departure from her father’s Castle, before the tribunal of Lady
Emmeline: it seems, she is already aware, that it was absolutely
necessary for me to tear myself away from one who is most dear to me,
whether the name by which I call her is that of mistress or of
friend.—Oh! would that my prayers could obtain from Heaven, dear
Emmeline, that the many acts of kindness which you have bestowed on me,
might soon be rewarded by your deliverance from the snares, with which
your virtue is now surrounded; by your deliverance from them through the
affection of Count Herman!
Yet should you reach this utmost aim of your wishes, I doubt much,
whether you would even then enjoy such complete happiness, as is mine at
this moment. Fortune acts by the great-ones of the earth much like a
step-mother. Their highest state of bliss is seldom any thing better
than splendid captivity; and the pomp and state in which they exist, the
throng of shining courtiers who wait upon their footsteps, the necessity
of sustaining the dignity of their rank (an obligation, which frequently
weighs upon them most heavily) all these are in fact absolute fetters.
We, more humble children of the land, are acquainted with no pomp except
that of nature, which appears to us ever new; no attendants are ours,
except such as inclination and a similarity of tastes and feelings
induce to be the voluntary companions of our steps; and no duties are
imposed on us but those which are most delightful in the performance,
domestic virtue and love for the land to which we are indebted for our
birth.
Oh! Lady, how earnestly do I wish for your presence in these dwellings
of tranquillity! I deny not, that the vallies in which your father’s
lofty fortress stands, are fair and fruitful; your castle on the Rhine,
whose walls are bathed by that proud river flowing past them in calm
majesty, is a noble and stately mansion, and the shades of the
Munster-Vale remind me of those of Paradise: but compared with the days
which I now pass in these calm and happy habitations, believe me, the
pleasures of your more brilliant mode of life appear but as mere
shadows.
Yet let us have patience! the spirit of liberty will by degrees pervade
every quarter of the land, and then will every quarter of the land be as
happy, as that which I inhabit. Even among _us_, there are certain men
(you will observe, that I say _men_, for we women are ever more easily
satisfied with our condition than that haughty sex) there are among us
some men, who in spite of all the freedom which we enjoy still speak
frequently of chains and task-masters, and make loud complaints against
the prevalence of cruelty and oppression. They call the emperor’s
representatives (one of whom is established in our neighbourhood) by no
gentler name than that of tyrants; and they are by no means pleased,
when these powerful lords condescend to honour us with their
intercourse, and to take a part in our rural festivities.
You know well, lady, that I am not disposed to like the society of
persons of rank much superior to my own: yet in justice to our newly
arrived governor, I must beg you not to imagine, that the Lord of
Landenberg in the least resembles either a voluptuous Abbot of
Cloister-Curwald, or a fierce and tyrannical Count Donat of Carlsheim.
No! he is a man, who unites the agreeable polish of courtly manners to
the frank and generous heart of a true Helvetian; he willingly adopts
the plain familiar tone, which prevails among our retired mountains, and
is right in thinking, that it must be gratifying to every one of us to
obtain the notice of a man of such peculiar merit and who fills so
distinguished a situation.
In our part of the country a thousand rural feasts are at present
celebrating, such as might be worthy of the golden age. The most
illustrious of our people are assembled here from all quarters; and the
smile of joy and bloom of health, which animate the countenances of
these numerous pilgrims of pleasure, make our society more gay and
brilliant, than is ever found to be the case at the costly
entertainments of princes. Every thing is pleasing and satisfactory,
except that on the countenances of some of the men (as I before informed
you) I can sometimes discover the marks of secret discontent. Among them
I must reckon my father and brother, Gertrude’s husband (Gertrude
herself was prevented by indisposition from joining us) and Walter
Forest, who is lately arrived from the Vale of Frutiger; of all these,
not one seems to receive the attentions and kindness of our worthy
governor with as much gratitude, as his condescension deserves. Its
true, the numerous society at present collected in our valley, and the
festivities which are every day taking place, are profest to be in
honour of the arrival of the emperor’s new representative; but to me it
appears evident, that their intention is less to show respect for him,
than to furnish an opportunity of examining his behaviour, and of prying
into the secrets of his heart, when thrown off his guard by gaiety and
pleasure.
Methinks, lady, what I write is not proper to be seen by every eye: but
the bearer of this letter is trusty; and besides the characters of our
pens are to most of our cotemporaries inexplicable riddles. The other
day, when we carried presents to the Castle, according to custom on the
arrival of every new governor, the Lord of Landenberg singled me from
the croud of girls of my own age, and enquired, whether I was a native
of these vallies. On this my dear partial mother undertook to answer for
me; and in the course of her speech she found means to run over the list
of my accomplishments (as she fondly called them) among which she
enumerated the art of writing. The governor looked astonished, and
acknowledged, that in this respect he must give way to _me_ though a
female; nor did he believe, (he added) that among all his lay-attendants
there was one who knew how to guide the pen, unless it were Wolfenrad,
his Seneschal.
—“Here, Wolfenrad!” he continued, motioning to him to advance; “this
pretty maid is Amabel Melthal, who I am told is well instructed in the
arts of reading and writing. Were you still unmarried, she would make a
proper wife for you, and both might be of great use to me in my family
affairs.”—
I blushed and retired hastily, and concealed myself among my companions;
married or unmarried, Wolfenrad should never be my choice—the
conversation too seemed to have taken a turn by no means to the taste of
our matrons, for they lost no time in leading us back from the Castle;
and when Walter Forest returned with my father and brother from an
excursion, which they had made among the eastern mountains, they blamed
the conduct of the matrons in suffering the young Damsels to accompany
them on their visit to the governor. My mother was censured more than
all the rest for not having at least ordered _me_ to remain behind; for
they say, that my education in the convent of Zurich under the venerable
Urania, and the polish which my manners acquired during my residence at
your father’s Castle, have given me a kind of foreign air, which
distinguishes me from the rest of the girls, and which in spite of my
inferiority to most of them in point of beauty, makes it difficult for
me to escape without observation.
I must now close this long epistle, by wishing you patience to endure
your present difficulties, and recommending you to look forward to
better times, which I hope are at no great distance.
_Emmeline of Sargans to Urania Venosta._
I once possest a beloved companion, who was dear to me as myself;
Amalberga was her name. She was my sister; but the bonds, which nature
had formed between us, were slight in comparison, with those of
affection; an affection which I should have felt for her, had I been a
princess, and Amalberga a peasant’s daughter. It seems to me as if whole
years had elapsed, since we were separated; and yet all circumstances,
and particularly the unremitting activity which is still exercised in
pursuit of the fugitive, combine to assure me, that only a few months
have crept away since her disappearance.
You desired, dear mother, to see the history of the poor persecuted
girls traced by my pen; I now send you the produce of several sleepless
nights, for the night is the only time which I am permitted to call my
own. I suspect, you foresaw that the harshness of my jailors would ere
long interrupt my personal intercourse with you, and that this was the
motive, which induced you to advise my having recourse to my pen.
Count Donat suffered his daughters to grow up under his roof in total
ignorance of what was owing to themselves and to others. He believed,
that he had troubled himself about us quite sufficiently in making us
over to the superintendance of a young governess, whose beauty and whose
levity were her sole recommendations to favour. It was clearly her
interest totally to neglect the heiresses of Carlsheim and Sargans, in
order that after our removal from the world she might entirely engross
the attentions of our childless father, a considerable portion of whose
inheritance she doubted not being able to secure to herself.
In what regarded our persons, this neglect did us no detriment. In spite
of want and oppression of every kind, the natural strength of our
constitutions carried us through all difficulties, and we daily
increased in bloom and stature: but the health of our minds was
seriously shaken. No principles of virtue were inculcated; no one
explained to us the difference between vice and virtue; and surrounded
as we were on all sides by the worst examples, we already began to
contract the bad habits of our despicable associates.
Our father’s enemies were almost as many, as there were noblemen whose
domains bordered upon his own. Not one was there amongst their number,
who had not been offended by him either personally or indirectly: but of
them all his most dangerous and deadly foe was Count Lodowick of
Homburg, the husband of that Minna of Mayenfield, for whom your history
has taught me to feel such unbounded love and admiration.
How then was it possible, after all the bitter causes of complaint which
Minna alledged against Count Donat, both on her own account, and on
yours and her mother’s; how was it possible, that in spite of Donat’s
unremitting enmity of which he daily gave fresh proofs, the noble Count
of Homburg should have condescended to sue for peace at a time, when he
was the strongest; and that he should even have confided so far in the
honour of his enemy, as to trust himself and his lovely wife at the
Castle of Sargans?
In this transaction is not your hand perceptible, Urania? oh! you had
not forgotten, that within those hated walls were immured two forsaken
children, the destined victims of vice or of the grave. Your benevolent
proposal of taking us under your care, which you laid before our father
in our earliest childhood, was received by him in the same manner, with
which he treats every thing tending to promote the interests of virtue;
those frequent attempts, which you afterwards made to draw us within the
circle of your power, proved without effect; and you now endeavoured
through your friend the Countess of Homburg to snatch us from the
precipice, on whose brink we stood. I am not unconscious, my kind
protectress, how many artifices were tried in vain to entice us out of
the precincts of the Castle of Sargans; how often during our childhood,
now one emissary and now another strove to rescue us by force from the
dominion of our worthless governess; how once the Retainers of the
Convent of Zurich had actually succeeded in carrying us to some distance
from the Castle, before we were overtaken and brought back to our
paternal prison; and how when Count Donat complained of this outrage and
demanded satisfaction of the Bishop, the good Priest returned him for
answer, that he would do better to send his daughters of his own accord
to be instructed by the Nuns in piety and virtue, than to retain them in
the Castle of Sargans in order that they might be educated by his
paramours, and become in time as worthless as their instructors. It is
to you, dear mother, that we are indebted for all these endeavours to
rescue us from ruin, and the visit of the Countess of Homburg was
equally your work.
This interview between Count Lodowick and my father possest the merit of
at least wearing the appearance of friendly inclinations: whether it was
the means of inducing them to live on better terms in future, than had
hitherto been the case, I cannot pretend to decide: but it is certain,
that the Countess did not neglect the object, which had induced her to
enter once more the hated Castle of Sargans. Immediately on her arrival
she requested, that my sister and myself might form the society of her
daughter, whom she had brought with her. Count Donat could not in common
decency refuse her this mark of attention. Therefore during the few
weeks that Count Lodowick’s family resided at Sargans, we were seldom
out of the company of the Countess and her daughter, from both of whom
we received a thousand undeserved testimonies of interest and
attachment.
It was no slight sacrifice, which the Countess made to gratitude and
friendship, when she suffered us to associate so intimately with her
well-educated daughter: it was much to be feared, that she would
contract some of the numerous failings, to which we had been subjected
by our neglected education. But Helen of Homburg, though she was younger
than ourselves, ever contrived to make us adopt her own proper mode of
conduct, instead of suffering herself to be drawn into errors by our
example.
The mother of our young friend was not contented with having planted the
seeds of morality and religion in our hearts; she was anxious not to
give up her benevolent task, till she had effected our total
preservation. She therefore proposed to take us entirely under her
superintendance, and made her request in a tone and manner, as if she
had not the least doubt of its being granted. But this very request
furnished our father with an opportunity of breaking off with Count
Lodowick altogether, a step which he had only been prevented from taking
sooner by the inconceivable generosity and forbearance of his
illustrious guest.
Count Donat’s answer to the noble Minna’s request was proud and
insolent; her rejoinder was conveyed in that tone of delicate but
cutting irony, which is peculiar to herself. Her husband commented on
Count Donat’s uncourteous behaviour with more warmth and bitterness,
than he is accustomed to employ; and the consequence of this
conversation was a total rupture between the two Counts, and the
absolute overthrow of that edifice, which they had past so many days in
raising.
Without an hour’s delay did the Count of Homburg quit Sargans; nor would
his journey home have been unmolested, had he not been provident enough,
when he visited the fortress of his antient foe, to bring with him a
retinue well-armed, and in number not to be despised.
I believe, that he would not have found it impossible at that moment to
have carried us off with him: but even though affection for the poor
children might have induced his lady to propose such a step, undoubtedly
the Count of Homburg’s high notions of honour and integrity would have
made him recoil with aversion from the idea of forcibly taking his
daughters from a man, into whose Castle he had been received under the
appearance of friendship.
Thus did we lose this invaluable chance of preservation. It is true, we
were still too young to understand, that preservation was necessary; but
yet we felt most sensibly the pain of parting from the Ladies of
Homburg: nor did we feel a little mortified at being replaced under the
care of the unworthy women appointed to superintend us, whom respect for
our illustrious protectress had compelled to keep in the background
during her residence at Count Donat’s Castle.
Yet though the Countess of Homburg’s visit had failed in its grand
object, it was not without its use. We had past two weeks in the habits
of decorum; we had learnt to see our own failings, and to admire the
advantages possest by others; and this knowledge served us as a
regulator for our future behaviour. The manners of Helen of Homburg
became the model, by which we formed our own: we were no longer in
danger of adopting the evil lessons of our superintendents, for in the
remembrance of Helen we had constantly before us a lively idea of
feminine delicacy and indeed of feminine perfection.
Oh! Urania, unwearied discoverer of new means to effect the happiness of
the two poor orphan-girls, I dare flatter myself, that when the Angel
arrived at Sargans whom you sent thither (shortly after the Count of
Homburg’s visit) to guide us to the paths of goodness, she found that we
had already advanced some steps: at least it is certain, that she found
us willing and resolved to follow, where she, and Urania, and Virtue
pointed out to us the way.
Henric Melthal (one of my father’s vassals, who had always shown too
little willingness to advance his evil designs to be a favourite with
his master) one day brought his daughter to Sargans. He entreated, that
she might be received into the service of the Count’s daughters; and
either his chusing a moment when Donat fortunately happened to be in an
unusually good humour, or satisfaction at finding the stubborn Henric at
length inclined to perform willingly the duties of a vassal, or perhaps
the observing glance by which he convinced himself that Amabel would in
time be beautiful, made Henric easily obtain his demand.
Amabel was accepted as our attendant; she became our play-fellow, and I
may say, our best instructress. It was you, who had educated the amiable
girl, doubtless with a view to your adopted children; you know well, how
much service Amabel was capable of rendering us, and (God be thanked for
it!) I trust, that her intercourse has not totally been without effect.
The well-grounded and solid information possest by that dear girl, her
firm attachment to virtue, duty, and truth, and the vast extent of her
brilliant qualities, all lay concealed beneath the modest veil of rural
simplicity, which hid from every eye the treasure we possest in her, and
was for many years the means of preserving to us so invaluable a friend.
We grew up with Amabel in the closest intimacy; we even obtained
permission to accompany her in one of her visits to her father, and
there became acquainted with an antient friend of our family. It was
Gertrude Bernsdorf, who completed that part of our education, which was
too difficult for the power of our young companion. Our eyes were
opened; we saw all the dangers of our residence under Count Donat’s roof
in their true light. We meditated an escape, whose object was taking
refuge with you in the Convent of Zurich: but we were too well guarded
to effect our purpose. Its true, no one suspected the open-hearted
Amabel of deceit; but still a variety of attempts to carry us off had
put our father on his guard, and we were seldom suffered to quit the
Castle without attendants.
I cannot persuade myself that it was a sentiment of paternal affection,
which made the Count of Carlsheim so anxious to preserve us under his
roof. His behaviour towards us left us no doubt, that we might have
perished without our loss costing him a single tear; he had also
frequently given us to understand, that he designed us for the Convent:
but still he could not resolve to gratify those, who wished to take us
from him, by suffering them to succeed; neither would he hear of our
residing in _that_ Convent, where we should have been so happily and so
honourably situated, under the protecting care of the venerable Urania.
Since you, dear mother, abandoned the world, great alterations have
taken place in our neighbourhood, of which you may not be aware: at
least Gertrude has assured me, that for ten miles round the Castle of
Sargans, every thing since the days of her youth is become so different,
that she scarcely knows the place to be the same. Like most people when
advanced in life, Gertrude was accustomed to find great faults with
these changes: she hated the sight of trees, which thirty years before
she had seen no higher than bushes; she sighed to perceive, that the
mountain-torrents had washed away _this_ hill at one time and _that_ at
another; and she looked on it as little better than profanation, when
she found buildings raised on places, which formerly were corn-fields or
pasture-land.
But nothing was more offensive in her eyes than a particular Convent for
females, which had been lately erected at no great distance from the
Abbey of Cloister-Curwald; and which on account of the extraordinary
privileges bestowed on it by the Holy Father, of the beauty of its
situation, and of the advantageous manner in which its interior
constitution was regulated, had grown rapidly into repute.
Our father had pitched upon this Convent for the future abode of
Amalberga and myself; perhaps, it was the first time in our lives, that
we had found reason to be perfectly satisfied with his decisions
respecting us. We were convinced, that our wish to inhabit the same
place with our benefactress Urania would never be gratified; with every
day we felt more sensibly, that any religious house whatever would be a
much more creditable abode for us, than the Castle of Sargans. Besides,
the Convent of St. Roswitha (for the Nuns belonged to that order, who
had established themselves in the neighbourhood of Cloister-Curwald)
possest the charm of novelty, and our friend Amabel had exprest her
opinion in favour of its establishment. In defiance therefore of the
prejudiced Gertrude’s warnings and admonitions, we determined (whenever
Count Donat should seriously advise our taking such a step) to declare
ourselves ready to assume the veil in that Convent, which he had himself
selected.
There needed nothing more than such implicit obedience to induce our
father to alter his intention. His early intercourse with the worthless
of both sexes, his misanthropic seclusion from all general society, and
a glance thrown by him upon the formation of his own heart, had made him
distrustful of every one else. He suspected hidden views in the most
indifferent actions; and he always suspected them most, when he found
others most disposed to conform themselves to his wishes.
Our departure for the Convent of St. Roswitha, which (had we disapproved
of going) would undoubtedly have taken place the next day, was now
postponed; it was however judged expedient for us to remove for some
time from Sargans, an hostile attack being expected from one of his
neighbours, whose views (so Count Donat imagined, though on what grounds
I know not) were directed towards the persons of Amalberga and myself.
It happened just then, though it happened but very seldom, that our
father was on good terms with the Bishop of Coira. Count Herman of
Werdenberg, a relation of our family, at that time filled this important
office; his court was selected as our place of refuge from a danger,
which only existed in Count Donat’s imagination, and the nature of which
he would in all probability have been himself greatly embarrassed to
explain.
We set out, accompanied by Amabel. Our reverend relation received us
with that respect, which was due to our station; I believe indeed, he
allowed us even a larger share of it, than we could reasonably claim on
the sole score of our rank.
His manner gave us confidence and gaiety, and we soon became attached to
the kind-hearted Prelate. We were in truth but simple country-girls,
quite unacquainted with the manners of the great world, and only wise
enough to be sensible of our deficiency. Accustomed to be treated with
nothing but severity, Count Herman’s gentleness delighted us; and his
protection encouraged us to enter willingly into those societies, where
it was his pleasure that we should be introduced.