THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM.
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<span style="crey">A TRAVELLERS TALE.*</span><span style="crey">He that supper for is dight,</span>
<span style="crey">He lyes full cold, I trow, this night!</span>
<span style="crey">Yestreen to chamber I him led,</span>
<span style="crey">This night Gray-steel has made his bed!</span>
<span style="crey">SIR EGER, SIR GRAHAME, and SIR GRAY-STEEL.</span>
ON the summit <u>.99ｌib.</u>of one of the heights of the Odenwald, a wild and romantic tract of Upper Germany that lies not far from the ?uence of the Main and the Rhihere stood many, many years sihe castle of the Baron Von Landshort. It is now quite fallen to decay, and almost buried among beech trees and dark ?rs; above which, however, its old watch-tower may still be seen struggling, like the former possessor I have mentioo carry a high head and look down upon the neighb try.
The baron was a dry branch of the great family of Katzenellenbogen,+ and ied the relics of the property and all the pride, of his aors. Though the warlike disposition of his predecessors had much impaired the family possessions, yet the baron still endeavored to keep up some show of former state.
The times were peaceable, and the German nobles in general had abaheir inve old castles, perched like <s></s>eagles s among the mountains, and had built more ve residences in the valleys; still, the baron remained proudly drawn up in his little fortress, cherishing with hereditary ieracy all the old family feuds, so that he was on ill terms with some of his neighbors, on at of disputes that had happened between their great-great-grandfathers.
* The erudite reader, well versed in good-for-nothing lore, will perceive that the above Tale must have been suggested to the old Swiss by a little Frenecdote, a circumstance said to have taken pla Paris.
+ I.e., CATS ELBOW--the name of a family of those parts, and very powerful in former times. The appellation, we are told, was given in pliment to a peerless dame of the family, celebrated for a ?ne arm.
The baron had but one child, a daughter, but Nature, when she grants but one child, always pensates by making it a prodigy; and so it was with the daughter of the baron. All the nurses, gossips, and try cousins assured her father that she had not her equal for beauty in all Germany; and who should know better than they? She had, moreover, been brought up with great care uhe superintendence of two maiden aunts, who had spent some years of their early life at one of the little German courts, and were skilled in all branches of knowledge necessary to the education of a ?ne lady. Uheir instrus she became a miracle of aplishments. By the time she was eighteen she could embroider to admiration, and had worked whole histories of the saints in tapestry with such strength of expression in their tehat they looked like so many souls in purgatory.
She could read without great dif?culty, and had spelled her way through several Church legends and almost all the chivalriders of the Heldenbuch. She had even made siderable pro? writing; could sign her own hout missing a letter, and so legibly that her aunts could read it without spectacles. She excelled in making little elegant good-for-nothing, lady-like kniacks of all kinds, was versed in the most abstruse dang of the day, played a number of airs on the harp and guitar, and knew all the tender ballads of the Minnelieders by heart.
Her aunts, too, having bee ?irts and coquettes in their younger days, were admirably calculated to be vigilant guardians and strict sors of the duct of their niece; for there is no duenna sidly prudent and inexorably decorous as a superannuated coquette. She was rarely suffered out of their sight; never went beyond the domains of the castle unless well attended, or rather well watched; had tinual lectures read to her about strict de and implicit obedience; and, as to the men--pah!--she was taught to hold them at such a distand in such absolute distrust that, unless properly authorized, she would not have cast a glance upon the handsomest cavalier in the world--no, not if he were even dying at her feet.
The good effects of this system were wonderfully apparent. The young lady attern of docility and correess. While others were wasting their sweetness in the glare of the world, and liable to be plucked and thrown aside by every hand, she was coyly blooming into fresh and lovely womanhood uhe prote of those immaculate spinsters, like a rosebud blushing forth among guardian thorns. Her aunts looked upon her with pride aation, and vauhat, though all the other young ladies in the world might go astray, yet thank Heaven, nothing of the kind could happen to the heiress of Katzenellenbogen.
But, however stily the Baron Von Landshort might be provided with children, his household was by no means a small one; for Providence had enriched him with abundance of poor relations.
They, one and all, possessed the affeate disposition on to humble relatives--were wonderfully attached to the baron, and took every possible occasion to e in swarms and ehe castle. All family festivals were orated by these good people at the barons expense; and when they were ?lled with good cheer they would declare that there was nothing oh so delightful as these family meetings, these jubilees of the heart.
The baron, though a small man, had a large soul, and it swelled with satisfa at the sciousness of being the greatest man itle world about him. He loved to tell long stories about the stark old warriors whose portraits looked grimly down from the walls around, and he found no listeners equal to those who fed at his expense. He was much given to the marvellous and a ?rm believer in all those supernatural tales with which every mountain and valley in Germany abounds. The faith of his guests exceeded even his own: they listeo every tale of wonder with open eyes and mouth, and never failed to be astonished, even though repeated for the huh time. Thus lived the Baron Von Landshort, the oracle of his table, the absolute monarch of his little territory, and happy, above all things, in the persuasion that he was the wisest man of the age.
At the time of which my story treats there was a great family gathering at the castle on an affair of the utmost importa was to receive the destined bridegroom of the barons daughter. A iation had been carried oweeher and an old nobleman of Bavaria to uhe dignity of their houses by the marriage of their children. The preliminaries had been ducted with proper punctilio. The young people were betrothed without seeing each other, and the time ointed for the marriage ceremony. The young t Von Altenburg had been recalled from the army for the purpose, and was actually on his way to the barons to receive his bride. Missives had even been received from him from Wurtzburg, where he was actally detained, mentioning the day and hour when he might be expected to arrive.
The castle was in a tumult of preparation to give him a suitable wele. The fair bride had been decked out with unon care.
The two aunts had superintended her toilet, and quarrelled the whole m about every article of her dress. The young lady had taken advantage of their test to follow the bent of her own taste; and fortunately it was a good one. She looked as lovely as youthful bridegroom could desire, and the ?utter of expectatioehe lustre of her charms.
The suffusions that mantled her fad neck, the gentle heaving of the bosom, the eye now and then lost in reverie, all betrayed the soft tumult that was going on in her little heart. The aunts were tinually h around her, for maiden aunts are apt to take great i in affairs of this nature. They were giving her a world of staid sel how to deport herself, what to say, and in what mao receive the expected lover.
The baron was no less busied in preparations. He had, in truth, nothily to do; but he was naturally a fuming, bustling little man, and could not remain passive when all the world was in a hurry. He worried from top to bottom of the castle with an air of in?nite ay; he tinually called the servants from their work to exhort them to be diligent; and buzzed about every hall and chamber, as idly restless and importunate as a blue-bottle ?y on a warm summers day.
In the mean time the fatted calf had been killed; the forests had rung with the clamor of the huhe kit was crowded with good cheer; the cellars had yielded up whole os of Rhein-wein and Ferre-wein; and even the great Heidelberg tun had been laid under tribution. Everything was ready to receive the distinguished guest with Saus und Braus irue spirit of German hospitality; but the guest delayed to make his app９9lib?earance.
Hour rolled after hour. The sun, that had poured his downward rays upon the rich forest of the Odenwald, now just gleamed along the summits of the mountains. The baron mouhe highest tower and strained his eyes in hopes of catg a distant sight of the t and his attendants. Once he thought he beheld them; the sound of horns came ?oating from the valley, prolonged by the mountain-echoes. A number of horsemen were seen far below slowly advang along the road; but when they had nearly reached the foot of the mountain they suddenly struck off in a different dire. The last ray of sunshied, the bats began to ?it by iwilight, the road grew dimmer and dimmer to the view, and nothing appeared stirring in it but now and then a peasant lagging homeward from his labor.
While the old castle of Landshort was in this state of perplexity a very iing se was transag in a different part of the Odenwald.
The young t Von Altenburg was tranquilly pursuing his route in that s-trot way in which a man travels toward matrimony when his friends have taken all the trouble and uainty of courtship off his hands and a bride is waiting for him as certainly as a di the end of his journey. He had entered at Wurtzburg a youthful panion-in-arms with whom he had seen some servi the frontiers--Herman Von Starkenfaust, one of the stoutest hands and worthiest hearts of German chivalry--who was now returning from the army. His fathers castle was not far distant from the old fortress of Landshort, although an hereditary feud rehe families hostile and strao each other.
In the warm-hearted moment nition the young friends related all their past adventures and fortunes, and the t gave the whole history of his intended nuptials with a young lady whom he had never seen, but of whose charms he had received the most enrapturing descriptions.
As the route of the friends lay in the same dire, they agreed to perform the rest of their jourogether, and that they might do it the more leisurely, set off from Wurtzburg at an early hour, the t having given dires for his retio follow and overtake him.
They beguiled their wayfaring with recolles of their military ses and adventures; but the t t to be a little tedious now and then about the reputed charms of his bride and the felicity that awaited him.
In this way they had entered among the mountains of the Odenwald, araversing one of its most lonely and thickly wooded passes. It is well known that the forests of Germany have always been as mufested by robbers as its castles by spectres; and at this time the former were particularly numerous, from the hordes of disbanded soldiers wandering about the try. It will not appear extraordinary, therefore, that the cavaliers were attacked by a gang of these stragglers, in the midst of the forest. They defehemselves with bravery, but were nearly overpowered when the ts retinue arrived to their assistance.
At sight of them the robbers ?ed, but not until the t had received a mortal wound. He was slowly and carefully veyed back to the city of Wurtzburg, and a friar summoned from a neighb vent who was famous for his skill in administering to both soul and body; but half of his skill was super?uous; the moments of the unfortunate t were numbered.
With his dying breath he eed his friend to repair instantly to the castle of Landshort and explaial cause of his not keeping his appoi with his bride. Though not the most ardent of lovers, he was one of the most punctilious of men, and appeared early solicitous that his mission should be speedily and courteously executed. "Uhis is done," said he, "I shall not sleep quietly in my grave." He repeated these last words with peculiar solemnity. A request at a moment so impressive admitted ation. Starkenfaust endeavored to soothe him to ess, promised faithfully to execute his wish, and gave him his hand in solemn pledge. The dying man pressed it in aowledgment, but soon lapsed into delirium--raved about his bride, his es, his plighted word--ordered his horse, that he might ride to the castle of Landshort, and expired in the fancied act of vaulting into the saddle.
Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh and a soldiers tear oimely fate of his rade and then pondered on the awkward mission he had uaken. His heart was heavy and his head perplexed; for he was to present himself an unbidde among hostile people, and to damp their festivity with tidings fatal to their hopes.
Still, there were certain whisperings of curiosity in his bosom to see this far-famed beauty of Katzenellenbogen, so cautiously shut up from the world; for he assionate admirer of the sex, and there was a dash of etricity aerprise in his character that made him fond of all singular adventure.
Previous to his departure he made all due arras with the holy fraternity of the vent for the funeral solemnities of his friend, who was to be buried ihedral of Wurtzburg near some of his illustrious relatives, and the m retinue of the t took charge of his remains.
It is now high time that we should return to the a family of Katzenellenbogen, who were impatient for their guest, and still more for their dinner, and to the worthy little baron, whom we left airing himself och-tower.
Night closed in, but still no guest arrived. The baron desded from the tower in despair. The ba, which had been delayed from hour to hour, could no longer be postpohe meats were already overdohe cook in an agony, and the whole household had the look of a garrison, that had been reduced by famihe baron was obliged relutly to give orders for the feast without the presence of the guest. All were seated at table, and just on the point of eng, when the sound of a horn from without the gate gave notice of the approach of a stranger.
Another long blast ?lled the old courts of the castle with its echoes, and was answered by the warder from the walls. The baron hasteo receive his future son-in-law.
The drawbridge had bee down, and the stranger was before the gate. He was a tall gallant cavalier, mounted on a black steed.
His tenance ale, but he had a beaming, romantic eye and an air of stately melancholy. The baron was a little morti?ed that he should have e in this simple, solitary style. His dignity for a moment was ruf?ed, and he felt disposed to sider it a want of proper respect for the important occasion and the important family with which he was to be ected. He paci?ed himself, however, with the clusion that it must have been youthful impatience which had induced him thus to spur on soohan his attendants.
"I am sorry," said the stranger, "to break in upon you thus unseasonably----"
Here the baron interrupted him with a world of pliments and greetings, for, to tell the truth, he prided himself upon his courtesy and eloquehe stratempted once or twice to stem the torrent of words, but in vain, so he bowed his head and suffered it to ?ow on. By the time the baron had e to a pause they had reached the inner court of the castle, and the stranger was again about to speak, when he was once more interrupted by the appearance of the female part of the family, leading forth the shrinking and blushing bride. He gazed on her for a moment as oranced; it seemed as if his whole soul beamed forth in the gaze aed upon that lovely form. One of the maiden aunts whispered something in her ear; she made an effort to speak; her moist blue eye was timidly raised, gave a shy glance of inquiry oranger, and was cast again to the ground. The words died away, but there was a sweet smile playing about her lips, and a soft dimpling of the cheek that showed her glance had not been unsatisfactory. It was impossible firl of the fond age of eighteen, highly predisposed for love and matrimony, not to be pleased with so gallant a cavalier.
The late hour at which the guest had arrived left no time for parley. The baron eremptory, and deferred all particular versation until the m, ahe way to the untasted ba.
It was served up in the great hall of the castle. Around the walls hung the hard-favored portraits of the heroes of the house of Katzenellenbogen, and the trophies which they had gained in the ?eld, and in the chase. Hacked corselets, splintered jousting-spears, and tattered banners were mingled with the spoils of sylvan warfare: the jaws of the wolf and the tusks of the brinned horribly among crossbows and battle-axes, and a huge pair of antlers branched immediately over the head of the youthful bridegroom.
The cavalier took but little notice of the pany or the eai. He scarcely tasted the ba, but seemed absorbed in admiration of his bride. He versed in a low tohat could not be overheard, for the language of love is never loud; but where is the female ear so dull that it ot catch the softest whisper of the lover? There was a mienderness and gravity in his mahat appeared to have a powerful effect upon the young lady. Her color came a as she listened with deep attention. Now and then she made some blushing reply, and when his eye was turned away she would steal a sidelong gla his romantic tenance, and heave<tt>..t> a gentle sigh of tender happiness. It was evident that the young couple were pletely enamored. The aunts, who were deeply versed in the mysteries of the heart, declared that they had fallen in love with each other at ?rst sight.
The feast went on merrily, or at least noisily, for the guests were all blessed with those keen appetites that attend upon light purses and mountain air. The baron told his best and lo stories, and never had he told them so well or with such great effect. If there was anything marvellous, his auditors were lost in astonishment; and if anything facetious, they were sure to laugh exactly in the right place. The baron, it is true, like most great men, was too digo utter any joke but a dull o was always enforced, however, by a bumper of excellent Hockheimer, and even a dull joke at ones own table, served up with jolly old wine, is irresistible. Many good things were said by poorer and keener wits that would not bear repeating, except on similar occasions; many sly speeches whispered in ladies ears that almost vulsed them with suppressed laughter; and a song or two roared out by a poor but merry and broad-faced cousin of the baron that absolutely made the maiden aunts hold up their fans.
Amidst all this revelry the stranger guest maintained a most singular and unseasonable gravity. His tenance assumed a deeper cast of deje as the evening advanced, and, strange as it may appear, even the barons jokes seemed only to render him the more melancholy. At times he was lost in thought, and at times there erturbed aless wandering of the eye that bespoke a mind but ill at ease. His versations with the bride became more and more ear and mysterious. L clouds began to steal over the fair serenity of her brow, and tremors to run through her tender frame.
All this could not escape the notice of the pany. Their gayety was chilled by the unatable gloom of the bridegroom; their spirits were ied; whispers and glances were interged, apanied by shrugs and dubious shakes of the head. The song and the laugh grew less and less frequent: there were dreary pauses in the versation, which were at length succeeded by wild tales and supernatural legends. One dismal story produced aill more dismal, and the baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hysterics with the history of the goblin horseman that carried away the fair Leonora--a dreadful story which has since been put into excellent verse, and is read and believed by all the world.
The bridegroom listeo this tale with profound attention. He kept his eyes steadily ?xed on the baron, and, as the story drew to a close, began gradually to rise from his seat, growing taller and taller, until in the baroranced eye he seemed almost to tower into a giant. The moment the tale was ?nished he heaved a deep sigh and took a solemn farewell of the pany. They were all amazement. The baron erfectly thuruck.
"What! going to leave the castle at midnight? Why, everything repared for his reception; a chamber was ready for him if he wished to retire."
The stranger shook his head mournfully and mysteriously: "I must lay my head in a different chamber to-night."
There was something in this reply and the tone in which it was uttered that made the baro misgive him; but he rallied his forces aed his hospitable eies.
The stranger shook his head silently, but positively, at every offer, and, waving his farewell to the pany, stalked slowly out of the hall. The maiden aunts were absolutely petri?ed; the bride hung her head and a tear stole to her eye.
The baron followed the strao the great court of the castle, where the black charger stood pawing the earth and sn with impatience. When they had reached the portal, whose deep archway was dimly lighted by a cresset, the stranger paused, and addressed the baron in a hollow tone of voice, which the vaulted roof reill more sepulchral.
"Now that we are a lone," said he, "I will impart to you the reason of my going. I have a solemn, an indispensable e----"
"Why," said the baron, "ot you send some one in your place?"
"It admits of no substitute--I must attend it in person; I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral----"
"Ay," said the baron, plug up spirit, "but not until to-morrow--to-morrow you shall take your bride there."
"No! no!" replied the stranger, with tenfold solemnity, "my e is with no bride--the worms! the worms expect me! I am a dead man--I have been slain by robbers--my body lies at Wurtzburg--at midnight I am to be buried--the grave is waiting for me--I must keep my appoi!"
He sprang on his black charger, dashed over the drawbridge, and the clattering of his horses hoofs was lost in the whistling of the night blast.
The barouro the hall imost sternation, aed what had passed. Two ladies fainted ht, others sied at the idea of having baed with a spectre. It was the opinion of some that this might be the wild huntsman, famous in German legend. Some talked of mountain-sprites, of wood-demons, and of other supernatural beings with which the good people of Germany have been so grievously harassed siime immemorial. One of the poor relatioured to suggest that it might be some sportive evasion of the young cavalier, and that the very gloominess of the caprice seemed to accord with so melancholy a persohis, however, drew on him, the indignation of the whole pany, and especially of the baron, who looked upon him as little better than an in?del; so that he was fain to abjure his heresy as speedily as possible and e into the faith of the true believers.
But, whatever may have been the doubts eaihey were pletely put to an end by the arrival day ular missives ing the intelligence of the young ts murder and his interment in Wurtzburg cathedral.
The dismay at the castle may well be imagihe baron shut himself up in his chamber. The guests, who had e to rejoice with him, could not think of abandoning him in his distress. They wandered about the courts or collected in groups in the hall, shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders at the troubles of so good a man, and sat loha table, and ate and drank more stoutly than ever, by way of keeping up their spirits.
But the situation of the widowed bride was the most pitiable. To have lost a husband before she had even embraced him--and such a husband! If the very spectre could be so gracious and noble, what must have been the living man? She ?lled the house with lamentatio<tt>99liｂ?t>ns.
On the night of the sed day of her widowhood she had retired to her chamber, apanied by one of her aunts, who insisted on sleeping with her. The aunt, who was one of the best tellers of ghost-stories in all Germany, had just been reting one of her lo, and had fallen asleep in the very midst of it. The chamber was remote and overlooked a small garden. The niece lay pensively gazing at the beams of the rising moon as they trembled on the leaves of an aspen tree before the lattice. The castle clock had just tolled midnight when a soft strain of music stole up from the garden. She rose hastily from her bed and stepped lightly to the window. A tall ?gure stood among the shadows of the trees. As it raised its head a beam of moonlight fell upon the tenance. Heaven ah! she beheld the Spectre Bridegroom! A loud shriek at that moment burst upon her ear, and her aunt, who had been awakened by the musid had followed her silently to the window, fell into her arms. When she looked again the spectre had disappeared.
Of the two females, the aunt now required the most soothing, for she erfectly beside herself with terror. As to the young lady, there was something even in the spectre of her lover that seemed endearing. There was still the semblananly beauty, and, though the shadow of a man is but little calculated to satisfy the affes of a lovesick girl, yet where the substance is not to be had even that is soling. The aunt declared she would never sleep in that chamber again; the niece, for once, was refractory, and declared as strongly that she would sleep in no other in the castle: the sequence was, that she had to sleep in it alone; but she dreromise from her aunt not to relate the story of the spectre, lest she should be dehe only melancholy pleasure left her oh--that of inhabiting the chamber over which the guardian shade of her lover kept its nightly vigils.
How long the good old lady would have observed this promise is uain, for she dearly loved to talk of the marvellous, and there is a triumph in being the ?rst to tell a frightful story; it is, howover, still quoted in the neighborhood as a memorable instance of female secrecy that she kept it to herself for a whole week, when she was suddenly absolved from all further restraint by intelligence brought to the breakfast-table one m that the young lady was not to be found. Her room was empty--the bed had not bee in--the windoen and the bird had ?own!
The astonishment and with which the intelligence was received only be imagined by those who have withe agitation which the mishaps of a great man cause among his friends. Even the poor relations paused for a moment from the iigable labors of the trencher, when the aunt, who had at ?rst been struck speechless, wrung her hands and shrieked out, "The goblin" the goblin! shes carried away by the goblin!"
In a few words she related the fearful se of the garden, and cluded that the spectre must have carried off his bride. Two of the domestics corroborated the opinion, for they had heard the clattering of a horses hoofs down the mountain about midnight, and had no doubt that it was the spectre on his black charger bearing her away to the tomb. All present were struck with the direful probability for events of the kind are extremely on in Germany, as many well-authenticated histories bear witness.
What a lamentable situation was that of the poor baron! What a heartrending dilemma for a fond father and a member of the great family of Katzenellenbogen! His only daughter had either been rapt away to the grave, or he was to have some wood-demon for a son-in-laerce a troop of goblin grandchildren. As usual, he was pletely bewildered, and all the castle in an uproar. The men were ordered to take horse and scour every road and path and glen of the Odenwald. The baron himself had just drawn on his jack-boots, girded on his sword, and was about to mount his steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest, when he was brought to a pause by a nearition. A lady was seen approag the castle mounted on a palfrey, attended by a cavalier on horseback. She galloped up to the gate, sprang from her horse, and, falling at the baro, embraced his knees.
It was his lost daughter, and her panion--the Spectre Bridegroom! The baron was astounded. He looked at his daughter, then at the spectre, and almost doubted the evidence of his sehe latter, too, was wonderfully improved in his appearance since his visit to the world of spirits. His dress lendid, a off a noble ?gure of manly symmetry. He was no longer pale and melancholy. His ?ne tenance was ?ushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted in his large dark eye.
The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier (for, in truth, as you must have known all the while, he was no goblin) announced himself as Sir Herman Von Starkenfaust. He related his adveh the young t. He told how he had hasteo the castle to deliver the unwele tidings, but that the eloquence of the baron had interrupted him in every attempt to tell his tale. How the sight of the bride had pletely captivated him and that to pass a few hours near her he had tacitly suffered the mistake to tinue. How he had been sorely perplexed in what way to make a det retreat, until the barons goblin stories had suggested his etric exit. How, fearing the feudal hostility of the family, he had repeated his visits by stealth--had hauhe gardeh the young ladys window--had wooed--had won--had borne away in triumph--and, in a word, had wedded the fair.
Under any other circumstahe baron would have been in?exible, for he was tenacious of paternal authority aly obstinate in all family feuds; but he loved his daughter; he had lamented her as lost; he rejoiced to ?ill alive; and, though her husband was of a hostile house, yet, thank Heaven! he was not a goblin. There was something, it must be aowledged, that did ly accord with his notions of strict veracity in the joke the knight had passed upon him of his being a dead man; but several old friends present, who had served in the wars, assured him that every stratagem was excusable in love, and that the cavalier was entitled to especial privilege, having lately served as a trooper.
Matters, therefore, were happily arrahe baron pardohe young couple on the spot. The revels at the castle were resumed.
The poor relations overwhelmed this new member of the family with loving-kindness; he was so gallant, so generous--and so rich. The aunts, it is true, were somewhat sdalized that their system of strict seclusion and passive obedience should be so badly exempli?ed, but attributed it all to their negligen not having the windows grated. One of them articularly morti?ed at having her marvellous story marred, and that the only spectre she had ever seen should turn out a terfeit; but the niece seemed perfectly happy at having found him substantial ?esh and blood. And so the story ends.
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