthful blood, in order that I might satisfy 
 thy furious desires — thou art the murderer !" 
 — These dreadful words summoned, before 
 Walter's terrified conscience, the threatening- 
 shades of all those who had thus perished; 
 while despair choaked his voice. " Why," con- 
 tinued she, in a tone that increased his horror, 
 '* why dost thou make mouths at me like a 
 puppet? Thou who hadst the courage to love 
 the dead — to take into thy bed, one who had 
 been sleeping in the grave, the bed-fellow of the 
 worm — who hast clasped in thy lustful arms, the 
 corruption of the tomb — dost thou, unhallowed 
 as thou art, now raise this hideous cry for the 
 sacrifice of a few lives? — They are but leaves 
 swept from their branches by a storm. — Come, 
 chase these ideot fancies, and taste the bliss 
 thou hast so dearly purchased." So saying, she 
 Vol r. t
 
 274 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 extended her arms towards him ; but this motion 
 served only to increase his terror,and exclaiming: 
 " Accursed Being," — he rushed out of the 
 apartment. 
 
 All the horrors of a guilty, upbraiding con- 
 science became his companions, now that he 
 was awakened from the delirium of his unholy 
 pleasures. Frequently did he curse his own 
 obstinate blindness, for having given no heed to 
 the hints and admonitions of his children's 
 nurses, but treating them as vile calumnies. 
 But his sorrow was now too late, for, although 
 repentance may gain pardon for the sinner, it 
 cannot alter the immutable decrees of fate — it 
 cannot recall the murdered from the tonib. No 
 sooner did the first break of dawn appear, than 
 he sat out for his lonely castle in the moun- 
 tains, determined no longer to abide under the 
 same roof with so terrific a being ; yet vain was 
 his flight, for, on waking the following morning, 
 he perceived himself in Brunhilda's arms, and 
 quite entangled in her long raven tresses, which 
 seemed to involve him, and bind him in the 
 fetters of his fate; the powerful fascination of
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 275 
 
 her breath held him still more captivated, so 
 tJiat, forgetting all that had passed, he returned 
 her caresses, until awakening as if from a dream 
 he recoiled in unmixed horror from her em- 
 brace. During the day he wandered through 
 the solitary wilds of the mountains, as a culprit 
 seeking an asylum from his pursuers; and, at 
 night, retired to the shelter of a cave ; fearing 
 less to couch himself within such a dreary place, 
 than to expose himself to the horror of again 
 meeting Brunhilda ; but, alas ! it was in vain that 
 he endeavoured to flee her. Again, when he 
 awoke, he found her the partner of his miser- 
 able bed. Nay, had he sought the centre of 
 the earth as his hiding place; had he even 
 imbedded himself beneath rocks, or formed his 
 chamber in the recesses of the ocean, still had 
 he found her his constant companion ; for, by 
 calling her again into existence, he had ren- 
 dered himself inseparably hers ; so fatal were 
 the links that united them. 
 
 Struoolinir with the madness that was be- 
 oinning to seize him, and brooding incessantly 
 on the ghastly visions that presented them- 
 T 2
 
 276 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 selves to his horror stricken-mind, he lay 
 motionless in the gloomiest recesses of the 
 woods, even from the rise of sun till the shades 
 of eve. But, no sooner was the light of day 
 extinguished in the west, and the woods buried 
 in impenetrable darkness, than the apprehen- 
 sion of resigning himself to sleep drove him 
 forth among the open mountains. The storm 
 played wildly with the fantastic clouds, and 
 with the rattling leaves, as they were caught up 
 into the air, as if some dread spirit was sporting 
 with these images of transitoriness and decay : 
 it roared among the summits of the oaks as if 
 uttering a voice of fury, while its hollow 
 sound rebounding among the distant hills, 
 seemed as the moans of a departing sinner, or as 
 the faint cry of some wretch expiring under 
 the murderer's hand : the owl too, uttered its 
 ghastly cryas if forboding the wreck of nature. 
 Walter's hair flew disorderly in ihe wind, like 
 black snakes wreathing around his temples 
 and shoulders; while each sense was awake to 
 catch fresh horror. In the clouds he seemed 
 to behold the forms of the munlcred: in the
 
 WAKE NOT T1113 DEAD. 277 
 
 bowling wind to hear their laments and groans; 
 in the chilling- blast itself he felt the dire kiss 
 of Briinhilda; in the cry of the screeching 
 bird he heard her voice ; in the mouldering 
 leaves he scented the charnel-bed out of which 
 he had awakened her. " Murderer of thy own 
 offspring," exclaimed he in a voice making 
 night, and the conflict of the element still 
 more hideous, " paramour of a blood-thirsty 
 vampire, reveller with the corruption of the 
 tomb!" while in his despair he rent the wild 
 locks from his head. Just then the full moon 
 darted from beneath the bursting clouds; and 
 this sight recalled to his remembrance the 
 advice of the sorcerer, when he trembled at the 
 first apparition of Brunhilda rising from her 
 sleep of death; — namely, to seek him, at the 
 season of the full moon, in the mountains, 
 where three roads met. Scarcely had this 
 gleam of hope broke in on his bewildered mind 
 than he flew to the appointed spot. 
 
 On his arrival, Walter found the old man 
 seated there upon a stone, as calmly as though 
 it had been a bright sunny day, and Completely
 
 278 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 reg^ardless of the uproar around. " Art thou 
 come then?" exclaimed he to the breathless 
 wretch, who, flinging himself at his feet, cried 
 in a tone of anguish : " Oh save me — succour 
 me — rescue me from the monster that scattereth 
 death and desolation around her." 
 
 " 1 am acquainted with all," returned the 
 sorcerer ; " thou now perceivest how wholesome 
 was the advice — ♦ wake not the dead."' 
 
 " And wherefore a mere mysterious warning? 
 why didst thou not rather disclose to me, at 
 onco, all the horrors that awaited my sacrile- 
 gious profanation of the grave ?" 
 
 " Wert thou able to listen to any other voice 
 than that of thy impetuous passions ? Did not 
 thy eager impatience shut my mouth at the very 
 moment 1 would have cautioned thee?" 
 
 " True, true : — thy reproof is just : but what 
 does it avail now ; — I need the promptest aid."^ 
 
 " Well," replied the old man, "there remains 
 even yet a means of rescuing thyself, but it is 
 fraught with horror, and demands all thy re- 
 solution." 
 
 " Utter it then, utter it ; for what can be more
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 279 
 
 appalling-, more hideous than the misery 1 now 
 endure V 
 
 " Know then," continued the sorcerer, " that 
 only on the night of the new moon, does she sleep 
 the sleep of mortals; and then all the supernatural 
 power which she inherits from the grave totally 
 fails her. 'Tis then that thou must murder her." 
 
 " How ! murder her !" echoed Walter. 
 
 "Aye," returned the old man calmly, " pierce 
 her bosom with a sharpened dagger, which 1 
 will furnish thee with; at the same time renounce 
 her memory for ever, swearing- never to think of 
 her intentionally, and that, if thou dost involun- 
 tarily, thou wilt repeat the curse." e 
 
 " Most horrible ! yet what can be more hor- 
 rible than she herself is ? — I'll do it." 
 
 ♦' Keep then this resolution until the next new 
 moon." ' .* -iu .*.. 
 
 " What, must I wait until then ?" cried Walter, 
 " alas ere then, either her savage thirst for 
 blood will have forced me into the night of the 
 tomb, or horror will have driven me into the 
 night of madness." 
 
 " Nay," replied the sorcerer, " that I can
 
 280 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 prevent ;" and, so saying, he conducted him to 
 a cavern further among the mountains. " Abide 
 here twice seven days," said he ; " so long can 
 I protect thee against her deadly caresses. 
 Here wilt thou find all due provision for thy 
 wants ; but take heed that nothing tempt thee 
 to quit this place. Farewell, when the moon 
 renews itself, then do I repair hither again." 
 So saying, the sorcerer drew a magic circle 
 around the cave, and then immediately dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 Twice seven days did Walter continue in 
 this solitude, where his companions were his 
 own terrifying thoughts, and his bitter repent- 
 ance. The present was all desolate and dread; 
 the future presented the image of a horrible 
 deed, whicli he must perforce commit ; while 
 the past was empoisoned by the memory of his 
 guilt. Did he think on his former happy 
 union with Brunhilda, her horrible image pre- 
 sented itself to his imagination with her lips 
 defiled M'ith dropping blood : or, did he call to 
 mind the peaceful days he had passed with 
 Swanhilda, he beheld her sorrowful spirit, with
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 281 
 
 the shadows of her murdered children. Such 
 were the horrors that attended him by day : 
 those of niofht were still more dreadful, for then 
 he beheld Brunhilda herself, who, wandering 
 round the magic circle which she could not pass, 
 called upon his name, till the cavern re-echoed 
 the horrible sound. " A\^alter, my beloved," 
 cried she, wherefore dost thou avoid me ? art 
 thou not mine ? for ever mine — mine here, and 
 mine hereafter? And dost thou seek to murder 
 me? — ah I commit not a deed which hurls us 
 both to perdition — thyself as well as me." In 
 this manner did the horrible visitant torment 
 him each night, and, even when she departed, 
 robbed him of all repose. * " ** 
 
 The night of the new moon at length arrived, 
 dark as the deed it was doomed to bring forth. 
 The sorcerer entered the cavern ; " Come, said 
 lie to Walter, let us depart hence, the hour i^ 
 now arrived:" and he forthwith conducted himi 
 in silence from the grave, to a coal-black steed, 
 the sight of which recalled to Walter's remem- 
 brance the fatal night. He then related to tlie 
 old man Brunhilda's nocturnal visits, and anx-
 
 282 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 iously enquired wliellier her apprehensions of 
 eternal perdition would be fulfilled or not. 
 "Mortal eye," exclaimed (he sorcerer, "may 
 not pierce the dark secrets of another world, or 
 penetrate the deep abyss that separates earth 
 from heaven." Walter hesitated to mount the 
 steed." Be resolute," exclaimed his companion, 
 «' but this once is it granted to thee to make the 
 trial, and, should thou fail now, nought^ can 
 rescue thee from her power." 
 
 " What can be more horrible than she her-^ 
 self? — I am determined:" and he leaped on the 
 horse, the sorcerer mounting also behind him. 
 
 Carried with a rapidity equal to that of the 
 storm that sweeps across the plain, they in 
 brief space arrived at Walter's castle. All the 
 doors flew open at the bidding of his com- 
 panion, and they speedily reached Brunhilda's 
 chamber, and stood beside her couch. Reclining 
 in a tranquil slumber ; she re|)osed in all her 
 native loveliness, every trace of horror had dis- 
 appeared from her countenance ; she looked so 
 pure, meek and innocent that all the sweet 
 hours of their endearments rushed to Walter's
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 283 
 
 memory, like interceding angels pleading in her 
 behalf. His unnerved hand could not take 
 the dagger which the sorcerer presented to 
 him. " The blow must be struck even now :" 
 said the latter, " shouldst thou delay but an 
 hour, she will lie at day-break on thy bosom, 
 sucking the warm life-drops from thy heart." 
 
 " Horrible ! most horrible !" faultered the 
 trembling Walter, and turning away his face, he 
 thrust the dagger into her bosom, exclaiming : 
 " I curse thee for ever !"•— and the cold blood 
 gushed upon his hand. Opening her eyes once 
 more, she cast a look of ghastly horror on her 
 husband, and, in a hollow dying acceijt said : — 
 " Thou too art doomed to perdition." 
 
 " Lay now thy hand upon her corse," said the 
 sorcerer, " and swear the oath." — Walter did as 
 commanded, saying: — "Never will I think of 
 her with love, never recall her to mind inten- 
 tionally, and, should her image recur to my 
 mind involuntarily, so will I exclaim to it: be 
 thoU accursed." 
 
 " Thou hast now done every thing," returned 
 the sorcerer ; — restore her therefore to the earth, 
 from which thou so foolishly recalled her ; and
 
 284 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 be sure to recollect thy oatli : for, shouidst tliow 
 forget it but once, she wouid return, and thou 
 wouldst be inevitably lost. Adieu : we see each 
 other no more." Having- uttered these words he 
 quitted the apartment, and Walter also fled 
 from this abode of horror, having- first given 
 directions that the corse should be speedily 
 interred. 
 
 Again did the terrific Brunhilda repose 
 within her grave ; but her image continually 
 haunted Walter's imagination, so that his ex- 
 istence was one continued martyrdom, in which 
 he continually struggled, to dismiss from his 
 recollection the hideous phantoms of the past; 
 yet, the stronger his effort to banish them, so 
 much the more frequently and the more vividly 
 did they return ; as the night-wanderer, who is 
 enticed by a fire-wisp into quagmire or bog, 
 sinks the deeper into his damp grave the more 
 he struggles to escape. His injagination seemed 
 incapable of admitting- any other image than 
 that of Brunhilda: now he fiincied he beheld 
 her expiring, the blood streaming from her 
 beautiful bosom : at others he saw the lovely 
 bride of his youth, who reproached liim with
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 285 
 
 liaviflo' disturbed the slumbers of her tomb: 
 and to both he was compelled to utter the 
 dreadful words, "1 curse thee forever." The 
 terrible imprecation was constantly passing his 
 lips ; yet was he in incessant terror lest he 
 should forget it, or dream of her without being- 
 able to repeat it, and then, on awaking, find 
 himself in her arms. Else would he recall her 
 expiring words, and, appalled at their terrific 
 import, imagine that the doom of his perdition 
 was irrecoverably passed. Whence should he 
 fly from himself? or how erase from his brain 
 these images and forms of horror ? In the din 
 of combat, in the tumult of war and its inces- 
 sant pour of victory to defeat ; from the cry of 
 anguish to the exultation of victory — in these 
 he hoped to find at least the relief of distrac- 
 tion : but here too he was disappointed. The 
 giant fang of apprehension now seized him who 
 had never before known fear: each drop of 
 blood that sprayed upon him seemed the cold 
 blood that had gushed from Brunhilda's wound; 
 each dying wretch that fell beside him looked 
 like her, when expiring, she exclaimed: " Thou
 
 286 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 too art doomed to perdition," so that the as- 
 pect of death seemed more full of dread to him 
 than aught beside, and this unconquerable terror 
 compelled him to abandon the battle-field. 
 At lena^th, after many a weary and fruitless 
 wandering he returned to his castle. Here all 
 was deserted and silent, as if the sword, or a 
 still more deadly pestilence had laid every 
 thing waste : for the few inhabitants that still 
 remained, and even those servants who had 
 once shewn themselves the most attached, now 
 fled from him, as though he had been branded 
 with the mark of Cain. With horror he perceiv- 
 ed that, by uniting himself as he had done with 
 the dead, he had cut himself off from the living, 
 who refused to hold any intercourse with him. 
 Often, when he stood on the battlements of 
 his castle, and looked down upon desolate 
 fields, he compared their present solitude with 
 the lively activity they were wont to exhibit, 
 under the strict but benevolent discipline of 
 Swanhilda. He now felt that she alone could 
 reconcile him to life, but durst he hope that 
 one, whom he had so deeply agrievcd, could
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 287 
 
 pardon him, and receive him again ? Impati- 
 ence at length got the better of fear ; he sought 
 Swanhilda, and, with the deepest contrition, 
 acknowledged his comph'cated guilt ; embra- 
 cing her knees he beseeched her to pardon him, 
 and to return to his desolate castle, in order that 
 it might again become the abode of contentment 
 and peace. The pale form which she beheld 
 at her feet, the shadow of the lately blooming 
 youth, touched Swanhilda. " Thy folly," said 
 she gently, " though it has caused me much sor- 
 row, has never excited my resentment or my 
 anger. But say, where are my children ? To 
 this dreadful interrogation the agonized father 
 could for a while frame no reply : at length he 
 was obliged to confess the dreadful truth. 
 "Then we are asundered for ever," returned 
 Swanhilda; nor could all his tears or supplica- 
 tions prevail upon her to revoke the sentence 
 she had given. 
 
 Stripped of his last earthly hope, bereft of his 
 last consolation, and thereby rendered as poor 
 as mortal can possibly be on this side of the 
 grave, Walter returned homewards ; when, as
 
 288 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 he was riding through the forest in the neigh- 
 bourhood of his castle, absorbed in his gloomy 
 meditations, the sudden sound of a horn roused 
 him from his reverie. Shortly after he saw appear 
 a female figure clad in black, and mounted on 
 a steed of the same colotir : her attire was like 
 that of a huntress, but, instead of a falcon she 
 bore a raven on her hand ; and she was attend- 
 ed by a gay troop of cavaliers and dames. The 
 first salutations being passed, he found that 
 she was proceeding the same road as himself; 
 and, when she found that Walter's castle was 
 close at hand, she requested that he would 
 lodge her for that night, the evening being far 
 advanced. Most willingly did he comply with 
 this request, since the appearance of the beau- 
 tiful stranger had struck him greatly ; so won- 
 derfully did she resemble Swanhilda, except 
 that her locks were brown, and her eye dark 
 and full of fire. With a sumptuous banquet 
 did he entertain his guests, whose mirth and 
 songs enlivened the lately silent halls. Three 
 days did this revelry continue, and so exhila- 
 rating did it prove to Walter, that he seemed 
 1
 
 WAKE NOT THU DEAD. 289 
 
 to have forgotten his sorrows and his fears ; nor 
 could he prevail upon himself to dismiss his 
 visitors, dreading lest, on their departure, the 
 castle would seem a hundred times more de- 
 solate than before, and his grief be propor- 
 tionably increased. At his earnest request, th*^ 
 strajiger consented to stay seven days, and 
 again another seven days. Without being re- 
 quested, she took upon herself the superinten- 
 dance of the household, which she regulated 
 as discreetly and cheerfully as Swanhilda had 
 been wont to do, so that the castle, which had so 
 lately been the abode of melancholy aud hor- 
 ror, became the residence of pleasure and festi- 
 vity, and Walter's grief disappeared altogether 
 in the midst of so much gaiety. Daily did his 
 attachment to the fair unknown increase; he 
 even made her his confidante ; and, one evening 
 as they were walking together apart from any 
 of her train, he related to her his melancholy 
 and frightful history. " My dear friend," re- 
 turned she, as soon as he had finished his tale, 
 " it ill beseems a man of thy discretion to 
 afflict thyself, on account of all this. Thou 
 Vol I. u
 
 290 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 t 
 
 hast awakened the dead from the sleep of the 
 grave, and afterwards found, — what might have 
 been anticipated, that the dead possess no sym- 
 pathy with life. What then ? thou wilt not com- 
 mit this error a second time. Thou hast how- 
 ever murdered the being whom thou hadst thus 
 recalled again into existence — but it was only 
 in appearance, for thou couldst not deprive that 
 of life, which properly had none. Thou hast 
 too, lost a wife and two children : but, at your 
 years, such a loss is most easily repaired. 
 There are beauties M'ho will gladly share your 
 couch, and make you again a father. But you 
 dread the reckoning of hereafter: — go, open 
 the graves and ask the sleepers there whether 
 that hereafter disturbs them." In such manner 
 would she frequently exhort and cheer Walter, 
 and, so successful were her efforts, that, in a 
 short time, his melancholy entirely disappeared. 
 lie now ventured to declare to the unknown 
 the passion with which she had inspired him, 
 nor did she refuse him her hand. Within seven 
 days afterwards the nuptials were celebrated 
 with the utmost majrnificenco : with the first
 
 WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 291 
 
 dawn of day commenced the labours of those 
 who were busied in preparing the festival ; and, 
 if the walls of the castle had often echoed 
 before to the sounds of mirth and revelry, the 
 very foundations now seemed to rock from the 
 wild tumultuous uproar of unrestrained riot. 
 The wine streamed in abundance; the goblets 
 circled incessantly : intemperance reached its 
 utmost bounds, while shouts of laughter, almost 
 resembling madness, burst from the numerous 
 train belonging to the unknown. At length 
 Walter, heated with wine and love, conducted 
 his bride into the nuptial chamber: but, oh 
 horror! scarcely had he clasped her in his 
 arms, ere she transformed herself into a mon- 
 strous serpent, which, entwining him in its hor- 
 rid folds, crushed him to death. Flames crackled 
 on every side of the apartment ; in a few minutes 
 after, the whole castle was enveloped in a blaze 
 that consumed it entirely: while, as the walls 
 fell in with a horrid crash, a voice exclaimed 
 
 aloud — WAKE NOT THE DEAD. 
 
 u ~
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 In the neighbourhood of the Harz mountaitis, 
 there hved a knight who was commonly called 
 Auburn Egbert. He wa^ about forty years of 
 age, of a middle stature, and his short auburn 
 hair, lay smooth and close upon his pale ema- 
 ciated countenance. His time was chiefly spent 
 in retirement ; he never mingled in the quar- 
 rels of his neighbours, and he was rarely seen 
 without the circle of his own castle walls. His 
 wife was equally fond of solitude with himself; 
 both appeared to love each other wiHi the 
 warmest affection ; and their only comphiint 
 was, that Heaven had not blessed their mar- 
 riage with children. — Egbert was seldom 
 troubled with guests, and, when he wa!<, noihing
 
 294 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 on their account was changed in the ordinary 
 stile of his living; frugality resided at his 
 board, and every thing seemed to be arranged 
 by economy herself. On such occasions, 
 Egbert was lively and cheerful. It was only 
 when alone, that his neighbours observed in 
 him a certain shyness of manner, and a silent 
 reserved melancholy. 
 
 No one came so frequently to the castle 
 as Philip Walther; a man whom Egbert was 
 attached to, because he found him possessed 
 of similar tastes vk'ith those be was most given 
 to himself. Walther's own residence Mas in 
 Franconia ; but he had lately tarried for more 
 than half a year in the neighbourhood of 
 Egbert's castle, collecting plants and fossils, 
 and his chief occupation consisted in arrang- 
 ing them. He had a small property of his own, 
 sufficient to render him independent, and on 
 that he lived. Egbert frequently accompanied 
 him in his solitary walks, and with every year, 
 a more intimate friendship arose between them. 
 
 There are certain moments in which we all 
 feel uneasy at the possession of a secret, un.
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 295 
 
 tuown to some clear and particular friend, 
 however, carefully we may Iiave Litlierto con- 
 cealed it ; tbe soul then feels an irresistible 
 impulse to communicate itself, to open its in- 
 most recesses to a friend, in order that he may 
 become so much the more our friend. It is in 
 such moments that feeling souls discover them- 
 selves to each other; and it also sometimes 
 happens, that the one starts back from an ac- 
 quaintance with the other. 
 
 It was on a foggy evening, in the autumn of 
 the year that Egbert and his wife and friend 
 were seated round a fire on the hearth ; the 
 flames cast a cheerful light through the room, 
 and played against the cieling; the gloominess 
 of the night was only reflected through the 
 windows, and the trees without shook with a 
 humid coldness. Walther complained of the 
 long walk he had to take; and Egbert pro- 
 posed, thai he should remain with ihom ; that 
 they should pass half the night in friendly con- 
 versation, and that then he might sleep in an 
 adjoining chamber. Walther accepted the 
 proposal ; tbe wine and supper were brought
 
 2;)() AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 in ; a fresh log- was laid upon the fire, and the 
 conversation of the friends became more lively 
 and confidential. 
 
 When supper was removed, and the servants 
 dismissed, Egbert took Walther by the hand 
 and said: ♦' My good friend you must let my 
 wife relate to you the story of her youth, 'tis 
 indeed an extraordinary narrative." " With 
 pleasure," replied Walther ; and they now re- 
 sumed their places round the fire. 
 
 By this time it was midnight, and the moon 
 only shown at intervals through the fleeting 
 clouds which obscured her. "You must not con- 
 sider me iniportunate," said Bertha, as she 
 began her tale, " but my husband tells me you 
 think so nobly, that it would be an act of injus- 
 tice to conceal any thing from you; only do not 
 conceive my narrative a fable, however ex- 
 traordinary it may sound. 
 
 ♦' [ was born in a small village; my father 
 was a poor herdsman. The domestic economy 
 of my parents was not of the best kind, for it 
 frequently happened, that they did not know 
 from whence thoy should procure our bread
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 297 
 
 for the day's consumption. But what increased 
 my affliction, was the frequent bickerings of 
 my father and mother, concerning their po- 
 verty; on which occasions, they loaded each 
 other with the bitterest reproaches. Of myself, 
 I constantly heard, that 1 was a silly stupid 
 child, who was incapable of doing the most 
 trifling thing; and in truth, 1 was extremely 
 aukward and helpless. I let every thing fall 
 out of my hands, 1 learned neither to sew or to 
 spin, I could give no assistance in the house- 
 keeping, and the only thing I had any con- 
 ception of, was the wants of my parents. On 
 such occasions, I frequently sate myself down 
 in a corner, and filled my imagination with 
 the manner in which I would assist them, 
 should 1 suddenly become rich ; how I would 
 shower down upon them heaps of gold and 
 silver, and delight myself with their astonish- 
 ment. 1 then saw spirits float before me, who 
 discovered tome subterranean treasures, or who 
 presented me with a number of small pebbles, 
 Avhich were suddenly transformed to diamonds ;
 
 298 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 itj short, I occupied myself with the most won- 
 derful fancies, and when 1 was obliged to rise, 
 in order to give my assistance in any thing, I 
 was still more auk ward, because my head yet 
 ran round with all these extraordinary notions. 
 
 " My father was always extremely Cross to 
 me for being such a useless burthen in the 
 house ; he, consequently, treated me harshly, 
 and it was seldom I heard a friendly word 
 from him. In this manner, I reached my eighth 
 year, and serious preparations were now made 
 for making me learn or do something. My father 
 believed it was either caprice or indolence in 
 me, that I might pass my days in idleness; and 
 under this impression, he first assailed me with 
 terrible threats. Finding these to be of no avail, 
 he punished me in the most cruel manner; and 
 concluded with assuring me, that a similar chas- 
 tisement should return, with every succeeding 
 day, if I still continued such a useless creature. 
 " The whole night through 1 wept bitterly ; I 
 felt so totally desolate, and my case so extrenielj^ 
 pitiable, that 1 wished to die. 1 feared the
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 299 
 
 break of the approaching- day ; I knew not 
 what 1 should set about ; 1 wished myself every 
 possible dexterity; and could, on no account, 
 conceive what had made me more stupid than 
 all the other children of my acquaintance, I 
 was almost in despair. 
 
 ♦'I arose with the dawn of morning, and 
 almost without knowing what 1 did, I opened 
 the door of our little cottage. I gtood in the 
 open tield ; I was goon in the wood, into which^ 
 the day as yet had scarcely penetrated j 
 I ran continually forwards, without looking 
 once behind me ; 1 felt no lassitude, for I 
 feared my father would overtake me, and irri- 
 tated by my flight, treat me still more cruelly. 
 By the time 1 had reached the other side of the 
 wood, the sun was somewhat high ; 1 now saw 
 something dusky lying before me which was 
 covered by a thick fog. Sometimes 1 was 
 obliged to clamber over hills, sometimes to 
 follow the path which wound between the 
 rocks, and 1 now surmised I must be among 
 the neighbouring mountains, the thought of
 
 300 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 wliicli, ill such a solitude, awakened my fears. 
 For in the plain where we lived, I had never 
 seen any hills, and the very name of moun- 
 tains, when 1 heard them mentioned, was to my 
 childish ear, a frightful sound. I had not the 
 heart to go back ; even my very anxieties 
 drove me forwards. 1 often looked round with 
 terror as the wind passed over me through the 
 trees ; or the sound of the distant axe echoed 
 through the stillness of the morning; and, at 
 length, as I met the colliers and miners going 
 to their labour, and heard a foreign accent, I 
 had nearly swooned with affright. 
 
 " I passed through several villages, and begged 
 for food ; for 1 now felt hungry and thirsty ; 
 and managed tolerably well when any questions 
 were put to me relative to myself. In this 
 manner, I had wandered for about four days, 
 when I struck into a little foot-path which 
 continually brought me more distant from the 
 high road. The rocks now around me, as- 
 sumed a much more singular form. They 
 were craggs, so piled upon each other, that it
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 301 
 
 seemed as if the first breeze of wind would 
 precipitate them to the earth. I was undeter- 
 mined whether I should proceed further. 
 Hitherto, during the night, I had slept in the 
 woods, or in the temporary huts of the shep- 
 herds, for it was at the finest season of the year ; 
 here, however, I found no human dwelling, 
 nor in such a wilderness could 1 hope to meet 
 with one. The rocks became constantly more 
 terrific. I was obliged frequently to pass close 
 beside yawning precipices ; and, at length, the 
 path lost itself under my feet. I became totally 
 comfortless ; I wept and screamed aloud, but 
 the valley of rocks only echoed back my voice, 
 in a manner which increased my terrors. The 
 night now drew on ; and 1 sought out a seat of 
 moss, on which I might repose. 1 could not 
 sleep ; during the night 1 heard the most sin- 
 gular sounds, which 1 either ascribed to the 
 cries of wild beasts, to the wind moaning 
 through the rocks, or the voices of strange and 
 uncommon birds. 
 
 " 1 prayed fervently, and first fell asleep to- 
 wards the morning.
 
 JJ02 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 I awoke as the day shone in my face. Before 
 me rose a steep rock. 1 climbed to the top of 
 So it, with a hope of discovering an outlet to the 
 wilderness, or peradventure of beholding the 
 habitations of men. On reaching the summit, 
 I could only perceive that every thing, as far 
 as my eye could reach, as well as all around 
 me, was covered with a misty vapour ; the 
 morning was gray and lowering, and my eye 
 could discover neither tree or meadow, no, not 
 even a bush, except a few single shrubs, which 
 sad and solitary, shot forth from the narrow 
 clefts in the rocks. It is impossible to describe the 
 desire 1 felt of beholding a human being, even 
 though his appearance would have filled me 
 with fear of him. At the same time, I was 
 oppressed with a dreadful hunger ; 1 sate my- 
 self down and determined to die. After a time, 
 the love of life overpowered my resolution ; I 
 collected my drooping spirits, and, amid tears 
 and broken sighs, I walked the whole day long* ; 
 towards its close, I was hardly conscious of what 
 I did ; I was fatigued and exhausted ; I scarcely . 
 wished to live and yet was fearfjd of death.
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 303 
 
 As the evening- advanced, the country around 
 appeared sonriewhat more clieerf "ul ; my thoughts, 
 ray wishes revived; the love of life awoke in 
 all my veins. I fancied I now heard the mur- 
 muring of a distant mill; I doubled my foot- 
 steps, and how well and how light did [ feel, 
 when, at length, having- reached the limits of 
 the barren rocks, I saw lying before me woods 
 and meadows, and a range of distant moun- 
 tains. I feti^jusfa^if I had emerged from the 
 regions of torment, into paradise; the solitude 
 and my helplessness appeared in no way ter- 
 rific to me. 
 
 " My joy indeed was considerably lessened, 
 on finding a waterfall instead of the hoped for 
 mill; I collected a draught from the brook in 
 my hand, when, suddenly, I heard a gentle 
 cough at some distance from me. Never was I 
 so agreeably surprized as at this moment. I 
 advanced, and at the corner' of the wood, I per- 
 ceived an old woman who seemed to be resting 
 herself. She was almost entirely clothed in 
 black ; a black hood covered her head and the
 
 y04 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 greatest part of her Jstep, and iii her hand she 
 held a small crutch.\\l approached her, and 
 solicited her assistance, she desired me to sit 
 down beside her, and offered me some bread 
 and a little wine. While I sate, she sang in a 
 screaming tone a religious hymn. When she 
 had finished it, she told me I might follow 
 her. 
 
 " I was much rejoiced at this offer, strange 
 as the voice and the manner of the old woman 
 appeared to me. With the aid of her crutch 
 she walked tolerably swift ; and, at every step, 
 distorted her countenance in such a manner, 
 that, at first, I could not refrain from Inughing. 
 The barren rocks seemed gradually to retire 
 behind us. We crossed a delightful meadow, 
 and then passed through a wood of considerable 
 extent. Just as we came out of the wood, the 
 sun went down, and I shall never forget the 
 aspect and the scene upon that evening. 
 Every thing was dissolved in the softest 
 Vermillion and gold ; the tops of the trees 
 were brigthly tinged by the rays of the
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 305 
 
 settiuo^ sun -, an ecstatic glow lay upon the 
 fields: the concave of heaven beamed like an 
 unfolded paradise ; and the purling of the 
 fountains, and, from time to time, the murmurs 
 of the trees, cast a gentle sound amid the sere- 
 nity of the scene, more like the emotions 
 of a pensive, than an animated joy. My young 
 soul now first imbibed a foreboding of the world 
 and its events. 1 forgot both myself and my 
 leader ; my spirits and my eyes could only rove 
 amid the golden clouds. — We now ascended 
 a hill planted with birch-trees ; a green valley 
 filled with the same was perceived from the 
 top ; and, amid the trees below, lay a small 
 cottage. A lively bark now saluted our ears, 
 and presently a nimble little dog sprang for- 
 wards to the old woman, capering and wagging 
 his tail : he then came to me, looked at me ou 
 every side, and again turned to the old woman 
 with the same friendly greetings. As we de- 
 scended the hill 1 heard a wonderful song, 
 which appeared to come from the cottage, and 
 as if a bird were to sing thus : 
 Vol I. X
 
 306 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 The green-wood tree 
 
 So lonely, 
 AUureth me ; 
 
 And only. 
 In solitude 
 I find delight. 
 
 The woods prolong 
 
 So clearly. 
 My jocund song 
 
 And dearly, 
 I love the wood 
 By day or night. 
 
 These words were constantly repeated, and, 
 should 1 describe their effect, it was almost 
 like French horns and bugles ming-ling their 
 notes at a distance. My curiosity was now 
 wonderfully excited ; I entered the cottage 
 without waiting for the old woman's com- 
 mand. It was now light, every thing was ar- 
 ranged with preciseness : a few goblets stood 
 upon a shelf, odd-shaped vessels upon a table : in 
 a brilliant cage, suspended at the window, was a 
 bird, and he it really was who sang the words. (>
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 307 
 
 The old woman panted and coughed, she 
 seemed as if she would never recover; she now 
 palled and stroked the little dog ; now spoke to 
 the bird, who only answered her with his 
 usual song : she, moreover, conducted herself 
 exactly as if I were not present. Whenever I 
 looked upon her, a cold shivering would run 
 over me ; for her face was in constant motion, 
 and her head so shook with age that I could by 
 no means ascertain what she really looked like. 
 As soon as she had recovered herself, she 
 lighted a candle, spread a very small table, and 
 brought forth the evening's repast. She then 
 looked towards me, and bade me take one of 
 the reed-bottomed chairs. I sate directly oppo- 
 site her ; and the candle stood between us. She 
 folded her bony-wrinkled hands, and prayed 
 aloud ; still making the same distortions of 
 countenance, so that I was very near bursting* 
 into laughter again — but I restrained myself 
 lest 1 should make the old woman angry. 
 
 "After supper she prayed again, and then 
 shewed me to a bed in a low narrow chamber: 
 she slept in the eating room. 1 did not remain 
 X 2
 
 J308 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 long awake, for I was already half asleep; but 
 1 awoke several times during the night, and 
 I then heard the old woman cough, and speak 
 to the dog ; and, at intervals, to the bird, who 
 appeared to be dreaming, and sang only single 
 words of his song. This, together with the 
 rustling of the birch-trees before the window, 
 and the song of a distant nightingale, made 
 such a wonderful medley, that it seemed as if I 
 did not wake, but that at each time I fell into 
 a more extraordinary dream. 
 
 *' In the morning the old woman awakened 
 me, and shortly after set me to work. She 
 desired me to spin, and this 1 now soon got 
 into the method of. I had likewise to look 
 after the doo- and the bird. I soon learned to 
 manage the house-keeping, and every object 
 around became familiar to me ; iniowapj^eared 
 to me that everything rgiust be as J^ was. 
 I no longer thought the old woman had any 
 thing singular about her, that the house was 
 out of the conuuon, and lay remote from all 
 mankind ; or that there was any thing extraor- 
 dinary in the bird. 1 was always struck with
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 309 
 
 his beauty, for his plumage shone with every 
 possible colour: the most beautiful sky-blue, 
 and the most glowing red, alternately min- 
 gled on his neck and body ; and, when he sang, 
 he puffed himself proudly out, so that his 
 feathers acquired additional brilliancy, f-bio^'- 
 - "^ The old woman frequently went out in (he 
 morning, and did not return until the evening. On 
 such occasions I went with the dog to meet her, 
 and she called me her child and her daughter. At 
 length I became heartily attached to her; as in 
 fact the mind, particularly in childhood, accus- 
 toms itself to every thing. In the evening she 
 taught me to read ; 1 soon made progress, and 
 afterwards, in my solitude, it became a source of 
 infinite pleasure, for she had some books, 
 written in an ancient character, containing the 
 most marvellous stories.lfl The recollection of 
 my then mode of life, always aflects me in a 
 singular manner, even at the present day. 
 Visited by no human creature, confined to so 
 small a family circle, even the dog and the bird 
 made an impression upon me, as in other cases 
 only long known friends can produce. 1 have 
 never been able since to recollect the extra-
 
 310 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 ordinary name of the dog, often as at that time 
 1 called him. 
 
 *' It was thus that I had lived four years with 
 the old woman, and might be about twelve 
 years of age, when she chose to give me more 
 of her confidence, and disclosed a secret to me. 
 Every day the bird laid an egg, containing 
 either a pearl or a diamond, I had daily ob- 
 served her occupied about something in secret 
 at the cage, but 1 had never troubled myself 
 further about it. She now commissioned me 
 in her absence, to take out the eggs, and pre- 
 serve them carefully in the odd-shaped vessels 
 I have mentioned. She left me my food, and 
 her absences became of greater duration,— 
 weeks, aye, months elapsed; my spinning- 
 wheel hummed, the dog barked, the wonderful 
 bird sang, and every thing in the neighbour- 
 hood was so tranquil withal, that during the 
 M'hole time I do not recollect a single storm of 
 rain or thunder ; no person lost their way hither ; 
 no wild beast came near our dwelling — 1 was 
 contented, and laboured on from one day to the 
 other. 
 
 ** Our ha|)piness, perhaps, would be complete.
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 311 
 
 could we continue our lives in this undi- 
 sturbed manner to the end. 
 
 " From the little which J read, I filled ray 
 imagination with wonderful notions of the world 
 and mankind ; every thing was taken from my- 
 self and my companions ; if the subject turned 
 on lively people, I could not conceive them to 
 be otherwise than the little dog; ladies arrayed 
 in splendid robes always looked like the bird, 
 and I thought every old woman must be like 
 my wonderful old dame. I had also read some- 
 thing of love, and now acted in my imagination, 
 the most extraordinary stories with myself. I 
 fancied the handsomest knight in the world ; I 
 endowed him with every perfection, without pro- 
 perly knowing, after all my labours, how he ap- 
 peared ; but I could really compassionate my- 
 self, when he did not return my love, I then 
 spoke long moving speeches to myself, and 
 sometimes aloud, in order to win him. You 
 smile — we are, indeed, all of us past this time 
 of youth. 
 
 " I now felt best pleased when alone, for I 
 was then mistress of the house. The doff was
 
 cii 
 
 i 
 
 3J2 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 exceedingly attached to me, and did every tbing' 
 I wished; the bird replied to all my questions 
 with his song' ; my spinning-wheel revolved in 
 its lively round, and 1 really never felt a wish 
 for change. When the old woman returned 
 from her long perambulation she praised my 
 attention — said her house-keeping was much 
 better conducted since I had belonged to it; 
 praised my growth, and my healthy appearance ; 
 and, in fact, demeaned herself towards me, as if 
 1 had been her daughter. 
 
 " Thou art a good child;" she once said to 
 me, in her hoarse guttural tone; " shouldst 
 thou continue in this course, all will be well with 
 thee ; but, when we once depart from the path 
 of rectitude, prosperity ceases, and punishment 
 always ensues, be it ever so late." 1 did not pay 
 much attention to her while she was saying 
 this, for, in all my movements and in my whole 
 being, 1 was extremely volatile; but at night it 
 recurred to me again, and I was at a loss to con- 
 ceive her meaning. 1 reflected anxiously upon 
 every word ; I had, indeed, heard of riches, 
 and at length it occurred to me that her pearls
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 313 
 
 and diamonds miglit be things of vahip. This 
 idea soon became clearer to me. But what 
 could she mean by the path of rectitude? the 
 import of her words were still not wholly intel- 
 JigiWe^tojme. _ 
 
 " 1 was now fourteen years of age, and it is 
 a misfortune for mankind, that we do but at- 
 tain our understanding in order to lose the inno- 
 cence of our souls. I now clearly saw that it 
 entirely depended upon myself during the old 
 woman's absence, to take the bird and the pre- 
 cious stones, and with these to seek that world I 
 had read so much about. It might, perhaps, 
 at the same lime be possible to meet with this 
 very handsome knight, whom 1 still held in my 
 remembrance. 
 
 " At first this thought was no more than any 
 other thought, but when I sat at ray wheel, it 
 constantly returned even against ray will, and 
 I so lost myself in its mazes, that I already 
 saw myself, in fancy, most magnificently attired, 
 and surrounded by a train of knights and princes. 
 When I had thus forgotten myself, 1 became 
 heartily grieved on looking up, and finding
 
 •< 
 
 314 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 myself still in the old habitation. In other re- 
 spects, if I did ray work, the old woman troubled 
 / herself no further about my behaviour. 
 tP " One day my hostess went forth, and told me 
 that this time her absence would be longer than 
 usual ; that 1 must pay particular attention to 
 everything, and not let the time hang heavy upon 
 my hands. I took leave of her with a certain un- 
 easiness of mind, for it seemed as if I should 
 never see her again. I followed her with my 
 looks for a considerable time, I knew not where- 
 fore 1 was so uneasy ; it was almost as if my in- 
 tention stood before me without my being 
 clearly goiiscious of it. 
 
 " Never did I feed the dog and the bird with 
 such assiduity ; they lay more upon my mind 
 than ever. The old woman had been absent 
 some days, when one morning 1 rose with a 
 fixed determination of forsaking the cottage, 
 of taking the bird with me, and seeking out the 
 world, as it was called. My mind seemed con- 
 fined and oppressed ; 1 still wished to remain, 
 and yet the thought was hateful to me : I felt a 
 singular struggle in my soul, like the contention
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 315 
 
 between two opposing- spirits. At one moment 
 the tranqnil solitude of the place appeared so 
 charming, and then the idea of a new world, 
 with all its wonderful varieties, so filled me with 
 transports. 
 ^ "I knew not what to do; the dog jumped 
 upon me incessantly, the rays of the sun lay 
 brightly upon the fields, the vivid green of the 
 birch-trees glittered in the light; I felt a sen 
 sation as if I had something to do, which must 
 be done speedily ; I therefore seized the little 
 dog, bound him fast in the room, and then took 
 the cage under my arm. The dog barked and 
 moaned at this unusual treatment, looked at me 
 with imploring eyes ; but 1 was afraid to take 
 him with me. However, I took one of the 
 vessels filled with precious stones, and put it into 
 my pocket, the others I left where they stood. 
 " As I went out of the door, the bird turned 
 round his head with a singular expression of 
 manner; the dog made many endeavours to 
 come after me, but he was compelled to remain 
 behind. I avoided the way towards the barren 
 rocks, and proceeded in an opposite direction. 
 
 ,^4
 
 316 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 The dog- barked and moaned continually, and 
 the sound of his cries moved me to the very 
 heart; the bird sometimes attempted to begin 
 his song-, but probably tbe motion of being car- 
 ried made it inconvenient to him. The further 
 1 advanced, the barking became fainter, and 
 at last, it entirely, cea^jed. 1 wept, and was very 
 near returning ; but the desire of seeing some 
 thino- new, impelled me forwards. 
 ^ "1 had already passed the mountains, and 
 traversed the adjoining woods, when the even- 
 ing approached, and compelled me to enter a 
 village. As 1 walked into an inn, 1 was over- 
 whelmed with bashfulness ; I was shewn into 
 a room with a bed in it, and I slept tolerably 
 tranquil, except that I dreamed of the old 
 woman who seemed to threaten me. 
 
 My journey was pretty uniform, but the fur- 
 ther 1 went, the more 1 was tormented with 
 the idea of the old woman and the dog: I 
 thought it possible he might starve without my 
 assislance, and in every wood I feared the old 
 woman Mould suddenly start out upon me. Thus, 
 auiid tears and sighs, I continued my way ;
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 317 
 
 whenever I rested, and placed the cage upon 
 the ground, the bird sang his wonderful song ; 
 and on such occasions, I was filled with the 
 most lively recollections of the beautiful abode 
 1 had deserted. So forgetful is human nature, 
 that I thought my present journey much more 
 miserable than that 1 had made in my child- 
 hood : 1 wished to be again in the same 
 situation. 
 \j^ "1 sold some of the diamonds, and, after a 
 peregrination of a few days, 1 reached a small 
 village. Immediately upon entering it, 1 felt 
 myself affected in a most singular manner ; I 
 felt terrified, and knew not wherefore ; but I 
 soon recollected myself, for it was the same vil- 
 lage in which I was born. What was my 
 astonishment 1 what tears of joy ran down my 
 cheeks, occasioned by a thousand extraordinary 
 recollections ! Considerable changes had taken 
 place; new houses had been built; others, 
 which at that time were but just erected, had 
 fallen into decay. 
 
 " I also found some traces of a fire, and every 
 thing was much smaller and more confined
 
 318 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 than I had anticipated. My joy at the thought of 
 seeing- my parents again after so many years, 
 was infinite. I found out our little cottage, the 
 /well-known threshold, the latch of the door, 
 was just the same as formerly — it seemed but 
 yesterday that I had leaned against it ; my 
 heart beat impetuously, I opened it hastily — 
 but the room was filled with strangers, who 
 stared at me in astonishment. 1 asked for the 
 shepherd Martin ; they told me, both he and his 
 wife had been dead these three years. I instantly 
 retired, and left the village weeping aloud. 
 
 " 1 had figured to myself, the pleasure of 
 surprising them with my wealth; by a most 
 singular accident, 1 had obtained the reality of 
 of what in my childhood I had only dreamed 
 — and now all was in vain; they could not 
 rejoice with me; and that which during- my 
 life I had most desired, was eternally lost to 
 me. 
 
 " 1 hired a small house and garden in a plea- 
 sant country town, and engaged an attendant. 
 The world did not fill me with so muc'* wonder 
 as 1 had expected; but, by degrees, 1 forgot 
 2
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 319 
 
 the old woman and my former abode some- 
 what more, and, upon the whole, lived very 
 contentedly. 
 
 " The bird had ceased to sing for a consider- 
 able time. I was therefore not a little terrified, 
 upon his suddenly bursting out one night, and 
 indeed with an altered song. He now sang ; 
 
 The green-wood tree 
 
 So lonel}'. 
 Is far from me 
 
 Though only 
 In solitude 
 
 I find delight : 
 
 The woods prolong 
 
 So clearly. 
 No more my song 
 
 But dearly, 
 Thy turpitude 
 
 Shall do me right. 
 
 « I could not sleep the whole night through, 
 every thing came anew with my recollection ; 
 and I felt more than once I had done wronff.
 
 3*20 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 When 1 rose in the morning", the sight of the 
 bird was really unpleasant to me ; he looked 
 at me continually, and his presence vexed me. 
 His song never ceased for a moment ; and was 
 louder and far more sonorous than usual. The 
 more I looked at him, the more uneasy he 
 made me; at length I opened the cage, 1 
 thrust in my hand and seized him by the neck; 
 1 pressed my fingers powerfully together; he 
 looked at me with an imploring look, I 
 withdrew my hold, but he was dead. I buried 
 him in the garden. 
 
 " My fears were now directed to my atten- 
 dant. I reflected upon what I had done myself 
 — that she too might rob, or perhaps, murder 
 me. 
 
 " Sometime previous to this 1 had formed an 
 acquaintance with a young knight who pleased 
 me much ; I gave him my hand — and, with this, 
 Mr. Walther, my story is at an end." 
 
 ("You should have seen her then," exclaimed 
 Egbert, eagerly, " her youth, her beauty, and, 
 what inconceivable charms her lonesome edu- 
 cation had given her '.ftln my eyes, she a|)peared 

 
 AUBURN KGBERT. 021 
 
 a miracle; and I loved her with indescribable 
 affection. I had no property, but through her 
 love I attained to this prosperity ; we retired 
 hither, and as yet we have not regretted our 
 union for a moment." 
 
 " But over our prating," said I3ertha, " it is 
 become late in the night. Let us retire to rest." 
 She rose and went towards her chamber. 
 Waltber wished her a good night, and said, as 
 he kissed her hand : 
 
 " Noble lady, 1 thank you ; I can exactly 
 fancy you with your wonderful bird, and the 
 manner in which you fed the little Strohmian." 
 Walther likewise retired to rest. Egbert 
 alone, filled with restlessness, wandered up 
 and down the hall. At length, he exclaimed, 
 "What a fool is man ? I first induce my wife 
 to communicate her story, and now this con- 
 fidence distresses me. Will he not divulge it 
 toothers? Will he not — for such is human 
 nature — feel a fatal desire for our diamonds, 
 and hence contrive plans for obtaining them ?" 
 
 It struck him, that Walther had not taken 
 leave of him as he ought to have done, after such 
 Vol. 1. Y
 
 322 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 mark of confidence. When the soul is once 
 bent upon suspicion, it finds a confirmation in 
 every trifle. Egbert now reproached himself 
 for this ignoble distrust of his honest friend ; 
 and yet he could not entirely shake it ofl^. 
 With these ideas he ranged about the whole 
 night, and slept but little. In the morning, 
 Bertha was unwell, and could not appear at 
 the breakfast-table ; Walther seemed to trou- 
 ble himself very little about it, and quitted the 
 knight, with evident indiflTerence. || Egbert 
 could not fathom his conduct; he visited his 
 wife, and found her in a fever. She affirmed, 
 that the narrative of the preceding night must 
 have agitated her thus. From this evening, 
 Walther seldom visited the castle of his friend, 
 and when he did, he went away after saying a 
 few unmeaning words. Egbert was alarmed 
 in the highest degree by such conduct; to- 
 wards Bertha, and Walther, he strove to con- 
 ceal his feelings; but both must have perceived 
 his internal uneasiness. 
 
 Bertha's illness became daily more serious; 
 the physician was alarmed ; the roses vanished
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 323 
 
 from her cheeks ; and her eyes became con- 
 stantly more inflamed. One morning, she de- 
 sired her husband might be called, and ordered 
 her attendants to withdraw. As Egbert ap- 
 proached, she said : 
 
 " My dear husband, I have something- to com- 
 municate which has almost deprived me of niy rea- 
 son, which has undetermined my health, unimpor- 
 tant as such a trifle may appear in itself. You 
 know that whenever I spoke of my childhood, 
 in spite of all my endeavours 1 never could re- 
 collect the name of the little dog, with whom I 
 had so long an intercourse : on that evening, 
 when Walther took leave of me, he suddenly 
 said, " I can exactly fancy the manner in which 
 you fed the little Strohmian." Was this acci- 
 dental ? or did he divine the name? does he 
 know the dog, think you, and did he name him 
 purposely ? And how is this man connected 
 with my destinies ? I sometimes contend 
 with myself, that I do but fancy this extra- 
 ordinary circumstance ; and yet it is certain, 
 but too certain. A violent fright overpowered 
 me, on being thus assisted to my rocollec- 
 Y 2
 
 324 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 tioti by a perfect stranger. What say you, 
 Egbert ? 
 
 Egbert cast a look of the deepest cominis- 
 seration upon his suffering wife; at first he re- 
 mained silent, but after reflecting a little, he 
 uttered a few consolotary words, and then left 
 her. With indescribable anguish of mind he 
 paced backwards and forwards, through one 
 of the most retired chambers in the castle. 
 Walther for many years had been his only com- 
 panion — and now — this was the only man in 
 the world whose existence distressed and 
 pained him. It seemed to him, as if he should 
 feel happy and cheerful if this single being- 
 could be swept out of his way. He took down 
 his fowling-piece with a hope of finding amuse- 
 ment in shooting. 
 
 The day was chill and stormy ; a deep snow 
 lay upon the ground, and covered the drooping- 
 branches of the trees ; Egbert paced rapidly 
 forward ; the perspiration stood upon his brow ; 
 he met with no game, and this increased his 
 displeasure. On a sudden he perceived some- 
 thing moving at a distance ; it was Walther
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 325 
 
 collecting' mosses from the trees j without 
 knowing what he did, Egbert levelled bis 
 piece ; Walther looked round, with a silent, 
 yet menacing gesture; but the bullet had fled 
 and Walther fell to the earth. 
 
 Egbert was easy and tranquilized in his 
 mind, and yet a feeling of dread impelled him 
 towards his castle ; he had a long way to walk, 
 for he had wandered far into the woods. 
 
 On bis arrival at the castle, he found Bertha 
 was dead ; previous to her decease, she had 
 spoken much that was unintelligible, about 
 Walther and the old woman. 
 
 Egbert now passed a considerable time in 
 solitude and retirement; his mind had ever 
 been pensive and sad, for the extraordinary 
 story of his wife had filled him with apprehen- 
 sion, and he was always in alarm, lest some un- 
 fortunate event might ensuel: but new he was 
 entirely fallen. The murder of his friend stood 
 incessantly before his eyes; his life became a 
 series of constant self-reproaches. To dissipate 
 his thoughts, he occasionally visited a neigh- 
 bouring town, where he mixed by degrees in
 
 AUBURN EGBI5RT. 
 
 society, and sometimes joined in the passing- 
 festivities. ^ He felt desirous of findng a friend, 
 to fill up the dreadful vacancy in his soul ; and 
 yet when he thought of Walthcr, his mind re- 
 coiled at the very idea, fur he felt satisfied, that 
 even a friend could not lessen his misery. He 
 had lived so long with Bertha, in a state of de- 
 lightful tranquility ; Walther's friendship had 
 blessed him for so many years, and now — both 
 were so suddenly torn from him, that his life 
 appeared more like a wonderful tale, than a 
 really human career. 
 
 A young knight whose name was Hugo, 
 attached liimself to the grave and sorrowful 
 Egbert, and appeared to feel an affection for 
 him. Egbert was more than usually surprized, 
 and met the young knight's advances the more 
 eagerly, because he had so little expected them. 
 Both now were frequently together; the stranger 
 shewed Egbert every courtesy ; the one scarcely 
 ever rode out without the other; they met in 
 every company ; in short, they became insepa- 
 rable. Egbert, however, was only happy for 
 the Hjoment ; he conceived Hugo only loved
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 3"27 
 
 him from error; that he knew neither him or 
 his story ; and ag^ain,he felt the same impulse to 
 couimunicate ail the occurrences of his life, that 
 he might be assured whether Hugo were really 
 his friend. His scruples, and the fear of de- 
 tection, then held him in check. On such 
 occasions, he became so completely convinced 
 of his infamy, that he believed no man could 
 possibly feel an esteem for him to whom he 
 was not a perfect stranger. Still, however, he 
 could not command his inclinations ; during n 
 solitary ride, he disclosed his whole secret to 
 his friend, and then enquired whether Hugo 
 could possibly entertain affection for a mur- 
 derer. Hugo was moved, and endeavoured to 
 console him ; Egbert followed him with a 
 lightened heart to the town. 
 
 It seemed however tobe the curse of Egbert's 
 character, that he should harbour suspicion, 
 just at the moment of confidence ; for scarcely 
 had they entered the public room, when the 
 countenance of his friend displeased him. He 
 thought, he observed a malicious smile upon
 
 328 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 it ; that Hugo spoke but little with him ; that 
 he conversed much with those who were pre- 
 sent though he seemed to leave him unnoticed. 
 Among' the company was an old knight, who 
 had ever conducted himself with hostile feel- 
 ings towards Egbert, and had often enquired in 
 a very particular manner about his wealth and 
 his wife. With this man Hugo associated; they 
 conversed apart and frequently pointed towards 
 Egbert. The latter now saw his suspicions 
 confirmed; he conceived himself betrayed, and 
 became a prey to the most violent rage. While 
 still gazing on them, he suddenly saw Walther's 
 face, all his features, his whole well-known 
 iigure ; he looked again and felt convinced it 
 Vas no one else but Walther who conversed 
 with the old man. His horror was indescriba- 
 ble; he darted from the room, wholly dis- 
 tracted ; left the town that same evening, and 
 returned to his castle by circuitous paths. 
 
 Like a troubled spirit he now hastened from 
 room to room, his thoughts wandered inces- 
 santly, he passed from one horrible idea to 
 
 1
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 329 
 
 others still more horrible ; and no sleep visited 
 his eyes. He often thought himself insane ; 
 and that his own imaoination alone created these 
 circumstances; he then recollected Walther's 
 features, and every thing- became more inexpli> 
 cable. He resolved on trying if travel would 
 tranquillize his mind ; his ideas of friendship, 
 his wish for society, he now abandoned for ever. 
 He rode forth without fixing upon any settled 
 route ; he even paid little attention to the coun- 
 try before him After passing several days in 
 this way, he found himself suddenly lost among 
 the windings of some rocks, where no outlet 
 was discoverable. At length he met an aged 
 peasant, who conducted him to a path opposite 
 a water-fall ; as a requital, Egbert was desirous 
 of bestowing upon his guide a few pieces, but 
 the peasant refused them. 
 
 "Whatdoes it matter," said Egbert to himself; 
 ** 1 could almost imagine now, this man to be 
 Walther." At the same time he turned round to 
 look, and it was Walther. Egbert spurred bis 
 horse to its fullest speed ; he galloped through 
 
 Vol. I. z
 
 330 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 wood and field, till at length the poor beast 
 being" totally exhausted sank to the earth. 
 Liule concerned about this, he continued his 
 journey on foot. Half dreaming he ascended 
 a hill ; his ear was saluted by a near and lively 
 bark; the rustling of birch-trees murmured 
 between, and presently he heard in wonderful 
 notes the following song: 
 
 The green wood tree, 
 
 So lonely ^ 
 
 Allureth me. 
 
 And only, 
 In solitude 
 I find delight. 
 The woods prolong 
 
 So clearly, 
 Again my song 
 
 And dearly, 
 I love the wood 
 By day or night. 
 
 Egbert now lost all sense of reason and con- 
 sciousness; he could not extricate his mind from
 
 AUBURN EGBERT. 331 
 
 the mazes which entangled it. Did he now 
 dreaui or had he formerly dreamed of a wife 
 Bertha ? his brain became confused amid rapid 
 alternations of thought; the world around him 
 was enchanted, and he master of no idea, of no 
 recollection. 
 
 An old woman, bent double by age, with a 
 crutch in her hand, crept coughing along the 
 hill. " Dost thou bring me my bird, my jewels, 
 and my dog," she screamed out to him. " See 
 how injustice punishes itself; I was thy friend 
 Walther, I was thy Hugo. 
 
 " Gracious heaven !" exclaimed Egbert, " in 
 what a terrible solitude then have I passed my 
 life! And Bertha was thy sister." Egbert fell to 
 the earth. *' Why did she maliciously abandon 
 me? Without this, all would have ended well ; 
 her time of trial was past. She was the daughter 
 of a knight who brought her up at a herds- 
 man's — the daughter of thy father. " Oh ! why" 
 exclaimed Egbert, "havelalwaysforebodedthis 
 horrible idea ?" — «' Because thy father formerly 
 told thee, that he had a daughter whom he
 
 332 AUBURN EGBERT. 
 
 dared not educate at home on account of his 
 wife — bis daughter by another woman." Egbert 
 lay delirious and dying upon the earth ; in 
 hollow and confused tones, he heard the old 
 woman speak, the dog bark, and the bird re- 
 peat its song. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 G. Scliulze, Printer, 
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