DONNERHUGEL'S NARRATIVE.
These be the adept's doctrines--every element
Is peopled with its separate race of spirits.
The airy Sylphs on the blue ether float;
Deep in the earthy cavern skulks the Gnome;
The sea-green Naiad skims the ocean-billow,
And the fierce fire is yet a friendly home
To its peculiar sprite--the Salamander.
ANONYMOUS.
I told you (said Rudolph) that the Lords of Arnheim, though from
father to son they were notoriously addicted to secret studies, were,
nevertheless, like the other German nobles, followers of war and the
chase. This was peculiarly the case with Anne's maternal grandfather,
Herman of Arnheim, who prided himself on possessing a splendid stud of
horses, and one steed in particular, the noblest ever known in these
circles of Germany. I should make wild work were I to attempt a
description of such an animal, so I will content myself with saying
his colour was jet black, without a hair of white either on his face
or feet. For this reason, and the wildness of his disposition, his
master had termed him Apollyon; a circumstance which was secretly
considered as tending to sanction the evil reports which touched the
house of Arnheim, being, it was said, the naming of a favourite animal
after a foul fiend.
It chanced, one November day, that the Baron had been hunting in the
forest, and did not reach home till nightfall. There were no guests
with him, for, as I hinted to you before, the castle of Arnheim seldom
received any other than those from whom its inhabitants hoped to gain
augmentation of knowledge. The Baron was seated alone in his hall,
illuminated with cressets and torches. His one hand held a volume
covered with characters unintelligible to all save himself. The other
rested on the marble table, on which was placed a flask of Tokay wine.
A page stood in respectful attendance near the bottom of the large and
dim apartment, and no sound was heard save that of the night wind,
when it sighed mournfully through the rusty coats of mail, and waved
the tattered banners which were the tapestry of the feudal hall. At
once the footstep of a person was heard ascending the stairs in haste
and trepidation; the door of the hall was thrown violently open, and,
terrified to a degree of ecstasy, Caspar, the head of the Baron's
stable, or his master of horse, stumbled up almost to the foot of the
table at which his lord was seated, with the exclamation in his
mouth,--
"My lord, my lord, a fiend is in the stable!"
"What means this folly?" said the Baron, arising, surprised and
displeased at an interruption so unusual.
"Let me endure your displeasure," said Caspar, "if I speak not truth!
Apollyon"----
Here he paused.
"Speak out, thou frightened fool," said the Baron; "is my horse sick,
or injured?"
The master of the stalls again gasped forth the word, "Apollyon!"
"Say on," said the Baron; "were Apollyon in presence personally, it
were nothing to shake a brave man's mind."
"The devil," answered the master of the horse, "is in Apollyon's
stall!"
"Fool!" exclaimed the nobleman, snatching a torch from the wall; "what
is it that could have turned thy brain in such silly fashion? Things
like thee, that are born to serve us, should hold their brains on a
firmer tenure, for our sakes, if not for that of their worthless
selves."
As he spoke, he descended to the court of the castle, to visit the
stately range of stables which occupied all the lower part of the
quadrangle on one side. He entered, where fifty gallant steeds stood
in rows, on each side of the ample hall. At the side of each stall
hung the weapons of offence and defence of a man-at-arms, as bright as
constant attention could make them, together with the buff-coat which
formed the trooper's under garment. The Baron, followed by one or two
of the domestics, who had assembled full of astonishment at the
unusual alarm, hastened up to the head of the stable, betwixt the rows
of steeds. As he approached the stall of his favourite horse, which
was the uppermost of the right-hand row, the gallant steed neither
neighed, nor shook his head, nor stamped with his foot, nor gave the
usual signs of joy at his lord's approach; a faint moaning, as if he
implored assistance, was the only acknowledgment he gave of the
Baron's presence.
Sir Herman held up the torch, and discovered that there was indeed a
tall dark figure standing in the stall, resting his hand on the
horse's shoulder. "Who art thou," said the Baron, "and what dost thou
here?"
"I seek refuge and hospitality," replied the stranger; "and I conjure
thee to grant it me, by the shoulder of thy horse, and by the edge of
thy sword, and so as they may never fail thee when thy need is at the
utmost!"
"Thou art, then, a brother of the Sacred Fire," said Baron Herman of
Arnheim; "and I may not refuse thee the refuge which thou requirest of
me, after the ritual of the Persian Magi. From whom, and for what
length of time, dost thou crave my protection?"
"From those," replied the stranger, "who shall arrive in quest of me
before the morning cock shall crow, and for the full space of a year
and a day from this period."
"I may not refuse thee," said the Baron, "consistently with my oath
and my honour. For a year and a day I will be thy pledge, and thou
shalt share with me roof and chamber, wine and food. But thou too must
obey the law of Zoroaster, which, as it says, Let the Stronger protect
the weaker brother, says also, Let the Wiser instruct the brother who
hath less knowledge. I am the stronger, and thou shalt be safe under
my protection; but thou art the wiser, and must instruct me in the
more secret mysteries."
"You mock your servant," said the strange visitor; "but if aught is
known to Dannischemend which can avail Herman, his instructions shall
be as those of a father to a son."
"Come forth, then, from thy place of refuge," said the Baron of
Arnheim. "I swear to thee by the sacred fire which lives without
terrestrial fuel, and by the fraternity which is betwixt us, and
by the shoulder of my horse, and the edge of my good sword, I will be
thy warrand for a year and a day, if so far my power shall extend."
[Illustration: IN THE STABLE.
Drawn and Etched by R. de los Rios.]
The stranger came forth accordingly; and those who saw the singularity
of his appearance, scarce wondered at the fears of Caspar, the
stall-master, when he found such a person in the stable, by what mode
of entrance he was unable to conceive. When he reached the lighted
hall to which the Baron conducted him, as he would have done a welcome
and honoured guest, the stranger appeared to be very tall, and of a
dignified aspect. His dress was Asiatic, being a long black caftan, or
gown, like that worn by Armenians, and a lofty square cap, covered
with the wool of Astracan lambs. Every article of the dress was black,
which gave relief to the long white beard, that flowed down over his
bosom. His gown was fastened by a sash of black silk network, in
which, instead of a poniard or sword, was stuck a silver case,
containing writing-materials, and a roll of parchment. The only
ornament of his apparel consisted in a large ruby of uncommon
brilliancy, which, when he approached the light, seemed to glow with
such liveliness as if the gem itself had emitted the rays which it
only reflected back. To the offer of refreshment the stranger replied,
"Bread I may not eat, water shall not moisten my lips, until the
avenger shall have passed by the threshold."
The Baron commanded the lamps to be trimmed, and fresh torches to be
lighted, and, sending his whole household to rest, remained seated in
the hall along with the stranger, his suppliant. At the dead hour of
midnight, the gates of the castle were shaken as by a whirlwind, and a
voice, as of a herald, was heard to demand a herald's lawful prisoner,
Dannischemend, the son of Hali. The warder then heard a lower window
of the hall thrown open, and could distinguish his master's voice
addressing the person who had thus summoned the castle. But the night
was so dark that he might not see the speakers, and the language which
they used was either entirely foreign, or so largely interspersed with
strange words, that he could not understand a syllable which they
said. Scarce five minutes had elapsed, when he who was without again
elevated his voice as before, and said in German, "For a year and a
day, then, I forbear my forfeiture;--but coming for it when that time
shall elapse, I come for my right, and will no longer be withstood."
From that period, Dannischemend, the Persian, was a constant guest at
the castle of Arnheim, and, indeed, never for any visible purpose
crossed the drawbridge. His amusements, or studies, seemed centred in
the library of the castle, and in the laboratory, where the Baron
sometimes toiled in conjunction with him for many hours together. The
inhabitants of the castle could find no fault in the Magus, or
Persian, excepting his apparently dispensing with the ordinances of
religion, since he neither went to mass nor confession, nor attended
upon other religious ceremonies. The chaplain did indeed profess
himself satisfied with the state of the stranger's conscience; but it
had been long suspected that the worthy ecclesiastic held his easy
office on the very reasonable condition of approving the principles,
and asserting the orthodoxy, of all guests whom the Baron invited to
share his hospitality.
It was observed that Dannischemend was rigid in paying his devotions,
by prostrating himself in the first rays of the rising sun, and that
he constructed a silver lamp of the most beautiful proportions, which
he placed on a pedestal, representing a truncated column of marble,
having its base sculptured with hieroglyphical imagery. With what
essences he fed this flame was unknown to all, unless perhaps to the
Baron; but the flame was more steady, pure, and lustrous than any
which was ever seen, excepting the sun of heaven itself, and it was
generally believed that the Magian made it an object of worship in the
absence of that blessed luminary. Nothing else was observed of him,
unless that his morals seemed severe, his gravity extreme, his general
mode of life very temperate, and his fasts and vigils of frequent
recurrence. Except on particular occasions, he spoke to no one of the
castle but the Baron; but, as he had money and was liberal, he was
regarded by the domestics with awe indeed, but without fear or
dislike.
Winter was succeeded by spring, summer brought her flowers, and autumn
her fruits, which ripened and were fading, when a foot-page, who
sometimes attended them in the laboratory to render manual assistance
when required, heard the Persian say to the Baron of Arnheim, "You
will do well, my son, to mark my words; for my lessons to you are
drawing to an end, and there is no power on earth which can longer
postpone my fate."
"Alas, my master!" said the Baron, "and must I then lose the benefit
of your direction, just when your guiding hand becomes necessary to
place me on the very pinnacle of the temple of wisdom?"
"Be not discouraged, my son," answered the sage; "I will bequeath the
task of perfecting you in your studies to my daughter, who will come
hither on purpose. But remember, if you value the permanence of your
family, look not upon her as aught else than a helpmate in your
studies; for if you forget the instructress in the beauty of the
maiden, you will be buried with your sword and your shield, as the
last male of your house; and further evil, believe me, will arise; for
such alliances never come to a happy issue, of which my own is an
example.--But hush, we are observed."
The household of the castle of Arnheim having but few things to
interest them, were the more eager observers of those which came under
their notice; and when the termination of the period when the Persian
was to receive shelter in the castle began to approach, some of the
inmates, under various pretexts, but which resolved into very terror,
absconded, while others held themselves in expectation of some
striking and terrible catastrophe. None such, however, took place; and
on the expected anniversary, long ere the witching hour of midnight,
Dannischemend terminated his visit in the castle of Arnheim, by riding
away from the gate in the guise of an ordinary traveller. The Baron
had meantime taken leave of his tutor with many marks of regret, and
some which amounted even to sorrow. The sage Persian comforted him by
a long whisper, of which the last part only was heard--"By the first
beam of sunshine she will be with you. Be kind to her, but not over
kind." He then departed, and was never again seen or heard of in the
vicinity of Arnheim.
The Baron was observed during all the day after the departure of the
stranger to be particularly melancholy. He remained, contrary to his
custom, in the great hall, and neither visited the library nor the
laboratory, where he could no longer enjoy the company of his departed
instructor. At dawn of the ensuing morning, Sir Herman summoned his
page, and, contrary to his habits, which used to be rather careless in
respect of apparel, he dressed himself with great accuracy; and as he
was in the prime of life, and of a noble figure, he had reason to be
satisfied with his appearance. Having performed his toilet, he waited
till the sun had just appeared above the horizon, and, taking from the
table the key of the laboratory, which the page believed must have
lain there all night, he walked thither, followed by his attendant. At
the door the Baron made a pause, and seemed at one time to doubt
whether he should not send away the page, at another to hesitate
whether he should open the door, as one might do who expected some
strange sight within. He pulled up resolution, however, turned the
key, threw the door open, and entered. The page followed close behind
his master, and was astonished to the point of extreme terror at what
he beheld, although the sight, however extraordinary, had in it
nothing save what was agreeable and lovely.
The silver lamp was extinguished, or removed from its pedestal, where
stood in place of it a most beautiful female figure in the Persian
costume, in which the colour of pink predominated. But she wore no
turban or headdress of any kind, saving a blue riband drawn through
her auburn hair, and secured by a gold clasp, the outer side of which
was ornamented by a superb opal, which, amid the changing lights
peculiar to that gem, displayed internally a slight tinge of red like
a spark of fire.
The figure of this young person was rather under the middle size, but
perfectly well formed; the Eastern dress, with the wide trousers
gathered round the ankles, made visible the smallest and most
beautiful feet which had ever been seen, while hands and arms of the
most perfect symmetry were partly seen from under the folds of the
robe. The little lady's countenance was of a lively and expressive
character, in which spirit and wit seemed to predominate; and the
quick dark eye, with its beautifully formed eyebrow, seemed to presage
the arch remark to which the rosy and half-smiling lip appeared ready
to give utterance.
The pedestal on which she stood, or rather was perched, would have
appeared unsafe had any figure heavier than her own been placed there.
But, however she had been transported thither, she seemed to rest on
it as lightly and safely as a linnet, when it has dropped from the sky
on the tendril of a rose-bud. The first beam of the rising sun,
falling through a window directly opposite to the pedestal, increased
the effect of this beautiful figure, which remained as motionless as
if it had been carved in marble. She only expressed her sense of the
Baron of Arnheim's presence by something of a quicker respiration, and
a deep blush, accompanied by a slight smile.
Whatever reason the Baron of Arnheim might have for expecting to see
some such object as now exhibited its actual presence, the degree of
beauty which it presented was so much beyond his expectation, that for
an instant he stood without breath or motion. At once, however, he
seemed to recollect that it was his duty to welcome the fair stranger
to his castle, and to relieve her from her precarious situation. He
stepped forward accordingly with the words of welcome on his tongue,
and was extending his arms to lift her from the pedestal, which was
nearly six feet high; but the light and active stranger merely
accepted the support of his hand, and descended on the floor as light
and as safe as if she had been formed of gossamer. It was, indeed,
only by the momentary pressure of her little hand that the Baron of
Arnheim was finally made sensible that he had to do with a being of
flesh and blood.
"I am come as I have been commanded," she said, looking around her.
"You must expect a strict and diligent mistress, and I hope for the
credit of an attentive pupil."
After the arrival of this singular and interesting being in the castle
of Arnheim, various alterations took place within the interior of the
household. A lady of high rank and small fortune, the respectable
widow of a Count of the Empire, who was the Baron's blood relation,
received and accepted an invitation to preside over her kinsman's
domestic affairs, and remove, by her countenance, any suspicions which
might arise from the presence of Hermione, as the beautiful Persian
was generally called.
The Countess Waldstetten carried her complaisance so far as to be
present on almost all occasions, whether in the laboratory or library,
when the Baron of Arnheim received lessons from, or pursued studies
with, the young and lovely tutor who had been thus strangely
substituted for the aged Magus. If this lady's report was to be
trusted, their pursuits were of a most extraordinary nature, and the
results which she sometimes witnessed were such as to create fear as
well as surprise. But she strongly vindicated them from practising
unlawful arts, or overstepping the boundaries of natural science.
A better judge of such matters, the Bishop of Bamberg himself, made a
visit to Arnheim, on purpose to witness the wisdom of which so much
was reported through the whole Rhine-country. He conversed with
Hermione, and found her deeply impressed with the truths of religion,
and so perfectly acquainted with its doctrines, that he compared her
to a doctor of theology in the dress of an Eastern dancing-girl. When
asked regarding her knowledge of languages and science, he answered,
that he had been attracted to Arnheim by the most extravagant reports
on these points, but that he must return confessing "the half thereof
had not been told unto him."
In consequence of this indisputable testimony, the sinister reports
which had been occasioned by the singular appearance of the fair
stranger were in a great measure lulled to sleep, especially as her
amiable manners won the involuntary good-will of every one that
approached her.
Meantime a marked alteration began to take place in the interviews
between the lovely tutor and her pupil. These were conducted with the
same caution as before, and never, so far as could be observed, took
place without the presence of the Countess of Waldstetten, or some
other third person of respectability. But the scenes of these meetings
were no longer the scholar's library, or the chemist's laboratory;--the
gardens, the groves, were resorted to for amusement, and parties of
hunting and fishing, with evenings spent in the dance, seemed to
announce that the studies of wisdom were for a time abandoned for the
pursuits of pleasure. It was not difficult to guess the meaning of
this; the Baron of Arnheim and his fair guest, speaking a language
different from all others, could enjoy their private conversation,
even amid all the tumult of gaiety around them; and no one was
surprised to hear it formally announced, after a few weeks of gaiety,
that the fair Persian was to be wedded to the Baron of Arnheim.
The manners of this fascinating young person were so pleasing, her
conversation so animated, her wit so keen, yet so well tempered with
good nature and modesty, that, notwithstanding her unknown origin, her
high fortune attracted less envy than might have been expected in a
case so singular. Above all, her generosity amazed and won the hearts
of all the young persons who approached her. Her wealth seemed to be
measureless, for the many rich jewels which she distributed among her
fair friends would otherwise have left her without ornaments for
herself. These good qualities, her liberality above all, together with
a simplicity of thought and character which formed a beautiful
contrast to the depth of acquired knowledge which she was well known
to possess--these, and her total want of ostentation, made her
superiority be pardoned among her companions. Still there was notice
taken of some peculiarities, exaggerated perhaps by envy, which seemed
to draw a mystical distinction between the beautiful Hermione and the
mere mortals with whom she lived and conversed.
In the merry dance she was so unrivalled in lightness and agility that
her performance seemed that of an aërial being. She could, without
suffering from her exertion, continue the pleasure till she had tired
out the most active revellers; and even the young Duke of
Hochspringen, who was reckoned the most indefatigable at that exercise
in Germany, having been her partner for half an hour, was compelled to
break off the dance, and throw himself, totally exhausted, on a couch,
exclaiming he had been dancing not with a woman, but with an _ignis
fatuus_.
Other whispers averred that while she played with her young companions
in the labyrinth and mazes of the castle gardens at hide-and-seek, or
similar games of activity, she became animated with the same
supernatural alertness which was supposed to inspire her in the dance.
She appeared amongst her companions, and vanished from them, with a
degree of rapidity which was inconceivable; and hedges, treillage, or
such like obstructions, were surmounted by her in a manner which the
most vigilant eye could not detect; for, after being observed on the
side of the barrier at one instant, in another she was beheld close
beside the spectator.
In such moments, when her eyes sparkled, her cheeks reddened, and her
whole frame became animated, it was pretended that the opal clasp
amid her tresses, the ornament which she never laid aside, shot forth
the little spark, or tongue of flame, which it always displayed, with
an increased vivacity. In the same manner, if in the half-darkened
hall the conversation of Hermione became unusually animated, it was
believed that the jewel became brilliant, and even displayed a
twinkling and flashing gleam which seemed to be emitted by the gem
itself, and not produced in the usual manner, by the reflection of
some external light. Her maidens were also heard to surmise that when
their mistress was agitated by any hasty or brief resentment (the only
weakness of temper which she was sometimes observed to display), they
could observe dark-red sparks flash from the mystic brooch, as if it
sympathised with the wearer's emotions. The women who attended on her
toilet further reported that this gem was never removed but for a few
minutes, when the Baroness's hair was combed out; that she was
unusually pensive and silent during the time it was laid aside, and
particularly apprehensive when any liquid was brought near it. Even in
the use of holy water at the door of the church she was observed to
omit the sign of the cross on the forehead, for fear, it was supposed,
of the water touching the valued jewel.
These singular reports did not prevent the marriage of the Baron of
Arnheim from proceeding as had been arranged. It was celebrated in the
usual form, and with the utmost splendour, and the young couple seemed
to commence a life of happiness rarely to be found on earth. In the
course of twelve months, the lovely Baroness presented her husband
with a daughter, which was to be christened Sybilla, after the Count's
mother. As the health of the child was excellent, the ceremony was
postponed till the recovery of the mother from her confinement. Many
were invited to be present on the occasion, and the castle was
thronged with company.
It happened that amongst the guests was an old lady, notorious for
playing in private society the part of a malicious fairy in a
minstrel's tale. This was the Baroness of Steinfeldt, famous in the
neighbourhood for her insatiable curiosity and overweening pride. She
had not been many days in the castle, ere, by the aid of a female
attendant, who acted as an intelligencer, she had made herself
mistress of all that was heard, said, or suspected, concerning the
peculiarities of the Baroness Hermione. It was on the morning of the
day appointed for the christening, while the whole company were
assembled in the hall, and waiting till the Baroness should appear, to
pass with them to the chapel, that there arose between the censorious
and haughty dame whom we have just mentioned, and the Countess
Waldstetten, a violent discussion concerning some point of disputed
precedence. It was referred to the Baron von Arnheim, who decided in
favour of the Countess. Madame de Steinfeldt instantly ordered her
palfrey to be prepared, and her attendants to mount.
"I leave this place," she said, "which a good Christian ought never to
have entered; I leave a house of which the master is a sorcerer, the
mistress a demon who dares not cross her brow with holy water, and
their trencher companion one who, for a wretched pittance, is willing
to act as match-maker between a wizard and an incarnate fiend!"
She then departed, with rage in her countenance and spite in her
heart.
The Baron of Arnheim then stepped forward, and demanded of the knights
and gentlemen around if there were any among them who would dare to
make good with his sword the infamous falsehoods thrown upon himself,
his spouse, and his kinswoman.
There was a general answer, utterly refusing to defend the Baroness of
Steinfeldt's words in so bad a cause, and universally testifying the
belief of the company that she spoke in the spirit of calumny and
falsehood.
"Then let that lie fall to the ground which no man of courage will
hold up," said the Baron of Arnheim; "only, all who are here this
morning shall be satisfied whether the Baroness Hermione doth or doth
not share the rites of Christianity."
The Countess of Waldstetten made anxious signs to him while he spoke
thus; and when the crowd permitted her to approach near him, she was
heard to whisper, "Oh, be not rash! try no experiment! there is
something mysterious about that opal talisman; be prudent, and let the
matter pass by."
The Baron, who was in a more towering passion than well became the
wisdom to which he made pretence--although it will be perhaps allowed
that an affront so public, and in such a time and place, was enough to
shake the prudence of the most staid, and the philosophy of the most
wise--answered sternly and briefly, "Are you, too, such a fool?" and
retained his purpose.
The Baroness of Arnheim at this moment entered the hall, looking just
so pale from her late confinement as to render her lovely countenance
more interesting, if less animated, than usual. Having paid her
compliments to the assembled company, with the most graceful and
condescending attention, she was beginning to inquire why Madame de
Steinfeldt was not present, when her husband made the signal for the
company to move forward to the chapel, and lent the Baroness his arm
to bring up the rear. The chapel was nearly filled by the splendid
company, and all eyes were bent on their host and hostess, as they
entered the place of devotion immediately after four young ladies, who
supported the infant babe in a light and beautiful litter.
As they passed the threshold, the Baron dipped his finger in the
font-stone, and offered holy water to his lady, who accepted it, as
usual, by touching his finger with her own. But then, as if to confute
the calumnies of the malevolent lady of Steinfeldt, with an air of
sportive familiarity which was rather unwarranted by the time and
place, he flirted on her beautiful forehead a drop or two of the
moisture which remained on his own hand. The opal, on which one of
these drops had lighted, shot out a brilliant spark like a falling
star, and became the instant afterwards lightless and colourless as a
common pebble, while the beautiful Baroness sank on the floor of the
chapel with a deep sigh of pain. All crowded around her in dismay. The
unfortunate Hermione was raised from the ground, and conveyed to her
chamber; and so much did her countenance and pulse alter, within the
short time necessary to do this, that those who looked upon her
pronounced her a dying woman. She was no sooner in her own apartment
than she requested to be left alone with her husband. He remained an
hour in the room, and when he came out he locked and double locked the
door behind him. He then betook himself to the chapel, and remained
there for an hour or more, prostrated before the altar.
In the meantime, most of the guests had dispersed in dismay, though
some abode out of courtesy or curiosity. There was a general sense of
impropriety in suffering the door of the sick lady's apartment to
remain locked; but, alarmed at the whole circumstances of her illness,
it was some time ere any one dared disturb the devotions of the Baron.
At length medical aid arrived, and the Countess of Waldstetten took
upon her to demand the key. She spoke more than once to a man, who
seemed incapable of hearing, at least of understanding, what she said.
At length he gave her the key, and added sternly, as he did so, that
all aid was unavailing, and that it was his pleasure that all
strangers should leave the castle. There were few who inclined to
stay, when, upon opening the door of the chamber in which the Baroness
had been deposited little more than two hours before, no traces of her
could be discovered, unless that there was about a handful of
light-grey ashes, like such as might have been produced by burning
fine paper, found on the bed where she had been laid. A solemn funeral
was nevertheless performed, with masses, and all other spiritual
rites, for the soul of the high and noble Lady Hermione of Arnheim;
and it was exactly on that same day three years that the Baron
himself was laid in the grave of the same chapel of Arnheim, with
sword, shield, and helmet, as the last male of his family.
* * * * *
Here the Swiss paused, for they were approaching the bridge of the
castle of Graffs-lust.