Undine

Friedrich Heinrich Karl Fouqué, Baron de la Motte, was born at

Brandenburg, in Prussia, Feb. 12, 1777, and died in Berlin

January 23, 1843. The mixed nationality indicated by his name

is accounted for by his descent from a French Huguenot family.

He served as a Prussian cavalryman in the two campaigns

against Napoleon of 1792 and 1813, but during the long

interval between devoted himself actively to intellectual

culture and literary pursuits. He began his career as an

author by translating the "Numancia" of Cervantes, but his

admiration of the ancient Norse sagas and the old German

legends led him into the composition of exquisitely beautiful

and tender, though exceedingly fantastic, romances which

speedily gained immense popularity. In these productions fairy

and magical elements predominate. His masterpiece is "Undine,"

published in 1814, the other best-known works being "Sintram,"

"Aslauga's Knight," and "The Two Captains." In all Fouqué's

stories the marks of genius appear in his brilliant

imagination and pure and fascinating diction.

_I.--The Water Sprite_

About a century ago an aged fisherman sat mending his nets by his

cottage door, in front of a lovely lake. Behind his dwelling stretched a

sombre forest, reputed to be haunted by goblin creatures. Through this

gloomy solitude the pious old fisherman frequently passed, religiously

dispelling all terrors by singing hymns as he went with his fish to a

town near the border of the forest.

One evening he heard the sound of a horse's hoofs, and presently

appeared a knight riding on a splendid steed, and clad in resplendent

armour. The stranger stopped, and besought shelter for the night, and

the good old fisherman accorded him a most cheery welcome, taking him

into the cottage, where sat his aged wife by a scanty fire. Soon the

three were freely conversing. The knight told of his travels and

revealed that he was Sir Huldbrand of Ringstetten, where he had a castle

by the Rhine.

A splash against the window surprising the guest he was informed by his

host, with some little show of vexation, that little tricks were often

played by a foster-child of the old couple, named Undine, a girl of

eighteen.

The door flew open, and a lovely girl glided, laughing, into the room.

Without the slightest token of shyness she gazed at the knight for a few

moments, then asked why he had come to the poor cottage.

"Have you come through the wild forest?"

He confessed that he had, and she instantly demanded a recital of his

adventures. With a slight shudder at his own recollections of the

strange creatures he had encountered, Huldbrand consented, but a reproof

from the fisherman at her obtrusiveness angered Undine. The girl sprang

up and rushed forth into the night, exclaiming, "Sleep alone in your

smoky old hut!"

In great alarm, the fisherman and Huldbrand rose to follow the girl, but

she had vanished in the darkness. Remarking that she had acted so

before, the old fisherman invited Huldbrand to sit by the fire and talk

awhile, and began to relate how Undine had come to live with them.

The couple had lost their only child, a wonderfully beautiful little

girl. At the age of three, when sitting in her mother's lap at the edge

of the lake, she seemed to be attracted by some lovely apparition in the

water, for, suddenly stretching out her hands and laughing, she had in a

moment sprung into the lake. No trace of the child could ever be found.

But the same evening a lovely little girl, three or four years old, with

water streaming from her golden tresses, suddenly entered the cottage,

smiling sweetly at the fisherman and his wife. They hastily undressed

the little stranger and put her to bed. She uttered not a word, but

simply smiled. In the morning she talked a little, confusedly telling

how she had been in a boat on the lake with her mother, and had fallen

in, and could recollect nothing more. She could say nothing as to who

she was or whence she came. But she talked often of golden castles and

crystal domes.

While the fisherman was talking thus to the knight, he was suddenly

interrupted by the noise of rushing water. Floods seemed to be bursting

forth, and he and his guest, going hastily to the door, saw by the

moonlight that the brook which issued from the forest was surging in a

wild torrent over its margin, while a roaring wind was lashing the lake.

In great alarm both shouted, "Undine! Undine!" But there was no

response, and the two ran off in different directions in search of the

fugitive.

It was Huldbrand who discovered the girl. Clambering down some rocks at

the edge of the stream, thinking Undine might have fallen there, he was

hailed by the sweet voice of the girl herself.

"Venture not," she cried. "The old man of the stream is full of tricks."

Looking across at a tiny isle in the stream, the knight saw her nestling

in the grass, smiling, and in an instant he had crossed.

"The fisherman is distressed at your absence," said he. "Let us go

back."

Looking at him with her beautiful blue eyes, the girl replied. "If you

think so, well; whatever you think is right to me."

Taking Undine in his arms, Huldbrand bore her over the stream to the

cottage, where she was received with joy. Dawn was breaking, and

breakfast was prepared under the trees. Undine flung herself on the

grass at Huldbrand's feet, and at her renewed request the knight told

the story of his forest adventures.

"It is now about eight days since I rode into the city on the other side

of the forest to join in a great tournament. In one of the intervals

between the jousts I noticed a lovely lady among the spectators. I

learned that she was Bertalda, foster-daughter of a great duke, and each

evening I became her partner in the dances.

"This Bertalda was a wayward girl, and each day pleased me less and

less; but I continued in her company, and asked her jestingly to give me

a glove. She said she would do so if I would explore alone the haunted

forest. As an honourable knight I could not decline the challenge, and

yesterday I set out on the enterprise. Before I had penetrated very far

within the glades, I saw what looked like a bear in the branches of an

oak; but the creature, in a harsh, human voice, growled that it was

getting branches with which to roast me at night. My horse was scared at

this, and other grim apparitions, but at last I emerged from the forest,

and saw the lake and this cottage."

When he had finished, the fisherman spoke of the best way by which the

visitor could return to the city; but, with sly laughter, Undine

declared that the knight could not depart, for if he attempted now to

cross the deluged wood, he would be overwhelmed.

_II.--"I Have No Soul!"_

Huldbrand, detained at the cottage by the increasing overflow of the

stream, enjoyed the most perfect satisfaction with his sojourn.

The old folks with pleasure regarded the two young people as being

betrothed, and Huldbrand assumed that he was accepted by the girl, whom

he had come to look upon as not being in reality one of this poor

household, but one of some illustrious family, and when, one evening, an

aged priest appeared at the cottage, driven in by the storm, Huldbrand

addressed to him a request that he should on the spot at once unite him

and the maiden, as they were pledged to each other. A discussion arose,

but matters were at length settled, and the old wife produced two

consecrated tapers. Lighting these, the priest, with brief, solemn

ceremony, celebrated the nuptials.

Undine had been quiet and grave during these proceedings, but a singular

change took place in her demeanour as soon as the rite had been

performed. She began at intervals to indulge in wild freaks, teasing the

priest, and indulging in a variety of silly tricks. At length the priest

gently expostulated with Undine, exhorting her so to attune her soul

that it might always be in concord with that of her husband.

Her reply amazed the listeners, for she said, "If one has no soul, as I

have none, what is there to harmonise?" Then she burst into a fit of

passionate weeping, to the consternation of all the little company. As

she again and again wept, the priest, fearing that she was possessed by

some evil spirit, sought to exorcise it. The priest turned to the

bridegroom with the assurance that he could discover nothing evil in the

bride, mysterious though her behaviour was, and he commended him to be

loving and true to her.

The next morning Undine, when she and her husband made their appearance,

responded gracefully to the paternal greeting of the priest, beseeching

his pardon for her folly of the previous evening, and begging him to

pray for the good of her soul. Through the whole day Undine behaved

angelically. She was kind, quiet, and gentle. At eventide she led her

husband out to the edge of the stream, which, to the wonder of

Huldbrand, had subsided into gentle, rippling waves.

She whispered, "Carry me across to that little isle, and we will decide

there."

Wondering, he carried her across, and, laying her on the turf, listened

as she began.

"My loved one, know that there are strange beings which, though seeming

almost mortals, are rarely visible to human eyes--salamanders in the

flames, gnomes down in the earth, spirits in the air. And in the water

are myriads of spirits dwelling in crystal domes, in the coral-trees,

and in the lovely shells. These are far more beautiful than the fairest

of human beings, and sometimes a fisherman has seen a tender mermaid,

and has listened to her song. Such wonderful creatures are called

Undines, and one of these you see now before you!

"We should be far superior to other beings--for we consider ourselves

human--but for one defect. We have no souls, and nothing remains of us

after this mortal life is over. Yet every being aspires to rise higher,

and so my father, who is a great water prince in the Mediterranean Sea,

desired that his only daughter should become possessed of a soul. But

this can only come to pass with loving union with one of your race. Now,

O my dearly beloved, I have to thank you that I am gifted with a soul,

and it will be due to you should all my life be made wretched. For what

will become of me if you forsake me? If you would do so, do it now! Then

I will plunge into the stream--which is my uncle--and as he brought me

here, so will he take me back to my parents, a loving, suffering woman

with a soul."

Undine would have said yet more, but Huldbrand, astonishing though the

recital was, with tears and kisses vowed he would never leave his lovely

wife; and with her leaning in loving trustfulness on his arm, they

returned to the hut.

The next day, at Undine's strange urgency, farewell was said with bitter

tears and lamentations.

Undine was placed on the beautiful horse, and Huldbrand and the priest

walked on either side as the three passed through the solemn glades of

the wood. A fourth soon joined them. He was dressed in a white robe,

like that of the priest, and presently attempted to speak to Undine. But

she shrank from him, declaring she wished to have nothing to do with

him.

"Oh, oh!" cried the stranger, with a laugh. "What kind of a marriage is

this you have made, that you must not speak to your relative? Do you not

know I am your uncle Kühleborn, who brought you to this region, and that

I am here to protect you from goblins and sprites? So let me quietly

accompany you."

"We are near the end of the forest, and shall not need you further," was

her rejoinder. But he grinned at her so frightfully that she shrieked

for help, and the knight aimed at his head a blow from his sword.

Instantly Kühleborn was transformed into a gushing waterfall, foaming

over them from a rock near by and drenching all three.

_III.--"Woe! Woe!"_

The sudden disappearance of the young knight had caused a sensation in

the city, for the duke and duchess, and the friends and servants of

Huldbrand, feared he had perished in the forest during the terrible

tempest When he suddenly reappeared, all rejoiced except Bertalda, who

was profoundly vexed at seeing with him a beautiful bride. She so far

reconciled herself to the conditions that a warm friendship sprang up

between Undine and herself.

It was agreed that Bertalda should accompany the wedded pair to

Ringstetten, and with the consent of the noble foster-parents of

Bertalda the three appointed a day for departure. One beautiful evening,

as they walked about the market-place round the great fountain, suddenly

a tall man emerged from among the people and stopped in front of Undine.

He quickly whispered something in her ear, and though at first she

seemed vexed at the intrusion, presently she clapped her hands and

laughed joyously. Then the stranger mysteriously vanished, and seemed to

disappear in the fountain.

Huldbrand had suspected that he had seen the man before, and now felt

assured that he was Kühleborn. Undine admitted the fact, and said that

her uncle had told her a secret, which she was to reveal on the third

day afterwards, which would be the anniversary of Bertalda's nameday.

The anniversary came, and strange incidents happened. After the banquet

given by the duke and duchess, Undine suddenly gave a signal, and from

among the retainers at the door came forth the old fisherman and his

wife, and Undine declared that in these Bertalda saw her real parents.

The proud maiden instantly flew into a violent rage, weeping

passionately, and utterly refused to acknowledge the old couple as her

father and mother. She declared that Undine was an enchantress and a

witch, sustaining intercourse with evil spirits.

Undine, with great dignity, indignantly denied the accusation, while

Bertalda's violent conduct created a feeling of disgust in the minds of

all in the assembly. The matter was settled in a simple manner, for the

duke commanded Bertalda to withdraw to a private apartment with the

duchess and the two old folks from the hut, that an investigation might

be made. It was soon over, for the noble lady was able presently to

inform the company that Undine's story was absolutely true. The guests

silently departed, and Undine sank sobbing into her husband's arms.

Next day Bertalda, humbled by these events, sought pardon of Undine for

her evil behaviour, and was instantly welcomed with loving assurances of

forgiveness, moreover, she was cordially invited to go with the pair to

Ringstetten.

"We will share all things there as sisters," said Undine.

The three journeyed to the distant castle, and took up their abode

together. Soon Kühleborn appeared on the scene, but Undine at once

repulsed him. Next, when her husband was one day hunting, she ordered

the great well in the courtyard to be covered with a big stone, on which

she cut some curious characters.

Bertalda waywardly complained that this proceeding deprived her of water

that was good for her complexion, but Undine privately explained to

Huldbrand that she had caused the servants to seal up this spring

because only by that way of access could her uncle Kühleborn come to

disturb their peace.

As time passed on, Huldbrand gradually cooled toward his wife and turned

affectionately towards Bertalda. Undine bore patiently and silently the

sorrow thus inflicted on her. But when her husband was impatient and

angry she would plead with him never to speak to her in accents of

unkindness when they happened to be on the water, for the water spirits

had her completely in their power on their element, and would seek to

protect her, and even seize her and take her down for ever to dwell in

the crystal castles of the deep.

After some estrangements, Undine and Bertalda had again become loving

friends, and Huldbrand's affection for his wife had revived with its old

and welcome warmth, while the attachment between him and Bertalda seemed

forgotten.

One day the three were enjoying a delightful excursion on the glorious

Danube. Bertalda had taken off a beautiful coral necklace which

Huldbrand had given her. She leaned over and drew the coral beads across

the surface, enjoying the glitter thus caused, when suddenly a great

hand from beneath seized the necklace and snatched it down. The maiden's

scream of terror was answered by mocking laughter from the water.

In an outburst of passion, Huldbrand started up and poured forth curses

on the river and its denizens, whether spirits or sirens. With tears in

her eyes, Undine besought him softly not to scold her there, and she

took from her neck a beautiful necklace and offered it to Bertalda as a

compensation.

But the angry knight snatched it away, and hurled it into the river,

exclaiming, "Are you still connected with them? In the name of all the

witches, remain among them with your presents, and leave us mortals in

peace, you sorceress!"

Bitterly weeping and crying, "Woe! Woe!" she vanished over the side of

the vessel. Her last words were, "Remain true! Woe! Woe!" Huldbrand lay

swooning on the deck, and little waves seemed to be sobbing on the

surface of the Danube, "Woe! Woe! Remain true!"

_IV.--The White Stranger_

For a time deep sorrow fell on the lord of Ringstetten and Bertalda.

They lived long in the castle quietly, often weeping for Undine,

tenderly cherishing her memory. Undine often visited Huldbrand in his

dreams, caressing him and weeping silently so that his cheeks were wet

when he awoke. But these visions grew less frequent, and the knight's

grief diminished by degrees. At length he and Bertalda were married, but

it was in spite of a grave warning from Father Heilmann, who declared

that Undine had appeared to him in visions, beseeching him to warn

Huldbrand and Bertalda to leave each other. They were too infatuated to

heed the admonition, and a priest from a neighbouring monastery promised

to perform the ceremony in a few days.

Meantime, when lying between sleeping and waking, the knight seemed

fanned by the wings of a swan, and, as he fell asleep, seemed borne

along on the wings of swans which sang their sweetest music. All at once

he seemed to be hovering over the Mediterranean Sea. Its waters were so

crystalline that he could see through them to the bottom, and there,

under a crystal arch, sat Undine, weeping bitterly. She seemed not to

perceive him. Kühleborn approached her, and told her that Huldbrand was

to be wedded again, and that it would be her duty, from which nothing

could release her, to end his life.

"That I cannot do," said she. "I have sealed up the fountain against my

race."

Huldbrand felt as if he were soaring back again over the sea, and at

length he seemed to reach his castle. He awoke on his couch, but he

could not bring himself to break off the arrangements that had been

made.

The marriage feast at Ringstetten was not as bright and happy as such

occasions usually are, for a veil of gloom seemed to rest over the

company. Even the bride affected a happy and thoughtless demeanour which

she did not really feel. The company dispersed early, Bertalda retiring

with her maidens, and Huldbrand with his attendants.

In her apartment Bertalda, with a sigh, noticed how freckled was her

neck, and a remark she made to her maidens as she gazed in the mirror

excited the eager attention of one of them. She heard her fair mistress

say, "Oh, that I had a flask of the purifying water from the closed

fountain!" Presently the officious waiting-woman was seen leading men to

the fountain. With levers they quickly lifted the stone, for some

mysterious force within seemed to aid them.

Then from the fountain solemnly rose a white column of water. It was

presently perceived that it was a pale female figure, veiled in white.

She was weeping bitterly as she walked slowly to the building, while

Bertalda and her attendants, pale with terror, watched from the window.

The figure passed on, and at the door of Huldbrand's room, where the

knight was partly undressed, was heard a gentle tap. The white figure

slowly entered. It was Undine, who softly said, "They have opened the

spring, and now I am here and you must die." Said the knight, "It must

be so! But let me die in your embrace."

"Most gladly, my loved one," said she, throwing back her veil and

disclosing her face divinely smiling. Imprinting on his lips a sacred

kiss, Undine clasped the knight in her arms, weeping as if she would

weep her very soul away. Huldbrand fell softly back on the pillows of

his couch, a corpse.

At the funeral of Huldbrand the veiled figure appeared when the

procession formed a circle round the grave. All knelt in mute devotion

at a signal from Father Heilmann. When they rose again the white

stranger had vanished, and on the spot where she had knelt a silvery

little fountain gushed forth, which almost encircled the grave and then

ran on till it reached a lake near by. And to this day the inhabitants

cherish the tradition that thus the poor rejected Undine still lovingly

embraces her husband.

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