In writing the preceding article, there was
no intention of giving a full detail of the funeral
customs of the English peasantry, but
merely to furnish a few hints and quotations
illustrative of particular rites; to be appended,
by way of note, to another paper, which has
been withheld. The article insensibly swelled
into its present form, and this is mentioned as
an apology for so brief and casual a notice of
these customs, after they have been amply and
learnedly investigated in other works.

I must observe, also, that I am well aware
of the prevalence of the custom of adorning
graves with flowers, in other countries besides
England. Indeed, in some it is much more
general, and is observed by the rich and fashionable,
but then it is apt to lose its simplicity,
and degenerate into affectation. Bright, in his
travels in Lower Hungary, tells of monuments
of marble, with recesses formed for retirement,
with seats placed among bowers of green-house

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plants; and that the graves generally are
covered with the gayest flowers of the season.
He gives a casual picture of filial piety, which
I cannot but transcribe; for I trust it is as useful
as it is delightful to illustrate the amiable
virtues of the sex. “When I was at Berlin,”
says he, “I followed the celebrated Iffland to
the grave. Mingled with some pomp, you
might trace much real feeling. In the midst of
the ceremony, my attention was attracted by a
young woman who stood on a mound of earth,
newly covered with turf, which she anxiously
protected from the feet of the passing crowd.
It was the tomb of her parent; and the figure
of this affectionate daughter presented a monument
more striking than the most costly work
of art.”

I will barely add an instance of sepulchral
decoration which I once met with among the
mountains of Switzerland. It was at the village
of Gersau, which stands on the borders of
the lake of Lucerne, at the foot of Mount Rigi.
It was once the capital of a miniature republic,

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shut up between the Alps and the lake, and accessible
on the land side only by foot paths.
The whole force of the republic did not exceed
six hundred fighting men; and a few miles of
circumference, scooped out as it were from the
bosom of the mountains, comprised its territory.
The village of Gersau seemed separated from
the rest of the world, and retained the golden
simplicity of a purer age. It had a small church,
with a burying ground adjoining. At the heads
of the graves were placed crosses of wood or
iron. On some were affixed miniatures, rudely
executed, but evidently attempts at likenesses
of the deceased. On the crosses were hung
chaplets of flowers, some withering, others
fresh, as if occasionally renewed. I paused
with interest at this scene; I felt that I was at
the source of poetical description, for these were
the beautiful but unaffected offerings of the
heart which poets are fain to record. In a gayer
and more populous place, I should have suspected
them to have been suggested by factitious
sentiment, derived from books; but the good

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people of Gersau knew little of books; there
was not a novel nor a love poem in the village;
and I question whether any peasant of the place
dreamt, while he was twining a fresh chaplet
for the grave of his mistress, that he was fulfilling
one of the most fanciful rites of poetical
devotion, and that he was practically a poet.

THE INN KITCHEN.

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During a journey that I once made through
the Netherlands, I had arrived one evening at
the Pomme d'Or, the principal inn of a small
Flemish village. It was after the hour of
the table d'hote, so that I was obliged to
make a solitary supper from the reliques of
its ampler board. The weather was chilly;
I was seated alone in one end of a great
gloomy dining room, and my repast being over;
I had the prospect before me of a long dull
evening, without any visible means of

[figure description] Page 298.[end figure description]

enlivening it. I summoned mine host, and requested
something to read; he brought me the whole
literary stock of his household, a Dutch family
bible, an almanack in the same language, and a
number of old Paris newspapers. As I sat
dozing over one of the latter, reading old news
and stale criticisms, my ear was now and then
struck with bursts of laughter that seemed to
proceed from the kitchen. Every one that has
travelled on the continent, must know how favourite
a resort the kitchen of a country inn is
to the middle and inferior order of travellers,
particularly in that equivocal kind of weather,
when a fire becomes agreeable toward evening.
I threw aside the newspaper, and explored
my way to the kitchen, to take a peep at
the group that appeared to be so merry. It was
composed partly of travellers who had arrived
some hours before in a diligence, and partly of
the usual attendants and hangers-on of inns.
They were seated around a great burnished
stove, that might have been mistaken for an
altar, at which they were worshipping. It was

[figure description] Page 299.[end figure description]

covered with various kitchen vessels of resplendent
brightness; among which steamed and
hissed a huge copper tea-kettle. A large lamp
threw a strong mass of light upon the group,
bringing out many odd features in strong relief.
Its yellow rays partially illumined the spacious
kitchen, dying duskily away into remote corners,
except where they settled in mellow radiance
on the broad side of a flitch of bacon, or
were reflected back from well-scoured utensils,
that gleamed from the midst of obscurity. A
strapping Flemish lass, with long gold pendants
in her ears, and a necklace with a golden heart
suspended to it, was the presiding priestess of
the temple.

Many of the company were furnished with
pipes, and most of them with some kind of evening
potation. I found their mirth was occasioned
by a long history which a little swarthy
Frenchman, with a dry weazen face and large
whiskers, was giving of his love adventures; at
the end of each of which there was one of those
bursts of honest unceremonious laughter, in

[figure description] Page 300.[end figure description]

which a man indulges in that temple of true
liberty, an Inn.

As I had no better mode of getting through
a tedious blustering evening, I took my seat
near the stove, and listened to a variety of travellers'
tales, some very extravagant, and most
very dull. All of them, however, have faded
from my treacherous memory except one, which
I will endeavour to relate. I fear, however, it
derived its chief zest from the manner in which
it was told, and the peculiar air and appearance
of the narrator. He was a corpulent old Swiss,
who had the look of a veteran traveller. He
was dressed in a tarnished green travelling
jacket, with a broad belt round his waist, and
a pair of overalls, with buttons from the hips to
the ankles. He was of a full, rubicund countenance,
with a double chin, aquiline nose, and a
pleasant twinkling eye. His hair was light,
and curled from under an old green velvet travelling
cap stuck on one side of his head. He
was interrupted more than once by the arrival
of guests, or the remarks of his auditors; and

[figure description] Page 301.[end figure description]

paused now and then to replenish his pipe; at
which times he had generally a roguish leer, and
a sly joke for the buxom kitchen maid.

I wish my reader could imagine the old fellow
lolling in a huge arm chair, one arm
a-kimbo, the other holding a curiously twisted
tobacco pipe, formed of genuine écume de mer,
decorated with silver chain and silken tassel—
his head cocked on one side, and a whimsical
cut of the eye occasionally, as he related the
following story.

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THE SPECTRE BRIDEGROOM.

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[figure description] Page 303.[end figure description]

A TRAVELLER'S TALE.[5]

On the summit of one of the heights of the
Odenwald, a wild and romantic tract of upper
Germany, that lies not far from the confluence
of the Maine and the Rhine, there stood,
many, many years since, the Castle of the Baron
Von Landshort. It is now quite fallen to

[figure description] Page 304.[end figure description]

decay, and almost buried among beech trees
and dark firs, above which, however, its old
watch-tower may still be seen struggling, like
the former possessor I have mentioned, to carry
a high head, and look down upon the neighbouring
country.

The Baron was a dry branch of the great family
of Katzenellenbogen,[6] and inherited the
reliques of the property, and all the pride of
his ancestors. Though the warlike disposition
of his predecessors had much impaired the family
possessions, yet the Baron still endeavoured
to keep up some show of former state. The
times were peaceable, and the German nobles,
in general, had abandoned their inconvenient
old castles, perched like eagle's nests among the
mountains, and had built more convenient residences
in the valleys: still the Baron remained
proudly drawn up in his little fortress, cherishing
with hereditary inveteracy, all the old family
feuds; so that he was on ill terms with some

[figure description] Page 305.[end figure description]

of his nearest neighbours, on account of disputes
that had happened between their great
great grandfathers.

The Baron had but one child, a daughter;
but nature, when she grants but one child, always
compensates by making it a prodigy; and
so it was with the daughter of the Baron. All
the nurses, gossips, and country cousins, assured
her father that she had not her equal for beauty
in all Germany; and who should know better
than they. She had, moreover, been brought up
with great care under the superintendance of
two maiden aunts, who had spent some years
of their early life at one of the little German
courts, and were skilled in all the branches of
knowledge necessary to the education of a fine
lady. Under their instructions, she became a
miracle of accomplishments. By the time she
was eighteen she could embroider to admiration,
and had worked whole histories of the saints
in tapestry, with such strength of expression in
their countenances, that they looked like so
many souls in purgatory. She could read

[figure description] Page 306.[end figure description]

without great difficulty, and had spelled her way
through several church legends, and almost all
the chivalric wonders of the Heldenbuch. She
had even made considerable proficiiency in
writing, could sign her own name without missing
a letter, and so legibly, that her aunts could
read it without spectacles. She excelled in
making little elegant good-for-nothing lady
like nick-nacks of all kinds; was versed in the
most abstruse dancing of the day; played a
number of airs on the harp and guitar; and
knew all the tender ballads of the Minne-lieders
by heart.

Her aunts, too, having been great flirts and coquettes
in their younger days, were admirably
calculated to be vigilant guardians and strict
censors of the conduct of their niece; for there is
no duenna so rigidly prudent, and inexorably
decorous, as a superannuated coquette. She was
rarely suffered out of their sight; never went beyond
the domains of the castle, unless well attended,
or rather, well watched; had continual
lectures read to her about strict decorum and

[figure description] Page 307.[end figure description]

implicit obedience; and, as to the men—pah!—
she was taught to hold them at such distance
and distrust, that, unless properly authorized,
she would not have cast a glance upon the handsomest
cavalier in the world—no, not if he
were even dying at her feet!

The good effects of this system were wonderfully
apparent. The young lady was a pattern
of docility and correctness. While others were
wasting their sweetness in the glare of the
world, and liable to be plucked and thrown
aside by every hand, she was coyly blooming
into fresh and lovely womanhood under the
protection of those immaculate spinsters, like a
rose-bud blushing forth among guardian thorns.
Her aunts looked upon her with pride and exultation,
and vaunted that all the other young
ladies in the world might go astray, yet thanked
heaven, nothing of the kind could happen to
the heiress of Katzenellenbogen.

But, however scantily the Baron Von Landshort
might be provided with children, his
household was by no means a small one, for

[figure description] Page 308.[end figure description]

providence had enriched him with abundance
of poor relations. They, one and all, possessed
the affectionate disposition common to humble
relatives: were wonderfully attached to the Bacon,
and took every possible occasion to come
in swarms and enliven the castle. All family
festivals were commemorated by these good
people at the Baron's expense; and when they
were filled with good cheer, they would declare
that there was nothing on earth so delightful as
these family meetings, these jubilees of the
heart.

The Baron, though a small man, had a large
soul, and it swelled with satisfaction at the consciousness
of being the greatest man in the little
world about him. He loved to tell long stories
about the stark old warriors whose portraits
looked grimly down from the walls around, and
he found no listeners equal to those who fed at
his expense. He was much given to the marvellous,
and a firm believer in all those supernatural
tales with which every mountain and
valley in Germany abounds. The faith of his
guests even exceeded his own: they listened to

[figure description] Page 309.[end figure description]

every tale of wonder with open eyes and mouth,
and never failed to be astonished, even though
repeated for the hundredth time. Thus lived
the Baron Von Landshort, the oracle of his table,
the absolute monarch of his little territory,
and happy above all things, in the persuasion
that he was the wisest man of the age.

At the time of which my story treats, there
was a great family gathering at the Castle, on
an affair of the utmost importance. It was to
receive the destined bridegroom of the Baron's
daughter. A negotiation had been carried on
between the father, and an old nobleman of Bavaria,
to unite the dignity of their houses by
the marriage of their children. The preliminaries
had been conducted with proper punctilio.
The young people were betrothed without seeing
each other, and the time appointed for the
marriage ceremony. The young Count Von
Altenburg had been recalled from the army for
the purpose, and was actually on his way to the
Baron's to receive his bride. Missives had
been received from him, from Wurtzburg, where

[figure description] Page 310.[end figure description]

he was accidentally detained, mentioning the
day and hour he might be expected to arrive.

The castle was in a tumult of preparation to
give him a suitable welcome. The fair bride
had been decked out with uncommon care.
The two aunts had superintended her toilet,
and quarrelled the whole morning about every
article of her dress. The young lady had taken
advantage of their contest to follow the bent of
her own taste; and fortunately it was a good
one. She looked as lovely as youthful bridegroom
could desire; and the flutter of expectation
heightened the lustre of her charms.

The suffusions that mantled her face and
neck, the gentle heaving of the bosom, the eye
now and then lost in reverie, all betrayed the
soft tumult that was going on in her little heart.
The aunts were continually hovering around
her; for maiden aunts are apt to take great interest
in affairs of this nature. They were giving
her a world of staid counsel how to deport
herself, what to say, and in what manner to receive
the expected lover.

[figure description] Page 311.[end figure description]

The Baron was no less busied in preparations.
He had, in truth, nothing exactly to do; but he
was naturally a fuming, bustling little man, and
could not remain passive when all the world
was in a hurry. He worried from top to bottom
of the castle, with an air of infinite anxiety;
he continually called the servants from
their work to exhort them to be diligent, and
buzzed about every hall and chamber, as idly
restless and importunate as a blue bottle fly of
a warm summer's day.

In the mean time, the fatted calf had been
killed; the forests had rung with the clamour of
the huntsmen; the kitchen was crowded with
good cheer; the cellars had yielded up whole
oceans of Rhein-wein and Ferne-wein, and even
the great Heidelberg tun had been laid under
contribution. Every thing was ready to receive
the distinguished guest with Saus und Braus
in the true spirit of German hospitality—but the
guest delayed to make his appearance. Hour
rolled after hour. The sun that had poured his
downward rays upon the rich forests of the

[figure description] Page 312.[end figure description]

Odenwald, now just gleamed along the summits
of the mountains. The Baron mounted the
highest tower, and strained his eyes in hopes of
catching a distant sight of the Count and his attendants.
Once he thought he beheld them; the
sound of horns came floating from the valley,
prolonged by the mountain echoes. A number
of horsemen were seen far below, slowly advancing
along the road; but when they had nearly
reached the foot of the mountain, they suddenly
struck off in a different direction. The last ray
of sunshine departed—the bats began to flit by in
the twilight—the road grew dimmer and dimmer
to the view; and nothing appeared stirring
in it, but now and then a peasant lagging homeward
from his labour.

While the old castle of Landshort was in
this state of perplexity, a very interesting scene
was transacting in a different part of the
Odenwald.

The young Count Von Altenburg was tranquilly
pursuing his route in that sober jog-trot
way in which a man travels towards matrimony,

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when his friends have taken all the trouble and
uncertainty of courtship off his hands, and a
bride is waiting for him, as—certainly as a dinner,
at the end of his journey. He had encountered,
at Wurtzburg, a youthful companion in
arms, with whom he had seen some service on
the frontiers; Hermon Von Starkenfaust, one
of the stoutest hands, and worthiest hearts, of
German chivalry, who was now returning from
the army. His father's castle was not far distant
from the old fortress of Landshort, although
a hereditary feud rendered the families hostile,
and strangers to each other.

In the warm-hearted moment of recognition,
the young friends related all their past adventures
and fortunes, and the count gave the whole history
of his intended nuptials with a young lady
whom he had never seen, but of whose charms
he had received the most enrapturing descriptions.

As the route of the friends lay in the same
direction, they agreed to perform the rest of
their journey together; and that they might do

[figure description] Page 314.[end figure description]

it the more leisurely, sat off from Wurtzburg at
an early hour, the count having given directions
for his retinue to follow and overtake him.

They beguiled their wayfaring with recollections
of their military scenes and adventures;
but the count was apt to be a little tedious, now
and then, about the reputed charms of his bride,
and the felicity that awaited him.

In this way they had entered among the
mountains of the Odenwald, and were traversing
one of its most lonely and thickly wooded
passes. It is well known that the forests of
Germany have always been as much infested
by robbers as its castles by spectres; and, at this
time, the former were particularly numerous
from the hordes of disbanded soldiers wandering
about the country. It will not appear extraordinary,
therefore, that the cavaliers were
attacked by a gang of these stragglers, in the
depth of the forest. They defended themselves
with bravery, but were nearly overpowered,
when the count's retinue arrived to their assistance.
At sight of them the robbers fled, but

[figure description] Page 315.[end figure description]

not until the count had received a mortal wound.
He was slowly and carefully conveyed back to
the city of Wurtzburg, and a friar summoned from
a neighbouring convent, who was famous for
his skill in administering to both soul and body.
But half of his skill was superfluous; the moments
of the unfortunate count were numbered.

With his dying breath he entreated his friend
to repair instantly to the castle of Landshort,
and explain the fatal cause of his not keeping
his appointment with his bride. Though not
the most ardent of lovers, he was one of the
most punctilious of men; and appeared earnestly
solicitous that this mission should be speedily
and courteously executed. “Unless this is
done,” said he, “I shall not sleep quietly in my
grave!” He repeated these last words with peculiar
solemnity. A request, at a moment so
solemn, admitted no hesitation. Starkenfaust
endeavoured to soothe him to calmness, promised
faithfully to execute his wish, and gave him
his hand in solemn pledge. The dying man
pressed it in acknowledgment, but soon lapsed

[figure description] Page 316.[end figure description]

into delirium—raved about his bride—his engagement—
his plighted word; ordered his
horse, that he might ride to the castle of Landshort,
and expired in the fancied act of vaulting
into the saddle.

Starkenfaust bestowed a sigh, and a soldier's
tear, on the untimely fate of his comrade; and
then pondered on the awkward mission he had
undertaken. His heart was heavy, and his
head perplexed; for he was to present himself
an unbidden guest among hostile people, and to
damp their festivity with tidings fatal to their
hopes. Still there were certain whisperings of
curiosity in his bosom to see this far-famed
beauty of Katzenellenbogen, so cautiously shut
up from the world; for he was a passionate admirer
of the sex, and there was a dash of eccentricity
and enterprize in his character that made
him fond of all singular adventure.

Previous to his departure, he made all due arrangements
with the holy fraternity of the convent
for the funeral solemnities of his friend,
who was to be buried in the cathedral of

[figure description] Page 317.[end figure description]

Wurtzburg, near some of his illustrious relatives;
and the mourning retinue of the count took
charge of his remains.

It is now high time that we should return
to the ancient family of Katzenellenbogen, who
were impatient for their guest, and still more
for their dinner; and to the worthy little Baron,
whom we left airing himself on the watchtower.

Night closed in, but still no guest arrived.
The Baron descended from the tower in despair.
The banquet, which had been delayed from hour
to hour could no longer be postponed. The meats
were already overdone; the cook in an agony;
and the whole household had the look of a garrison
that had been reduced by famine. The
Baron was obliged reluctantly to give orders for
the feast without the presence of the guest.
All were seated at table, and just on the point
of commencing, when the sound of a horn from
without the gate gave notice of the approach of
a stranger. Another long blast filled the old
courts of the castle with its echoes, and was

[figure description] Page 318.[end figure description]

answered by the warder from the walls. The
Baron hastened to receive his future son-in-law.

The drawbridge had been let down, and the
stranger was before the gate. He was a tall
gallant cavalier, mounted on a black steed. His
countenance was pale, but he had a beaming,
romantic eye, and an air of stately melancholy.
The Baron was a little mortified that he should
have come in this simple, solitary style. His
dignity for a moment was ruffled, and he felt
disposed to consider it a want of proper respect
for the important occasion, and the important
family with which he was to be connected. He,
however, pacified himself with the conclusion
that it must have been youthful impatience
which had induced him thus to spur on sooner
than his attendants.

“I am sorry,” said the stranger, “to break in
upon you thus unseasonably—”

Here the Baron interrupted him with a
world of compliments and greetings; for, to
tell the truth, he prided himself upon his courtesy
and his eloquence. The stranger

[figure description] Page 319.[end figure description]

attempted, once or twice, to stem the torrent of words,
but in vain, so he bowed his head and suffered
it to flow on. By the time the Baron had come
to a pause, they had reached the inner court of
the castle; and the stranger was again about to
speak, when he was once more interrupted by
the appearance of the female part of the family,
leading forth the shrinking and blushing bride.
He gazed on her for a moment as one entranced;
it seemed as if his whole soul beamed forth in
the gaze, and rested upon that lovely form.
One of the maiden aunts whispered something
in her ear; she made an effort to speak; her
moist blue eye was timidly raised, gave a shy
glance of inquiry on the stranger, and was cast
again to the ground. The words died away;
but there was a sweet smile playing about her
lips, and a soft dimpling of the cheek, that showed
her glance had not been unsatisfactory. It
was impossible for a girl of the fond age of
eighteen, highly predisposed for love and matrimony,
not to be pleased with so gallant a cavalier.

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The late hour at which the guest had arrived,
left no time for parley. The baron was peremptory,
and deferred all particular conversation
until the morning, and led the way to the
untasted banquet.

It was served up in the great hall of the castle.
Around the walls hung the hard-favoured portraits
of the heroes of the house of Katzenellenbogen,
and the trophies which they had gained in
the field and in the chase. Hacked corslets;
splintered jousting spears, and tattered banners,
were mingled with the spoils of sylvan warfare:
the jaws of the wolf, and the tusks of the boar,
grinned horribly among cross-bows and battleaxes,
and a huge pair of antlers branched
accidentally over the head of the youthful
bridegroom.

The cavalier took but little notice of the company,
or the entertainment. He scarce tasted
the banquet, but seemed absorbed in admiration
of his bride. He conversed in a low tone
that could not be overheard—for the language of
love is never loud; but where is the female ear

[figure description] Page 321.[end figure description]

so dull that it cannot catch the softest whisper
of the lover? There was a mingled tenderness
and earnestness in his manner, that appeared to
have a powerful effect upon the young lady.
Her colour came and went as she listened with
deep attention. Now and then she made some
blushing reply, and when his eye was turned
away, she would steal a side-long glance at his
romantic countenance, and heave a gentle sigh
of tender happiness. It was evident the young
couple were completely enamoured. The aunts,
who were deeply versed in the mysteries of the
heart, declared that they had fallen in love with
each other at first sight.

The feast went on merrily, or at least noisily,
for the guests were all blessed with those
keen appetites that attend upon light purses and
mountain air. The Baron told his best and
longest stories, and never had he told them so
well, or with such great effect. If there was
any thing marvellous, his auditors were lost in
astonishment; and if any thing facetious, they
were sure to laugh exactly in the right place.

[figure description] Page 322.[end figure description]

The Baron, it is true, like most great men, was
too dignified to utter any joke except a dull one,
but then it was always enforced by a bumper
of excellent Hoch-heimer; and even a dull joke
at one's own table, served up with jolly old
wine, is irresistible. Many good things were
said by poorer and keener wits, that would not
bear repeating, except on similar occasions;
many sly speeches whispered in ladies' ears,
that almost convulsed them with suppressed
laughter; and a song or two roared out by a
poor, but merry and broad-faced cousin of the
Baron, that absolutely made the maiden aunts
hold up their fans.

Amidst all this revelry, the stranger guest
maintained a most singular and unseasonable
gravity. His countenance assumed a deeper
cast of dejection as the evening advanced, and,
strange as it may seem, even the Baron's jokes
only seemed to render him the more melancholy.
At times he was lost in thought, and at
times there was a perturbed and restless wandering
of the eye that bespoke a mind but ill at

[figure description] Page 323.[end figure description]

ease. His conversations with the bride became
more and more earnest and mysterious. Lowering
clouds began to steal over the fair serenity
of her brow, and tremors to run through her
tender frame.

All this could not escape the notice of the
company. Their gayety was chilled by the
unaccountable gloom of the bridegroom; their
spirits were infected; whispers and glances
were interchanged, accompanied by shrugs and
dubious shakes of the head. The song and the
laugh grew less and less frequent; there were
dreary pauses in the conversation, which were
at length succeeded by wild tales, and supernatural
legends. One dismal story produced another
still more dismal, and the Baron nearly
frightened some of the ladies into hysterics with
the history of the goblin horseman that carried
away the fair Leonora; a dreadful, but true
story, that has since been put into excellent
verse, and is read and believed by all the
world.

[figure description] Page 324.[end figure description]

The bridegroom listened to this tale with
profound attention. He kept his eyes steadily
fixed on the Baron, and as the story drew to a
close, began gradually to rise from his seat,
growing taller and taller, until, in the Baron's
entranced eye, he seemed almost to tower into
a giant. The moment the tale was finished, he
heaved a deep sigh, and took a solemn farewell
of the company. They were all amazement.
The Baron was perfectly thunderstruck.

“What! going to leave the castle at midnight?
why, every thing was prepared for his
reception: a chamber was ready for him if he
wished to retire.”

The stranger shook his head mournfully, and
mysteriously; “I must lay my head in a different
chamber to night!”

There was something in this reply, and the
tone in which it was uttered, that made the Baron's
heart misgive him; but he rallied his forces
and repeated his hospitable entreaties. The
stranger shook his head silently, but positively,
at every offer, and waving his farewell to the

[figure description] Page 325.[end figure description]

company, stalked slowly out of the hall. The
maiden aunts were absolutely petrified—the
bride hung her head, and a tear stole to her
eye.

The Baron followed the stranger to the great
court of the castle, where the black charger
stood pawing the earth, and snorting with impatience.
When they had reached the portal,
whose deep archway was dimly lighted by a
cresset, the stranger paused, and addressed the
baron in a deep voice, which the vaulted roof
rendered still more sepulchral. “Now that we
are alone,” said he, “I will impart to you the
reason of my going. I have a solemn, an indispensable
engagement—”

“Why,” said the Baron, “cannot you send
some one in your place?”

“It admits of no substitute—I must attend it
in person—I must away to Wurtzburg cathedral—”

“Aye,” said the Baron, plucking up spirit,
“but not until to-morrow—to-morrow you shall
take your bride there.”

[figure description] Page 326.[end figure description]

“No! no!” replied the stranger, with tenfold
solemnity, “my engagement is with no bride—
the worms! the worms expect me! I am a dead
man—I have been slain by robbers—my body
lies at Wurtzburg—at midnight I am to be
buried—the grave is waiting for me—I must
keep my appointment!”

He sprang on his black charger, dashed over
the draw-bridge, and the clattering of his
horse's hoofs were lost in the whistling of the
night blast.

The Baron returned to the hall in the utmost
consternation, and related what had passed.
Two ladies fainted outright, others sickened at
the idea of having banquetted with a spectre.
It was the opinion of some, that this might be
the wild huntsman famous in German legend.
Some talked of mountain sprites, wooddemons,
and other supernatural beings, with
which the good people of Germany have been
so grievously harassed since time immemorial.
One of the poor relations ventured to suggest
that it might be some sportive evasion of the

[figure description] Page 327.[end figure description]

young cavalier's, and that the very gloominess
of the caprice seemed to accord with so melancholy
a personage. This, however, drew on
him the indignation of the whole company, and
especially of the Baron, who looked upon him
as little better than an infidel; so that he was
fain to abjure his heresy as speedily as possible,
and come into the faith of the true believers.

But, whatever doubts might have been entertained,
they were completely put to an end by
the arrival, next day, of regular missives, confirming
the intelligence of the young Count's
murder, and his interment in Wurtzburg cathedral.

The dismay at the castle may well be imagined.
The Baron shut himself up in his chamber.
The guests who had come to rejoice with
him, could not think of abandoning him in his
distress. They wandered about the courts, or
collected in groupes in the hall, shaking their
heads and shrugging their shoulders, at the
troubles of so good a man; and sat longer than

[figure description] Page 328.[end figure description]

ever at table, and ate and drank more stoutly
than ever, by way of keeping up their spirits.
But the situation of the widowed bride was
the most pitiable. To have lost a husband
before she had even embraced him—and such
a husband! if the very spectre could be so gracious
and noble, what must have been the
living man! She filled the house with lamentations.

On the night of the second day of her widowhood
she had retired to her chamber, accompanied
by one of her aunts, who insisted on sleeping
with her. The aunt, who was one of the
best tellers of ghost stories in all Germany, had
just been recounting one of her longest, and had
fallen asleep in the very midst of it. The chamber
was remote, and overlooked a small garden.
The niece lay pensively gazing at the beams
of the rising moon, as they trembled on the
leaves of an aspen tree before the lattice. The
castle clock had just tolled midnight, when a
soft strain of music stole up from the garden.
She rose hastily from her bed, and

[figure description] Page 329.[end figure description]

stepped-lightly to the window. A tall figure stood
among the shadows of the trees. As it raised
its head, a beam of moonlight fell upon the
countenance. Heaven and earth! she beheld
the Spectre Bridegroom! A loud shriek at that
moment burst upon her ear, and her aunt, who
had been awakened by the music, and followed
her silently to the window, fell into her arms.
When she looked again, the spectre had disappeared.

Of the two females, the aunt now required
the most soothing, for she was perfectly beside
herself with terror. As to the young lady, there
was something, even in the spectre of her lover,
that seemed endearing. There was still the
semblance of manly beauty; and though the
shadow of a man is but little calculated to satisfy
the affections of a love-sick girl, yet, where
the substance is not to be had, even that is consoling.
The aunt declared she would never sleep
in that chamber again; the niece, for once, was
refractory, and declared as strongly that she
would sleep in no other in the castle: the

[figure description] Page 330.[end figure description]

consequence was, that she had to sleep in it alone;
but she drew a promise from her aunt not to relate
the story of the spectre, lest she should be
denied the only melancholy pleasure left her on
earth—that of inhabiting the chamber over
which the guardian shade of her lover kept its
nightly vigils.

How long the good old lady would have observed
this promise is uncertain, for she dearly
loved to talk of the marvellous, and there is a
triumph in being the first to tell a frightful story;
it is, however, still quoted in the neighbourhood,
as a memorable instance of female secrecy, that
she kept it to herself for a whole week, when she
was suddenly absolved from all further restraint,
by intelligence brought to the breakfast table
one morning, that the young lady was not to be
found. Her room was empty—the bed had
not been slept in—the window was open, and
the bird flown!

The astonishment and concern with which
the intelligence was received, can only be imagined
by those who have witnessed the

[figure description] Page 331.[end figure description]

agitation which the mishaps of a great man causes
among his friends. Even the poor relations
paused for a moment from the indefatigable labours
of the trencher; when the aunt, who had
at first been struck speechless, wrung her hands,
and shrieked out, “the goblin! the goblin! she's
carried away by the goblin!”

In a few words, she related the fearful scene
of the garden, and concluded that the spectre
must have carried off his bride. Two of the
domestics corroborated the opinion, for they had
heard the clattering of a horse's hoofs down the
mountain about midnight, and had no doubt that
it was the spectre on his black charger, bearing
her away to the tomb. All present were struck
with the direful probability; for events of the
kind are extremely common in Germany, as
many histories bear witness.

What a lamentable situation was that of the
poor Baron! What a heart-rending dilemma
for a fond father, and a member of the great
family of Katzenellenbogen! His only daughter
had either been rapt away to the tomb, or he

[figure description] Page 332.[end figure description]

was to have some wood-demon for a son-in-law,
and, perchance, a troop of goblin grand-children.
As usual, he was completely bewildered,
and all the castle in an uproar. The men were
ordered to take horse, and to scour every road,
and path, and glen of the Odenwald. The Baron
himself had just drawn on his jack-boots,
girded on his sword, and was about to mount
his steed to sally forth on the doubtful quest,
when he was brought to a pause by a new apparition.
A lady was seen approaching the
castle, mounted on a palfrey, attended by a cavalier
on horseback. She galloped up to the
gate, sprang from her horse, and falling at his
feet, embraced his knees. It was his lost daughter,
and her companion—the Spectre Bridegroom!
The Baron was astounded. He looked
at his daughter, then at the Spectre, and
almost doubted the evidence of his senses. The
latter, too, was wonderfully improved in his appearance,
since his visit to the world of spirits.
His dress was splendid, and set off a noble figure
of manly symmetry. He was no longer pale

[figure description] Page 333.[end figure description]

and melancholy. His fine countenance was
flushed with the glow of youth, and joy rioted
in his large dark eye.

The mystery was soon cleared up. The cavalier
(for in truth, as you must have known all
the while, he was no goblin) announced himself
as Sir Herman Von Starkenfaust. He related
his adventure with the young Count. How
that he had hastened to the castle to deliver the
unwelcome tidings, but that the eloquence of
the Baron had interrupted him in every attempt
to tell his tale. How the sight of the bride had
completely captivated him, and that to pass a
few hours near her, he had tacitly suffered the
mistake to continue. How he had been sorely
perplexed in what way to make a decent retreat,
until the Baron's goblin stories had suggested
his eccentric exit. How, fearing the
feudal hostility of the family, he had repeated
his visits by stealth—had haunted the garden
beneath the young lady's window—had wooed—
had won—had borne away in triumph—and,
in a word, had wedded the fair.

[figure description] Page 334.[end figure description]

Under any other circumstances, the Baron
would have been inflexible, for he was tenacious
of paternal authority, and devoutly obstinate
in all family feuds; but he loved his daughter;
he had lamented her as lost; he rejoiced to
find her still alive; and, though her husband
was of a hostile house, yet, thank heaven, he
was not a goblin. There was something, it
must be acknowledged, that did not exactly accord
with his notions of strict veracity, in the
joke the knight had passed upon him of his being
a dead man; but several old friends present,
who had served in the wars, assured him that
every stratagem was excusable in love, and that
the cavalier was entitled to especial privilege,
having lately served as a trooper.

Matters, therefore, were happily arranged.
The Baron pardoned the young couple on the
spot. The revels at the castle were resumed.
The poor relations overwhelmed this new member
of the family with loving kindness; he was
so gallant, so generous, and so rich. The aunts,
it is true, were somewhat scandalized that their

[figure description] Page 335.[end figure description]

system of strict seclusion, and passive obedience,
should be so badly exemplified, but attributed
it all to their negligence in not having the windows
grated. One of them was particularly
mortified to have her marvellous story marred,
and that the only spectre she had ever seen
should turn out a counterfeit; but the niece
seemed perfectly happy at having found him
substantial flesh and blood—and so the story
ends.

eaf214v4.n5

[5] The erudite reader, well versed in good for nothing lore, will perceive
that the above tale must have been suggested to the old Swiss
by a little French anecdote, of a circumstance said to have taken place
at Paris.