hope and trust upon the Antwerp patrons of his fortune, and now saw the
fair soap-bubble vanish quite away. In his strait confinement, he felt
himself in the condition of a soul in Purgatory, now that his skiff had
run ashore and gone to pieces, in the middle of the haven where he
thought to find security. Every thought of Meta was as a thorn in his
heart; there was now no shadow of a possibility, that from the whirlpool
which had sunk him, he could ever rise, and stretch out his hand to her;
nor, suppose he should get his head above water, was it in poor Meta's
power to pull him on dry land. He fell into a sullen desperation; had no
wish but to die speedily, and give his woes the slip at once; and, in
fact, he did attempt to kill himself by starvation. But this is a sort
of death which is not at the beck of every one, so ready as the shrunk
Pomponius Atticus found it, when his digestive apparatus had already
struck work. A sound peptic stomach does not yield so tamely to the
precepts of the head or heart. After the moribund debtor had abstained
two days from food, a ravenous hunger suddenly usurped the government of
his will, and performed, of its own authority, all the operations which,
in other cases, are directed by the mind. It ordered his hand to seize
the spoon, his mouth to receive the victual, his inferior maxillary jaw
to get in motion, and itself accomplished the usual functions of
digestion, unordered. Thus did this last resolve make shipwreck, on a
hard bread-crust; for, in the seven-and-twentieth year of life, it has
a heroism connected with it, which in the seven-and-seventieth is
entirely gone.
At bottom, it was not the object of the barbarous Antwerpers to squeeze
money from the pretended debtor, but only to pay him none, as his
demands were not admitted to be liquid. Whether it were, then, that the
public Prayer in Bremen had in truth a little virtue, or that the
supposed creditors were not desirous of supporting a superfluous boarder
for life, true it is, that after the lapse of three months Franz was
delivered from his imprisonment, under the condition of leaving the city
within four-and-twenty hours, and never again setting foot on the soil
and territory of Antwerp. At the same time, he received five crowns for
travelling expenses from the faithful hands of Justice, which had taken
charge of his horse and luggage, and conscientiously balanced the
produce of the same against judicial and curatory expenses.
With heavy-laden heart, in the humblest mood, with his staff in his
hand, he left the rich city, into which he had ridden some time ago with
high-soaring hopes. Broken down, and undetermined what to do, or rather
altogether without thought, he plodded through the streets to the
nearest gate, not minding whither the road into which chance conducted
him might lead. He saluted no traveller, he asked for no inn, except
when fatigue or hunger forced him to lift up his eyes, and look around
for some church-spire, or sign of human habitation, when he needed human
aid. Many days he had wandered on, as if unconsciously; and a secret
instinct had still, by means of his uncrazed feet, led him right forward
on the way to home; when, all at once, he awoke as from an oppressive
dream, and perceived on what road he was travelling.
He halted instantly, to consider whether he should proceed or turn back.
Shame and confusion took possession of his soul, when he thought of
skulking about in his native town as a beggar, branded with the mark of
contempt, and claiming the charitable help of his townsmen, whom of old
he had eclipsed by his wealth and magnificence. And how in this form
could he present himself before his fair Meta, without disgracing the
choice of her heart? He did not leave his fancy time to finish this
doleful picture; but wheeled about to take the other road, as hastily as
if he had been standing even then at the gate of Bremen, and the ragged
apprentices had been assembling to accompany him with jibes and mockery
through the streets. His purpose was formed: he would make for the
nearest seaport in the Netherlands; engage as sailor in a Spanish ship,
to work his passage to the new world; and not return to his country,
till in the Peruvian land of gold he should have regained the wealth,
which he had squandered so heedlessly, before he knew the worth of
money. In the shaping of this new plan, it is true, the fair Meta fell
so far into the background, that even to the sharpest prophetic eye she
could only hover as a faint shadow in the distance; yet the wandering
projector pleased himself with thinking that she was again interwoven
with the scheme of his life; and he took large steps, as if by this
rapidity he meant to reach her so much the sooner.
Already he was on the Flemish soil once more; and found himself at
sunset not far from Rheinberg, in a little hamlet, Rummelsburg by name,
which has since, in the Thirty-Years War, been utterly destroyed. A
caravan of carriers from Lyke had already filled the inn, so that Mine
Host had no room left, and referred him to the next town; the rather
that he did not draw too flattering a presage from his present vagabond
physiognomy, and held him to be a thieves' purveyor, who had views upon
the Lyke carriers. He was forced, notwithstanding his excessive
weariness, to gird himself for march, and again to take his bundle on
his back.
As in retiring, he was muttering between his teeth some bitter
complaints and curses of the Landlord's hardness of heart, the latter
seemed to take some pity on the forlorn wayfarer, and called after him,
from the door: "Stay, neighbour, let me speak to you: if you wish to
rest here, I can accommodate you after all. In that Castle there are
empty rooms enow, if they be not too lonely; it is not inhabited, and I
have got the keys." Franz accepted the proposal with joy, praised it as
a deed of mercy, and requested only shelter and a supper, were it in a
castle or a cottage. Mine Host, however, was privily a rogue, whom it
had galled to hear the stranger drop some half-audible contumelies
against him, and meant to be avenged on him, by a Hobgoblin that
inhabited the old fortress, and had many long years before expelled the
owners.
The Castle lay hard by the hamlet, on a steep rock, right opposite the
inn, from which it was divided merely by the highway, and a little
gurgling brook. The situation being so agreeable, the edifice was still
kept in repair, and well provided with all sorts of house-gear; for it
served the owner as a hunting-lodge, where he frequently caroused all
day; and so soon as the stars began to twinkle in the sky, retired with
his whole retinue, to escape the mischief of the Ghost, who rioted about
in it the whole night over, but by day gave no disturbance. Unpleasant
as the owner felt this spoiling of his mansion by a bugbear, the
nocturnal sprite was not without advantages, for the great security it
gave from thieves. The Count could have appointed no trustier or more
watchful keeper over the Castle, than this same Spectre, for the rashest
troop of robbers never ventured to approach its station. Accordingly he
knew of no safer place for laying up his valuables, than this old tower,
in the hamlet of Rummelsburg, near Rheinberg.
The sunshine had sunk, the dark night was coming heavily on, when Franz,
with a lantern in his hand, proceeded to the castle-gate, under the
guidance of Mine Host, who carried in his hand a basket of victuals,
with a flask of wine, which he said should not be marked against him. He
had also taken along with him a pair of candlesticks, and two
wax-lights; for in the whole Castle there was neither lamp nor taper, as
no one ever stayed in it after twilight. In the way, Franz noticed the
creaking heavy-laden basket, and the wax-lights, which he thought he
should not need, and yet must pay for. Therefore he said: "What is this
superfluity and waste, as at a banquet? The light in the lantern is
enough to see with, till I go to bed; and when I awake, the sun will be
high enough, for I am tired completely, and shall sleep with both eyes."
"I will not hide from you," replied the Landlord, "that a story runs of
there being mischief in the Castle, and a Goblin that frequents it. You,
however, need not let the thing disturb you; we are near enough, you
see, for you to call us, should you meet with aught unnatural; I and my
folks will be at your hand in a twinkling, to assist you. Down in the
house there we keep astir all night through, some one is always moving.
I have lived here these thirty years; yet I cannot say that I have ever
seen aught. If there be now and then a little hurly-burlying at nights,
it is nothing but cats and martins rummaging about the granary. As a
precaution, I have provided you with candles: the night is no friend of
man; and the tapers are consecrated, so that sprites, if there be such
in the Castle, will avoid their shine."
It was no lying in Mine Host to say that he had never seen anything of
spectres in the Castle; for by night he had taken special care not once
to set foot in it; and by day the Goblin did not come to sight. In the
present case, too, the traitor would not risk himself across the border.
After opening the door, he handed Franz the basket, directed him what
way to go, and wished him good-night. Franz entered the lobby without
anxiety or fear; believing the ghost-story to be empty tattle, or a
distorted tradition of some real occurrence in the place, which idle
fancy had shaped into an unnatural adventure. He remembered the stout
Ritter Eberhard Bronkhorst, from whose heavy arm he had apprehended such
maltreatment, and with whom, notwithstanding, he had found so hospitable
a reception. On this ground he had laid it down as a rule deduced from
his travelling experiences, when he heard any common rumour, to believe
exactly the reverse, and left the grain of truth, which, in the opinion
of the wise Knight, always lies in such reports, entirely out of sight.
Pursuant to Mine Host's direction, he ascended the winding stone stair;
and reached a bolted door, which he opened with his key. A long dark
gallery, where his footsteps resounded, led him into a large hall, and
from this, a side-door, into a suite of apartments, richly provided with
all furniture for decoration or convenience. Out of these he chose the
room which had the friendliest aspect, where he found a well-pillowed
bed; and from the window could look right down upon the inn, and catch
every loud word that was spoken there. He lit his wax-tapers, furnished
his table, and feasted with the commodiousness and relish of an
Otaheitean noble. The big-bellied flask was an antidote to thirst. So
long as his teeth were in full occupation, he had no time to think of
the reported devilry in the Castle. If aught now and then made a stir in
the distance, and Fear called to him, "Hark! hark! there comes the
Goblin;" Courage answered: "Stuff! it is cats and martins bickering and
caterwauling." But in the digestive half-hour after meat, when the sixth
sense, that of hunger and thirst, no longer occupied the soul, she
directed her attention from the other five exclusively upon the sense of
hearing; and already Fear was whispering three timid thoughts into the
listener's ear, before Courage had time to answer once.
As the first resource, he locked the door, and bolted it; made his
retreat to the walled seat in the vault of the window. He opened this,
and to dissipate his thoughts a little, looked out on the spangled sky,
gazed at the corroded moon, and counted how often the stars snuffed
themselves. On the road beneath him all was void; and in spite of the
pretended nightly bustle in the inn, the doors were shut, the lights
out, and everything as still as in a sepulchre. On the other hand, the
watchman blew his horn, making his "List, gentlemen!" sound over all the
hamlet; and for the composure of the timorous astronomer, who still kept
feasting his eyes on the splendour of the stars, uplifted a rusty
evening-hymn right under his window; so that Franz might easily have
carried on a conversation with him, which, for the sake of company, he
would willingly have done, had he in the least expected that the
watchman would make answer to him.
In a populous city, in the middle of a numerous household, where there
is a hubbub equal to that of a bee-hive, it may form a pleasant
entertainment for the thinker to philosophise on Solitude, to decorate
her as the loveliest playmate of the human spirit, to view her under all
her advantageous aspects, and long for her enjoyment as for hidden
treasure. But in scenes where she is no exotic, in the isle of Juan
Fernandez, where a solitary eremite, escaped from shipwreck, lives with
her through long years; or in the dreary night-time, in a deep wood, or
in an old uninhabited castle, where empty walls and vaults awaken
horror, and nothing breathes of life, but the moping owl in the ruinous
turret; there, in good sooth, she is not the most agreeable companion
for the timid anchorite that has to pass his time in her abode,
especially if he is every moment looking for the entrance of a spectre
to augment the party. In such a case it may easily chance that a window
conversation with the watchman shall afford a richer entertainment for
the spirit and the heart, than a reading of the most attractive eulogy
on solitude. If Ritter Zimmermann had been in Franz's place, in the
castle of Rummelsburg, on the Westphalian marches, he would doubtless in
this position have struck out the fundamental topics of as interesting a
treatise on _Society_, as, inspired to all appearance by the irksomeness
of some ceremonious assembly, he has poured out from the fulness of his
heart in praise of _Solitude_.
Midnight is the hour at which the world of spirits acquires activity and
life, when hebetated animal nature lies entombed in deep slumber. Franz
inclined getting through this critical hour in sleep rather than awake;
so he closed his window, went the rounds of his room once more, spying
every nook and crevice, to see whether all was safe and earthly; snuffed
the lights to make them burn clearer; and without undressing or
delaying, threw himself upon his bed, with which his wearied person felt
unusual satisfaction. Yet he could not get asleep so fast as he wished.
A slight palpitation at the heart, which he ascribed to a tumult in the
blood, arising from the sultriness of the day, kept him waking for a
while; and he failed not to employ this respite in offering up such a
pithy evening prayer as he had not prayed for many years. This produced
the usual effect, that he softly fell asleep while saying it.
After about an hour, as he supposed, he started up with a sudden terror;
a thing not at all surprising when there is tumult in the blood. He was
broad awake: he listened whether all was quiet, and heard nothing but
the clock strike twelve; a piece of news which the watchman forthwith
communicated to the hamlet in doleful recitative. Franz listened for a
while, turned on the other side, and was again about to sleep, when he
caught, as it were, the sound of a door grating in the distance, and
immediately it shut with a stifled bang. "Alake! alake!" bawled Fright
into his ear; "this is the Ghost in very deed!"--"'Tis nothing but the
wind," said Courage manfully. But quickly it came nearer, nearer, like
the sound of heavy footsteps. Clink here, clink there, as if a criminal
were rattling his irons, or as if the porter were walking about the
Castle with his bunch of keys. Alas, here was no wind business! Courage
held his peace; and quaking Fear drove all the blood to the heart, and
made it thump like a smith's fore-hammer.
The thing was now beyond jesting. If Fear would still have let Courage
get a word, the latter would have put the terror-struck watcher in mind
of his subsidiary treaty with Mine Host, and incited him to claim the
stipulated assistance loudly from the window; but for this there was a
want of proper resolution. The quaking Franz had recourse to the
bed-clothes, the last fortress of the timorous, and drew them close over
his ears, as Bird Ostrich sticks his head in the grass, when he can no
longer escape the huntsman. Outside it came along, door up, door to,
with hideous uproar; and at last it reached the bed-room. It jerked
sharply at the lock, tried several keys till it found the right one; yet
the bar still held the door, till a bounce like a thunder-clap made bolt
and rivet start, and threw it wide open. Now stalked in a long lean man,
with a black beard, in ancient garb, and with a gloomy countenance, his
eyebrows hanging down in deep earnestness from his brow. Over his right
shoulder he had a scarlet cloak; and on his head he wore a peaked hat.
With a heavy step he walked thrice in silence up and down the chamber;
looked at the consecrated tapers, and snuffed them that they might burn
brighter. Then he threw aside his cloak, girded on a scissor-pouch which
he had under it, produced a set of shaving-tackle, and immediately began
to whet a sharp razor on the broad strap which he wore at his girdle.
Franz perspired in mortal agony under his coverlet; recommended himself
to the keeping of the Virgin; and anxiously speculated on the object of
this manoeuvre, not knowing whether it was meant for his throat or his
beard. To his comfort, the Goblin poured some water from a silver flask
into a basin of silver, and with his skinny hand lathered the soap into
light foam; then set a chair, and beckoned with a solemn look to the
quaking looker-on to come forth from his recess.
Against so pertinent a sign, remonstrance was as bootless as it is
against the rigorous commands of the Grand Turk, when he transmits an
exiled vizier to the Angel of Death, the Capichi Bashi with the Silken
Cord, to take delivery of his head. The most rational procedure that can
be adopted in this critical case, is to comply with necessity, put a
good face on a bad business, and with stoical composure let one's throat
be noosed. Franz honoured the Spectre's order; the coverlet began to
move, he sprang sharply from his couch, and took the place pointed out
to him on the seat. However strange this quick transition from the
uttermost terror to the boldest resolution may appear, I doubt not but
Moritz in his _Psychological Journal_ could explain the matter till it
seemed quite natural.
Immediately the Goblin Barber tied the towel about his shivering
customer; seized the comb and scissors, and clipped off his hair and
beard. Then he soaped him scientifically, first the beard, next the
eyebrows, at last the temples and the hind-head; and shaved him from
throat to nape as smooth and bald as a Death's-head. This operation
finished, he washed his head, dried it clean, made his bow, and
buttoned-up his scissor-pouch; wrapped himself in his scarlet mantle,
and made for departing. The consecrated tapers had burnt with an
exquisite brightness through the whole transaction; and Franz, by the
light of them, perceived in the mirror that the shaver had changed him
into a Chinese pagoda. In secret he heartily deplored the loss of his
fair brown locks; yet now took fresh breath, as he observed that with
this sacrifice the account was settled, and the Ghost had no more power
over him.
So it was in fact; Redcloak went towards the door, silently as he had
entered, without salutation or good-b'ye; and seemed entirely the
contrast of his talkative guild-brethren. But scarcely was he gone three
steps, when he paused, looked round with a mournful expression at his
well-served customer, and stroked the flat of his hand over his black
bushy beard. He did the same a second time; and again, just as he was in
the act of stepping out at the door. A thought struck Franz that the
Spectre wanted something; and a rapid combination of ideas suggested,
that perhaps he was expecting the very service he himself had just
performed.
As the Ghost, notwithstanding his rueful look, seemed more disposed for
banter than for seriousness, and had played his guest a scurvy trick,
not done him any real injury, the panic of the latter had now almost
subsided. So he ventured the experiment, and beckoned to the Ghost to
take the seat from which he had himself just risen. The Goblin instantly
obeyed, threw off his cloak, laid his barber tackle on the table, and
placed himself in the chair, in the posture of a man that wishes to be
shaved. Franz carefully observed the same procedure which the Spectre
had observed to him, clipped his beard with the scissors, cropt away his
hair, lathered his whole scalp, and the Ghost all the while sat steady
as a wig-block. The awkward journeyman came ill at handling the razor:
he had never had another in his hand; and he shore the beard right
against the hair; whereat the Goblin made as strange grimaces as
Erasmus's Ape, when imitating its master's shaving. Nor was the
unpractised bungler himself well at ease, and he thought more than once
of the sage aphorism, _What is not thy trade make not thy business_; yet
he struggled through the task, the best way he could, and scraped the
Ghost as bald as he himself was.
Hitherto the scene between the Spectre and the traveller had been played
pantomimically; the action now became dramatic. "Stranger," said the
Ghost, "accept my thanks for the service thou hast done me. By thee I am
delivered from the long imprisonment, which has chained me for three
hundred years within these walls; to which my departed soul was doomed,
till a mortal hand should consent to retaliate on me what I practised on
others in my lifetime.
"Know that of old a reckless scorner dwelt within this tower, who took
his sport on priests as well as laics. Count Hardman, such his name, was
no philanthropist, acknowledged no superior and no law, but practised
vain caprice and waggery, regarding not the sacredness of hospitable
rights: the wanderer who came beneath his roof, the needy man who asked
a charitable alms of him, he never sent away unvisited by wicked joke. I
was his Castle Barber, still a willing instrument, and did whatever
pleased him. Many a pious pilgrim, journeying past us, I allured with
friendly speeches to the hall; prepared the bath for him, and when he
thought to take good comfort, shaved him smooth and bald, and packed him
out of doors. Then would Count Hardman, looking from the window, see
with pleasure how the foxes' whelps of children gathered from the hamlet
to assail the outcast, and to cry as once their fellows to Elisha:
'Baldhead! Baldhead!' In this the scoffer took his pleasure, laughing
with a devilish joy, till he would hold his pot-paunch, and his eyes ran
down with water.
"Once came a saintly man, from foreign lands; he carried, like a
penitent, a heavy cross upon his shoulder, and had stamped five
nail-marks on his hands, and feet, and side; upon his head there was a
ring of hair like to the Crown of Thorns. He called upon us here,
requesting water for his feet, and a small crust of bread. Immediately I
took him to the bath, to serve him in my common way; respected not the
sacred ring, but shore it clean from off him. Then the pious pilgrim
spoke a heavy malison upon me: 'Know, accursed man, that when thou
diest, Heaven, and Hell, and Purgatory's iron gate, are shut against thy
soul. As goblin it shall rage within these walls, till unrequired,
unbid, a traveller come and exercise retaliation on thee.'
"That hour I sickened, and the marrow in my bones dried up; I faded like
a shadow. My spirit left the wasted carcass, and was exiled to this
Castle, as the saint had doomed it. In vain I struggled for deliverance
from the torturing bonds that fettered me to Earth; for thou must know,
that when the soul forsakes her clay, she panteth for her place of rest,
and this sick longing spins her years to aeons, while in foreign element
she languishes for home. Now self-tormenting, I pursued the mournful
occupation I had followed in my lifetime. Alas! my uproar soon made
desolate this house! But seldom came a pilgrim here to lodge. And though
I treated all like thee, no one would understand me, and perform, as
thou, the service which has freed my soul from bondage. Henceforth shall
no hobgoblin wander in this Castle; I return to my long-wished-for rest.
And now, young stranger, once again my thanks, that thou hast loosed me!
Were I keeper of deep-hidden treasures, they were thine; but wealth in
life was not my lot, nor in this Castle lies there any cash entombed.
Yet mark my counsel. Tarry here till beard and locks again shall cover
chin and scalp; then turn thee homewards to thy native town; and on the
Weser-bridge of Bremen, at the time when day and night in Autumn are
alike, wait for a Friend, who there will meet thee, who will tell thee
what to do, that it be well with thee on Earth. If from the golden horn
of plenty, blessing and abundance flow to thee, then think of me; and
ever as the day thou freedst me from the curse comes round, cause for my
soul's repose three masses to be said. Now fare thee well. I go, no more
returning."[7]
[7] I know not whether the reader has observed that our Author
makes the Spectre speak in _iambics_; a whim which here and there
comes over him in other tales also.--WIELAND.