Three months passed and the day was come on which, in accordance with

the expressed wish of the deceased, his will was to be opened at K----,

where it had been deposited. In the chambers there was, besides the

officers of the court, the Baron, and V----, a young man of noble

appearance, whom V---- had brought with him, and who was taken to be

V----'s clerk, since he had a parchment deed sticking out from the

breast of his buttoned-up coat. Him the Baron treated as he did nearly

all the rest, with scornful contempt; and he demanded with noisy

impetuosity that they should make haste and get done with all their

tiresome needless ceremonies as quickly as possible and without over

many words and scribblings. He couldn't for the life of him make out

why any will should be wanted at all with respect to the inheritance,

and especially in the case of entailed property; and no matter what

provisions were made in the will, it would depend entirely upon his

decision as to whether they should be observed or not. After casting a

hasty and surly glance at the handwriting and the seal, the Baron

acknowledged them to be those of his dead father. Upon the clerk of the

court preparing to read the will aloud, the young Baron, throwing his

right arm carelessly over the back of his chair and leaning his left on

the table, whilst he drummed with his fingers on its green cover, sat

staring with an air of indifference out of the window. After a short

preamble the deceased Freiherr Hubert von R---- declared that he had

never possessed the estate-tail as its lawful owner, but that he had

only managed it in the name of the deceased Freiherr Wolfgang von

R----'s only son, called Roderick after his grandfather; and he it was

to whom, according to the rights of family priority, the estate had

fallen on his father's death. Amongst Hubert's papers would be found an

exact account of all revenues and expenditure, as well as of existing

movable property, &c. The will went on to relate that Wolfgang von

R---- had, during his travels, made the acquaintance of Mdlle. Julia de

St. Val in Geneva, and had fallen so deeply in love with her that he

resolved never to leave her side again. She was very poor; and her

family, although noble and of good repute, did not, however, rank

amongst the most illustrious, for which reason Wolfgang dared not

expect to receive the consent of old Roderick to a union with her, for

the old Freiherr's aim and ambition was to promote by all possible

means the establishment of a powerful family. Nevertheless he ventured

to write from Paris to his father, acquainting him with the fact that

his affections were engaged. But what he had foreseen was actually

realised; the old Baron declared categorically that he had himself

chosen the future mistress of the entail, and therefore there could

never be any mention made of any other. Wolfgang, instead of crossing

the Channel into England, as he was to have done, returned into Geneva

under the assumed name of Born, and married Julia, who after the lapse

of a year bore him a son, and this son became on Wolfgang's death the

real lord of the entail. In explanation of the facts why Hubert, though

acquainted with all this, had kept silent so long and had represented

himself as lord of the entail, various reasons were assigned, based

upon agreements formerly made with Wolfgang, but they seemed for the

most part insufficient and devoid of real foundation.

The Baron sat staring at the clerk of the court as if thunderstruck,

whilst the latter went on proclaiming all this bad news in a

provokingly monotonous and jarring tone. When he finished, V---- rose,

and taking the young man whom he had brought with him by the hand,

said, as he bowed to the assembled company, "Here I have the honour to

present to you, gentlemen, Freiherr Roderick von R----, lord of the

entail of R--sitten." Baron Hubert looked at the youth, who had, as it

were, fallen from the clouds to deprive him of the rich inheritance

together with half the unentailed Courland estates, with suppressed

fury in his gleaming eyes; then, threatening him with his doubled fist,

he ran out of the court without uttering a word. Baron Roderick, on

being challenged by the court-officers, produced the documents by which

he was to establish his identity as the person whom he represented

himself to be. He handed in an attested extract from the register of

the church where his father was married, which certified that on such

and such a day Wolfgang Born, merchant, born in K----, had been united

in marriage with the blessing of the Church to Mdlle. Julia de St. Val,

in the presence of certain witnesses, who were named. Further, he

produced his own baptismal certificate (he had been baptized in Geneva

as the son of the merchant Born and his wife Julia, _nee_ De St. Val,

begotten in lawful wedlock), and various letters from his father to his

mother, who was long since dead, but they none of them had any other

signature than W.

V---- looked through all these papers with a cloud upon his face; and

as he put them together again, he said, somewhat troubled, "Ah well!

God will help us!"

The very next morning Freiherr Hubert von R---- presented, through an

advocate whose services he had succeeded in enlisting in his cause, a

statement of protest to the government authorities in K----, actually

calling upon them to effectuate the immediate surrender to him of the

entail of R--sitten. It was incontestable, maintained the advocate,

that the deceased Freiherr Hubert Von R---- had not had the power to

dispose of entailed property either by testament or in any other way.

The testament in question, therefore, was nothing more than an

evidential statement, written down and deposited with the court, to the

effect that Freiherr Wolfgang von R---- had bequeathed the estate-tail

to a son who was at that time still living; and accordingly it had as

evidence no greater weight than that of any other witness, and so could

not by any possibility legitimately establish the claims of the person

who had announced himself to be Freiherr Roderick von R----. Hence it

was rather the duty of this new claimant to prove by action at law his

alleged rights of inheritance, which were hereby expressly disputed and

denied, and so also to take proper steps to maintain his claim to the

estate-tail, which now, according to the laws of succession, fell to

Baron Hubert von R----. By the father's death the property came at once

immediately into the hands of the son. There was no need for any

formal declaration to be made of his entering into possession of the

inheritance, since the succession could not be alienated; at any rate,

the present owner of the estate was not going to be disturbed in his

possession by claims which were perfectly groundless. Whatever reasons

the deceased might have had for bringing forward another heir of entail

were quite irrelevant. And it might be remarked that he had himself had

an intrigue in Switzerland, as could be proved if necessary from the

papers he had left behind him; and it was quite possible that the

person whom he alleged to be his brother's son was his own son, the

fruit of an unlawful love, for whom in a momentary fit of remorse he

had wished to secure the entail.

However great was the balance of probability in favour of the truth of

the circumstances as stated in the will, and however revolted the

judges were, particularly by the last clauses of the protest, in which

the son felt no compunction at accusing his dead father of a crime, yet

the views of the case there stated were after all the right ones; and

it was only due to V----'s restless exertions, and his explicit and

solemn assurance that the proofs which were necessary to establish

legitimately the identity of Freiherr Roderick von R---- should be

produced in a very short time, that the surrender of the estate to the

young Baron was deferred, and the contrivance of the administration of

it in trust agreed to, until after the case should be settled.

V---- was only too well aware how difficult it would be for him to keep

his promise. He had turned over all old Roderick's papers without

finding the slightest trace of a letter or any kind of a statement

bearing upon Wolfgang's relation to Mdlle. de St. Val. He was sitting

wrapt in thought in old Roderick's sleeping-cabinet, every hole and

comer of which he had searched, and was working at a long statement of

the case that he intended despatching to a certain notary in Geneva,

who had been recommended to him as a shrewd and energetic man, to

request him to procure and forward certain documents which would

establish the young Freiherr's cause on firm ground. It was midnight;

the full moon shone in through the windows of the adjoining hall, the

door of which stood open. Then V---- fancied he heard a noise as of

some one coming slowly and heavily up the stairs, and also at the same

time a jingling and rattling of keys. His attention was arrested; he

rose to his feet and went into the hall, where he plainly made out that

there was some one crossing the ante-room and approaching the door of

the hall where he was. Soon afterwards the door was opened and a man

came slowly in, dressed in night-clothes, his face ghastly pale and

distorted; in the one hand he bore a candle-stick with the candles

burning, and in the other a huge bunch of keys. V---- at once

recognised the house-steward, and was on the point of addressing him

and inquiring what he wanted so late at night, when he was arrested by

an icy shiver; there was something so unearthly and ghost-like in the

old man's manner and bearing as well as in his set, pallid face. He

perceived that he was in presence of a somnambulist. Crossing the hall

obliquely with measured strides, the old man went straight to the

walled-up postern that had formerly led to the tower. He came to a halt

immediately in front of it, and uttered a wailing sound that seemed to

come from the bottom of his heart, and was so awful and so loud that

the whole apartment rang again, making V---- tremble with dread. Then,

setting the candlestick down on the floor and hanging the keys on his

belt, Daniel began to scratch at the wall with both hands, so that the

blood soon burst out from beneath his finger-nails, and all the while

he was moaning and groaning as if tortured by nameless agony. After

placing his ear against the wall in a listening attitude, he waved his

hand as if hushing some one, stooped down and picked up the

candlestick, and finally stole back to the door with soft measured

footsteps. V---- took his own candle in his hand and cautiously

followed him. They both went downstairs; the old man unlocked the great

main door of the castle, V---- slipped cleverly through. Then they went

to the stable, where old Daniel, to V----'s perfect astonishment,

placed his candlestick so skilfully that the entire interior of the

building was sufficiently lighted without the least danger. Having

fetched a saddle and bridle, he put them on one of the horses which he

had loosed from the manger, carefully tightening the girth and taking

up the stirrup-straps. Pulling the tuft of hair on the horse's forehead

outside the front strap, he took him by the bridle and led him out of

the stable, clicking with his tongue and patting his neck with one

hand. On getting outside in the courtyard he stood several seconds in

the attitude of one receiving commands, which he promised by sundry

nods to carry out. Then he led the horse back into the stable,

unsaddled him, and tied him to the manger. This done, he took his

candlestick, locked the stable, and returned to the castle, finally

disappearing in his own room, the door of which he carefully bolted.

V---- was deeply agitated by this scene; the presentiment of some

fearful deed rose up before him like a black and fiendish spectre, and

refused to leave him. Being so keenly alive as he was to the precarious

position of his _protege_, he felt that it would at least be his duty

to turn what he had seen to his account.

Next day, just as it was beginning to be dusk, Daniel came into the

Justitiarius's room to receive some instructions relating to his

department of the household. V---- took him by the arms, and forcing

him into a chair, in a confidential way began, "See you here, my old

friend Daniel, I have long been wishing to ask you what you think of

all this confused mess into which Hubert's peculiar will has tumbled

us. Do you really think that the young man is Wolfgang's son, begotten

in lawful marriage?" The old man, leaning over the arm of his chair,

and avoiding V----'s eyes, for V---- was watching him most intently,

replied doggedly, "Bah! Maybe he is; maybe he is not. What does it

matter to me? It's all the same to me who's master here now." "But I

believe," went on V----, moving nearer to the old man and placing his

hand on his shoulder, "but I believed you possessed the old Freiherr's

full confidence, and in that case he assuredly would not conceal from

you the real state of affairs with regard to his sons. He told you, I

dare say, about the marriage which Wolfgang had made against his will,

did he not?" "I don't remember to have ever heard him say anything of

that sort," replied the old man, yawning with the most ill-mannered

loudness. "You are sleepy, old man," said V----; "perhaps you have had

a restless night?" "Not that I am aware," he rejoined coldly; "but I

must go and order supper." Whereupon he rose heavily from his chair and

rubbed his bent back, yawning again, and that still more loudly than

before. "Stay a little while, old man," cried V----, taking hold of his

hand and endeavouring to force him to resume his seat; but Daniel

preferred to stand in front of the study-table; propping himself upon

it with both hands, and leaning across towards V----, he asked

sullenly, "Well, what do you want? What have I to do with the will?

What do I care about the quarrel over the estate?" "Well, well,"

interposed V----, "we'll say no more about that now. Let us turn to

some other topic, Daniel. You are out of humour and yawning, and all

that is a sign of great weariness, and I am almost inclined to believe

that it really was _you_ last night, who"---- "Well, what did I do last

night?" asked the old man without changing his position. V---- went

on, "Last night, when I was sitting up above in your old master's

sleeping-cabinet next the great hall, you came in at the door, your

face pale and rigid; and you went across to the bricked-up postern and

scratched at the wall with both your hands, groaning as if in very

great pain. Do you walk in your sleep, Daniel?" The old man dropped

back into the chair which V---- quickly managed to place for him; but

not a sound escaped his lips. His face could not be seen, owing to the

gathering dusk of the evening; V---- only noticed that he took his

breath short and that his teeth were rattling together. "Yes,"

continued V---- after a short pause, "there is one thing that is very

strange about sleep-walkers. On the day after they have been in this

peculiar state in which they have acted as if they were perfectly wide

awake, they don't remember the least thing, that they did." Daniel did

not move. "I have come across something like what your condition was

yesterday once before in the course of my experience," proceeded V----.

"I had a friend who regularly began to wander about at night as you do

whenever it was full moon,--nay, he often sat down and wrote letters.

But what was most extraordinary was that if I began to whisper softly

in his ear I could soon manage to make him speak; and he would answer

correctly all the questions I put to him; and even things that he would

most jealously have concealed when awake now fell from his lips

unbidden, as though he were unable to offer any resistance to the power

that was exerting its influence over him. Deuce take it! I really

believe that, if a man who's given to walking in his sleep had ever

committed any crime, and hoarded it up as a secret ever so long, it

could be extracted from him by questioning when he was in this peculiar

state. Happy are they who have a clean conscience like you and me,

Daniel! We may walk as much as we like in our sleep; there's no fear of

anybody extorting the confession of a crime from us. But come now,

Daniel! when you scratch so hideously at the bricked-up postern, you

want, I dare say, to go up the astronomical tower, don't you? I suppose

you want to go and experiment like old Roderick--eh? Well, next time

you come, I shall ask you what you want to do." Whilst V---- was

speaking, the old man was shaken with continually increasing agitation;

but now his whole frame seemed to heave and rock convulsively past all

hope of cure, and in a shrill voice he began to utter a string of

unmeaning gibberish. V---- rang for the servants. They brought lights;

but as the old man's fit did not abate, they lifted him up as though he

had been a mere automaton, not possessed of the power of voluntary

movement, and carried him to bed. After continuing in this frightful

state for about an hour, he fell into a profound sleep resembling a

dead faint When he awoke he asked for wine; and, after he had got what

he wanted, he sent away the man who was going to sit with him, and

locked himself in his room as usual.

V---- had indeed really resolved to make the attempt he spoke of to

Daniel, although at the same time he could not forget two facts. In the

first place, Daniel, having now been made aware of his propensity to

walk in his sleep, would probably adopt every measure of precaution to

avoid him; and on the other hand, confessions made whilst in this

condition would not be exactly fitted to serve as a basis for further

proceedings. In spite of this, however, he repaired to the hall on the

approach of midnight, hoping that Daniel, as frequently happens to

those afflicted in this way, would be constrained to act involuntarily.

About midnight there arose a great noise in the courtyard. V----

plainly heard a window broken in; then he went downstairs, and as he

traversed the passages he was met by rolling clouds of suffocating

smoke, which, he soon perceived were pouring out of the open door of

the house-steward's room. The steward himself was just being carried

out, to all appearance dead, in order to be taken and put to bed in

another room. The servants related that about midnight one of the

under-grooms had been awakened by a strange hollow knocking; he thought

something had befallen the old man, and was preparing to get up and go

and see if he could help him, when the night watchman in the court

shouted, "Fire! Fire! The Herr House-Steward's room is all of a bright

blaze!" At this outcry several servants at once appeared on the scene;

but all their efforts to burst open the room door were unavailing.

Whereupon they hurried out into the court, but the resolute watchman

had already broken in the window, for the room was low and on the

basement story, had torn down the burning curtains, and by pouring a

few buckets of water on them had at once extinguished the fire. The

house-steward they found lying on the floor in the middle of the room

in a swoon. In his hand he still held the candlestick tightly clenched,

the burning candles of which had caught the curtains, and so occasioned

the fire. Some of the blazing rags had fallen upon the old man, burning

his eyebrows and a large portion of the hair of his head. If the

watchman had not seen the fire the old man must have been helplessly

burned to death. The servants, moreover, to their no little

astonishment found the room door secured on the inside by two quite new

bolts, which had been fastened on since the previous evening, for they

had not been there then. V---- perceived that the old man had wished to

make it impossible for him to get out of his room; for the blind

impulse which urged him to wander in his sleep he could not resist. The

old man became seriously ill; he did not speak; he took but little

nourishment; and lay staring before him with the reflection of death in

his set eyes, just as if he were clasped in the vice-like grip of some

hideous thought. V---- believed he would never rise from his bed again.

V---- had done all that could be done for his client; and he could now

only await the result in patience; and so he resolved to return to

K----. His departure was fixed for the following morning. As he was

packing his papers together late at night, he happened to lay his hand

upon a little sealed packet which Freiherr Hubert von R---- had given

him, bearing the inscription, "To be read after my will has been

opened," and which by some unaccountable means had hitherto escaped his

notice. He was on the point of breaking the seal when the door opened

and Daniel came in with still, ghostlike step. Placing upon the table a

black portfolio which he carried under his arm, he sank upon his knees

with a deep groan, and grasping V----'s hands with a convulsive clutch

he said, in a voice so hollow and hoarse that it seemed to come from

the bottom of a grave, "I should not like to die on the scaffold! There

is One above who judges!" Then, rising with some trouble and with many

painful gasps, he left the room as he had come.

V---- spent the whole of the night in reading what the black portfolio

and Hubert's packet contained. Both agreed in all circumstantial

particulars, and suggested naturally what further steps were to be

taken. On arriving at K----, V---- immediately repaired to Freiherr

Hubert von R----, who received him with ill-mannered pride. But the

remarkable result of the interview, which began at noon and lasted on

without interruption until late at night, was that the next day the

Freiherr made a declaration before the court to the effect that he

acknowledged the claimant to be, agreeably to his father's will, the

son of Wolfgang von R----, eldest son of Freiherr Roderick von R----,

and begotten in lawful wedlock with Mdlle. Julia de St. Val, and

furthermore acknowledged him as rightful and legitimate heir to the

entail. On leaving the court he found his carriage, with post-horses,

standing before the door; he stepped in and was driven off at a rapid

rate, leaving his mother and his sister behind him. They would perhaps

never see him again, he wrote, along with other perplexing statements.

Roderick's astonishment at this unexpected turn which the case had

taken was very great; he pressed V---- to explain to him how this

wonder had been brought about, what mysterious power was at work in the

matter. V----, however, evaded his questions by giving him hopes of

telling him all at some future time, and when he should have come into

possession of the estate. For the surrender of the entail to him could

not be effected immediately, since the court, not content with Hubert's

declaration, required that Roderick should also first prove his own

identity to their satisfaction. V---- proposed to the Baron that he

should go and live at R--sitten, adding that Hubert's mother and

sister, momentarily embarrassed by his sudden departure, would prefer

to go and live quietly on the ancestral property rather than stay in

the dear and noisy town. The glad delight with which Roderick welcomed

the prospect of dwelling, at least for a time, under the same roof with

the Baroness and her daughter, betrayed the deep impression which the

lovely and graceful Seraphina had made upon him. In fact, the Freiherr

made such good use of his time in R--sitten that, at the end of a few

weeks, he had won Seraphina's love as well as her mother's cordial

approval of her marriage with him. All this was for V---- rather too

quick work, since Roderick's claims to be lord of the entail still

continued to be rather doubtful. The life of idyllic happiness at the

castle was interrupted by letters from Courland. Hubert had not shown

himself at all at the estates, but had travelled direct to St

Petersburg, where he had taken military service and was now in the

field against the Persians, with whom Russia happened to be just then

waging war. This obliged the Baroness and her daughter to set off

immediately for their Courland estates, where everything was in

confusion and disorder. Roderick, who regarded himself in the light of

an accepted son-in-law, insisted upon accompanying his beloved; and

hence, since V---- likewise returned to K----, the castle was left in

its previous loneliness. The house-steward's malignant complaint grew

worse and worse, so that he gave up all hopes of ever getting about

again; and his office was conferred upon an old _chasseur_, Francis by

name, Wolfgang's faithful servant.

At last, after long waiting, V---- received from Switzerland

information of the most favourable character. The priest who had

married Roderick was long since dead; but there was found in the church

register a memorandum in his hand writing, to the effect that the man

of the name of Born, whom he had joined in the bonds of wedlock with

Mdlle. Julia de St. Val, had established completely to his satisfaction

his identity as Freiherr Wolfgang von R----, eldest son of Freiherr

Roderick von R---- of R--Sitten. Besides this, two witnesses of the

marriage had been discovered, a merchant of Geneva and an old French

captain, who had moved to Lyons; to them also Wolfgang had in

confidence stated his real name; and their affidavits confirmed the

priest's notice in the church register. With these memoranda in his

hands, drawn up with proper legal formalities, V---- now succeeded in

securing his client in the complete possession of his rights; and as

there was now no longer any hindrance to the surrender to him of the

entail, it was to be put into his hands in the ensuing autumn. Hubert

had fallen in his very first engagement, thus sharing the fate of his

younger brother, who had likewise been slain in battle a year before

his father's death. Thus the Courland estates fell to Baroness

Seraphina von R----, and made a handsome dowry for her to take to the

too happy Roderick.

November had already come in when the Baroness, along with Roderick and

his betrothed, arrived at R--sitten. The formal surrender of the

estate-tail to the young Baron took place, and then his marriage with

Seraphina was solemnised. Many weeks passed amid a continual whirl of

pleasure; but at length the wearied guests began gradually to depart

from the castle, to V----'s great satisfaction, for he had made up his

mind not to take his leave of R--sitten until he had initiated the

young lord of the entail in all the relations and duties connected with

his new position down to the minutest particulars. Roderick's uncle had

kept an account of all revenues and disbursements with the most

detailed accuracy; hence, since Hubert had only retained a small sum

annually for his own support, the surplus revenues had all gone to

swell the capital left by the old Freiherr, till the total now amounted

to a considerable sum. Hubert had only employed the income of the

entail for his own purposes during the first three years, but to cover

this he had given a mortgage on the security of his share of the

Courland property.

From the time when old Daniel had revealed himself to V---- as a

somnambulist, V---- had chosen old Roderick's bed-room for his own

sitting-room, in order that he might the more securely gather from the

old man what he afterwards voluntarily disclosed. Hence it was in this

room and in the adjoining great hall that the Freiherr transacted

business with V----. Once they were both sitting at the great table by

the bright blazing fire; V---- had his pen in his hand, and was noting

down various totals and calculating the riches of the lord of the

entail, whilst the latter, leaning his head on his hand, was blinking

at the open account-books and formidable-looking documents. Neither of

them heard the hollow roar of the sea, nor the anxious cries of the

sea-gulls as they dashed against the windowpanes, flapping their wings

and flying backwards and forwards, announcing the oncoming storm.

Neither of them heeded the storm, which arose about midnight, and was

now roaring and raging with wild fury round the castle walls, so that

all the sounds of ill omen in the fire-grates and narrow passages

awoke, and began to whistle and shriek in a weird, unearthly way. At

length, after a terrific blast, which made the whole castle shake, the

hall was completely lit up by the murky glare of the full moon, and

V---- exclaimed, "Awful weather!" The Freiherr, quite absorbed in the

consideration of the wealth which had fallen to him, replied

indifferently, as he turned over a page of the receipt-book with a

satisfied smile, "It is indeed; very stormy!" But, as if clutched by

the icy hand of Dread, he started to his feet as the door of the hall

flew open and a pale spectral figure became visible, striding in with

the stamp of death upon its face. It was Daniel, who, lying helpless

under the power of disease, was deemed in the opinion of V---- as of

everybody else incapable of the ability to move a single limb; but,

again coming under the influence of his propensity to wander in his

sleep at full moon, he had, it appeared, been unable to resist it. The

Freiherr stared at the old man without uttering a sound; and when

Daniel began to scratch at the wall, and moan as though in the painful

agonies of death, Roderick's heart was filled with horrible dread. With

his face ashy pale and his hair standing straight on end, he leapt to

his feet and strode towards the old man in a threatening attitude and

cried in a loud firm voice, so that the hall rang again, "Daniel,

Daniel, what are you doing here at this hour?" Then the old man uttered

that same unearthly howling whimper, like the death-cry of a wounded

animal, which he had uttered when Wolfgang had offered to reward his

fidelity with gold; and he fell down on the floor. V---- summoned the

servants; they raised the old man up; but all attempts to restore

animation proved fruitless. Then the Freiherr cried, almost beside

himself, "Good God! Good God! Now I remember to have heard that a

sleepwalker may die on the spot if anybody calls him by his name. Oh!

oh! unfortunate wretch that I am! I have killed the poor old man! I

shall never more have a peaceful moment so long as I live." When the

servants had carried the corpse away and the hall was again empty,

V---- took the Freiherr, who was still continuing his self-reproaches,

by the hand and led him in impressive silence to the walled-up postern,

and said, "The man who fell down dead at your feet, Freiherr Roderick,

was the atrocious murderer of your father." The Freiherr fixed his

staring eyes upon V---- as though he saw the foul fiends of hell. But

V---- went on, "The time has come now for me to reveal to you the

hideous secret which, weighing upon the conscience of this monster and

burthening him with curses, compelled him to roam abroad in his sleep.

The Eternal Power has seen fit to make the son take vengeance upon the

murderer of his father. The words which you thundered in the ears of

that fearful night-walker were the last words which your unhappy father

spoke." V---- sat down in front of the fire, and the Freiherr,

trembling and unable to utter a word, took his seat beside him.

V---- began to tell him the contents of the document which Hubert had

left behind him, and the seal of which he (V----) was not to break

until after the opening of the will Hubert lamented, in expressions

testifying to the deepest remorse, the implacable hatred against his

elder brother which took root in him from the moment that old Roderick

established the entail. He was deprived of all weapons; for, even if he

succeeded in maliciously setting the son at variance with the father,

it would serve no purpose, since even Roderick himself had not the

power to deprive his eldest son of his birth-right, nor would he on

principle have ever done so, no matter how his affections had been

alienated from him. It was only when Wolfgang formed his connection

with Julia de St. Val in Geneva that Hubert saw his way to effecting

his brother's ruin. And that was the time when he came to an

understanding with Daniel, to provoke the old man by villainous devices

to take measures which should drive his son to despair.

He was well aware of old Roderick's opinion that the only way to ensure

an illustrious future for the family to all subsequent time was by

means of an alliance with one of the oldest families in the country.

The old man had read this alliance in the stars, and any pernicious

derangement of the constellation would only entail destruction upon the

family he had founded. In this way it was that Wolfgang's union with

Julia seemed to the old man like a sinful crime, committed against the

ordinances of the Power which had stood by him in all his worldly

undertakings; and any means that might be employed for Julia's ruin he

would have regarded as justified for the same reason, for Julia had, he

conceived, ranged herself against him like some demoniacal principle.

Hubert knew that his brother loved Julia passionately, almost to

madness in fact, and that the loss of her would infallibly make him

miserable, perhaps kill him. And Hubert was all the more ready to

assist the old man in his plans as he had himself conceived an unlawful

affection for Julia, and hoped to win her for himself. It was, however,

determined by a special dispensation of Providence that all attacks,

even the most virulent, were to be thwarted by Wolfgang's resoluteness;

nay, that he should contrive to deceive his brother: the fact that his

marriage was actually solemnised and that of the birth of a son were

kept secret from Hubert In Roderick's mind also there occurred, along

with the presentiment of his approaching death, the idea that Wolfgang

had really married the Julia who was so hostile to him. In the letter

which commanded his son to appear at R--sitten on a given day to take

possession of the entail, he cursed him if he did not sever his

connection with her. This was the letter that Wolfgang burnt beside his

father's corpse. To Hubert the old man wrote, saying that Wolfgang had

married Julia, but that he would part from her. This Hubert took to be

a fancy of his visionary father's; accordingly he was not a little

dismayed when on reaching R--sitten Wolfgang with perfect frankness not

only confirmed the old man's supposition, but also went on to add that

Julia had borne him a son, and that he hoped in a short time to

surprise her with the pleasant intelligence of his high rank and great

wealth, for she had hitherto taken him for Born, a merchant from M----.

He intended going to Geneva himself to fetch his beloved wife. But

before he could carry out this plan he was overtaken by death. Hubert

carefully concealed what he knew about the existence of a son born to

Wolfgang in lawful wedlock with Julia, and so usurped the property that

really belonged to his nephew. But only a few years passed before he

became a prey to bitter remorse. He was reminded of his guilt in

terrible wise by destiny, in the hatred which grew up and developed

more and more between his two sons. "You are a poor starving beggar!"

said the elder, a boy of twelve, to the younger, "but I shall be lord

of R--sitten when father dies, and then you will have to be humble and

kiss my hand when you want me to give you money to buy a new coat." The

younger, goaded to ungovernable fury by his brother's proud and

scornful words, threw the knife at him which he happened to have in his

hand, and almost killed him. Hubert, for fear of some dire misfortune,

sent the younger away to St. Petersburg; and he served afterwards as

officer under Suwaroff, and fell fighting against the French. Hubert

was prevented revealing to the world the dishonest and deceitful way in

which he had acquired possession of the estate-tail by the shame and

disgrace which would have come upon him; but he would not rob the

rightful owner of a single penny more. He caused inquiries to be set on

foot in Geneva, and learned that Madame Born had died of grief at the

incomprehensible disappearance of her husband, but that young Roderick

Born was being brought up by a worthy man who had adopted him. Hubert

then caused himself to be introduced under an assumed name as a

relative of Born the merchant, who had perished at sea, and he

forwarded at given times sufficient sums of money to give the young

heir of entail a good and respectable education. How he carefully

treasured up the surplus revenues from the estate, and how he drew up

the terms of his will, we already know. Respecting his brother's death,

Hubert spoke in strangely obscure terms, but they allowed this much to

be inferred, that there must be some mystery about it, and that he had

taken part, indirectly, at least, in some heinous crime.

The contents of the black portfolio made everything clear. Along with

Hubert's traitorous correspondence with Daniel was a sheet of paper

written and signed by Daniel. V---- read a confession at which his very

soul trembled, appalled. It was at Daniel's instigation that Hubert had

come to R--sitten; and it was Daniel again who had written and told him

about the one hundred and fifty thousand thalers that had been found.

It has been already described how Hubert was received by his brother,

and how, deceived in all his hopes and wishes, he was about to go off

when he was prevented by V----, Daniel's heart was tortured by an

insatiable thirst for vengeance, which he was determined to take on the

young man who had proposed to kick him out like a mangy cur. He it was

who relentlessly and incessantly fanned the flame of passion by which

Hubert's desperate heart was consumed. Whilst in the fir forests

hunting wolves, out in the midst of a blinding snowstorm, they agreed

to effect his destruction. "Make away with him!" murmured Hubert,

looking askance and taking aim with his rifle. "Yes, make away with

him," snarled Daniel, "but not in _that way_, not in _that way!_" And

he made the most solemn asseverations that he would murder the Freiherr

and not a soul in the world should be the wiser. When, however, Hubert

had got his money, he repented of the plot; he determined to go away in

order to shun all further temptation. Daniel himself saddled his horse

and brought it out of the stable; but as the Baron was about to mount,

Daniel said to him in a sharp, strained voice, "I thought you would

stay on the entail, Freiherr Hubert, now that it has just fallen to

you, for the proud lord of the entail lies dashed to pieces at the

bottom of the ravine, below the tower." The steward had observed that

Wolfgang, tormented by his thirst for gold, often used to rise in the

night, go to the postern which formerly led to the tower, and stand

gazing with longing eyes down into the chasm, where, according to his

(Daniel's) testimony, vast treasures lay buried. Relying upon this

habit, Daniel waited near the hall-door on that ill-omened night; and

as soon as he heard the Freiherr open the postern leading to the tower,

he entered the hall and proceeded to where the Freiherr was standing,

close by the brink of the chasm. On becoming aware of the presence of

his villainous servant, in whose eyes the gleam of murder shone, the

Freiherr turned round and said with a cry of terror, "Daniel, Daniel,

what are you doing here at this hour?" But then Daniel shrieked wildly,

"Down with you, you mangy cur!" and with a powerful push of his foot he

hurled the unhappy man over into the deep chasm.

Terribly agitated by this awful deed, Freiherr Roderick found no peace

in the castle where his father had been murdered. He went to his

Courland estates, and only visited R--sitten once a year, in autumn.

Francis--old Francis--who had strong suspicions as to Daniel's guilt,

maintained that he often haunted the place at full moon, and described

the nature of the apparition much as V--- afterwards experienced it for

himself when he exorcised it. It was the disclosure of these

circumstances, also, which stamped his father's memory with dishonour,

that had driven young Freiherr Hubert out into the world.

This was my old great-uncle's story. Now he took my hand, and whilst

his eyes filled with tears, he said, in a broken voice, "Cousin,

cousin! And she too--the beautiful lady--has fallen a victim to the

dark destiny, the grim, mysterious power which has established itself

in that old ancestral castle. Two days after we left R--sitten the

Freiherr arranged an excursion on sledges as the concluding event of

the visit. He drove his wife himself; but as they were going down the

valley the horses, for some unexplained reason, suddenly taking fright,

began to snort and kick and plunge most savagely. 'The old man! The old

man is after us!' screamed the Baroness in a shrill, terrified voice.

At this same moment the sledge was overturned with a violent jerk, and

the Baroness was hurled to a considerable distance. They picked her up

lifeless--she was quite dead. The Freiherr is perfectly inconsolable,

and has settled down into a state of passivity that will kill him. We

shall never go to R--sitten again, cousin!"

Here my uncle paused. As I left him my heart was rent by emotion; and

nothing but the all-soothing hand of Time could assuage the deep pain

which I feared would cost me my life.

Years passed. V---- was resting in his grave, and I had left my native

country. Then I was driven northwards, as far as St. Petersburg, by the

devastating war which was sweeping over all Germany. On my return

journey, not far from K----, I was driving one dark summer night along

the shore of the Baltic, when I perceived in the sky before me a

remarkably large bright star. On coming nearer I saw by the red

flickering flame that what I had taken for a star must be a large fire,

but could not understand how it could be so high up in the air.

"Postilion, what fire is that before us yonder?" I asked the man

who was driving me. "Oh! why, that's not a fire; it's the beacon

tower of R--sitten." "R--sitten!" Directly the postilion mentioned

the name all the experiences of the eventful autumn days which I had

spent there recurred to my mind with lifelike reality. I saw the

Baron--Seraphina--and also the remarkably eccentric old aunts--myself

as well, with my bare milk-white face, my hair elegantly curled and

powdered, and wearing a delicate sky-blue coat--nay, I saw myself in my

love-sick folly, sighing like a furnace, and making lugubrious odes on

my mistress's eyebrows. The sombre, melancholy mood into which these

memories plunged me was relieved by the bright recollection of V----'s

genial jokes, shooting up like flashes of coloured light, and I found

them now still more entertaining than they had been so long ago.

Thus agitated by pain mingled with much peculiar pleasure, I reached

R--sitten early in the morning and got out of the coach in front of the

post-house, where it had stopped I recognised the house as that of the

land-steward; I inquired after him. "Begging your pardon," said the

clerk of the post-house, taking his pipe from his mouth and giving his

night-cap a tilt, "begging your pardon; there is no land-steward here;

this is a Royal Government office, and the Herr Administrator is still

asleep." On making further inquiries I learnt that Freiherr Roderick

von R----, the last lord of the entail, had died sixteen years before

without descendants, and that the entail in accordance with the terms

of the original deeds had now escheated to the state. I went up to the

castle; it was a mere heap of ruins. I was informed by an old peasant,

who came out of the fir-forest, and with whom I entered into

conversation, that a large portion of the stones had been employed in

the construction of the beacon-tower. He also could tell the story of

the ghost which was said to have haunted the castle, and he affirmed

that people often heard unearthly cries and lamentations amongst the

stones, especially at full moon.

Poor short-sighted old Roderick! What a malignant destiny did you

conjure up to destroy with the breath of poison, in the first moments

of its growth, that race which you intended to plant with firm roots to

last on till eternity!

* * * * * * *

FOOTNOTES TO "THE ENTAIL":

[Footnote 1: Freiherr = Baron, though not exactly in the present

significance of the term in Germany. A Freiherr belongs to the

"superior nobility," and is a Baron of the older nobility of the Middle

Ages; and he ranks immediately after a Count (Graf). The title Baron is

now restricted to comparatively newer creations, and its bearer belongs

to the "lower nobility." In this tale "Freiherr" and "Baron" are used

indifferently.]

[Footnote 2: The Justitiarius acted as justiciary in the seignorial

courts of justice, which were amongst the privileges accorded to the

nobility of certain ranks, in certain cases, by the feudal institutions

of the Middle Ages. This privilege the R---- family is represented as

exercising.]

[Footnote 3: At the present time the Germans say _Prosit!_ under like

circumstances. This of coarse reminds one of the Greek custom of

regarding sneezing as an auspicious omen.]

[Footnote 4: This refers to an episode in Schiller's work, related by a

Sicilian. The story is of a familiar type. Two brothers, Jeronymo and

Lorenzo, fall in love with the same Lady Antonia; the elder brother is

secretly killed by the younger. But on the marriage day of the murderer

the murdered man appears in the disguise of a monk, and proceeds to

reveal himself in his bloody habiliments and show his ghastly wounds.]

[Footnote 5: By Paul Fleming (1609-1640); one of the pious but gloomy

religious songs of this leading spirit of the "first Silesian school."]

[Footnote 6: See note, p. 40.]

[Footnote 7: The reference is to a _Landsmannschaft_. These were

associations, at a university, of students from the same state or

country, bound to the observance of certain traditional customs, &c,

and under the control of certain self-elected officers (the _Senior_

being one).]

[Footnote 8: Imperial thalers varied in value at different times, but

estimating their value at three shillings, the sum here mentioned would

be equivalent to about L22,500. A _Frederick d'or_ was a gold coin

worth five thalers.]

ARTHUR'S HALL.[1]

You must of course, indulgent reader, have heard a good deal about the

remarkable old commercial town of Dantzic. Perhaps you may be

acquainted from abundant descriptions with all the sights to be seen

there; but I should like it best of all if you have ever been there

yourself in former times, and seen with your own eyes the wonderful

hall into which I will now take you--I mean Arthur's Hall.[2]

At the hour of noon the hall was crammed full of men of the most

diverse nations, all pushing about and immersed to the eyes in

business, so that the ears were deafened by the confused din. But when

the exchange hours were over, and the merchants had gone to dinner, and

only a few odd individuals hurried through the hall on business (for it

served as a means of communication between two streets), that I dare

say was the time when you, gracious reader, liked to visit Arthur's

Hall best, whenever you were in Dantzic. For then a kind of magical

twilight fell through the dim windows, and all the strange reliefs and

carvings, with which the wall was too profusely decorated, became

instinct with life and motion. Stags with immense antlers, together

with other wonderful animals, gazed down upon you with their fiery eyes

till you could hardly look at them; and the marble statue of the king,

also in the midst of the hall, caused you to shiver more in proportion

as the dusk of evening deepened. The great picture representing an

assemblage of all the Virtues and Vices, with their respective names

attached, lost perceptibly in moral effect; for the Virtues, being

high up, were blended unrecognisably in a grey mist, whilst the

Vices--wondrously beautiful ladies in gay and brilliant costumes--stood

out prominently and very seductively, threatening to enchant you with

their sweet soft words. You preferred to turn your eyes upon the narrow

border which went almost all round the hall, and on which were

represented in pleasing style long processions of gay-uniformed militia

of the olden time, when Dantzic was an Imperial town. Honest

burgomasters, their features stamped with shrewdness and importance,

ride at the head on spirited horses with handsome trappings, whilst

the drummers, pipers, and halberdiers march along so jauntily and

life-like, that you soon begin to hear the merry music they play, and

look to see them all defile out of that great window up there into the

Langemarkt.[3]

While, then, they are marching off, you, indulgent reader,--if you

were, that is, a tolerable sketcher,--would not be able to do otherwise

than copy with pen and ink yon magnificent burgomaster with his

remarkably handsome page. Pen and ink and paper, provided at public

cost, were always to be found lying about on the tables; accordingly

the material would be all ready at hand, and you would have felt the

temptation irresistible. This you would have been permitted to do, but

not so the young merchant Traugott, who, on beginning to do anything of

this kind, encountered a thousand difficulties and vexations. "Advise

our friend in Hamburg at once that that business has been settled, my

good Herr Traugott," said the wholesale and retail merchant, Elias

Roos, with whom Traugott was about to enter upon an immediate

partnership, besides marrying his only daughter, Christina. After a

little trouble, Traugott found a place at one of the crowded tables; he

took a sheet of paper, dipped his pen in the ink, and was about to

begin with a free caligraphic flourish, when, running over once more in

his mind what he wished to say, he cast his eyes upwards. Now it

happened that he sat directly opposite a procession of figures, at the

sight of which he was always, strangely enough, affected with an

inexplicable sadness. A grave man, with something of dark melancholy in

his face, and with a black curly beard and dressed in sumptuous

clothing, was riding a black horse, which was led by the bridle by a

marvellous youth: his rich abundance of hair and his gay and graceful

costume gave him almost a feminine appearance. The face and form of the

man made Traugott shudder inwardly, but a whole world of sweet vague

aspirations beamed upon him from the youth's countenance. He could

never tear himself away from looking at these two; and hence, on the

present occasion, instead of writing Herr Elias Roos's letter of advice

to Hamburg, he sat gazing at the wonderful picture, absently scribbling

all over his paper. After this had lasted some time, a hand clapped him

on the shoulder from behind, and a gruff voice said, "Nice--very nice;

that's what I like; something maybe made of that." Traugott, awakening

out of his dreamy reverie, whisked himself round; but, as if struck by

a lightning flash, he remained speechless with amazement and fright,

for he was staring up into the face of the dark melancholy man who was

depicted on the wall before him. He it was who uttered the words stated

above; at his side stood the delicate and wonderfully beautiful youth,

smiling upon him with indescribable affection. "Yes, it is they--the

very same!" was the thought that flashed across Traugott's mind. "I

expect they will at once throw off their unsightly mantles and stand

forth in all the splendours of their antique costume." The members of

the crowd pushed backwards and forwards amongst each other, and the

strangers had soon disappeared in the crush; but even after the hours

of 'Change were long over, and only a few odd individuals crossed the

hall, Traugott still remained in the self-same place with the letter of

advice in his hand, as though he were converted into a solid stone

statue.

At length he perceived Herr Elias Roos coming towards him with two

strangers. "What are you about, cogitating here so long after noon, my

respected Herr Traugott?" asked Elias Roos; "have you sent off the

letter all right?" Mechanically Traugott handed him the paper; but Herr

Elias Roos struck his hands together above his head, stamping at first

gently, but then violently, with his right foot, as he cried, making

the hall ring again, "Good God! Good God! what childish tricks are

these? Nothing but sheer childishness, my respected Traugott,--my

good-for-nothing son-in-law--my imprudent partner. Why, the devil must

be in your honour! The letter--the letter! O God! the post!" Herr Elias

Roos was almost choking with vexation, whilst the two strangers were

laughing at the singular letter of advice, which could hardly be said

to be of much use. For, immediately after the words, "In reply to yours

of the 20th inst. respecting----" Traugott had sketched the two

extraordinary figures of the old man and the youth in neat bold

outlines. The two strangers sought to pacify Herr Elias Roos by

addressing him in the most affectionate manner; but Herr Elias Roos

tugged his round wig now on this side and now on that, struck his cane

against the floor, and cried, "The young devil!--was to write letter of

advice--makes drawings--ten thousand marks gone--dam!" He blew through

his fingers and then went on lamenting, "Ten thousand marks!" "Don't

make a trouble of it, my dear Herr Roos," said at length the elder of

the two strangers. "The post is of course gone; but I am sending off a

courier to Hamburg in an hour. Let me give him your letter, and it will

then reach its destination earlier than it would have done by the post"

"You incomparable man!" exclaimed Herr Elias, his face a perfect blaze

of sunshine. Traugott had recovered from his awkward embarrassment; he

was hastening to the table to write the letter, but Herr Elias pushed

him away, casting a right malicious look upon him, and murmuring

between his teeth, "No need for you, my good son!"

Whilst Herr Elias was studiously busy writing, the elder gentleman

approached young Traugott, who was standing silent with shame, and said

to him, "You don't seem to be exactly in your place, my good sir. It

would never have come into a true merchant's head to make drawings

instead of writing a business letter as he ought" Traugott could not

help feeling that this reproach was only too well founded. Much

embarrassed, he replied, "By my soul, this hand has already written

many admirable letters of advice; it is only, occasionally that such

confoundedly odd ideas come into my mind." "But, my good sir,"

continued the stranger smiling, "these are not confoundedly odd ideas

at all. I can really hardly believe that all your business letters

taken together have been so admirable as these sketches, outlined

so neatly and boldly and firmly. There is, I am sure, true genius

in them." With these words the stranger took out of Traugott's hand

the letter--or rather what was begun as a letter but had ended in

sketches--carefully folded it together, and put it in his pocket. This

awakened in Traugott's mind the firm conviction that he had done

something far more excellent than write a business letter. A strange

spirit took possession of him; so that, when Herr Elias Roos, who had

now finished writing, addressed him in an angry tone, "Your childish

folly might have cost me ten thousand marks," he replied louder and

with more decision than was his habit, "Will your worship please not to

behave in such an extraordinary way, else I will never write you

another letter of advice so long as I live, and we will separate." Herr

Elias pushed his wig right with both hands and stammered, as he stared

hard at Traugott, "My estimable colleague, my dear, dear son, what

proud words you are using!" The old gentleman again interposed, and a

few words sufficed to restore perfect peace; and so they all went to

Herr Elias's house to dinner, for he had invited the strangers home

with him. Fair Christina received them in holiday attire, all clean and

prim and proper; and soon she was wielding the excessively heavy silver

soup-ladle with a practised hand.

Whilst these five persons are sitting at table, I could, gracious

reader, bring them pictorially before your eyes; but I shall only

manage to give a few general outlines, and those certainly worse than

the sketches which Traugott had the audacity to scribble in the

inauspicious letter; for the meal will soon be over; and besides, I am

urged by an impulse I cannot resist to go on with the remarkable

history of the excellent Traugott, which I have undertaken to relate to

you.

That Herr Elias Roos wears a round wig you already know from what

has been stated above; and I have no need to add anything more; for

after what he has said, you can now see the round little man with his

liver-coloured coat, waistcoat, and trousers, with gilt buttons, quite

plainly before your eyes. Of Traugott I have a very great deal to say,

because this is his history which I am telling, and so of course he

occurs in it. If now it be true that a man's thoughts and feelings and

actions, making their influence felt from within him outwards, so model

and shape his bodily form as to give rise to that wonderful harmony of

the whole man, that is not to be explained but only felt, which we call

character, then my words will of themselves have already shown you

Traugott himself in the flesh. If this is not the case, then all my

gossip is wasted, and you may forthwith regard my story as unread. The

two strangers are uncle and nephew, formerly retail dealers, but now

merchants trading on their gains, and friends of Herr Elias Roos, that

is to say, they had a good many business transactions together. They

live at Koenigsberg, dress entirely in the English fashion, carry

about with them a mahogany boot-jack which has come from London,

possess considerable taste for art, and are, in a word, experienced,

well-educated people. The uncle has a gallery of art objects and

collects hand-sketches (witness the pilfered letter of advice).

But properly my chief business was to give you, kindly reader, a true

and life-like description of Christina; for her nimble person will, I

observe, soon disappear; and it will be as well for me to get a few

traits jotted down at once. Then she may willingly go! Picture to

yourself a medium-sized stoutish female of from two to three and twenty

years of age, with a round face, a short and rather turned-up nose, and

friendly light-blue eyes, which smile most prettily upon everybody,

saying, "I shall soon be married now." Her skin is dazzling white, her

hair is not altogether of a too reddish tinge; she has lips which were

certainly made to be kissed, and a mouth which, though indeed rather

wide, she yet screws up small in some extraordinary way, but so as to

display then two rows of pearly teeth. If we were to suppose that the

flames from the next-door neighbour's burning house were to dart in at

her chamber-window, she would make haste to feed the canary and lock up

the clean linen from the wash, and then assuredly hasten down into the

office and inform Herr Elias Roos that by that time his house also was

on fire. She has never had an almond-cake spoilt, and her melted-butter

always thickens properly, owing to the fact that she never stirs the

spoon round towards the left, but always towards the right. But since

Herr Elias Roos has poured out the last bumper of old French wine, I

will only hasten to add that pretty Christina is uncommonly fond of

Traugott because he is going to marry her; for what in the name of

wonder should she do if she did not get married?

After dinner Herr Elias Roos proposed to his friends to take a walk on

the ramparts. Although Traugott, whose mind had never been stirred by

so many wonderful and extraordinary things as to-day, would very much

have liked to escape the company, he could not contrive it; for, just

as he was going out of the door, without having even kissed his

betrothed's hand, Herr Elias caught him by the coat-tails, crying, "My

honoured son-in-law, my good colleague, but you're not going to leave

us?" And so he had to stay.

A certain professor of physics once stated the theory that the _Anima

Mundi_, or Spirit of the World, had, as a skilful experimentalist,

constructed somewhere an excellent electric machine, and from it

proceed certain very mysterious wires, which pass through the lives of

us all; these we do our best to creep round and avoid, but at some

moment or other we must tread upon them, and then there passes a flash

and a shock through our souls, suddenly altering the forms of

everything within them. Upon this thread Traugott must surely have trod

in the moment that he was unconsciously sketching the two persons who

stood in living shape behind him, for the singular appearance of the

strangers had struck him with all the violence of a lightning-flash;

and he now felt as if he had very clear conceptions of all those things

which he had hitherto only dimly guessed at and dreamt about. The

shyness which at other times had always fettered his tongue so soon as

the conversation turned upon things which lay concealed like holy

secrets at the bottom of his heart had now left him; and hence it was

that, when the uncle attacked the curious half-painted, half-carved

pictures in Arthur's Hall as wanting in taste, and then proceeded more

particularly to condemn the little pictures representing the soldiers

as being whimsical, Traugott boldly maintained that, although it was

very likely true that all these things did not harmonize with the rules

of good taste, nevertheless he had experienced, what indeed several

others had also experienced, viz., a wonderful and fantastic world had

been unfolded to him in Arthur's Hall, and some few of the figures had

reminded him in even lifelike looks, nay, even in plain distinct words,

that he also was a great master, and could paint and wield the chisel

as well as the man out of whose unknown studio they themselves had

proceeded Herr Elias certainly looked more stupid than usual whilst the

young fellow was saying such grand things, but the uncle made answer in

a very malicious manner, "I repeat once more, I do not comprehend why

you want to be a merchant, why you haven't rather devoted yourself

altogether to art."

Traugott conceived an extreme repugnance to the man, and accordingly he

joined the nephew for the walk, and found his manner very friendly and

confidential. "O Heaven!" said the latter, "how I envy you your

beautiful and glorious talent! I wish I could only sketch like you! I

am not at all wanting in genius; I have already sketched some deucedly

pretty eyes and noses and ears, ay, and even three or four entire

heads;--but, dash it all! the business, you know! the business!" "I

always thought," said Traugott, "that as soon as a man detected the

spark of true genius--of a genuine love for art--within him, he ought

not to know anything about any other business." "You mean he ought to

be an artist!" rejoined the nephew. "Ah! how can you say so? See you

here, my estimable friend! I have, I believe, reflected more upon these

things than many others; in fact, I am such a decided admirer of art,

and have gone into the real essential nature of the thing far deeper

than I am even able to express, and so I can only make use of hints and

suggestions." The nephew, as he expressed these opinions, looked so

learned and so profound that Traugott really began to feel in awe of

him. "You will agree with me," continued the nephew, after he had taken

a pinch of snuff and had sneezed twice, "you will agree with me that

art embroiders our life with flowers; amusement, recreation after

serious business--that is the praiseworthy end of all effort in art;

and the attainment of this end is the more perfect in proportion as the

art products assume a nearer approach to excellence. This end is very

clearly seen in life; for it is only the man who pursues art in the

spirit I have just mentioned who enjoys comfort and ease; whilst these

for ever and eternally flee away from the man who, directly contrary to

the nature of the case, regards art as a true end in itself--as the

highest aim in life. And so, my good friend, don't take to heart what

my uncle said to try and persuade you to turn aside from the serious

business of life, and rely upon a way of employing your energies which,

if without support, will only make you stagger about like a helpless

child." Here the nephew paused as if expecting Traugott's reply; but

Traugott did not know for the life of him what he ought to say. All

that the nephew had said struck him as indescribably stupid talk. He

contented himself with asking, "But what do you really mean by the

serious business of life?" The nephew looked at him somewhat taken

aback. "Well, by my soul, you can't help conceding to me that a man who

is alive must live, and that's what your artist by profession hardly

ever succeeds in doing, for he's always hard up." And he went on with a

long rigmarole of bosh, which he clothed in fine words and stereotyped

phrases. The end of it all appeared to be pretty much this--that by

living he meant little else than having no debts but plenty of money,

plenty to eat and drink, a beautiful wife, and also well-behaved

children, who never got any grease-stains on their nice Sunday-clothes,

and so on. This made Traugott feel a tightness in his throat, and he

was glad when the clever nephew left him, and he found himself alone in

his own room.

"What a wretched miserable life I lead, to be sure!" he soliloquised.

"On beautiful mornings in the glorious golden spring-time, when into

even the obscure streets of the town the warm west wind finds its way,

and its faint murmurings and rustlings seem to be telling of all the

wonders which are to be seen blooming in the woods and fields, then I

have to crawl down sluggishly and in an ill-temper into Herr Elias

Roos's smoke-begrimed office. And there sit pale faces before huge

ugly-shaped desks; all are working on amidst gloomy silence, which is

only broken by the rustle of leaves turned over in the big books, by

the chink of money that is being counted, and by unintelligible sounds

at odd intervals. And then again what work it is! What is the good of

all this thinking and all this writing? Merely that the pile of gold

pieces may increase in the coffers, and that the Fafnir's[4] treasure,

which always brings mischief, may glitter and sparkle more and more!

Oh, how gladly a painter or a sculptor must go out into the air, and

with head erect imbibe all the refreshing influences of spring, until

they people the inner world of his mind with beautiful images pulsing

with glad and energetic life! Then from the dark bushes step forth

wonderful figures, which his own mind has created, and which continue

to be his own, for within him dwells the mysterious wizard power of

light, of colour, of form; hence he is able to give abiding shape to

what he has seen with the eye of his mind, in that he represents it in

a material substitute. What is there to prevent me tearing myself loose

from this hated mode of life? That remarkable old man assured me that I

am called to be an artist, and still more so did the nice handsome

youth. For although he did not speak a word, it yet somehow struck me

that his glance said plainly what I had for such a long time felt like

a vague emotional pulsation within me, and what, oppressed by a

multitude of doubts, has hitherto been unable to rise to the level of

consciousness. Instead of going on in this miserable way, could I not

make myself a good painter?"

Traugott took out all the things that he had ever drawn and examined

them with critical eyes. Several things looked quite different to-day

from what they had ever done before, and that not worse, but better.

His attention was especially attracted by one of his childish attempts,

of the time when he was quite a boy; it was a sketch of the old

burgomaster and the handsome page, the outlines very much wanting in

firmness, of course, but nevertheless recognisable. And he remembered

quite well that these figures had made a strange impression upon him

even at that time, and how one evening at dusk they enticed him with

such an irresistible power of attraction, that he had to leave his

playmates and go into Arthur's Hall, where he took almost endless pains

to copy the picture. The contemplation of this drawing filled him with

a feeling of very deep yearning sadness. According to his usual habit,

he ought to go and work a few hours in the office; but he could not do

it; he went out to the Carlsberg[5] instead. There he stood and gazed

out over the heaving sea, striving to decipher in the waves and in the

grey misty clouds which had gathered in wonderful shapes over Hela,[6]

as in a magic mirror, his own destiny in days to come.

Don't you too believe, kindly reader, that the sparks which fall into

our hearts from the higher regions of Love are first made visible to us

in the hours of hopeless pain? And so it is with the doubts that storm

the artist's mind. He sees the Ideal and feels how impotent are his

efforts to reach it; it will flee before him, he thinks, always

unattainable. But then again he is once more animated by a divine

courage; he strives and struggles, and his despair is dissolved into a

sweet yearning, which both strengthens him and spurs him on to strain

after his beloved idol, so that he begins to see it continually nearer

and nearer, but never reaches it.

Traugott was now tortured to excess by this state of hopeless pain.

Early next morning, on again looking over his drawings, which he had

left lying on the table he thought them all paltry and foolish, and he

now called to mind the oft-repeated words of one of his artistic

friends, "A great deal of the mischief done by dabblers in art of

moderate abilities arises from the fact that so many people take a

somewhat keen superficial excitement for a real essential vocation to

pursue art." Traugott felt strongly urged to look upon Arthur's Hall

and his adventure with the two mysterious personages, the old man and

the young one, for one of these states of superficial excitement; so he

condemned himself to go back to the office again; and he worked so

assiduously at Herr Elias Roos's, without heeding the disgust which

frequently so far overcame him that he had to break off suddenly and

rush off out into the open air. With sympathetic concern, Herr Elias

Roos set this down to the indisposition which, according to his

opinion, the fearfully pale young man must be suffering from.

Some time passed; Dominic's Fair[7] came, after which Traugott was to

marry Christina and be introduced to the mercantile world as Herr Elias

Roos's partner. This period he regarded as that of a sad leave-taking

from all his high hopes and aspirations; and his heart grew heavy

whenever he saw dear Christina as busy as a bee superintending the

scrubbing and polishing that was going on everywhere in the middle

story, folding curtains with her own hands, and giving the final polish

to the brass pots and pans, &c.

One day, in the thick of the surging crowd of strangers in Arthur's

Hall, Traugott heard close behind him a voice whose well-known tones

made his heart jump. "And do you really mean to say that this stock

stands at such a low figure?" Traugott whisked himself quickly round,

and saw, as he had expected, the remarkable old man, who had appealed

to a broker to get him to buy some stock, the price of which had at

that moment fallen to an extremely low figure. Behind the old man stood

the youth, who greeted Traugott with a friendly but melancholy smile.

Then Traugott hastened to address the old man. "Excuse me, sir; the

price of the stock which you are desirous of selling is really no

higher than what you have been told; nevertheless, it may with

confidence be anticipated that in a few days the price will rise

considerably. If, therefore, you take my advice, you will postpone the

conversion of your stock for a little time longer." "Eh! sir?" replied

the old man rather coldly and roughly, "what have you to do with my

business? How do you know that just now a silly bit of paper like this

is of no use at all to me, whilst ready money is what I have great need

of?" Traugott, not a little abashed because the old man had taken his

well-meant intention in such ill part, was on the point of retiring,

when the youth looked at him with tears in his eyes, as if in entreaty.

"My advice was well meant, sir," he replied quickly; "I cannot suffer

you to inflict upon yourself an important loss. Let me have your stock,

but on the condition that I afterwards pay for it the higher price

which it will be worth in a few day's time." "Well, you are an

extraordinary man," said the old man. "Be it so then; although I can't

understand what induces you to want to enrich me." So saying, he shot a

keen flashing glance at the youth, who cast down his beautiful blue

eyes in shy confusion. They both followed Traugott to the office, where

the money was paid over to the old man, whose face was dark and sullen

as he put it in his purse. Whilst he was doing so, the youth whispered

softly to Traugott, "Are you not the gentleman who was sketching such

pretty figures several weeks ago in Arthur's Hall?" "Certainly I am,"

replied Traugott, and he felt how the remembrance of the ridiculous

episode of the letter of advice drove the hot blood into his face. "Oh

then, I don't at all wonder," the youth was continuing, when the old

man gave him an angry look, which at once made him silent. In the

presence of these strangers Traugott could not get rid of a certain

feeling of awkward constraint; and so they went away before he could

muster courage enough to inquire further into their circumstances and

mode of life.

In fact there was something so quite out of the ordinary in the

appearance of these two persons that even the clerks and others in the

office were struck by it. The surly book-keeper had stuck his pen

behind his ear, and leaning on his arms, which he clasped behind his

head, he sat watching the old man with keen glittering eyes. "God

forgive me," he said when the strangers had left the office, "if he

didn't look like an old picture of the year 1400 in St. John's parish

church, with his curly beard and black mantle." Herr Elias set him down

without more ado as a Polish Jew, notwithstanding his noble bearing and

his extremely grave old-German face, and cried with a simper, "Silly

fellow! sells his stock now; might make at least ten per cent, more in

a week." Of course he knew nothing about the additional price which had

been agreed upon, and which Traugott intended to pay out of his own

pocket. And this he really did do when some days later he again met the

old man and the youth in Arthur's Hall.

The old man said, "My son has reminded me that you are an artist also,

and so I will accept what I should have otherwise refused." They were

standing close beside one of the four granite pillars which support the

vaulted roof of the hall, and immediately in front of the two painted

figures which Traugott had formerly sketched in the letter of advice.

Without reserve he spoke of the great resemblance between these figures

and the old man himself and the youth. The old man smiled a peculiar

smile, and laying his hand on Traugott's shoulder, said in a low and

deliberate tone, "Then you didn't know that I am the German painter

Godofredus Berklinger, and that it was I who painted the pictures which

seem to give you so much pleasure, a long time ago, whilst still a

learner in art. That burgomaster I copied in commemoration of myself,

and that the page who is leading the horse is my son you can of course

very easily see by comparing the faces and figures of the two."

Traugott was struck dumb with astonishment. But he very soon came to

the conclusion that the old man, who took himself to be the artist of a

picture more than two hundred years old must be labouring under some

peculiar delusion. The old man went on, lifting up his head and looking

proudly about him, "Ay, that was an artistic age if you like--glorious,

vigorous, flourishing, when I decorated this hall with all these gay

pictures in honour of the wise King Arthur and his Round Table. I

verily believe that the tall stately figure who once came to me as I

was working here, and exhorted me to go on and gain my mastership--for

at that time I had not reached that dignity,--was King Arthur himself."

Here the young man interposed, "My father is an artist, sir, who has

few equals; and you would have no cause to be sorry if he would allow

you to inspect his works." Meanwhile the old man was taking a turn

through the hall, which had now become empty; he now called to the

youth to go, and then Traugott begged him to show him his pictures. The

old man fixed his eyes upon him and regarded him for some time with a

keen and searching glance, and at length said with much gravity, "You

are, I must say, rather audacious to be wanting to enter the inner

shrine before you have begun your probationary years. But--be it so! If

your eyes are still too dull to see, you may at least dimly feel. Come

and see me early to-morrow morning," and he indicated where he lived.

Next morning Traugott did not fail to get away from business early and

hasten to the retired street where the remarkable old man lived. The

youth, dressed in old-German style, opened the door to receive him

and led him into a spacious room, in the centre of which he found

the old man sitting on a little stool in front of a large piece of

outstretched grey primed canvas. "You have come exactly at the right

time, sir," the old man cried by way of greeting, "for I have just put

the finishing-touch to yon large picture, which has occupied me more

than a year and cost me no small amount of trouble. It is the fellow of

a picture of the same size, representing 'Paradise Lost,' which I

completed last year and which I can also show you here. This, as you

will observe, is 'Paradise Regained,' and I should be very sorry for

you if you begin to put on critical airs and try to get some allegory

out of it Allegorical pictures are only painted by duffers and

bunglers; my picture is not to _signify_ but to _be_. You perceive how

all these varied groups of men and animals and fruits and flowers and

stones unite to form one harmonic whole, whose loud and excellent music

is the divinely pure chord of glorification." And the old man began to

dwell more especially upon the individual groups; he called Traugott's

attention to the secrets of the division of light and shade, to the

glitter of the flowers and the metals, to the singular shapes which,

rising up out of the calyx of the lilies, entwined themselves about

the forms of the divinely beautiful youths and maidens who were dancing

to the strains of music, and he called his attention to the bearded men

who, with all the strong pride of youth in their eyes and movements,

were apparently talking to various kinds of curious animals. The old

man's words, whilst they grew continually more emphatic, grew also

continually more incomprehensible and confused. "That's right, old

greybeard, let thy diamond crown flash and sparkle," he cried at last,

riveting a fixed but fiery glance upon the canvas. "Throw off the Isis

veil which thou didst put over thy head when the profane approached

thee. What art thou folding thy dark robe so carefully over thy breast

for? I want to see thy heart; that is the philosopher's stone through

which the mystery is revealed. Art thou not I? Why dost thou put on

such a bold and mighty air before me? Wilt thou contend with thy

master? Thinkest thou that the ruby, thy heart, which sparkles so, can

crush my breast? Up then--step forward--come here! I have created thee,

for I am"---- Here the old man suddenly fell on the floor like one

struck by lightning. Whilst Traugott lifted him up, the youth quickly

wheeled up a small arm-chair, into which they placed the old man, who

soon appeared to have fallen into a gentle sleep.

"Now you know, my kind sir, what is the matter with my good old

father," said the youth softly and gently. "A cruel destiny has

stripped off all the blossoms of his life; and for several years past

he has been insensible to the art for which he once lived. He spends

days and days sitting in front of a piece of outstretched primed

canvas, with his eyes fixed upon it in a stare; that he calls painting.

Into what an overwrought condition the description of such a picture

brings him, you have just seen for yourself. Besides this he is haunted

by another unhappy thought, which makes my life to be a sad and

agitated one; but I regard it as a fatality by which I am swept along

in the same stream that has caught him. You would like something to

help you to recover from this extraordinary scene; please follow me

then into the adjoining room, where you will find several pictures of

my father's early days, when he was still a productive artist."

And great was Traugott's astonishment to find a row of pictures

apparently painted by the most illustrious masters of the Netherlands

School. For the most part they represented scenes taken from real life;

for example, a company returning from hunting, another amusing

themselves with singing and playing, and such like subjects. They bore

evidences of great thought, and particularly the expression of the

heads, which were realised with especially vigorous life-like power.

Just as Traugott was about to return into the former room, he noticed

another picture close beside the door, which held him fascinated to the

spot. It was a remarkably pretty maiden dressed in old-German style,

but her face was exactly like the youth's, only fuller and with a

little more colour in it, and she seemed to be somewhat taller too. A

tremor of nameless delight ran through Traugott at the sight of this

beautiful girl. In strength and vitality the picture was quite equal to

anything by Van Dyk. The dark eyes were looking down upon Traugott with

a soft yearning look, whilst her sweet lips appeared to be half opened

ready to whisper loving words. "O heaven! Good heaven!" sighed

Traugott with a sigh that came from the very bottom of his heart;

"where--oh! where can I find her?" "Let us go," said the youth.

Then Traugott cried in a sort of rapturous frenzy, "Oh! it is indeed

she!--the beloved of my soul, whom I have so long carried about in my

heart, but whom I only knew in vague stirrings of emotion. Where--oh!

where is she?" The tears started from young Berklinger's eyes; he

appeared to be shaken by a convulsive and sudden attack of pain, and to

control himself with difficulty. "Come along," he at length said, in a

firm voice, "that is a portrait of my unhappy sister Felicia.[8] She

has gone for ever. You will never see her."

Like one in a dream, Traugott suffered himself to be led into the

other room. The old man was still sleeping; but all at once he started

up, and staring at Traugott with eyes flashing with anger, he cried,

"What do you want? What do you want, sir?" Then the youth stepped

forward and reminded him that he had just been showing his new picture

to Traugott, had he forgotten? At this Berklinger appeared to recollect

all that had passed; it was evident that he was much affected; and he

replied in an undertone, "Pardon an old man's forgetfulness, my good

sir." "Your new piece is an admirable--an excellent work. Master

Berklinger," Traugott proceeded; "I have never seen anything equal to

it. I am sure it must cost a great deal of study and an immense amount

of labour before a man can advance so far as to turn out a work like

that. I discern that I have an inextinguishable propensity for art, and

I earnestly entreat you, my good old master, to accept me as your

pupil; you will find me industrious." The old man grew quite cheerful

and amiable; and embracing Traugott, he promised that he would be a

faithful master to him.

Thus it came to pass that Traugott visited the old painter every day

that came, and made very rapid progress in his studies. He now

conceived an unconquerable disgust of business, and was so careless

that Herr Elias Roos had to speak out and openly find fault with him;

and finally he was very glad when Traugott kept away from the office

altogether, on the pretext that he was suffering from a lingering

illness. For this same reason the wedding, to Christina's no little

annoyance, was indefinitely postponed. "Your Herr Traugott seems to be

suffering from some secret trouble," said one of Herr Elias Roos's

merchant-friends to him one day; "perhaps it's the balance of some old

love-affair that he's anxious to settle before the wedding-day. He

looks very pale and distracted." "And why shouldn't he then?" rejoined

Herr Elias. "I wonder now," he continued after a pause,--"I wonder

now if that little rogue Christina has been having words with him? My

book-keeper--the love-smitten old ass--he is always kissing and

squeezing her hand. Traugott's devilishly in love with my little girl,

I know. Can there be any jealousy? Well, I'll sound my young

gentleman."

But however carefully he sounded he could find no satisfactory bottom,

and he said to his merchant-friend, "That Traugott is a most peculiar

fellow; well, I must just let him go his own way; though if he had not

fifty thousand thalers in my business I know what I should do, since

now he never does a stroke of anything."

Traugott, absorbed in art, would now have led a real bright sunshiny

life, had his heart not been torn with passionate love for the

beautiful Felicia, whom he often saw in wonderful dreams. The picture

had disappeared; the old man had taken it away; and Traugott durst not

ask him about it without risk of seriously offending him. On the whole,

old Berklinger continued to grow more confidential; and instead of

taking any honorarium for his instruction, he permitted Traugott to

help out his narrow house-keeping in many ways. From young Berklinger

Traugott learned that the old man had been obviously taken in in the

sale of a little cabinet, and that the stock which Traugott had

realised for them was all that they had left of the price received for

it, as well as all the money they possessed. But it was only seldom

that Traugott was allowed to have any confidential conversation with

the youth; the old man watched over him with the most singular

jealousy, and at once scolded him sharply if he began to converse

freely and cheerfully with their friend. This Traugott felt all the

more painfully since he had conceived a deep and heart-felt affection

for the youth, owing to his striking likeness to Felicia. Indeed he

often fancied, when he stood near the young man, that he was standing

beside the picture he loved so much, now alive and breathing, and that

he could feel her soft breath on his cheek; and then he would like to

have drawn the youth, as if he really were his darling Felicia herself,

to his swelling heart.

Winter was past; beautiful spring was filling the woods and fields with

brightness and blossoms. Herr Elias Roos advised Traugott either to

drink whey for his health's sake or to go somewhere to take the baths.

Fair Christina was again looking forward with joy to the wedding,

although Traugott seldom showed himself--and thought still less of his

relations with her.

Once Traugott was confined to the office the whole day long, making a

requisite squaring up of his accounts, &c.; he had been obliged to

neglect his meals, and it was beginning to get very dark when he

reached Berklinger's remote dwelling. He found nobody in the first

room, but from the one adjoining he heard the music of a lute. He had

never heard the instrument there before. He listened; a song, from time

to time interrupted, accompanied the music like a low soft sigh. He

opened the door. O Heaven! with her back towards him sat a female

figure, dressed in old-German style with a high lace ruff, exactly like

the picture. At the noise which Traugott unavoidably made on entering,

the figure rose, laid the lute on the table, and turned round. It was

she, Felicia herself! "Felicia!" cried Traugott enraptured; and he was

about to throw himself at the feet of his beloved divinity when he felt

a powerful hand laid upon his collar behind, and himself dragged out of

the room by some one with the strength of a giant. "You abandoned

wretch! you incomparable villain!" screamed old Berklinger, pushing him

on before him, "so that was your love for art? Do you mean to murder

me?" And therewith he hurled him out at the door, whilst a knife

glittered in his hand. Traugott flew downstairs and hurried back home

stupefied; nay, half crazy with mingled delight and terror.

He tossed restlessly on his couch, unable to sleep. "Felicia! Felicia!"

he exclaimed time after time, distracted with pain and the pangs of

love. "You are there, you are there, and I may not see you, may not

clasp you in my arms! You love me, oh yes! that I know. From the pain

which pierces my breast so savagely I feel that you love me."

The morning sun shone brightly into Traugott's chamber; then he got up,

and determined, let the cost be what it might, that he would solve the

mystery of Berklinger's house. He hurried off to the old man's, but his

feelings may not be described when he saw all the windows wide open and

the maid-servants busy sweeping out the rooms. He was struck with a

presentiment of what had happened. Berklinger had left the house late

on the night before along with his son, and was gone nobody knew where.

A carriage drawn by two horses had fetched away the box of paintings

and the two little trunks which contained all Berklinger's scanty

property. He and his son had followed half an hour later. All inquiries

as to where they had gone remained fruitless: no livery-stable keeper

had let out horses and carriage to persons such as Traugott described,

and even at the town gates he could learn nothing for certain;--in

short, Berklinger had disappeared as if he had flown away on the

mantle[9] of Mephistopheles.

Traugott went back home prostrated by despair. "She is gone! She is

gone! The beloved of my soul! All--all is lost!" Thus he cried as he

rushed past Herr Elias Roos (for he happened to be just at that moment

in the entrance hall) towards his own room. "God bless my soul!" cried

Herr Elias, pulling and tugging at his wig. "Christina! Christina!" he

shouted, till the whole house echoed. "Christina! You disgraceful girl!

My good-for-nothing daughter!" The clerks and others in the office

rushed out with terrified faces; the book-keeper asked amazed, "But

Herr Roos?" Herr Roos, however, continued to scream without stopping,

"Christina! Christina!" At this point Miss Christina stepped in through

the house-door, and raising her broad-brimmed straw-hat just a little

and smiling, asked what her good father was bawling in this outrageous

way for. "I strictly beg you will let such unnecessary running away

alone," Herr Elias began to storm at her. "My son-in-law is a

melancholy fellow and as jealous as a Turk. You'd better stay quietly

at home, or else there'll be some mischief done. My partner is in there

screaming and crying about his betrothed, because she will gad about

so." Christina looked at the book-keeper astounded; but he gave a

significant glance in the direction of the cupboard in the office where

Herr Roos was in the habit of keeping his cinnamon water. "You'd better

go in and console your betrothed," he said as he strode away. Christina

went up to her own room, only to make a slight change in her dress, and

give out the clean linen, and discuss with the cook what would have to

be done about the Sunday roast-joint, and at the same time pick up a

few items of town-gossip, then she would go at once and see what really

was the matter with her betrothed.

You know, kindly, reader, that we all of us, when in Traugott's case,

have to go through our appointed stages; we can't help ourselves.

Despair is succeeded by a dull dazed sort of moody reverie, in which

the crisis is wont to occur; and this then passes over into a milder

pain, in which Nature is able to apply her remedies with effect.

It was in this stage of sad but beneficial pain that, some days later,

Traugott again sat on the Carlsberg, gazing out as before upon the

sea-waves and the grey misty clouds which had gathered over Hela; but

he was not seeking as before to discover the destiny reserved for him

in days to come; no, for all that he had hoped for, all that he had

dimly dreamt of, had vanished. "Oh!" said he, "my call to art was a

bitter, bitter deception. Felicia was the phantom who deluded me into

the belief in that which never had any other existence but in the

insane fancy of a fever-stricken mind. It's all over. I will give it

all up, and go back--into my dungeon. I have made up my mind; I will go

back." Traugott again went back to his work in the office, whilst the

wedding-day with Christina was once more fixed. On the day before the

wedding was to come off, Traugott was standing in Arthur's Hall,

looking, not without a good deal of heart-rending sadness, at the

fateful figures of the old burgomaster and his page, when his eye fell

upon the broker to whom Berklinger was trying to sell his stock.

Without pausing to think, almost mechanically in fact, he walked up to

him and asked, "Did you happen to know the strikingly curious old man

with the black curly beard who some time ago frequently used to be seen

here along with a handsome youth?" "Why, to be sure I did," answered

the broker; "that was the crack-brained old painter Gottfried

Berklinger." "Then don't you know where he has gone to and where he is

now living?" asked Traugott again. "Ay, that I do," replied the broker;

"he has now for a long time been living quietly at Sorrento along with

his daughter." "With his daughter Felicia?" asked Traugott so

vehemently and so loudly that everybody turned round to look at him.

"Why, yes," went on the broker calmly, "that was, you know, the pretty

youth who always followed the old man about everywhere. Half Dantzic

knew that he was a girl, notwithstanding that the crazy old fellow

thought there was not a single soul could guess it. It had been

prophesied to him that if his daughter were ever to get married he

would die a shameful death; and accordingly he determined never to let

anybody know anything about her, and so he passed her off everywhere

as his son." Traugott stood like a statue; then he ran off through

the streets--away out of the town-gates--into the open country, into

the woods, loudly lamenting, "Oh! miserable wretch that I am! It was

she--she, herself; I have sat beside her scores and hundreds of

times--have breathed her breath--pressed her delicate hands--looked

into her beautiful eyes--heard her sweet words--and now I have lost

her! No; not lost I will follow her into the land of art. I acknowledge

the finger of destiny. Away--away to Sorrento."

He hurried back home. Herr Elias Roos got in his way; Traugott laid

hold of him and carried him along with him into the room. "I shall

never marry Christina, never!" he screamed. "She looks like _Voluptas_

(Pleasure) and _Luxuries_ (Wantonness), and her hair is like that of

_Ira_ (Wrath), in the picture in Arthur's Hall. O Felicia! Felicia! My

beautiful darling! Why do you stretch out your arms so longingly

towards me? I am coming, I am coming. And now let me tell you, Herr

Elias," he continued, again laying hold of the pale merchant, "you

will never see me in your damned office again. What do I care for

your cursed ledgers and day-books? I am a painter, ay, and a good

painter too. Berklinger is my master, my father, my all, and you are

nothing--nothing at all." And therewith he gave Herr Elias a good

shaking. Herr Elias, however, began to shout at the top of his voice,

"Help! help! Come here, folks! Help! My son-in-law's gone mad. My

partner's in a raging fit Help! help!" Everybody came running out of

the office. Traugott had released his hold upon Elias and now sank down

exhausted in a chair. They all gathered round him; but when he suddenly

leapt to his feet and cried with a wild look, "What do you all want?"

they all hurried off out of the room in a string, Herr Elias in the

middle.

Soon afterwards there was a rustling of a silk dress, and a voice

asked, "Have you really gone crazed, my dear Herr Traugott, or are you

only jesting?" It was Christina. "I am not the least bit crazed, my

angel," replied Traugott, "nor is it one whit truer that I am jesting.

Pray compose yourself, my dear, but our wedding won't come off

to-morrow; I shall never marry you, neither to-morrow, nor at any other

time." "There is not the least need of it," said Christina very calmly.

"I have not been particularly pleased with you for some time, and some

one I know will value it far differently if he may only lead home as

his bride the rich and pretty Miss Christina Roos. Adieu!" Therewith

she rustled off. "She means the book-keeper," thought Traugott. As soon

as he had calmed down somewhat he went to Herr Elias and explained to

him in convincing terms that he need not expect to have him either as

his son-in-law or as his partner in the business. Herr Elias reconciled

himself to the inevitable; and repeated with downright honest joy in

the office again and again that he thanked God to have got rid of that

crazy-headed Traugott--even after the latter was a long, long way

distant from Dantzic.

On at length arriving at the longed-for country, Traugott found a new

life awaiting him, bright and brilliant. At Rome he was introduced to

the circle of the German colony of painters and shared in their

studies. Thus it came to pass that he stayed there longer than would

seem to have been permissible in the face of his longing to find

Felicia again, by which he had hitherto been so restlessly urged

onwards. But his longing was now grown weaker; it shaped itself in his

heart like a fascinating dream, whose misty shimmer enveloped his life

on all sides, so that he believed that all he did and thought, and all

his artistic practice, were turned towards the higher supernatural

regions of blissful intuitions. All the female figures which his now

experienced artistic skill enabled him to create bore lovely Felicia's

features. The young painters were greatly struck by the exquisitely

beautiful face, the original of which they in vain sought to find in

Rome; they overwhelmed Traugott with multitudes of questions as to

where he had seen the beauty. Traugott however was very shy of telling

of his singular adventure in Dantzic, until at last, after the lapse of

several months, an old Koenigsberg friend, Matuszewski by name, who had

come to Rome to devote himself entirely to art, declared joyfully that

he had seen there--in Rome, the girl whom Traugott copied in all his

pictures. Traugott's wild delight may be imagined. He no longer

concealed what it was that had attracted him so strongly to art, and

urged him on with such irresistible power into Italy; and his Dantzic

adventure proved so singular and so attractive that they all promised

to search eagerly for the lost loved one.

Matuszewski's efforts were the most successful. He had soon found out

where the girl lived, and discovered moreover that she really was the

daughter of a poor old painter, who just at that period was busy

putting a new coat on the walls of the church Trinita del Monte. All

these things agreed nicely. Traugott at once hastened to the church in

question along with Matuszewski; and in the painter, whom he saw

working up on a very high scaffolding, he really thought he recognised

old Berklinger. Thence the two friends hurried off to the old man's

dwelling, without having been noticed by him. "It is she," cried

Traugott, when he saw the painter's daughter standing on the balcony,

occupied with some sort of feminine work. "Felicia, my Felicia!" he

exclaimed aloud in his joy, as he burst into the room. The girl looked

up very much alarmed. She had Felicia's features; but it was not

Felicia. In his bitter disappointment poor Traugott's wounded heart was

rent as if from innumerable dagger-thrusts. In a few words Matuszewski

explained all to the girl. In her pretty shy confusion, with her cheeks

deep crimson, and her eyes cast down upon the ground, she made a

marvellously attractive picture to look at; and Traugott, whose first

impulse had been quickly to retire, nevertheless, after casting but a

single pained glance at her, remained standing where he was, as though

held fast by silken bonds. His friend was not backward in saying all

sorts of complimentary things to pretty Dorina, and so helped her to

recover from the constraint and embarrassment into which she had been

thrown by the extraordinary manner of their entrance. Dorina raised the

"dark fringed curtains of her eyes" and regarded the stranger with a

sweet smile, and said that her father would soon come home from his

work, and would be very pleased to see some German painters, for he

esteemed them very highly. Traugott was obliged to confess that,

exclusive of Felicia, no girl had ever excited such a warm interest in

him as Dorina did. She was in fact almost a second Felicia; the only

differences were that Dorina's features seemed to him less delicate and

more sharply cut, and her hair was darker. It was the same picture,

only painted by Raphael instead of by Rubens.

It was not long before the old gentleman came in; and Traugott now

plainly saw that he had been greatly misled by the height of the

scaffolding in the church, on which the old man had stood. Instead of

his being the strong Berklinger, he was a thin, mean-looking little old

man, timid and crushed by poverty. A deceptive accidental light in the

church had given his clean-shaved chin an appearance similar to

Berklinger's black curly beard. In conversing about art matters the old

man unfolded considerable ripe practical knowledge; and Traugott made

up his mind to cultivate his acquaintance; for though his introduction

to the family had been so painful, their society now began to exercise

a more and more agreeable influence upon him.

Dorina, the incarnation of grace and child-like ingenuousness, plainly

allowed her preference for the young German painter to be seen. And

Traugott warmly returned her affection. He grew so accustomed to the

society of the pretty child (she was but fifteen), that he often spent

the whole day with the little family; his studio he transferred to the

spacious apartment which stood empty next their rooms; and finally he

established himself in the family itself. Hence he was able of his

prosperity to do much in a delicate way to relieve their straitened

circumstances; and the old man could not very well think otherwise than

that Traugott would marry Dorina; and he even said so to him without

reservation. This put Traugott in no little consternation: for he now

distinctly recollected the object of his journey, and perceived where

it seemed likely to end. Felicia again stood before his eyes instinct

with life; but, on the other hand, he felt that he could not leave

Dorina. His vanished darling he could not, for some extraordinary

reason, conceive of as being his wife. She was pictured in his

imagination as an intellectual vision, that he could neither lose nor

win. Oh! to be immanent in his beloved intellectually for ever! never

to have her and own her physically! But Dorina was often in his

thoughts as his dearly loved wife; and as often as he contemplated the

idea of again binding himself in the indissoluble bonds of

betrothal,[10] he felt a delicious tremor run through him and a gentle

warmth pervade his veins; and yet he regarded it as unfaithfulness to

his first love. Thus Traugott's heart was the scene of contest between

the most contradictory feelings; he could not make up his mind what to

do. He avoided the old painter; and _he_ accordingly feared Traugott

intended to receive his dear child. He had moreover already spoken of

Traugott's wedding as a settled thing; and it was only under this

impression that he had tolerated Dorina's familiar intimacy with

Traugott, which otherwise would have given the girl an ill name. The

blood of the Italian boiled within him, and one day he roundly declared

to Traugott that he must either marry Dorina or leave him, for he would

not tolerate this familiar intercourse an hour longer. Traugott was

tormented by the keenest annoyance as well as by the bitterest

vexation. The old man he viewed in the light of a vile match-maker; his

own actions and behaviour were contemptible; and that he had ever

deserted Felicia he now judged to be sinful and abominable. His heart

was sore wounded at parting from Dorina; but with a violent effort he

tore himself free from the sweet bonds. He hastened away to Naples, to

Sorrento.

He spent a whole year in making the strictest inquiries after

Berklinger and Felicia; but all was in vain; nobody knew anything about

them. The sole gleam of intelligence that he could find was a vague

sort of presumption, which was founded merely upon the tradition

that an old German painter had been seen in Sorrento several years

before--and that was all. After being driven backwards and forwards

like a boat on the restless sea, Traugott at length came to a stand in

Naples; and in proportion as his industry in art pursuits again

awakened, the longing for Felicia which he cherished in his bosom grew

softer and milder. But he never saw any pretty girl, if she was the

least like Dorina in figure, movement, or bearing, without feeling most

bitterly the loss of the dear sweet child. Yet when he was painting he

never thought of Dorina, but always of Felicia; she continued to be his

constant ideal.

At length he received letters from his native town. Herr Elias Roos had

departed this life, his business agent wrote, and Traugott's presence

was required in order to settle matters with the book-keeper, who had

married Miss Christina and undertaken the business. Traugott hurried

back to Dantzic by the shortest route.

Again he was standing in Arthur's Hall, leaning against the granite

pillar, opposite the burgomaster and the page; he dwelt upon the

wonderful adventure which had had such a painful influence upon his

life; and, a prey to deep and hopeless sadness, he stood and looked

with a set fixed gaze upon the youth, who greeted him with living eyes,

as it were, and whispered in a sweet and charming voice, "And so you

could not desert me then after all?"

"Can I believe my eyes? Is it really your own respected self come back

again safe and sound, and quite cured of your unpleasant melancholy?"

croaked a voice near Traugott. It was the well-known broker. "I have

not found her," escaped Traugott involuntarily. "Whom do you mean? Whom

has your honour not found?" asked the broker. "The painter Godofredus

Berklinger and his daughter Felicia," rejoined Traugott. "I have

searched all Italy for them; not a soul knew anything about them in

Sorrento." This made the broker open his eyes and stare at him, and he

stammered, "Where do you say you have searched for Berklinger and

Felicia? In Italy? in Naples? in Sorrento?" "Why, yes; to be sure,"

replied Traugott, very testily. Whereupon the broker struck his hands

together several times in succession, crying as he did so, "Did you

ever now? Did you ever hear tell of such a thing? But Herr Traugott!

Herr Traugott!" "Well, what is there to be so much astonished at?"

rejoined Traugott, "don't behave in such a foolish fashion, pray. Of

course a man will travel as far as Sorrento for his sweetheart's sake.

Yes, yes; I loved Felicia and followed her." But the broker skipped

about on one foot, and continued to say, "Well, now, did you ever? did

you ever?" until Traugott placed his hand earnestly upon his arm and

asked, "Come, tell me then, in heaven's name! what is it that you find

so extraordinary?" The broker began, "But, my good Herr Traugott, do

you mean to say you don't know that Herr Aloysius Brandstetter, our

respected town-councillor and the senior of our guild, calls his little

villa, in that small fir-wood at the foot of Carlsberg, in the

direction of Conrad's Hammer, by the name of Sorrento? He bought

Berklinger's pictures of him and took the old man and his daughter into

his house, that is, out to Sorrento. And there they lived for several

years; and if you, my respected Herr Traugott, had only gone and

planted your own two feet on the middle of the Carlsberg, you could

have had a view right into the garden, and could have seen Miss Felicia

walking about there dressed in curious old-German style, like the women

in those pictures--there was no need for you to go to Italy. Afterwards

the old man--but that is a sad story" "Never mind; go on," said

Traugott, hoarsely. "Yes," continued the broker. "Young Brandstetter

came back from England, saw Miss Felicia, and fell in love with her.

Coming unexpectedly upon the young lady in the garden, he fell upon his

knees before her in romantic fashion, and swore that he would wed her

and deliver her from the tyrannical slavery in which her father kept

her. Close behind the young people, without their having observed it,

stood the old man; and the very self-same moment in which Felicia said,

'I will be yours,' he fell down with a stifled scream, and was dead as

a door nail. It's said he looked very very hideous--all blue and

bloody, because he had by some inexplicable means burst an artery.

After that Miss Felicia could not bear young Brandstetter at all, and

at last she married Mathesius, criminal and aulic counsellor, of

Marienwerder. Your honour, as an old flame, should go and see the _Frau

Kriminalraethin_. Marienwerder is not so far, you know, as your real

Italian Sorrento. The good lady is said to be very comfortable and to

have enriched the world with divers children."

Silent and crushed, Traugott hastened from the Hall. This issue of his

adventure filled him with awe and dread. "No, it is not she--it is not

she!" he cried. "It is not Felicia, that divine image which enkindled

an infinite longing in my bosom, whom I followed into yon distant land,

seeing her before me everywhere where I went like my star of fortune,

twinkling and glittering with sweet hopes. Felicia--_Kriminalraethin_

Mathesius! Ha! Ha! Ha!--_Kriminalraethin_ Mathesius!" Traugott, shaken

by extreme sensations of misery, laughed aloud and hastened in his

usual way through the Oliva Gate along the Langfuhr[11] to the

Carlsberg. He looked down into Sorrento, and the tears gushed from his

eyes. "Oh!" he cried, "Oh! how deep, how incurably deep an injury, O

thou eternal ruling Power, does thy bitter irony inflict upon poor

man's soft heart! But no, no! But why should the child cry over the

incurable pain when instead of enjoying the light and warmth he thrusts

his hand into the flames? Destiny visibly laid its hand upon me, but my

dimmed vision did not recognise the higher nature at work; and I had

the presumption to delude myself with the idea that the forms, created

by the old master and mysteriously awakened to life, which stepped down

to meet me, were my own equals, and that I could draw them down into

the miserable transitoriness of earthly existence. No, no, Felicia, I

have never lost you; you are and will be mine for ever, for you

yourself are the creative artistic power dwelling within me. Now,--and

only now have I first come to know you. What have you--what have I to

do with the _Kriminalraethin_ Mathesius? I fancy, nothing at all."

"Neither did I know what you should have to do with her, my respected

Herr Traugott," a voice broke in. Traugott awakened out of his dream.

Strange to say, he found himself, without knowing how he got there,

again leaning against the granite pillar in Arthur's Hall. The person

who had spoken the abovementioned words was Christina's husband. He

handed to Traugott a letter that had just arrived from Rome.

Matuszewski wrote:--

"Dorina is prettier and more charming than ever, only pale with longing

for you, my dear friend. She is expecting you every hour, for she is

most firmly convinced that you could never be untrue to her. She loves

you with all her heart. When shall we see you again?"

"I am very pleased that we settled all our business this morning," said

Traugott to Christina's husband after he had read this, "for to-morrow

I set out for Rome, where my bride is most anxiously longing for me."

* * * * * * *

FOOTNOTES TO "ARTHUR'S HALL":

[Footnote 1: Written for the _Urania_ for 1817.]

[Footnote 2: The _Artushof_ or _Junkerhof_ derives its names from its

connection with the Arthurian cycle of legends, and from the fact that

there the _Stadtjunker_, or wealthy merchants of Dantzic, used formerly

to meet both to transact business and for the celebration of festive

occasions. It has been used as an exchange since 1742. The site of the

present building was occupied by a still older one down to 1552, and to

this the hall, which is vaulted and supported on four slender pillars

of granite, belongs architecturally. It was very quaintly decorated

with pictures, statues, reliefs, &&, both of Christian and Pagan

traditions.]

[Footnote 3: A broad street crossing Dantzic in an east-to-west

direction.]

[Footnote 4: In Scandinavian mythology, Fafnir, the worm, became

the owner of the treasure which his father, Hreidmar, had exacted as

blood-money from Loki, because he had slain Hreidmar's son Otur, the

sea-otter. This treasure Loki had taken by violence from its rightful

owner, a dwarf, who in revenge prophesied that the possession of the

treasure should henceforward be fraught with dire mischief to every

successive owner of it.]

[Footnote 5: A hill to the north-west of Dantzic, affording a splendid

view of the Gulf of Dantzic.]

[Footnote 6: A long narrow spit of land projecting from the coast at a

point north of Dantzic in a south-south-east direction into the Gulf of

Dantzic.]

[Footnote 7: August 4th.]

[Footnote 8: The name in the text is _Felizitas_--Felicity; Felicia

has been adopted in the translation as being the nearest approach to

it. Felicity would in all probability be extremely strange to English

ears, besides being liable to lead to ambiguities.]

[Footnote 9: A mode of aerial conveyance made use of on occasion by

the personage named, in the popular Faust legend.]

[Footnote 10: In Germany the betrothal is a more significant act than

in England, and by some regarded as more sacred and binding than the

actual marriage ceremony.]

[Footnote 11: A suburb of Dantzic, on the N. W., 3-1/2 miles nearer

than Carlsberg; it is connected with the city by a double avenue of

fine limes.]

END OF VOLUME I.

End of Project Gutenberg's Weird Tales. Vol. I, by E. T. A. Hoffmann