when discovered. The physician, a jovial friend of the family, instead
of applying the proper remedies, joked on the occurrence, and hence it
was that those consequences soon appeared in the child, which she
could, in after years, justly attribute to want of affection in her
parents. The chest-bone and spine were dislocated, so that as she grew
up, she became more and more deformed. Being rather tall, the double
hump was more striking, her arms and hands were excessively long and
thin, and her lean body quite out of proportion to her long legs. Her
face had a singular expression, the little lively and cunning eyes
could hardly peep forth from beneath the bony vault of her forehead and
the broad, flattened nose, the chin was peaked, and the cheeks were
sunken. Thus this unfortunate being was a remarkable foil to her
sister Elizabeth. Their aunt, when she heard the total ruin of the
family, had interfered and assisted them as far as her limited means
permitted. Thus the younger daughter was saved and continued healthy,
since the father’s sister had taken the children upon the death of
their parents, for the purpose of educating them. The physical care of
Ernestine came too late, but her mind was cultivated, and her talents
were awakened. She showed herself intelligent, learned with ease, and
retained what she had once acquired, evidently surpassing her sister in
wit and presence of mind. Being fond of reading philosophical works,
she exercised her judgment and showed so much acuteness, that she often
startled even men by her bold and abrupt opinions; not being united to
her own sex by beauty and grace, she not unfrequently exercised a more
than masculine power. But what almost seemed to border on the
marvellous was her great talent for music. Never had I heard the piano
forte played in such a perfect manner; every difficulty vanished before
her, and she only laughed when difficult passages were mentioned to
her. No doubt the extraordinary span of her hand and fingers assisted
her in excelling all that can be done by an ordinary hand. Being also
well versed in the art of composition, she composed with ease long
pieces of music which we often executed to her delight.
“Could not such a being be happy independent of others? Certainly, if
she had resigned herself to her lot, if she could have forgotten she
was a woman. Unfortunately for her, all men forgot it who approached
her, but she could never raise herself beyond the limit so as to belong
to the other sex, or to none.
“This singular being attracted me in a peculiar manner, both by her
excellencies and her repulsiveness. When they performed and I sang her
compositions, there beamed in moments of excitement from her small
eyes, a wonderful, poetic spirit, liked a veiled angel humbled in the
dust, with benign yet terrifying splendour. This frequently made me
forget that she was the sister of my Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth had before refused some suitors who had earnestly courted
her. Entering once the anti-chamber unannounced, I heard both sisters
engaged in a lively conversation, in which my name was mentioned. ‘You
will not accept him, I hope,’ cried Ernestine; ‘he suits neither you
nor us; they say he is not very rich, but he is so proud, so
self-sufficient, so convinced of, and so penetrated with, his own
excellence, that he excites my indignation whenever he comes near us.
You call him amiable, noble; but I tell you he is dogmatical and
obstinate; and, believe me, his mental gifts are not so great as you
seem to think.’
“With a gentle voice Elizabeth undertook my defence, but her sister
discussed all the bad traits in my character so much the more, and
passed all my faults in review. Finding that I was the subject of so
much discussion, I would not surprise them by entering immediately, and
thus I discovered, against my expectation, the dislike the eldest
sister entertained for me. I therefore resolved to reconcile this
unfortunate being, for whom life had so few charms and joys, by
kindness and benevolence. When they had ceased I entered, and the aunt
also joining us we immediately commenced our musical exercises, by
which means I could best conceal my embarrassment.
“After a few visits I actually succeeded in disposing Ernestine more
kindly towards me. When it happened that we were alone, we were deeply
engaged in serious conversation, and I could not help admiring both her
mind and acquirements. I could not but agree with her, when she often
spoke with contempt of those men who only esteem and love in woman the
transient and mutable charms that pass away with their youth. She was
also fond of railing at those girls who so frequently pass themselves
off as phenomena, and only, as it were, wish to please as dolls of
fashion and well-dressed blocks. She revealed without affectation the
wealth of her mind, her deep feeling, and her lofty thoughts, so that,
in admiration of her mighty soul, I hardly remembered her deformed
person. She pressed my hand kindly, and seemed perfectly happy when we
had thus chatted an hour away. I was not less rejoiced when I
perceived how her friendship for me apparently increased every day.
“It struck me as a weakness in my beloved, that she was displeased at
our intimacy. I did not understand this petty jealousy, and censured
it when alone with her, as showing too much female weakness. On the
other hand, I was pleased when Ernestine gave me evident proofs of her
friendship, when my appearance delighted her, when she was ready to
show me a book or piece of music, or told me how she had prepared
herself for a conversation with me on some important subject. This
genuine friendship seemed to me so desirable, that I anticipated great
delight at the thought that she would, in our married state, complete
the measure of our love by mutual confidence. Their aunt approved of
my engagement with Elizabeth, and our vows were exchanged. On this
occasion Ernestine was not present, being confined by illness to her
chamber. I did not see her on the day following, and when I wished to
call on her, my betrothed said, ‘Do not disturb her, dear friend, she
is not quite herself, and it is better to let her passion subside.’
‘What has happened?’ I asked, astonished. ‘It is strange,’ replied
Elizabeth, ‘that you have not, long ere this, remarked how ardently she
loves you?’ I was struck dumb with terror and astonishment at this
information, which startled me the more, since, strange to say, I had
considered this intellectual being totally incapable of love; as though
passion did not always run counter to possibility, truth, nature, and
reason, if these opposed themselves, as, indeed, I had myself
experienced in my own life in a similar manner. ‘Yes,’ continued
Elizabeth, ‘almost at the very time you entered our house, I remarked
her partiality to you, but her predilection manifested itself more
decidedly, when you began to show a preference for me, when you became
more friendly, and thus gained my confidence. For a long time, she
concealed her affection under a pretended dislike, which, however, did
not deceive me. Oh! beloved, the mind and feelings, the enthusiasm and
passions of this singular being possess such extraordinary power and
intensity, that I have been compelled ever since I comprehended her
character, to admire her as much as to fear her, and to stand in awe at
her gigantic intellect. When, some years ago, I took lessons in music,
and made rapid progress, according to the testimony of my instructor,
she only ridiculed my childlike satisfaction as she called it. She had
never before thought of learning music, and now devoted herself with
all her energy to this accomplishment. She practised day and night,
and her master no longer satisfying her, she availed herself of the
presence of a celebrated composer, and became his pupil. I could not
comprehend the mental as well as physical energy, with which she
devoted herself unceasingly, almost without sleep and refreshments, and
with unwearied zeal to the practice of this art. It was then she
learned composition and gained her master’s praise and admiration. It
was not long, however, before she found fault with him, fancying his
execution not sufficiently fiery and enthusiastic, his compositions not
sufficiently original and impassioned. He submitted, and agreed with
her. All men, she used to say, lie constantly in a half-sleeping
state, being almost always, as it were, in a stupor, similar to the
plant which grows, blooms, and is beautiful, diffusing odour, and
possessing powers, without consciousness. What would men accomplish
were they truly awake in their wakeful state? And so she devoted
herself to philosophy, reading works on medicine, anatomy, and other
subjects, which are usually too abstruse and distasteful to her sex.
We, as well as her acquaintance, could not help being astonished at
her. And thus, dear Francis, she will certainly become insane in this
passion of love, and destroy her own peace of mind.
“Elizabeth now also described to me all the extravagances she committed
when she heard of our engagement; at first, she intended to destroy
both herself and sister; then again she said she knew how to conquer
me, so that I should love her and abandon Elizabeth, whom she excelled
both in goodness and intellect.
“I was naturally grieved at this news, feeling full well how
imprudently I had acted in making such friendly advances to Ernestine,
in my endeavours to reconcile her. I was somewhat relieved, when, a
few days afterwards, Elizabeth told me that her sister had apologised
with tears for what she had spoken in anger, that she had conjured her
not to communicate to me any thing of these aberrations, and only
implored her to be allowed to accompany us to our future residence, as
she could not possibly live without the company of her sister and
myself, without our conversation and our music.
“Now plans and preparations were made, and the aunt accompanied us to
the Klausenburg, to celebrate, with a few friends, our nuptials in
quiet, as Elizabeth had always been excessively averse from pomp and
display. I had had a few apartments and the ball-room prepared, as far
as it was possible, the greater part of the castle being in ruins. But
Elizabeth had a poetical predilection for old castles, solitary
mountainous countries, and the historical legends connected with them.
After the wedding, we intended to take up our residence in a new house
not far distant, and only occasionally to spend a few days or hours in
the Klausenburg.
“We arrived; the gate was opened to us, and the first object that met
our view in the court-yard, from amidst the ivy that twined the high
walls, was the old mad Sibyl, whom you, my friend, knew some years ago.
My wife was terrified, and I shuddered. ‘Welcome! Welcome!’ cried the
old hag, jumping about with wild gestures; ‘there comes the destroyer,
the woman murderer, and brings his two brides with him, whom he will
murder also.’ ‘How do you come here?’ I exclaimed. The porter
replied, ‘She must have climbed down the other side of the cliffs,
which form the extreme wall of the small garden, and must have
concealed herself among the shrubs and ruins.’ ‘You are right, you are
right,’ screamed the old hag, ‘it is pleasant to live there.’
Terrified as we were, Ernestine seemed merry, for she did not cease
laughing.
“During the days on which we celebrated the festival, Ernestine did not
appear; she had vanished; and being anxious about her, we despatched
people in search of her, when, on the third day, she returned on foot,
merry and in high spirits. She told us she had not been able to
withstand the inclination to roam about in the mountains, as she always
had had a desire to do so. ‘But thus alone, without informing us?’
said Elizabeth. ‘Alone!’ she replied, ‘No! I have kept constant
company with that old prophetess whom you so unkindly sent away. There
I have learnt many things quite new, that I never even read of, and we
have become very good friends.’
“We looked at her with astonishment. I formed an idea without
expressing it, that Ernestine was mad. So awful and ominous was her
return to our residence, such sad forebodings crowded in our minds,
that, in spite of my happiness, I felt no confidence on life, and
Elizabeth could not regain her cheerfulness.
“In other respects we were reconciled, and enjoyed the present moment,
and the beauty of the surrounding woods and mountains. Our few guests,
as well as the aunt, had left us, and we might have lived contented and
in happy union in this delightful solitude, had I not observed that my
wife avoided her sister as much as circumstances permitted. When I
asked her the reason of this, she answered after some hesitation:
‘Dearest, I am terrified at Ernestine; she has become quite malicious,
though formerly she had not the least disposition that way. Whenever
she can vex me, spoil any thing, or even expose me to danger, so that I
may be startled, stumble, or even fall; or if any stones fall in my way
she shows the most malicious joy, as she did when she lately set the
curtains of my bed on fire by bringing the candle too near them. She
has told me laughing, that the country people talk of travellers and
rangers having seen two spectres by moonlight, or in the morning-dawn
in the lonely parts of the forests, whom they describe as terrible
hideous beings; that these were herself and the old gipsy, and that she
only wished that the circumstance might appear in print, in order that
she, with her own signature, Ernestine Fräulein von Jertz, might
contradict the story of ghosts, and state that she was one of the
imagined spirits. Is not all this terrible?’
“‘Dear child,’ said I, ‘I must now tell you, in confidence, that I
believe she is mad.’
“‘Is any malice, when it becomes a passion, any thing but madness?’
remarked Elizabeth, very naturally.
“On the approach of autumn we left the Klausenburg to take possession
of our new house, for, to my terror, I discovered a disposition to
melancholy in my wife, for which our solitude seemed any thing but
beneficial. While we were once walking through the ancient apartments
and the gothic hall, which was in tolerable preservation, and our
footsteps echoed in the solitary room, my wife started with a sudden
shudder. I asked the reason.
“‘Oh! it is awful here,’ she replied, trembling; ‘I feel as if
invisible spectres haunted this place.’ I was terrified, and the
thought that my wife’s mind, like that of her sister, might perhaps
have suffered, stared at me like a monster.
“When residing in our new house, we often missed Ernestine, and on
inquiry, found that she staid in the Klausenburg and the ruins of the
old castle. Although we had been living on an unpleasant footing,
still my wife, as well as myself, could not help wishing her with us
when she was away. But how different was my life from that which I had
once pictured to myself when I courted Elizabeth!
“Other domestic calamities united with our sufferings to increase our
grief. That document, which, really constituted my fortune and
supported my existence, which proved that large sums were paid, and
some still owing to me, as well as all the deeds and papers which had
been produced as proofs after the death of Count Moritz,--all these
important papers which I had discovered after a long troublesome
search, and had in my hands but a short time before, had again
disappeared. I had always kept them carefully locked up, and it was my
intention to travel to town and deliver them to my solicitor in person,
as on them the recovery of my estates depended. They were gone; and
much as I meditated and reflected, I could not discover, nor even find
a trace of the way in which they had been purloined. When at length I
communicated my anxiety to my wife, she did not seem surprised, and
told me calmly, ‘Can you still doubt? I have no doubt as to what has
become of them. Ernestine has profited by some moment of your absence
when you might have left your escritoire open, or some other
forgetfulness, to take the papers away.’
“‘Not possible!’ I cried with horror. ‘Possible?’ she repeated. ‘What
is impossible to her?’
“As these documents were wanting, our long standing law-suit proceeded
but slowly, and I felt sure that I must lose it whenever it was
decided. I therefore availed myself of an opportunity which the court
afforded me, by proposing to quash it, that I might defer the decision
to some future period. Still I could not help questioning Ernestine
and informing her of my suspicions. I was horrorstruck at the manner
in which she heard me communicate a suspicion, which would have shocked
any innocent mind. When I had overcome my embarrassment and had
concluded, she burst out in such laughter that I lost all composure.
Recovering again, I urged her to reply, but she only said, with a
sarcastic coldness, ‘My dear brother-in-law, there are here only two
cases possible, as you must yourself see, notwithstanding your
short-sightedness, namely, that I am either guilty or innocent. Is it
not so? If I have committed the robbery, I must have been induced by
weighty reasons, or goaded to such an act by malice, or something else.
And then I ought to say: yes! I have done it, pray do not take it
amiss. Now you must confess that this would be more than stupid. If I
were a fool I might have done it without any particular intention,--may
be to light the kitchen fire with them; or because I was pleased with
the red seals, and might now say: there, take these pretty papers back,
considering they have some value for the dear count. But a fool I have
not been up to this moment; and if I am malicious, I am of course not
silly enough to confess the deed. Or again, assuming the second case
that I am innocent, then you, sir brother-in-law (pray don’t contradict
me), are the simpleton for putting such unbecoming questions to me.’
“I could not answer the spectral being. When I saw that Elizabeth no
longer took any pleasure in playing the piano that I procured from
abroad in our retirement, and asked the reason of it, she said, sadly,
‘Dearest, if I do not wish to incur deadly vexation, I must no longer
play.’ ‘How so?’ ‘Because Ernestine has flatly forbidden me. She
says that in a house where there lives such an accomplished pianist as
herself, she could not allow any one else even to strike a note.’ This
presumption was too much for my patience. I ran to her chamber and
asked her ironically to play me something, since she would not allow
any one else to touch the instrument. She followed me, laughing
loudly; and truly she played in such a masterly style, that my anger
was turned into admiration and rapture. ‘Well!’ she said, gravely,
when she had finished, ‘one may have in one’s own house all enjoyments
for which connoisseurs would travel fifty miles, and yet one can be
satisfied with such bungling and such hammering up and down the keys
with clumsy fingers. Oh! fools and idiots, who, rogues as they are,
talk of art and only mean vapour; they can only sip the nectar, and the
wonderful becomes but trash in their rude hands. If I did not feel a
constant disgust for life, if men were not repulsive to me, I should
never cease laughing.’ From that time she often joined in our music,
at most permitting Elizabeth and myself to sing, though she maintained
that we possessed neither school nor method. Thus the winter passed
away. I was already poor, and with the prospect of being reduced quite
to beggary; Elizabeth was sickly, and the serenity of my life was gone.
“It was almost to be called a relief to our existence, when on the
approach of spring, Ernestine became ill, and was shortly so much worse
that she could not leave her bed. She grew more irritable as her
illness increased, and nothing vexed her more than that she could not
visit the Klausenburg, of which she had become so fond. One warm day I
sent her in the carriage, she searched long in the rooms, loitered
among the shrubs and ruins, and returned much worse than before. It
was now evident that she could not recover. The physician said that he
could not understand her disease, nor the state of the sufferer, for
the vital powers were so strong in her that all the symptoms usually
indicating death did not show themselves, and there was a probability
of her speedy recovery; in a few days, however, he gave up all hope.
“We now really looked forward to a quieter future. Although we felt
pity for the unhappy being, yet we could not deny that she had a
disturbing effect on our life and the happiness of our love. We heard
that she was near death, but as she had arranged with her doctor and
nurse that we should not disturb her we had kept away. All of a sudden
she much desired to see me, but requested that Elizabeth should not be
present. I went and said as I entered: ‘Dear friend, you will
doubtless be kind enough to give me back the documents which you took
from my escritoire to vex me.’ She looked at me significantly with her
dying eyes, which now seemed larger and sparkled brighter than
formerly. There was something so singular, bright and glaring in her
look, that any one having witnessed it would never wish to see any
thing more terrible and inconceivable. After a pause she said:
‘Brother, do these foolish trifles still occupy your head? Yet it is
no wonder, every one lives as he can. Sit down, my friend,’ she
continued, with an air of contempt; I complied and sat down by her bed.
“‘You fancy,’ she now began in a repulsive, cutting tone, ‘you will get
rid of me; but do not deceive yourself by flattering yourself too soon
with such an idea. Death, life, non-existence, continuation! what
useless, unmeaning words! When I had scarcely passed my childhood, I
could not help laughing at men, if I saw them fretting about continued
existence after death. They drag in and heap up like towers, proof
after proof, probabilities and wishes, entreaties, prayers, and the
mercy of the Almighty; they talk of many fine talents which cannot on
this side of the grave, as they call it, be possibly perfected, much
less brought to maturity,--and all these preparations are but to hush
their base cowardice and fear of death. Poor wretches! If I collect
myself, become conscious of my various energies in every direction, and
then call to eternity, to the Creator and the millions of spirits of
the past and the future, I will be immortal! I _will!_--what more is
necessary, and what omnipotence can interfere to destroy my eternal,
almighty will? What further security of being immortal and eternal
does the man want who has any consciousness? How, and in what manner,
that is another question. What farce we shall then play, what mask,
what party-coloured wig, what gibbous labyrinth of entrails we shall
then possess, what etiquette and court taste of ugliness and beauty
will then be introduced, is uncertain. But, my good friends, as my own
power, without any thing more, preserves me immortal, the same energy
and free-will may bring me back to you whenever and as often as I like.
Believe me, ye fools, the spectres, as you call them, are not exactly
the worst or weakest spirits. Many a one would fain return, but he has
as little individual character _there_ as _here_, and hence the
impossibility of doing so. And to you,--you paragon, rogue, vain,
amiable character, full of talents, you bud of virtue, you barterer of
beauty, whom I was compelled to love so intensely, yea, compelled
despite of my inmost soul, which told me that you did not deserve
it,--to you, smooth skinned, straight grown, human animal, I shall ever
be quite near, believe me. For this love and jealousy, this rage after
you and your breathing, and conversation, will urge me to the earth,
and this will be, as the pious would say, my purgatory. Therefore, no
leave-taking; we shall meet again!’[1] Thus saying she offered me her
cold, dead hand.
“When life was extinct I returned to Elizabeth, but took care not to
communicate any thing of the frantic ravings of the deceased, as her
nerves were already excited by great anxiety, and she often suffered
from spasms.
“We now lived in still retirement in a rural solitude which, in spite
of our reduced finances, might have become delightful had I not
remarked that the morbid and melancholy mood of Elizabeth was on the
increase. She became pale and wasted, and I often found her weeping
when entering her chamber unexpectedly. When I asked her the reason of
this, she told me she knew not herself what was the matter with her,
that she always felt sorrowful without being able to say why; that when
she was alone she felt quite awed, it seemed so terrible to her that
her sister had been obliged to end her existence in such a frantic
passion, and that often when entering or sitting alone in her chamber
it was as if Ernestine stood near her; she fancied she heard her
singing, felt her breath, and her looks appeared to force themselves
through the empty air.
“I quieted her, left her rarely by herself, read to her, we took walks
together, and sometimes paid visits to our acquaintance in the
neighbourhood. As she became calmer she recovered by degrees her
naturally beautiful complexion. Feeling once unwell and lying
comfortably stretched out on the sofa, while she was reading an
interesting story to me, I said, how beautiful and melodious is your
voice; will you not sing again for once? For a long time you have not
opened your music books, your instrument is locked, and your beautiful
fingers will at length become quite stiff.
“‘You know,” she replied, ‘that a few months ago my sister flatly
forbade me to practise music; we were obliged to concede to her ill
health and thus I have become quite out of practice.’
“‘Sing now,’ I cried, ‘the delight will be the greater to me for its
novelty.’