satisfactorily attested his former existence as court-barber in the
Castle of Rummelsburg, vanished into air, and left his deliverer full of
wonder at the strange adventure. He stood for a long while motionless;
in doubt whether the whole matter had actually happened, or an unquiet
dream had deluded his senses; but his bald head convinced him that here
had been a real occurrence. He returned to bed, and slept, after the
fright he had undergone, till the hour of noon. The treacherous Landlord
had been watching since morning, when the traveller with the scalp was
to come forth, that he might receive him with jibing speeches under
pretext of astonishment at his nocturnal adventure. But as the stranger
loitered too long, and mid-day was approaching, the affair became
serious; and Mine Host began to dread that the Goblin might have treated
his guest a little harshly, have beaten him to a jelly perhaps, or so
frightened him that he had died of terror; and to carry his wanton
revenge to such a length as this had not been his intention. He
therefore rang his people together, hastened out with man and maid to
the tower, and reached the door of the apartment where he had observed
the light on the previous evening. He found an unknown key in the lock;
but the door was barred within; for after the disappearance of the
Goblin, Franz had again secured it. He knocked with a perturbed
violence, till the Seven Sleepers themselves would have awoke at the
din. Franz started up, and thought in his first confusion that the Ghost
was again standing at the door, to favour him with another call. But
hearing Mine Host's voice, who required nothing more but that his guest
would give some sign of life, he gathered himself up and opened the
room.
With seeming horror at the sight of him, Mine Host, striking his hands
together, exclaimed: "By Heaven and all the saints! Redcloak" (by this
name the Ghost was known among them) "_has_ been here, and has shaved
you bald as a block! Now, it is clear as day that the old story is no
fable. But tell me how looked the Goblin: what did he say to you? what
did he do?"
Franz, who had now seen through the questioner, made answer: "The Goblin
looked like a man in a red cloak; what he did is not hidden from you,
and what he said I well remember: 'Stranger,' said he, 'trust no
innkeeper who is a Turk in grain. What would befall thee here he knew.
Be wise and happy. I withdraw from this my ancient dwelling, for my time
is run. Henceforth no goblin riots here; I now become a silent Incubus,
to plague the Landlord; nip him, tweak him, harass him, unless the Turk
do expiate his sin; do freely give thee prog and lodging till brown
locks again shall cluster round thy head.'"[8]
[8] Here too, on the Spectre's score, Franz makes extempore
_iambics_.--WIELAND.
The Landlord shuddered at these words, cut a large cross in the air
before him, vowed by the Holy Virgin to give the traveller free board so
long as he liked to continue, led him over to his house, and treated him
with the best. By this adventure, Franz had well-nigh got the reputation
of a conjuror, as the spirit thenceforth never once showed face. He
often passed the night in the tower; and a desperado of the village once
kept him company, without having beard or scalp disturbed. The owner of
the place, having learned that Redcloak no longer walked in Rummelsburg,
was, of course, delighted at the news, and ordered that the stranger,
who, as he supposed, had laid him, should be well taken care of.
By the time when the clusters were beginning to be coloured on the vine,
and the advancing autumn reddened the apples, Franz's brown locks were
again curling over his temples, and he girded up his knapsack; for all
his thoughts and meditations were turned upon the Weser-bridge, to seek
the Friend, who, at the behest of the Goblin Barber, was to direct him
how to make his fortune. When about taking leave of Mine Host, that
charitable person led from his stable a horse well saddled and equipt,
which the owner of the Castle had presented to the stranger, for having
made his house again habitable; nor had the Count forgot to send a
sufficient purse along with it, to bear its travelling charges; and so
Franz came riding back into his native city, brisk and light of heart,
as he had ridden out of it twelve months ago. He sought out his old
quarters in the alley, but kept himself quite still and retired; only
inquiring underhand how matters stood with the fair Meta, whether she
was still alive and unwedded. To this inquiry he received a satisfactory
answer, and contented himself with it in the mean while; for, till his
fate were decided, he would not risk appearing in her sight, or making
known to her his arrival in Bremen.
With unspeakable longing, he waited the equinox; his impatience made
every intervening day a year. At last the long-wished-for term appeared.
The night before, he could not close an eye, for thinking of the wonders
that were coming. The blood was whirling and beating in his arteries, as
it had done at the Castle of Rummelsburg, when he lay in expectation of
his spectre visitant. To be sure of not missing his expected Friend, he
rose by daybreak, and proceeded with the earliest dawn to the
Weser-bridge, which as yet stood empty and untrod by passengers. He
walked along it several times in solitude, with that presentiment of
coming gladness, which includes in it the real enjoyment of all
terrestrial felicity; for it is not the attainment of our wishes, but
the undoubted hope of attaining them, which offers to the human soul the
full measure of highest and most heartfelt satisfaction. He formed many
projects as to how he should present himself to his beloved Meta, when
his looked-for happiness should have arrived; whether it would be better
to appear before her in full splendour, or to mount from his former
darkness with the first gleam of morning radiance, and discover to her
by degrees the change in his condition. Curiosity, moreover, put a
thousand questions to Reason in regard to the adventure. Who can the
Friend be that is to meet me on the Weser-bridge? Will it be one of my
old acquaintances, by whom, since my ruin, I have been entirely
forgotten? How will he pave the way to me for happiness? And will this
way be short or long, easy or toilsome? To the whole of which Reason,
in spite of all her thinking and speculating, answered not a word.
In about an hour, the Bridge began to get awake; there was riding,
driving, walking to and fro on it; and much commercial ware passing this
way and that. The usual day-guard of beggars and importunate persons
also by degrees took up this post, so favourable for their trade, to
levy contributions on the public benevolence; for of poor-houses and
work-houses, the wisdom of the legislature had as yet formed no scheme.
The first of the tattered cohort that applied for alms to the jovial
promenader, from whose eyes gay hope laughed forth, was a discharged
soldier, provided with the military badge of a timber leg, which had
been lent him, seeing he had fought so stoutly in former days for his
native country, as the recompense of his valour, with the privilege of
begging where he pleased; and who now, in the capacity of physiognomist,
pursued the study of man upon the Weser-bridge, with such success, that
he very seldom failed in his attempts for charity. Nor did his
exploratory glance in anywise mislead him in the present instance; for
Franz, in the joy of his heart, threw a white engel-groschen into the
cripple's hat.
During the morning hours, when none but the laborious artisan is busy,
and the more exalted townsman still lies in sluggish rest, he scarcely
looked for his promised Friend; he expected him in the higher classes,
and took little notice of the present passengers. About the
council-hour, however, when the Proceres of Bremen were driving past to
the hall, in their gorgeous robes of office, and about exchange-time, he
was all eye and ear; he spied the passengers from afar; and when a right
man came along the bridge, his blood began to flutter, and he thought
here was the creator of his fortune. Meanwhile hour after hour passed
on; the sun rose high; ere long the noontide brought a pause in
business; the rushing crowd faded away; and still the expected Friend
appeared not. Franz now walked up and down the Bridge quite alone; had
no society in view but the beggars, who were serving out their cold
collations, without moving from the place. He made no scruple to do the
same; and, not being furnished with provisions, he purchased some fruit,
and took his dinner _inter ambulandum_.
The whole club that was dining on the Bridge had remarked the young man,
watching here from early morning till noon, without addressing any one,
or doing any sort of business. They held him to be a lounger; and
though all of them had tasted his bounty, he did not escape their
critical remarks. In jest, they had named him the Bridge-bailiff. The
physiognomist with the timber-toe, however, noticed that his countenance
was not now so gay as in the morning; he appeared to be reflecting
earnestly on something; he had drawn his hat close over his face; his
movement was slow and thoughtful; he had nibbled at an apple-rind for
some time, without seeming to be conscious that he was doing so. From
this appearance of affairs, the man-spier thought he might extract some
profit; therefore he put his wooden and his living leg in motion, and
stilted off to the other end of the Bridge, and lay in wait for the
thinker, that he might assail him, under the appearance of a new
arrival, for a fresh alms. This invention prospered to the full: the
musing philosopher gave no heed to the mendicant, put his hand into his
pocket mechanically, and threw a six-groat piece into the fellow's hat,
to be rid of him.
In the afternoon, a thousand new faces once more came abroad. The
watcher was now tired of his unknown Friend's delaying, yet hope still
kept his attention on the stretch. He stept into the view of every
passenger, hoped that one of them would clasp him in his arms; but all
proceeded coldly on their way; the most did not observe him at all, and
few returned his salute with a slight nod. The sun was already verging
to decline, the shadows were becoming longer, the crowd upon the Bridge
diminished; and the beggar-piquet by degrees drew back into their
barracks in the Mattenburg. A deep sadness sank upon the hopeless Franz,
when he saw his expectation mocked, and the lordly prospect which had
lain before him in the morning vanish from his eyes at evening. He fell
into a sort of sulky desperation; was on the point of springing over the
parapet, and dashing himself down from the Bridge into the river. But
the thought of Meta kept him back, and induced him to postpone his
purpose till he had seen her yet once more. He resolved to watch next
day when she should go to church, for the last time to drink delight
from her looks, and then forthwith to still his warm love forever in the
cold stream of the Weser.
While about to leave the Bridge, he was met by the invalided pikeman
with the wooden leg, who, for pastime, had been making many speculations
as to what could be the young man's object, that had made him watch upon
the Bridge from dawn to darkness. He himself had lingered beyond his
usual time, that he might wait him out; but as the matter hung too long
upon the pegs, curiosity incited him to turn to the youth himself, and
question him respecting it.
"No offence, young gentleman," said he: "allow me to ask you a
question."
Franz, who was not in a very talking humour, and was now meeting, from
the mouth of a cripple, the address which he had looked for with such
longing from a friend, answered rather testily: "Well, then, what is it?
Speak, old graybeard!"
"We two," said the other, "were the first upon the Bridge today, and
now, you see, we are the last. As to me and others of my kidney, it is
our vocation brings us hither, our trade of alms-gathering; but for you,
in sooth you are not of our guild; yet you have watched here the whole
blessed day. Now I pray you, tell me, if it is not a secret, what it is
that brings you hither; or what stone is lying on your heart, that you
wished to roll away."
"What good were it to thee, old blade," said Franz bitterly, "to know
where the shoe pinches me, or what concern is lying on my heart? It will
give thee small care."
"Sir, I have a kind wish towards you, because you opened your hand to
me, and twice gave me alms, for which God reward you; but your
countenance at night was not so cheerful as in the morning, and that
grieves my heart."
The kindly sympathy of this old warrior pleased the misanthrope, so that
he willingly pursued the conversation.
"Why, then," answered he, "if thou wouldst know what has made me battle
here all day with tedium, thou must understand that I was waiting for a
Friend, who appointed me hither, and now leaves me to expect in vain."
"Under favour," answered Timbertoe, "if I might speak my mind, this
Friend of yours, be who he like, is little better than a rogue, to lead
you such a dance. If he treated _me_ so, by my faith, his crown should
get acquainted with my crutch next time we met. If he could not keep his
word, he should have let you know, and not bamboozled you as if you were
a child."
"Yet I cannot altogether blame this Friend," said Franz, "for being
absent; he did not promise; it was but a dream that told me I should
meet him here."
The goblin-tale was too long for him to tell, so he veiled it under
cover of a dream.
"Ah! that is another story," said the beggar; "if you build on dreams,
it is little wonder that your hope deceives you. I myself have dreamed
much foolish stuff in my time; but I was never such a madman as to heed
it. Had I all the treasures that have been allotted to me in dreams, I
might buy the city of Bremen, were it sold by auction. But I never
credited a jot of them, or stirred hand or foot to prove their worth or
worthlessness: I knew well it would be lost. Ha! I must really laugh in
your face, to think that on the order of an empty dream, you have
squandered a fair day of your life, which you might have spent better at
a merry banquet."
"The issue shows that thou art right, old man, and that dreams many
times deceive. But," continued Franz, defensively, "I dreamed so vividly
and circumstantially, above three months ago, that on this very day, in
this very place, I should meet a Friend, who would tell me things of the
deepest importance, that it was well worth while to go and see if it
would come to pass."
"O, as for vividness," said Timbertoe, "no man can dream more vividly
than I. There is one dream I had, which I shall never in my life forget.
I dreamed, who knows how many years ago, that my Guardian Angel stood
before my bed in the figure of a youth, with golden hair, and two silver
wings on his back, and said to me: 'Berthold, listen to the words of my
mouth, that none of them be lost from thy heart. There is a treasure
appointed thee, which thou shalt dig, to comfort thy heart withal for
the remaining days of thy life. Tomorrow, about evening, when the sun is
going down, take spade and shovel on thy shoulder; go forth from the
Mattenburg on the right, across the Tieber, by the Balkenbruecke, past
the Cloister of St. John's, and on to the Great Roland.[9] Then take thy
way over the Court of the Cathedral, through the Schusselkorb, till thou
arrive without the city at a garden, which has this mark, that a stair
of three stone steps leads down from the highway to its gate. Wait by a
side, in secret, till the sickle of the moon shall shine on thee, then
push with the strength of a man against the weak-barred gate, which will
resist thee little. Enter boldly into the garden, and turn thee to the
vine-trellises which overhang the covered-walk; behind this, on the
left, a tall apple-tree overtops the lowly shrubs. Go to the trunk of
this tree, thy face turned right against the moon: look three ells
before thee on the ground, thou shalt see two cinnamon-rose bushes;
there strike in, and dig three spans deep, till thou find a stone plate;
under this lies the treasure, buried in an iron chest, full of money and
money's worth. Though the chest be heavy and clumsy, avoid not the
labour of lifting it from its bed; it will reward thy trouble well, if
thou seek the key which lies hid beneath it.'"
[9] The rude figure of a man in armour, usually erected in the
public square or market-place of old German towns, is called the
_Rolandsaule_, or _Rutlandsaule_, from its supposed reference to
Roland the famous peer of Charlemagne. The proper and ancient name,
it seems, is _Ruegelandsaule_, or Pillar of Judgment; and the stone
indicated, of old, that the town possessed an independent
jurisdiction.--ED.
In astonishment at what he heard, Franz stared and gazed upon the
dreamer, and could not have concealed his amazement, had not the dusk of
night been on his side. By every mark in the description, he had
recognised his own garden, left him by his father. It had been the good
man's hobby in his life; but on this account had little pleased his son;
according to the rule that son and father seldom sympathise in their
favourite pursuit, unless indeed it be a vice, in which case, as the
adage runs, the apple often falls at no great distance from the trunk.
Father Melchior had himself laid out this garden, altogether to his own
taste, in a style as wonderful and varied as that of his
great-great-grandson, who has immortalised his paradise by an original
description in _Hirschfeld's Garden-Calendar_. He had not, it is true,
set up in it any painted menagerie for the deception of the eye; but he
kept a very large one, notwithstanding, of springing-horses,
winged-lions, eagles, griffins, unicorns and other wondrous beasts, all
stamped on pure gold, which he carefully concealed from _every_ eye, and
had hid in their iron case beneath the ground. This paternal Tempe the
wasteful son, in the days of his extravagance, had sold for an old song.
To Franz the pikeman had at once become extremely interesting, as he
perceived that this was the very Friend, to whom the Goblin in the
Castle of Rummelsburg had consigned him. Gladly could he have embraced
the veteran, and in the first rapture called him friend and father: but
he restrained himself, and found it more advisable to keep his thoughts
about this piece of news to himself. So he said: "Well, this is what I
call a circumstantial dream. But what didst thou do, old master, in the
morning, on awakening? Didst thou not follow whither thy Guardian Angel
beckoned thee?"
"Pooh," said the dreamer, "why should I toil, and have my labour for my
pains? It was nothing, after all, but a mere dream. If my Guardian
Angel had a fancy for appearing to me, I have had enow of sleepless
nights in my time, when he might have found me waking. But he takes
little charge of me, I think, else I should not, to his shame, be going
hitching here on a wooden leg."
Franz took out the last piece of silver he had on him: "There," said he,
"old Father, take this other gift from me, to get thee a pint of wine
for evening-cup: thy talk has scared away my ill humour. Neglect not
diligently to frequent this Bridge; we shall see each other here, I
hope, again."
The lame old man had not gathered so rich a stock of alms for many a
day, as he was now possessed of; he blessed his benefactor for his
kindness, hopped away into a drinking-shop, to do himself a good turn;
while Franz, enlivened with new hope, hastened off to his lodging in the
alley.
Next day he got in readiness everything that is required for
treasure-digging. The unessential equipments, conjurations, magic
formulas, magic girdles, hieroglyphic characters, and suchlike, were
entirely wanting: but these are not indispensable, provided there be no
failure in the three main requisites: shovel, spade, and, before all, a
treasure underground. The necessary implements he carried to the place a
little before sunset, and hid them for the mean while in a hedge; and as
to the treasure itself, he had the firm conviction that the Goblin in
the Castle, and the Friend on the Bridge, would prove no liars to him.
With longing impatience he expected the rising of the moon; and no
sooner did she stretch her silver horns over the bushes, than he briskly
set to work; observing exactly everything the Invalid had taught him;
and happily accomplished the raising of the treasure, without meeting
any adventure in the process; without any black dog having frightened
him, or any bluish flame having lighted him to the spot.
Father Melchior, in providently burying this penny for a rainy day, had
nowise meant that his son should be deprived of so considerable a part
of his inheritance. The mistake lay in this, that Death had escorted the
testator out of the world in another way than said testator had
expected. He had been completely convinced, that he should take his
journey, old and full of days, after regulating his temporal concerns
with all the formalities of an ordinary sick-bed; for so it had been
prophesied to him in his youth. In consequence he purposed, when,
according to the usage of the Church, extreme unction should have been
dispensed to him, to call his beloved son to his bed-side, having
previously dismissed all bystanders; there to give him the paternal
blessing, and by way of farewell memorial direct him to this treasure
buried in the garden. All this, too, would have happened in just order,
if the light of the good old man had departed, like that of a wick whose
oil is done; but as Death had privily snuffed him out at a feast, he
undesignedly took along with him his Mammon secret to the grave; and
almost as many fortunate concurrences were required before the secreted
patrimony could arrive at the proper heir, as if it had been forwarded
to its address by the hand of Justice itself.
With immeasurable joy the treasure-digger took possession of the
shapeless Spanish pieces, which, with a vast multitude of other finer
coins, the iron chest had faithfully preserved. When the first
intoxication of delight had in some degree evaporated, he bethought him
how the treasure was to be transported, safe and unobserved, into the
narrow alley. The burden was too heavy to be carried without help; thus,
with the possession of riches, all the cares attendant on them were
awakened. The new Croesus found no better plan, than to intrust his
capital to the hollow trunk of a tree that stood behind the garden, in a
meadow: the empty chest he again buried under the rose-bush, and
smoothed the place as well as possible. In the space of three days, the
treasure had been faithfully transmitted by instalments from the hollow
tree into the narrow alley; and now the owner of it thought he might
with honour lay aside his strict incognito. He dressed himself with the
finest; had his Prayer displaced from the church; and required, instead
of it, "a Christian Thanksgiving for a Traveller, on returning to his
native town, after happily arranging his affairs." He hid himself in a
corner of the church, where he could observe the fair Meta, without
himself being seen; he turned not his eye from the maiden, and drank
from her looks the actual rapture, which in foretaste had restrained him
from the break-neck somerset on the Bridge of the Weser. When the
Thanksgiving came in hand, a glad sympathy shone forth from all her
features, and the cheeks of the virgin glowed with joy. The customary
greeting on the way homewards was so full of emphasis, that even to the
third party who had noticed them, it would have been intelligible.