tormented by forebodings of misfortune; both felt the pangs of an
affection, which made them wish never to be separated; and yet each was
still compelled to acknowledge, that to separate was necessary!
With difficulty did they tear themselves from each other’s arms. By his
patron’s desire, Russeling conducted the Lady of the Beacon-Tower to the
place appointed for her abode: but as soon as he had seen her
established there, he hastened back to the imperial residence, anxious
to lose no opportunity of advancing his projects. As unfortunately every
circumstance combined to favour them, his detestable schemes were but
too soon carried into execution.
In the mean while, Adelaide in the solitude of Ravenstein led the kind
of life best adapted to her melancholy situation. The present posture of
affairs rendered her heart doubly accessible to every sort of
inquietude: she had left her dear but unsteady husband entangled in a
chain of circumstances, which authorized her to see the future in the
most gloomy light; nor was it long before she discovered, that in fixing
her abode at the fortress of Ravenstein, she had by no means selected a
residence the best fitted for dissipating the melancholy ideas, which
perpetually obtruded themselves upon her imagination.
In the spring of her life this Castle had been long her prison; there
had she narrowly escaped perishing by famine and by the flames; there
too was the grave of her unfortunate mother. It was impossible, that
these sad recollections should not have considerable effect upon a mind,
which already was tortured by a thousand causes for anxiety. It is true,
the lords of Eschenbach had almost entirely rebuilt the ruined fortress
at considerable expence, and had made it so different from its former
self, that it was scarcely to be recognized; but Adelaide’s enthusiastic
imagination saw less what was before her eyes, than what sorrow had
engraved on her remembrance indelibly.
The time of her delivery was at hand; and the presence of some
sympathising friends enabled Adelaide to look forward to the moment of
danger with less fear. Indeed, the laws of our order did not permit
either you or myself to leave our convents, and hasten to the assistance
of our beloved Adelaide. The Countess Mellusina was no more; and even
had she been still in existence, her presence would have been but little
wished or expected by her sister-in-law. I doubt much too, whether (even
had we been able to come to her aid) with all our good intentions we
should have been able to afford so much real help and comfort, as she
received from the female inhabitants of the vale of Frutiger: during the
time which she past with Count Donat at Ravenstein, Adelaide by her
exertions to moderate the fury of her incensed brother had won their
hearts completely; and no sooner did the grateful women hear, that their
benevolent protectress stood in need of it, than they hastened to afford
her their friendly assistance. Walter Forest’s mother, and the wife of
Henric Melthal, (for Donat’s increasing tyranny had compelled the family
of Melthal to withdraw from his dominions) were among the first to
proffer their services; nor did Gertrude Bernsdorf neglect the daughter
of her former lord. It was from these good matrons, that I received the
account of the following transactions; alas! I was not permitted to hear
them from the lips of the dear Adelaide herself!
The Lady of the Beacon-Tower was safely delivered of a son; and the
sight of this little smiling innocent was sufficient to relieve his
anxious mother from more than half the weight of her melancholy.
—“Now then,” she exclaimed frequently, while she kissed her baby with
rapture, “now then I only need to see Rodolpho partaking my delight, and
every fear which now distracts my bosom will at once be destroyed for
ever.”——
Her wish was granted, sooner than she could have expected. Alas! it
brought not with it the joy, which (she fondly hoped) would accompany
her husband’s arrival.
Reports which agitate the great world, are slow in reaching the
dwellings of retirement; yet there are _some_ transactions, which fame
spreads about with the rapidity of lightning, because they are strange
and terrible enough to attract the attention of the universal globe.
Who trembles not at hearing the dreadful word, _Regicide_? the emperor
Albert was dead; he had fallen by the hands of the unfortunate John of
Swabia and his friends! this dreadful report had been long circulated in
whispers among the mountains, where Adelaide had fixed her residence; it
at first obtained little credit, but with every succeeding day it seemed
to assume more consistency. It had not yet reached the ears of Adelaide;
but her attendants saw, that it would be impossible to keep it from her
knowledge much longer; the prudent Gertrude therefore, as the person
among them to whom the others looked up with the greatest deference,
undertook to give the invalid some insight into these melancholy events;
observing every possible precaution, that might weaken their effect, and
carefully concealing the share, which the Lord of the Beacon-Tower was
reported to have taken in the business. Chance unfortunately prevented
her from executing her kind intentions.
One evening, Adelaide was sitting with her child at her bosom near a
window, which commanded the spacious court-yard. On a sudden a single
warrior rushed into the court on horseback. Adelaide sprang from her
seat with a cry of joy, and flew towards the portal.
—“Whither would you go, lady?” exclaimed Gertrude, and hastened to
follow her.
But Adelaide was already in the court, and before he had time to enter,
had placed her child on the bosom of his father.
Rodolpho kissed his baby and its mother, and then amidst the joyful
shouts of the domestics who crouded round their master, he followed
Adelaide into the great castle-hall: there was he received with renewed
embraces, with questions, blessings, wonderings, and all the delightful
confusion of unexpected and overflowing joy.
Rapture at clasping in her arms the man, whom she had so long sighed to
see, and at a moment so unlooked-for, prevented Adelaide from observing,
that the rapture was not mutual. The eager prattling of affection
concealed from her, that she was the only speaker; and many hours had
elapsed, before she was sufficiently recovered from the delirium of her
joy to ask the question—“Oh! Rodolpho, why thus silent? why thus pale?”—
It was not so long, before his attendants had remarked this alteration
in their Lord’s appearance; and the alarming consternation displayed in
his countenance seemed to confirm the reports to his disadvantage, which
for some time had been so prevalent. The pleasure, with which his
arrival had inspired them at first, soon vanished; and all drew back
with shuddering from the man, on whose hands they fancied that they
could discover the stains of royal blood.
—“What troubles you, my beloved?” Adelaide at length demanded of her
husband, who sat with his eyes fixed stedfastly on the earth, and seemed
not to hear her question; “answer me for pity’s sake! what troubles
you?”—
—“Oh! nothing, nothing!” he exclaimed, then sprang up suddenly, and
advanced towards the window—“all is as it should be; nothing has
happened but what _ought_ to have happened. It is only my foolish heart,
that cannot be persuaded to let me be at rest.”—
—“All has happened, that ought to have happened?” repeated Adelaide,
whose anxiety became more painful with every moment; “and what then
_has_ happened?”—
Rodolpho without answering her question, remarked that night was coming
on; he then desired a domestic to take good care, that all the gates
were well locked and barred, and ordered that the portcullis should be
let down to guard the narrow path, whose steps were hewn in the rock,
and which was the only avenue to the Castle.
—“Dearest Rodolpho,” said Adelaide, while she took his hand with mingled
tenderness and apprehension “what need of these precautions? are you not
safe in the arms of love? surely, we now have no enemies to dread.”—
—“Adelaide, while Albert lived, we had but _one_ enemy: now that he is
no more, his death has created a thousand avengers, who wait with
impatience for an opportunity to destroy us!”—
—“His death?” exclaimed Adelaide in a tone expressing the utmost horror,
and betraying that she already guest the misfortune, which she was soon
to hear confirmed; “is then the emperor dead? alas! and by whom?”—
Her husband gazed upon her with a gloomy frowning air, and without
replying prepared to quit the apartment.
Adelaide followed him, detained him, and in a voice scarcely audible
repeated her question.
Rodolpho bent himself towards her, and whispered somewhat in her ear;
yet not so gently, but that Gertrude (who was the only person then
present) could distinguish the emperor’s name, the Duke of Swabia’s, and
Rodolpho’s own.
—“Now then” said he, with a loud voice and terrible look; “Now then is
Adelaide aware, by what name she must henceforth greet her husband?”—
It is easy to guess, how violent an effect this dreadful explanation
must have made upon the criminal’s unfortunate wife! life is subject to
moments, in which a single word is sufficient to bring at once before
the mind the whole wide extent of our future fate; in which with a
single look and in a single feeling we embrace the whole; and (be they
of sorrow or be they of joy) in which man’s feeble nature is compelled
to sink beneath the gigantic strength of his sensations.
Adelaide lay at her husband’s feet deprived of animation. His caresses
and the care of her attendants only awakened her to the sense of
suffering. It is true, the total deprivation of her intellects for a
time preserved her mind from feeling the wretchedness of her situation;
but her health was cruelly affected by the violent attacks of a malady,
which soon brought her to the very brink of the grave.
Many months past before she was pronounced out of danger; it required no
less a period to elapse, before she was able to accustom her mind
sufficiently to seeing all her gloomy apprehensions justified, without
relapsing into that melancholy state from which she had just escaped
with so much difficulty.
While Rodolpho through his wife’s illness suffered both for himself and
for her, his situation had become more critical with every day. The
favourable hour for flight had been consumed by the side of Adelaide’s
sick-bed. With no kind friendly hand to pour balm into the wounds of his
conscience, their agony was become most acute; and he was now compelled
to see (what is seen by every criminal) the deed that was done with very
different eyes from those, with which he saw the deed while it was yet
to do. He was without comfort, without hope; and already did the
emperor’s avengers tread close upon his footsteps.
There was no longer any security for the unfortunate family of Rodolpho
at Ravenstein Castle: concealment was the only chance for preserving his
life from the many swords, that were in search of him. Adelaide’s first
care therefore on her recovery was to quit her abode; nor did her still
weak state of health deter her from immediately executing her
resolution. Rodolpho followed whither she thought proper to conduct him,
less from the hope of saving his wretched existence, than from feeling
it impossible to part any more from Adelaide. The horror, which had
taken possession of all her faculties on first hearing of this dreadful
act, had now given place to sorrow and compassion: she tortured herself
to find some apology for his crime; and when she felt that the excuses
of love avail nothing at any judgment-bar except its own, though she
found herself compelled to confess Rodolpho guilty, she still vowed,
that all guilty as he was she loved him still, and that all guilty as he
was she would perish with him.
Willingly did the grateful inhabitants of the Vale of Frutiger afford a
shelter to her, from whom they had formerly received such essential
services; but it was not without much secret murmuring, that they
granted the same favour to her blood-polluted husband. How indeed could
that innocent and open-hearted race of people willingly support the
presence of a murderer?
In the shelter of their huts Rodolpho ran no risque of being betrayed;
but it was clear to every one, and most so to himself, that the
sacrifice made by them in this instance to humanity, was a sacrifice
which cost them very dearly. His own afflicted conscience too prevented
him from long remaining quiet in the same place; and he at length
suddenly told his wife, that he was determined on hastening to Rome, and
on soliciting absolution for his crime at the feet of the holy father.
This, he believed, was the only balsam capable of calming the
inexpressible anguish, which preyed upon his heart.
Unwillingly did Adelaide suffer him to tear himself from her arms. She
would fain have accompanied him in his pilgrimage; but her weakness
which still continued, and the caution which it was necessary for a
proscribed man to observe upon his journey, compelled her to give up her
generous design. Rodolpho set forward in disguise for Rome; Adelaide
remained in the Vale of Frutiger with her little son, mingling the milk,
which she gave him, with many a tear of bitterness.
A considerable space of time elapsed, and yet no news arrived from the
unfortunate pilgrim: her friends the worthy matrons of Helvetia
endeavoured to give this delay, which so justly was the cause of much
anxiety to Adelaide, a favourable interpretation; and their husbands
solemnly promised, should Rodolpho return with the Holy Father’s pardon,
they would refuse him no service, which an honest man could require at
their hands.
Adelaide’s tranquillity began to return: absolution even from crimes,
whose mention makes humanity shudder, is no uncommon thing in our days;
this is a circumstance, which gives the laity opportunities of throwing
much reproach upon the church; but on which, as belonging to a religious
society, it becomes _me_ to remain silent—the hopes of our friend were
also greatly strengthened by an event, which (when Adelaide communicated
it in one of her letters) appeared even to myself as meriting no slight
attention; it was, that persons of inferior consequence having all
desisted from the pursuit, the only person, who still demanded
Rodolpho’s punishment, was Johanna, the reigning queen of Hungary, and
daughter of the murdered emperor. We trusted, that the gentle soul of a
woman would be easily awakened to compassion; and this flattering
persuasion received additional force, when Adelaide received an
assurance, that it was unnecessary for her to continue in concealment,
and that she might return to her abode at Ravenstein, in perfect
security from meeting with injury or insult.
Adelaide and her friends naturally considered, this permission as a
fore-runner of still greater favours—“It is clear then,” said she, “that
the place of my concealment was well known to my husband’s enemies. It
was in their power, had they thought fit to take the most severe
vengeance, to have punished Rodolpho’s crime on me and on his son; but
they molested us not, and I am now permitted to return to my former
residence. Besides, Rodolpho is in truth not so _very_ culpable; he was
seduced into guilt by the artifice of others. He drew not his sword to
revenge his own injuries, but to protect his friend against injustice
and oppression. Perhaps he was selected as an instrument of the Divine
Vengeance, and commissioned by Heaven to punish Albert’s crime, who was
himself his sovereign’s murderer.”—
Oh! Adelaide, how could your pure and generous heart persuade itself
even in a single thought or by a single word to palliate an offence, too
atrocious to admit of pardon? vainly did you strive to deceive yourself;
one serious glance falling on the veil, which affection would fain have
thrown over the crime of your beloved, was frequently enough to make you
tremble and blush at being employed in such an office.
For some time the Lady of the Beacon-Tower resided at Ravenstein in a
situation, whose apparent tranquillity was more artificial than real,
but which still was rendered supportable by the hope of better days. A
thunder-clap suddenly rouzed her from her pleasing dreams, and a tempest
hurried her towards the termination of her sorrows.
Every attempt to obtain intelligence of the guilty wanderer had hitherto
been unsuccessful. Adelaide’s messengers returned not; Rodolpho was
unable to dispatch messengers in return, for he had no sooner set his
foot within the precincts of the Vatican, than he was delivered into the
hands of avenging justice. What was his present fate, and what would be
that which was still reserved for him, was already well-known to every
one in the neighbourhood of Ravenstein. Concealed from her by the cruel
tenderness of her attendants, her husband’s situation was a secret to
Adelaide alone. Surely it was cruel to hide from her an event, which she
could not escape knowing in the end, till the whole consciousness of her
misfortunes burst upon her at once, and with the violence of the shock
crushed her.
The Lady of the Beacon-Tower entertained no apprehensions for herself;
happen what would, she believed her own person to be safe. The
inhabitants of the Helvetian mountains, in which she resided, had been
long dissatisfied with the government of princes, who only employed
their power to rob them of their liberty; and they had secretly resolved
to seize the first opportunity of breaking their chains. They were
prepared to run every hazard in defence of their adored Adelaide; and
they counted it unnecessary to warn her of the approach of dangers,
which they were firmly determined to prevent from ever reaching her. But
where are the mountains so inaccessible, the protection so powerful, and
the valour so impossible to be subdued, that calamity cannot overcome
all obstacles in pursuit of her destined victim!
Johanna, the Queen of Hungary, who with the fury of a tigress burned to
revenge her father’s death, demanded admission into these tranquil
vallies, whose inhabitants, from their having granted Rodolpho a
temporary asylum, she considered as adherents to the guilty Duke of
Swabia. One fortress after another fell into her power: she became
mistress by degrees of the whole country; and at length Adelaide heard
the sound of hostile trumpets, ere she had yet been made aware, that the
most revengeful of all women had penetrated into Helvetia.
Johanna’s mildness towards the murderer’s family had been only assumed,
in hopes of discovering where Rodolpho himself was concealed. His
seizure had rendered further artifice unnecessary, and she was now
permitted to show the violence of her resentment without disguise. She
led her troops in person against Ravenstein. Though lately repaired and
internally fitted up with elegance and splendour, the fortress no longer
possest those strong means of defence, which in its antient state had
enabled it to set the attacks of foes so often at defiance. Walter
Forest, however, had engaged to undertake the command of it; but at the
time when Johanna unexpectedly appeared before the Castle, this brave
man was detained by patriotic duties in a distant part of the country.
The garrison were capable of making but a sorry resistance; the gates
were thrown open; and Johanna made her triumphal entrance into
Ravenstein over the bleeding corses of those, who had fallen the
innocent victims of her thirst for vengeance.
Oh! Urania, I know well, that justice required the punishment of
Albert’s murderers; I know well, that it was the remembrance of her
father’s death, which transformed his daughter into a Feind; but still
... still I feel it impossible for me without horror and disgust to
unite a thirst for blood with the name of woman. Johanna, that
Saint-like princess, that builder of cloisters, that worker of miracles;
that young and beautiful Johanna who, as ’tis whispered, is secretly by
no means averse to the tender passions; even that very Johanna pursued
her way over heaps of mutilated corses, and said with a triumphant smile
to those who followed her,—“that it seemed, as if her path had been
strown with roses.”—
The doors of the Great Hall were thrown open; Adelaide lay senseless in
the arms of her attendants. She was half stretched across the cradle of
her sleeping child, as if even in the moment of swooning she had still
been aware, that enemies were approaching too pityless to spare even
slumbering innocence.
The pale countenance of the Lady of the Beacon-Tower, the beauty of
whose features even sorrow had not been able to destroy, and the
helplessness of whose present situation served only to render her more
interesting, would have touched even the hearts of dæmons with
compassion; but on the incensed Johanna this very beauty produced quite
a contrary effect. In the eyes of her who gladly would have seen all
other charms eclipsed by her own, to be as lovely as Adelaide in itself
was a crime of no inconsiderable magnitude: nor could the queen observe
without extreme displeasure, that among the warriors in her train, many
an eye (whose approbation she would gladly have engrossed entirely)
dwelt with looks of tenderness and admiration on the fair lifeless
statue, which lay extended in the dust, overthrown by fear and sorrow.
—“Who is this woman?” demanded the queen.
—“Adelaide, Lady of the Beacon-Tower.”—
—“Ha! say’st thou? the Regicide’s wife then?—and yonder brat in the
cradle?”—
—“It is Adelaide’s only son,” exclaimed Gertrude, at the same time
throwing herself at the feet of the Fury, whose arm was already extended
towards the slumbering infant, as it lay half-concealed by its mother’s
robe.—“Mercy, mercy for the poor babe; he has been guilty of no crime;
be satisfied with revenging yourself on his unfortunate father!”—
A scream uttered by the little Rodolpho rouzed his mother from her
insensibility; she looked up; she saw her baby in the arms of the
furious queen, who childless herself and unworthy to have children, knew
not and cared not, how such tender creatures should be handled.
Gertrude had quitted her kneeling attitude, to hasten to the assistance
of her awakening friend, who now took the place which she had left
unoccupied, and embraced in Gertrude’s stead the knees of the queen.
—“My child!” she exclaimed; “give me my child! what would you do with
it? why do you grasp it so rudely? oh! it is tender, and you will kill
it! you will kill it!”—
—“What would I do with it?” repeated the implacable Johanna; “I would
dash the little serpent against the ground, that it may not grow up to
be a regicide like its father!”—
—“Oh! mercy! mercy! what crime can the innocent babe have committed?”—
—“None, lady, none,” replied Johanna, while she cast upon the suppliant
a look of mingled anger and disdain; “’tis out of mere compassion, that
I use your infant thus. Had your husband the regicide been treated in
his cradle as I will soon treat this screaming worm, he had not been at
this moment on his road to the place of execution, where he must soon
end his guilty life upon the rack.”—
—“Say you?—my husband ... the place of execution ... the rack too ... my
child! oh! God, my poor child!”—thus shrieked Adelaide, who had now
sprang from the earth, and was endeavouring to force her infant from the
grasp of this female Dæmon; but her exertions were too feeble, and she
again sank insensible upon the pavement.
—“Lady,” exclaimed one of the warriors, who seemed to be of most
distinction among her attendants, “you forget your sex!”—at the same
time he forcibly rescued the crying baby from her hands, and placed it
on the bosom of Gertrude.
This bold protector of innocence must have possest no trifling influence
with Johanna, since she dared only punish his action by an angry frown,
and immediately commanded (probably through fear of his making still
further use of his power over her) that the still fainting Adelaide
should be removed from her presence.