 | Morton's Hope, or, The memoirs of a provincial. |  |
MORTON'S HOPE.
13. CHAPTER XIII.
THE PROFESSOR'S SUPPER.
Contrary to my expectations, I do not find that I
have preserved any thing remarkable concerning the
supper at Poodleberg's. I should have passed it over
without a comment, if it had not been necessary to show
the beginning of a plot of Pappenheim's, which was frustrated.
This plot, in conjunction with another undertaken
about the same time by Trump Von Toggenburg,
led mainly to a singular event, which I shall soon have
occasion to detail, and with which it is my purpose to
conclude this portion of my biography.
I arrived with Lackland at the house of the professor
at about nine o'clock. This establishment was on a decidedly
more extensive scale than Frau Von Rumplestern's.
A servant in a porter's gala dress presented himself
at the door on our arrival, and I immediately recognised
by his voice, my acquaintance, Diedrich. We
were announced in due form, and on ascending to the
drawing-room, found the company already assembled.
His “Magnificence,” the Pro-Rector, Professor, Counsellor,
and Baron Von Poodleberg, advanced in a dignified
manner to receive us. I found it very difficult to
demanded. I mingled his “excellency” and his “magnificence,”
in a very incongruous manner. The one
was his by virtue of his title, the other by that of his
temporary office; but the former I believe ought to have
taken precedence.
No where, in fact, are such fine distinctions in the
forms of address observed as in Germany. The system
is complicated, and extends from the lowest to the highest
grades of society. If you write, for example, to a
shoe-maker or a tailor, you address the “well-born” tailor
Schneiderff, or his “well-born-ship” the shoe-maker
Braun; but if to a gentleman, whose name has the
magical prefix, Von, you style him the “highly-well-born,”
Mr. Von Katzenjammer. A count of the empire
is “high-born;” a prince is not born at all, but is addressed
as His Serenity, or (literally) His Transparency,
(Durchlaucht;) a minister of state, or an ambassador,
is His Excellency; but the pro-rector of a university is
His Magnificence.
Of course His Magnificence was too great a man to
recollect our names, so I introduced Lackland, and then
Lackland introduced me. After this we were permitted
to pay our respects to his daughter, Fräulein Ida.
She blushed excessively as I approached her, and I
at once deduced the conclusion that Pappenheim had
found time, even in this short interval, to give her a key
to the mysterious events of the preceding evening. I
was able, however, only to exchange with her a few common-place
observations, for the approach of other persons
prevented any confidential communication. Accordingly,
after a very short colloquy, I turned from her,
and surveyed the company.
The first person I noticed was Pappenheim. His dress
was so totally different from mine, that the resemblance
between us was hardly striking, and I could hardly believe
it possible that so decided a mistake could have
been made. He begged to speak a few words with me
after supper, as he had something of importance to communicate,
and then left me to enjoy a hurried intercourse
with Ida.
The next person whom I observed, was little Popp,
the librarian. He seemed overjoyed to meet me, and
earnestly requested my opinion of the great works of the
great Mr. Von Poodleberg, which, as the reader may recollect,
he had sent me. I was ashamed to confess
that I had not even looked at the title page of any of
them, and so thought myself safe in bestowing unlimited
and unqualified praise upon every line of them.
“And the work of Professor Noodleberg?” asked
Popp. “You have found time to master that also?”
“Why;—why, no,—to say the truth, I have not entirely
finished that,” I replied.
“I knew it—I knew it,” cried Popp, rubbing his
hands triumphantly. “I knew you would be entirely
absorbed with my great patron, the great Baron Von
Poodleberg. Psha! how ridiculous to make any comparison
between the genius of Poodleberg and Noodleberg!”
“Yes; how very ridiculous!” I replied, glad to get
out of the scrape on any terms.
I passed from the humble toady of the great Poodleberg,
to pay my respects to a really great man, the Professor
and Historian Harlem. He was a plain, demurelooking
little man, with silver hair, and a placid and benevolent
cast of features. His age was at that time at
peculiar to the literati of Germany, had preserved his
constitution, and enabled him to retain the hale and robust
appearance of a healthy sexagenarian. His lectures,—which,
in the midst of my idleness and dissipation,
I never neglected regularly to attend, were still full
of youthful fire and enthusiasm, and the collection of
his printed works, which he was just about completing,
had filled a vacuum in the historical world, which had
existed for many centuries,—centuries unable to produce
a man equal to the gigantic task which this simple-looking
and simple-minded man had accomplished. His
conversation was vivacious, and almost child like in its
earnestness and its simplicity. His modesty was so perfect,
that you were apt yourself, for an instant, to forget
that you were conversing with so distinguished a historian;
and his justice and his liberality were so great,
that he had even found something to praise in the treatises
of Professor Poodleberg.
Besides these, there were present two or three painters,
a sculptor, half a dozen professors, and a nose-making
doctor. There were no ladies but Ida, and no young
men but Pappenheim, Lackland, and myself.
Supper was now announced, and the Professor, leaning
on the trusty Popp, led the way to the next room.
The rest followed, helter-skelter, and Pappenheim remained
for a few seconds tête-à-tête with Ida, who I
found, to my infinite disappointment, was not to make
one at the supper-table. On entering the room, we
found the table covered with silver, and a bottle of Rhenish
to each plate.
Two or three servants in the Poodleberg livery (which
was crimson and orange turned up with scarlet, with a
the clatter of knives and forks soon began.
Whatever had been my opinion of the Professor's
literary achievements, I could not help paying profound
reverence to the excellence of his cook. It was among
the few instances in which I had found the German
cuisine (which in general is only a caricature of the
French) to my taste, and the Rhenish was certainly
magnificent.
“I am glad you approve of this Marcobrunner,” said
Poodleberg to Pappenheim. “It was a present from my
particular friend, the elector of Hesse Cassel.”
“It is worthy of the Emperor's table,” said Pappenheim,
with enthusiasm.
“Why, it is a fair wine —very fair Hock—very fair,”
said Poodleberg pompously. “Nothing, however, to
compare with some in my cellar—that which I reserve
for guests of distinction.—Is it Popp?” said he, appealing
to his today.
“Oh! no comparison, your excellency,” said the deputy-librarian.
“This is a good Rüdesheimer, Mr. Lackland,” passing
him a bottle of splendid Rhenish of that denomination.
“It is also a present. It was sent me last Wednesday
by the Archbischop of Brandenburg.”
“Yes, yes,” said Lackland, after tasting it carelessly,
“A fair wine—very fair Hock—very fair.”
The Professor looked annoyed — for it was his finest
wine; but Lackland was fond of mortifying people of the
Professor's character. It was a long time, however,
before he received another invitation from Baron Poodleberg.
The conversation was aesthetic, as may be supposed
as also the poems of Offendorf, and the great tragedy of
Professor Funk. In short, the conversation was pretty
nearly on the same topics, and discussed in nearly the
same manner, as at the conversaziones of Madame de
Rumplestern.
I happened to sit near the Professor, and amused myself
for a few minutes in admiring his dress. His hair
was frizzed and powdered in an elaborate manner, and he
wore a voluminous cravat of the finest cambric, together
with ostentatious ruffles, apparently from the manufactory
of my friend the coffin-maker. His coat was of velvet,
and he wore at least a dozen orders on his left breast.
I asked him, very imprudently, as I soon discovered, the
order of which a large diamond star, the most conspicuous
of his decorations, was the symbol, and “upon that
hint he spake.”
“That star, Mr. Morton, is the sign of a Knight Grand
Cross of the Three-tailed Tiger, of the first class — an
order, Sir, which is worn almost exclusively by crowned
heads, and which, in fact, has only been bestowed on
three subjects in Europe, of which I have the honour to
be one. It was presented to me exactly six years and
nine months ago by the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg, on
the publication of my treatise on the `Comparative Anatomy
of Philology.'
“This smaller cross, Sir,” he continued, holding it up
in his thumb and finger, “is the emblem of the order of
the Polar Bear, presented to me on the same occasion by
the Emperor of all the Russias. This next is the
`Golden Jackass,' an order bestowed exclusively on literati;
and this is the great double-headed ostrich, third
class, which I have just receive from the Emperor of
but I will not fatigue you at present with their history.”
“Thank God, you have some conscience,” thought I,
as I expressed my gratitude for his condescension.
In the mean time, Professor Harlem had slipped off,
as well as several other of the guests, among whom was
Lackland.
At a moment when the Professor was engaged in a
pompous explanation of a certain disputed chapter in his
last treatise to Popp and half-a-dozen others of his
warmest admirers, Pappenheim made me a sign, and together
we made our escape.
“Wait for me an instant in the street,” said he, when
he had shut the door. “I wish to exchange half-a-dozen
words with Ida, and then, as our way home is the same,
I can tell you what I wish.”
“I went down stairs, and stepped into the porter's room,
where I had left my cloak. On pretence of looking for
a stick, which I had not brought with me, I took a survey
of the inmates of the room — Diedrich, namely, and his
wife, Gretel.
“You keep the Baron pretty safe, Master Diedrich,”
said I, taking up the ponderous house-key. No fear of
housebreakers, I suppose, in this peaceful city.”
“Ah! Herr Jesus!” said the porter's wife. Not as
peaceful as you may suppose, Sir.”
“Why, how so?” said I.
“This house, Sir,” resumed Gretel solemnly, was
broken open yesterday night.”
“Ah! indeed!” “No damage done, I hope.”
“None Sir; but all owing to the valour of my husband
Diedrich. Twelve men, Sir, if you will believe me
assaulted the house. The gate was broken open, and one
found time to follow him, my husband, Diedrich, sprang
from this room, and disputed the passage. After over-throwing
seven, he was at last set upon and discomfited
by the rest, who immediately decamped carrying with
them all the silver spoons. We followed them, but could
not come up with them; and on our return we found
half-a dozen more, who had secreted themselves in the
passage during our absence. These my husband Diedrich
succeeded in thrusting out, after incredible exertions,
just as the Professor's carriage came up to the door.”
I presented her husband Diedrich with a gulden, in
recompense for his broken head the night before, and
herself with another, for her ingenious version of the
story, and then I left the house.
As I stood waiting for Pappenheim, in the shadow of
the house, two figures passed me, engaged in earnest
conversation. They were muffled in cloaks; but I recognized
in them the Jew Potiphar, and Skamp the coffin-maker.
Directly afterwards Pappenheim joined me, and we
took our way homewards.
“You will not be surprised,” said he, “considering
the singular circumstances of our acquaintance, if I admit
you at once to my confidence, particularly as accident
has already almost taken the task off my hands.”
“Well,” thought I, “here I am, a confidant, for the
third time; and it is a little odd that I should be the
chosen depositary of the secrets of three such different
persons as Rabenmark, Trump, and Pappenheim.”
“We have not time,” he continued, “to enter into
particulars. All that is necessary for you to know, however,
till to-morrow, I can say in three words. My purpose
not consent, because I am poor, and dependent on my
uncle, who he thinks is also poor. It is a mistake, however,
for he is rich. My uncle, however, will not consent,
for Poodleberg is a plebeian—a baronized butcher's
boy, (his original trade) whose muddy blood should never
flow in the pure veins of the Pappenheims. The consequence
is, we are determined to elope, and gain the
consent of the other parties afterwards.
“To do this, however, is no easy matter, and I very
much desire the assistance of one trusty friend.—Will
you be that friend?”
“With pleasure.”
“Thank you. It will, perhaps, afford you some
amusement to know that our principal colleague in the
enterprise is your friend Popp, the librarian. Here is
my room—it is too late, I suppose, to invite you in. Will
you try to come here punctually at ten to-morrow
night?”
“Yes—good-night.”
“Sleep well,” said Pappenheim.
14. CHAPTER XIV.
THE PLOT.
“Hallo Mein Herr Morton!” said Trump Von Toggenburg,
out of his window to me, as I passed down the
Weender Strasse the next morning. “Hallo—I wish
and smoke a pipe with me—I have some kanaster tobacco,
just sent to me by my cousin Prince Trump Von
Toggenburg-Hohenstaufer-Hapsburg—you shall have a
pipe of it—come.”
I went up stairs, and found the “Count of the Holy
Roman Empire” stretched on his sofa, with a cup of
coffee and the (“Geschichte der Gräflichen Familien
Deutschlands,”) the history of the “count families” of
Germany, on the table before him.
He was dressed in a tawdry smoking-cap, a rather
seedy dressing-gown, and a pair of Russian slipper-boots,
and was smoking with great diligence a handsome
meerschaum.
“This is the best tobacco to colour a meerschaum,”
said he, as I entered. “You see how beautifully I am
managing this pipe. My cousin, who sent me this tobacco,
is a great connoisseur in meerschaums—all my
cousins are—all our family are—all German noblemen
are. My cousin, the prince, has one hundred and twenty-five
meerschaums, all of which he has smoked into
the most exquisite colour. Wait, Caspar shall fill you
a pipe.”
He rang the bell, and an ancient and whimsical-looking
servant, in a shabby livery, presented himself.
“Fill a pipe for Mr. Morton, Caspar.”
“Shall I take your usual tobacco at two groschen the
pound, your excellency?” asked Caspar.
“No, you booby!” said Trump, reddening at this
exposition of his economy; “take the petit kanaster I
received yesterday from my cousin, Prince Von Toggenburg-Hohenstaufer.”
“Yes, your excellency;” and Caspar filled me the
pipe, and brought another coffee-cup, and departed.
“I have ordered a new livery for Caspar, but the
confounded tailor is so dilatory, that he has got to look
very shabby. The difficulty is in finding the exact
shade of colours necessary. The coat is sky-blue, and
the collar and cuffs should be of a very peculiar shade
of green—very difficult to be found; and you know it
would not do for a servant of the house of Toggenburg
to wear a coat whose colours were not of the exact shade
of the heraldic colours of the family. However, the tailor
has sent to Brunswick, and I have no doubt that
Caspar will soon be fitted out. In the meantime, it
must be confessed, he looks a little shabby. Take another
cup of coffee.”
“Are you going to the ball to-morrow night at the
commandant's?” I asked.
“Yes. I have just procured Judith and her father
an invitation. To think, after all the trouble I am at in
patronising her plebeian of a father, that the Hebrew
blackguard still refuses his consent to our union. However,
I have determined to out-do him, and Judith has
promised to run away with me. After the marriage, I
am convinced he will give his consent. Will you assist
me?”
“Oh, most willingly.”
“Thank you. This was the important matter I wished
to consult you upon. We have not yet fixed upon
our plan. I hope to consult upon the whole affair tomorrow,
with Judith. In the meantime, if you should
happen to think of any plausible method, I hope you
will let me know.”
“Leave it all to me, Trump,” said I, “for the present
the course of the next twenty-four hours, that will suit
your purpose. In the meantime I am hurried, and must
bid you good morning.”
About ten the same evening I directed my steps to
Pappenheim's. He lived in a house in the Vorstadt.
There was a garden around it, and it was close to the
rampart. I inquired of an old woman at the door, if
Baron Pappenheim lodged there, and was told to ascend
two flights. I did so. It was pitch-dark in the passage,
but I was directed by the sound of a piano. I knocked,
and received no answer. Without further notice, I opened
the door, and walked in. The room was partially
lighted by the moon, and partly by a shaded lamp in
one cornice. There was no one but Pappenheim in the
room. He sat at the piano—his head stretched backwards
in an ecstacy, and playing a wild sort of measure,
in a violent, but masterly manner.
“Hush—hush!” said he, without looking around;
“don't interrupt me. I am composing. Sit down, and
be quiet.”
“Very civil,” thought I—particularly as I am here
at your own bidding, and on your own business. However,
my double seems to be a humourist. I will observe
him.”
Pappenheim continued to play. He touched the instrument
with the hand of a master, and a strain of a
wild and most unearthly melody resounded through the
room. Presently he began to sing a rambling sort of
ballad, changing the metre according to the changing
measure, which was about as uncouth and unmeaning
as the music.
“Words and music are both your own composition,”
said I, as he concluded, and turned round for applause.
“Oh, yes:—I am a great composer,—I have a passion
for music and for drawing; a little touch of anatomy,
too, as you see,”—pointing to the skeleton and the
head; “however, there is a little hypocrisy in that. My
uncle in Prague is a great naturalist,—full of chemistry,
botany, and more especially anatomy; and the only way
for me to keep on the right side of him, is by appearing
excessively interested in his favourite pursuits. There's
a little of the grand science of diplomacy in that, you see?
That head, by the way, is a present from our mutual
friend, the skinner; and I am going to send it by the
baggage-wagon to my uncle in Prague. It is the head
of Hanswurst the house-breaker, who was executed the
other day, you know.”
“Yes:—Gottlob told me about him, with his regrets
at not superintending the operation.”
“Well,—well;—we have no time to lose.—Let me
tell you my plot.”
“Stay a moment,” said I; “you know of Trump
Von Toggenburg's amour with Miss Potiphar!”
“Yes.”
“How should you like to have him associated in your
enterprise?”
“Trump is a crazy mountebank; but is an honourable
and brave fellow. I have no objection:—but what
good will he do?”
“Trump has the same virtuous intentions with regard
to Miss Potiphar,” said I, “as you with the Fräulein
Ida. Now, by making a common job of it, I should
think you might mutually assist each other. How did
you propose managing your elopement?”
“In this way,” answered Pappenheim; “you know
Popp, the librarian, is a most trusty and confidential adherent
of old Poodleberg?”
“Yes.”
“Well; the Professor has a married sister living in
Brunswick;—Ida is to pay a visit to her:—she is to depart
the day after the ball at Wallenstein's, in a post-chaise:—Popp
is to be her escort:—there will be no one
else in the carriage, but Ida's old woman-servant.”
“Madame Meerschaum?” said I.
“How the deuce did you know her name?”—Ah! I
forgot: — a-hem,—well,—no matter:—Ida has told me
all about it, and about the presents she gave you, without
intending it:—no matter!—
“Well, then: Popp and Madame Meerschaum are
to be the escorts,—two foes who are not very formidable.
Now, I propose, that you and I should put on masks;
attack the carriage, in the guise of robbers; knock
down the postillions; empty out Mother Meerschaum
and the deputy librarian; and mount the horses ourselves,
and drive to Eckendorf, a town only fifteen miles
from here. There shall be a parson in waiting, and
every thing shall be done in the most orthodox and romantic
manner.”
“Well:—let me suggest a change in your plan. Do
you and Trump contrive to get the postillions drunk,
and take their places on starting. Miss Potiphar must
be disguised as a lady's maid, and smuggled into the
carriage. Popp's permission to this will be easily obtained
on some plausible pretext. Then I will myself
ride forward on horseback; and Lackland, who is always
ready for a lark, will accompany me. A few miles
from Einbeck, we will put on our masks, and attack the
to death, and stop. I shall open the carriage, and
insist on all the passengers alighting. We will then secure
Popp, and mother Meerschaum, and then you have
the coast clear, and may go when and where you
please.”
“Excellent!—this will do very well: but, of course,
we must have a consultation with Trump?”
“Certainly. He is now occupied in concocting some
plan of his own in his own wise head; but as I have
begged him to defer all definite measures, till he hears
from us, there is no doubt that he will agree to it all.”
“Very well:—we will settle all the preliminaries tomorrow,
and the plan shall be carried into execution on
the day after the commandant's ball.”
15. CHAPTER XV.
A THÉ DANSANT.
The Commandant Von Wallenstein gave his periodical
ball. He was, as I have said, a stern, grave man, and
interested himself but little in matters of society. His
position, however, rendered it necessary for him to entertain
occasionally, and he therefore had been in the habit
of setting aside a certain evening, in each half-year,
when the whole of Göttingen were invited.
This party was called a “dancing-tea,” (or thé dansant,”
in the French, which was of course affected by
drank tea, and danced; in opposition to the “aesthetic
tea” of Frau Von Rumplestern, and others, where they
drank tea, and talked aesthetics.
And they did dance with a vengeance! I hardly know
why people have a fancy for calling the Germans dull!
Certainly, as far as my experience goes, they are all,
high and low, rich and poor, noble and simple, among
the gayest, the most enthusiastic, and the most mercurial
of the nations of earth. As for dancing, it always
seems to me that no other people dance at all.
A German ball, in a provincial town, is the only party
I have ever seen, where people apparently meet for the
sake of dancing, and for that alone.
I went at six in the evening, being determined to see
the whole ceremony, and found a large company already
assembled. The guests were received by the Commandant,
and his daughter, the Countess Bertha, in a small
boudoir, which communicated with a dancing-saloon of
noble dimensions, into which they were immediately
afterwards ushered.
Bertha was beautiful that night;—she was a perfect
incarnation of Germany,—the blonde, blue-eyed, fair-haired
Germany. She was in white; but a dark chaplet
of oak-leaves, and red ivy berries, contrasted finely
with her sunny tresses, and with the exquisite whiteness
of her skin.
Her father was in full uniform, with a bunch of orders
dangling at his breast.
I made my bow to her on entering, and her wandering
eyes lighted up with an emotion of pleasure. “I
am so glad to see you,” she cried, “for I know you are
an intimate friend of —” and here she blushed and faltered
laugh, and turning me over to the Commandant.
“Otto will be here soon,” I whispered; “I left him
an hour ago.”
“I am afraid to ask you how he was employed,—at little
of good, I fear. Alas, poor Otto!—why must his glorious
genius, his bravery, his wit, his accomplishments,
be thus thrown away?—why must the materials of a
hero thus prematurely evaporate into the vapid and uncertain
smoke, which is a student's existence?”
“These very metaphysical questions, gracious Fräulein,”
I replied, “have but one answer. I would make
that answer,—but here comes one more qualified.” And
as Otto Von Rabenmark made his bow, I made my exit
into the dancing-room.
There was an immense circle of dancers, which reached
entirely round the saloon;—nearly all the company
present were upon the floor. A few remained on the
seats that were ranged round the wall, but they were
apparently the lame, the halt, and the blind. All the
able-bodied, from sixteen to ninety-six, were divided into
couples, and standing at their posts.
A band of music was stationed in the gallery, and a
glorious overture of Mozart's rose and floated through the
vaulted saloon. Ah! Germany is indeed the Paradise of
Music, and with that luxury in unbounded and endless
profusion, what other earthly dainty is there that we
may not forego? I felt the influence of those god-like
strains upon every fibre of my soul. All present felt it,
and were happy, they knew not why. Those glorious
harmonies swept like a south wind of music over every
human bosom, and caused the hearts of all to dance and
flutter, and vibrate and sigh, like linden-leaves in the
passing breeze.
'Twas finished!—those sweet and solemn strains
were hushed; and ere the last dying cadence had melted
in the air, the music of a mirthful and bewildering
waltz whirled from its fainting echoes, and circled round
the room in rapid eddies of heart-inspiring melody. All
were drawn at once into the vortex, and glided round the
hall, responsive to the merry measure.
What music is so gladdening, so intoxicating, as a
German waltz played by a German band? My heels
flew up incontinently, and I looked round for a partner.
They were all engaged, except a woman with one leg,
and another who was blind. Madame de Rumpelstern
was there, to be sure; but as I knew she was eighty,
she was, of course, not to be thought of. I went up to
her, however, to beg her advice and influence in securing
a partner, when suddenly a tall student danced out of the
crowd, and flung his arms round her waist. The amiable
octagenarian, nothing loth, abandoned herself to his
guidance, and after waiting a few seconds for an opening
in the whirlpool, away they span, “like two cockchafers
spitted on one pin.”
After this I could not deny that Germany was the
land of dancing as well as of music, and I determined to
ask the lady with the cork leg. She was afraid to venture,
however with a partner she was not used to; and
as I found the blind woman was deaf into the bargain,
and could not hear a word of my invitation, I gave up the
point altogether.
I wandered into an adjoining room and found several
old gentlemen playing whist. Poodleberg was there
explaining his orders; Harlem was eating an ice, and
the Commandant and Professor Noodleberg were playing
ecarté. There was nothing for me to do but be a spectator.
Luckily, as I returned into the dancing saloon, I found
Trump and Pappenheim, who were both dancing with
their mistresses. In accordance with a convenient German
custom, (called hospitiren,) I borrowed Miss Potiphar
for a round or two, and after a slight repose, I
requested the loan of Ida Poodleberg for a few minutes
of her lover. This was, of course, granted. Ida danced
exquisitely. In the course of the waltz she found time
to thank me in the warmest manner for the interest I had
taken and was to take in her affairs, and after I had
promised that we would all have a consultation together
next day respecting the grand plan for to-morrow, I resigned
her into the arms of her lover Pappenheim.
With a few exceptions, I saw no conversation between
the gentlemen and ladies. This was partly, to be sure,
to be accounted for by the slight intercourse and consequently
slight acquaintance, which had previously existed
between them. The beaux were the officers of the
regiment stationed there, and as many students as were
sufficiently sober that evening to attend, and of course
there were not likely to be many topics of sympathetic
interest between the mass of these latter and the ladies.
Accordingly, when not actually dancing, they stood
together in couples,
Straining upon the start,”
spin round the room.
There were some exceptions, however, of course; and
I saw a few cases of flirtation and love-making in the
old-fashioned way. I was amused also in watching the
diligent manner in which Trump payed his court to
as he brought up to her a stiff-looking gentleman in
white moustanchios.
“Let me introduce to you, Miss Judith,” he said,
“my cousin, the Prince Trump Von Toggenburg-Hohenstaufer-Hapsburg.
I wish you to be acquainted with
as many of my family as possible. Very extensive, however,
are the connections of our house. Perhaps one of
the most interesting exhibitions I have beheld lately was
a tea-party at Count Von Toggenburg's, in Dresden.
There were fifty individuals present, and it so happened
that they were all Toggenburgs. Let me see—there
were Count and Countess Toggenburg-Hopsburg; Baron,
Baroness, and the seven little Barons ToggenburgPuffendorf;
the Prince Toggenburg-Hohenstaufer, with
his Princess, and various others. How very interesting!
was it not, dearest Judith?”
“Oh, delightful!” and the Jewess's long black eyes
flashed with joy at the splendid family connection she
was about to make.
After they had waltzed from six till midnight, eight
persons executed a quadrille, called here a francaise, and
then they retired to their seats, while the supper-tables
were brought in.
Long plain wooden tables were arranged through the
whole length of the saloon, and the various component
parts of the supper were expeditiously laid upon them.
An immense tureen of broth, always the main refreshment
at a German ball, towered conspicuous above the
whole. The banquet-table was surrounded by a bevy of
matrons and maids, who were heated, exhausted, and
panting for the homœopathic refreshment.—Their coiffures
had been totally destroyed by their exercise—their
curls had all vanished, and with their long hair drooping
with fatigue, they reminded me, as they dropped impatiently
around the steaming soup-tureen, of the witches
of Macbeth dancing round their infernal cauldron.
The supper was despatched—the tables cleared away
like magic—and again the music sounded—and again
the waltz began. I waited till the gray tints of morning
began to extinguish the candles; and although the ball
did not break up till much later, (from six P. M. to six A. M.
is a usual allowance for a thé dansant,) I then found myself
exhausted and took myself off.
16. CHAPTER XVI.
TWO ELOPEMENTS.
“And so you think the plan feasible?” said I to Trump,
after detailing to him the Pappenheim plot.
“Perfectly so. You may rely upon me. How did
you think Judith looked last night?”
“As beautiful as Jezebel, and worthy of king Solomon,”
said I.
“Spare me, my good fellow, those Hebrew allusions,
and look upon her only as a Countess Von Toggenburg,
and a future mother of a race of Toggenburgs.”
“Very well—I am off for Popp. Where do you think
I shall find him?”
“Most probably at his own house, packing up his
portmanteau for Paris.”
“Well—perhaps I may borrow half-a-dozen shirts of
him, for the use of Mr.— what's his travelling
name, Trump?”
“Wildheim—it is a name collaterally connected with
my own.”
“Very well—you will give Mr. Von Wildheim the
necessary instructions then, and hold yourself in readiness.”
“Yes. Good morning.”
I went down the street, and had not advanced twenty
paces, before I met Popp. He was toddling along, with
his nose in the air, and thinking, I suppose, of Paris and
Professor Poodleberg.
“Good morning, Mr. Deputy, Sub-Deputy, and the
rest of it, Popp!”
“Ah, my Cherokee friend, Mr. Morton,—good morning,
Mein Herr—good morning. Is it really true, then,
that you are a sachem and emperor in your own country?
Baron Poodleberg says it is a fact; and if Baron
Poodle—”
“Yes, yes—all true—all true; but we have not time
for that just now. I have a particular request for your
ear, Mr. Deputy, Sub-Deputy, &c. &c. Popp.”
“Plain Popp—plain Popp, among friends. It is only
on formal occasions that the etiquette of society requires
the whole of our German titles.”
“Well then, plain Popp, I am sure your generous
heart will not deny me—”
“Proceed, Mein Herr Morton. I am sure that I shall
be proud to gratify you. There is no person I have a
more profound respect for than yourself. Baron Poodleberg
says your pronunciation of the Chickasaw and
Squantabago is perfect. When I get to Paris, whither I
daughter of Baron Poodleberg to Brunswick, I shall certainly
mention your—”
“Very well, very well—my obligations will be great
—my request touches your immediate journey. There
is a young friend of mine, Baron Wildheim, who is proceeding
to Brunswick, on a matter of—”
“To Brunswick! my mission is also thither. The
great Baron Poo—”
“D—n the great Baron Poodleberg! Mr. Popp, do
have the kindness to listen to me an instant;” and so
Mr. Popp, struck perfectly aghast at the idea of any one,
not even excepting a Cherokee chieftain, presuming to
d—n Baron Poodleberg, at last was silenced, and listened
with tolerable composure. I represented to him that Mr.
Wildheim was a young gentleman in the diplomatic
line, the bearer of important despatches; that he was in
a hurry to get to Brunswick—that his carriage had
broken down, his servant fallen sick, and a parcel of rigmarole,
concluding with my express conviction that the
peace of Europe would infallibly be endangered if the
young gentleman's journey were delayed twenty-four
hours longer; and that the only possible means of
avoiding that catastrophe, was his obtaining the spare
seat in Popp's carriage.
Finding that he should have a general war on his
conscience, if he did not accede, and a little pleased too,
it may be, with the prospect of having so important a
travelling companion, Popp, after a little hesitation, complied.
“Of course you understand it is to be a profound secret,”
said I. “Not a word to the great Baron Poodleberg.”
“Very well—good bye, Mr. Morton—perhaps we shall
meet in Paris.”
“We shall meet a little sooner than that, Mr. Popp,”
thought I, as I hastened to Pappenheim.
I told him of my success with Popp, and that the
journey was fixed for that evening. They were to start
at eight.
“You must take care to execute your designs on the
postillions.”
“Oh, apropos of that. Your friend Lackland has
suggested a plan for that part of the business, which, by
the way, seemed to me, on reflection, not a little difficult.”
“Yes—to be sure. A German postillion is not so
easily vanquished, even by a German student. What
is Lackland's plan?”
“We were talking it over, and almost despairing,
when he luckily thought of `crooked Skamp,' the coffin-maker—he
can do any thing. He can drink the ocean
dry. Besides, there are certain drugs for possets, which
no one understands better than he.”
“Excellent!—but has Lackland seen him?”
“Yes, and has already given him a retaining fee, and
admitted him to our confidence. He promises to settle
the whole matter in the most expeditious manner.”
“Very well. I will go to Lackland's; and do you
settle every thing with Fräulein Ida.”
Some hours after this, I found myself on horse-back,
with a silk mask over my face, in company with Lackhand
and the respectable Skamp, who had insisted on
accompanying us, and whom we found a most trusty
ally.
There was a thick wood which extended to a considerable
We had placed ourselves under its shadow, and were
waiting impatiently for the approach of the carriage.
“Allow me, your excellencies,” said the coffin-maker,
“to be the first to accost the carriage. Much may be
done by civility on these occasions, and much is to be
gained by experience.”
“By experience, Mr. Skamp,” I exclaimed; “then
this seems not to be the first time you have been engaged
on expeditions of the same meritorious character?”
“Why,—a-hem,—why, you see I have served in the
cavalry,—and—a-hem,—but hark! I think I hear the
carriage-wheels.”
We listened. The carriage was evidently approaching.
It was no time to deliberate; but I at once settled
that my amiable companion, had at times, united the
functions of highwayman to his other multifarious professions.
“The postillions are—”
“Count Toggenburg and Mr. Von Pappenheim. I
left Messieurs Schmidt and Schnobb, who were to have
officiated, sound asleep at the `swine.' They will hardly
be awake this day-week.”
“Very well! — here they come, — now for it, old
Skamp!” whispered Lackland.
It was a bright moonlight night. We discerned the
carriage in the distance approaching us rapidly. Presently
the psuedo-postillions seemed to recognise us, and
began to slacken their pace. When they reached us,
the horses were trotting very slowly.
As agreed upon, Lackland and I galloped forward,
and seized the heads of the horses. The postillions remonstrated,
and after a sham fight of a few moments, allowed
themselves to be tumbled from their saddles.
The ladies shrieked, of course; but it was easy
enough for the initiated to distinguish the fictitious cries
of Ida from the genuine and terrified screams of Mother
Meerschaum.
Skamp advanced in his mask to the carriage-window,
which had already been let down, and addressed the
company in the blandest manner.
“Gentlemen and ladies; we have no intention of
robbing or incommoding you. We are weary wayfarers,
and have performed a long journey. We are desirous
for reasons of importance to reach Brunswick to-night.
We are therefore obliged, however much we may regret
it, to request the loan of your carriage for a few hours.
Be assured, that the obligation will be gratefully acknowledged,
and the carriage faithfully restored.”
The civil manner of the supposed highwayman inspired
Popp with a little courage. He had been previously
lying back in the carriage, in a paroxysm of
fear. He now began to bluster. “Perhaps you are
not aware,” said he, “that this carriage belongs to the
great Baron Poodleberg, and that I am the deputy, sub-deputy,
&c. Popp, who am proceeding as the especial
escort of the Fräulein Ida Poodleberg, on her journey to
her aunt in Brunswick. After the journey is accomplished,
I shall probably proceed to Par—”
It was Popp's fate to be interrupted on this, as on every
other occasion. As there was no time to be lost, the
coffin-maker thought proper to thrust the barrel of a particularly
long horse-pistol under the nose of the refractory
librarian.
“I am very sorry indeed,” said Skamp, still in the
most gentle and subdued voice. “I am very sorry to
put so respectable a personage to a temporary inconvenience;
however, that you mentioned the Baron Poodleberg's
name. The Baron is a particular friend of mine, and I
am happy that I shall soon have an opportunity of expressing
to him my obligations. Have the goodness to
alight.”
Popp, whose courage had completely evaporated under
the influence of Skamp's last argument, got out. He
was very obedient, but very sulky.
“Allow me to bind this cloth round your eyes,” said
Skamp to Popp.
“Very well, sir; very well; I say nothing; but Baron
Poodleberg shall hear of it, I warrant you,” said
Popp to Skamp.
“I hope this does not at all inconvenience you,” said the
coffin-maker. “By the way, I shall be obliged to fasten
you to this tree, for the present. You do not object, I
hope, to bivouacking occasionally in the open air. It is
a fine night, sir,—remarkably fine,” continued he, gravely,
while he was securing him to a tree. “I never saw
brighter moonlight. I have no doubt you will be perfectly
comfortable. But I beg pardon, I am neglecting
my duty to the fair sex most shamefully. Excuse me
for a moment, Mr. Librarian.” And with this he left
Popp, securely tied to the tree, his eyes bound fast with
a thick handkerchief, and again directed his steps to the
carriage.
Madame Meerschaum had screamed herself into hysterics,
and was now lying more dead than alive, in the
corner of the seat.
“Madame,” said Skamp, taking off his hat in the
politest manner, “I am very sorry to incommode so
charming a young lady; but really I must beg you to
quite at ease, and is impatient that you should join him.
Shall I assist you out?”
The old lady aroused herself, and suffered herself to
be taken out of the carriage The same process was
quickly administered to her, in the most expeditious
manner, by the accomplished Skamp Her eyes were
gently but securely bandaged, and she was placed back
to back to Popp, and fastened to the same tree.
“There now!' said Skamp, “what can be more
pleasant? You look quite sociable and happy! I never
saw a more perfect picture of connubial happiness and
friendship! Quite like two turtle-doves in one nest!
What a beautiful night too! What a charming time you
will have! Good night, Madame Meerschaum! Good
night, dear Mr. Popp! By the way, you hardly need to
know the passing hours to-night, your time will pass so
pleasantly, that you will not need your watch.” And
so he concluded by helping himself to a huge silver
watch which dangled by a brass chain from Popps capacious
fob.
A hurried whisper from Lackland, however, who represented
to him how utterly they would be compromised
by such conduct, caused him to relinquish it.
`On second thoughts, however, it may be of use to
you, and it seems valuable,” said he, returning it with
a sigh, to the owner's pocket; “I had wished to retain
some memorial of our delightful acquaintance; but on
the whole, it is unnecessary. But it is past one,—time
presses,—once more, good night, my dear, dear friends.”
Upon this Ida and Judith were packed into the carriage,—Lackland
and I took took the vacant seats of
Popp and Madame Meerschaum, and the postillions remounted.
gratuity which had been promised him, galloped
off to his virtuous home, while the carriage rattled on
towards Brunswick.
What befel us before we arrived there, will be related
in another chapter.
17. CHAPTER XVII.
THE PLOT DISCOVERED.
“Horses directly—four horses! We have no time for
delay,” said Lackland, as we drove up to the post-house
at Wolfenbüttel.
“Alas, Sir!” said the landlord, “I am afraid you must
be put to a little inconvenience—the horses are all gone
out, and it may be three hours before any arrive.”
“We have nothing for it then,” said I, to Lackland,
“but to go into the house quietly, and wait. I am not
sorry myself, for I had an indifferent dinner, and I see
no reason why you and I, who are not lovers, should not
have our supper and a bottle of Rhenish.”
“None in the world, my dear fellow; but these false
postillions must take care to smuggle themselves into the
room, and change their dresses. It would seem a little
extraordinary to the landlord if the gentlemen and ladies
were found supping with the postillions who brought
them.”
An idle pair of boys was discovered, who engaged for
a gratuity to take our horses back to the last post-town
and having exchanged their postillion's dress for their
usual habiliments, which they had brought with them,
joined the rest of us in a private parlour of the inn. Lackhand
engaged the very first set of horses that should come
in, and in the mean time ordered supper.
“How delightful it is!” said Ida. What a romantic
adventure! I never enjoyed myself more. I think I
should like to be run away with every day. How funny
Madame Meerschaum looked, tied to old Popp. What
would papa say?”
Judith Potiphar looked superbly in her masquerade.
Her dress, which was fanciful, and which would have
created astonishment in any other quarter of the world,
hardly attracted notice here. The habits of the German
students, and particularly their dress, are to this day so
grotesque, that any masking habiliments, however bizarre
or fanciful, would be hardly so likely to be commented
upon, as would an ordinary and common place array.
Judith had been accordingly left at liberty to decorate
herself in the most becoming manner, and aided by a
rich wardrobe and a tolerable taste in costume, she had
succeeded admirably.
“How do I look in this pretty dress?” said she, addressing
her lover.
“Divinely! By the way, dearest Judith, do you know
that in that cap and waistcoat you are so like my great-grandfather,”
answered Trump.
“Oh, what a compliment! those horrid grandfathers
of yours,” said she despondingly.
“My dearest, I mean a beautiful picture by Hans Holbein,
which hangs in the castle at Toggenburg, representing
my great ancestor at the age of seventeen, in a walking-dress.”
“Very well,” said Judith, “but did you see how fierce
I looked when the carriage was attacked? I swore twice
at the robbers. Did you hear me swear? How did I
look swearing?”
“How could I possibly see you, when I was being
knocked down in my character of postillion? But here
comes the landlord and the supper after him, I suppose.”
The supper-table was laid, and when operations commenced,
it was found that the events of the evening had
served to sharpen the appetites of all. Even the ladies
were prevailed upon to eat with more good-will than
might be thought becoming on so interesting an occasion.
When we had half finished our repast, the landlord
came in. He observed that there were a couple of strangers
who had stopped there for the night. All his parlours
were engaged but that one and as we only intended
to stop for fresh horses, he must beg us to allow the
stranger gentlemen to share our room.
We had nothing for it but to be civil, and Trump, who
was very good natured just then, and thought no harm,
desired the landlord to invite the gentlemen in, and help
finish our supper with us.
The landlord accordingly departed with this polite
request, and presently after the door was again opened.
Trump, who was letting off a bottle of Champagne at
the moment, accidentally held the cork in the direction
of the door As our expected guests entered, it flew from
the bottle like a shot, and hit one of the strangers full on
the nose.
“Holy father Abraham!” exclaimed the wounded
party. “What a concussion!—the bridge of my nose is
fractured!”
It was too late to retreat—the whole truth stood revealed,
beholding, in the two strangers, the Jew Potiphar and
Mr. Steinmann, the uncle of Ida Poodleberg, and the very
person she was going to Brunswick to visit.
I shall not attempt to detail the scenes which occurred.
Of course the disguise of Judith was easily discovered by
her crafty father; and Ida could not fail to be at once
recognized by her relation. Of course, the ladies were
each separately seized by their respective legal proprietors,
and the crest-fallen lovers, together with their respectable
coadjutors Lackland and myself returned to Göttingen.
The presence of Potiphar and Steinmann, so inopportunely
at that time and place, was purely accidental.
Steinmann, who was a man of low extraction, and who
had amassed a considerable sum of money on about the
same plan, and with about as few scruples, as Potiphar,
engaged with the Jew in various speculations. I have
already hinted at the contraband nature of some of these
transactions, and of his connections with our worthy ally,
Mr. Skamp. The nature of such mercantile proceedings
necessarily required much secresy, and it was on an expedition
of peculiar urgency and secresy that Potiphar
had clandestinely left his home to meet his partner at
Wolfenbüttel, on the very night of his daughter's elopement.
Although the details of this particular transaction, as
well as of several others, were subsequently revealed to
me, I do not think it worth while to fatigue the reader
with a recital of them. All that is necessary for him to
know at present I have already mentioned. The concurrence
of the two events was one of those annoying
coincidences which are perfectly natural, and therefore
not worthy further detailing upon.
Miss Ida was, of course, taken carefully off to Brunswick,
and the Jew and his “backsliding daughter” returned
to Göttingen.
18. CHAPTER XVIII.
A LANDESVATER.
After this adventure, which, as may be supposed, it
was for the interest of all parties concerned to keep sedulously
secret, the course of life of my companions and
myself became utterly reckless. A partial restraint had
been put upon the conduct of Trump and Pappenheim
by their intended pians, and they had mingled more
freely in the society of the place than they would have
otherwise found consistent with their inclinations. As
for me, I had become sick of literary balls and aesthetic
tea-parties. The unhappy circumstances which had
created such a change in my career, and such a revolution
in my character, again recurred to my memory. I
was subject, as it were, to intermittent fits of insanity,
and I flew to scenes of the maddest excitement, the
wildest and most unbounded revelry, for distraction and
relief.
It was the sole end and aim of my existence at this
period, to drag myself out of myself—to escape from my
own consciousness; to annihilate, as it were, my identity.
My memory was a charnel-house,—and was it
strange that I should flee from it, and seek relief abroad?
revelled, and interested myself forcibly in the affairs of
others, and seemed a gay and indifferent man. But
there were moments when my heart would be alone;
no matter how many forms and faces surrounded me;
and it was then that I was indeed a wretch. There
were moments when memory would seize her torch, and
light up the inmost recesses of my soul, till, in its deadly
glare, those misfortunes which had begun to yield to the
influence of time, again presented themselves to my eyes,
in all their original hideousness, and I fled shrieking
from myself.
It is only for this, that I can force myself to palliate
any part of my conduct; and, although I do not mean
to dwell much upon the details of the lawless and abandoned
career to which a few companions and myself devoted
ourselves at this time, yet it is necessary for the
elucidation of the great moral which it is the purpose of
this work to convey, that I should at least offer this
passing comment upon an eventful, but most wasted portion
of my life.
I have already said enough for my purpose; and the
few scenes with which I shall conclude this book, I have
preserved, partly because they contain adventures peculiar
to the country in which I then was, (some of which
it was, perhaps, never the lot of any of my countrymen
to know,) and partly, and principally, because they contain
the sequel of those episodes in which I sought to interest
myself, and which I hope may have created some
corresponding sympathy in my readers.
The Pommeranian club were to hold their semi-annual
“commerz” This ancient and hereditary festival
is peculiar to the German university. It is simply a procession
only more whimsical than most processions, and the debauch
more furious and more protracted than most debauches.
At half-past five o'clock in the afternoon of a lovely
day in October, the Pommeranians, to the number of
one hundred and fifty together with their invited guests,
assembled in the court-yard of a house in the Weender-Strasse.
A band of music was playing martial and
spirit-stirring airs from the balcony, and a silk flag, with
the heraldic devices of the society splendidly emblazoned
upon it, was waving in the midst of the throng. Each
member wore a coat without collar or buttons, and loose
trowsers thrust for the nonce into horseman's boots.
Each wore a loose bag-cap of green and gold, (the colours
of the club) and a broad scarf, embroidered of the
same colours, which passed across the right shoulder,
and was knotted at the left side to the basket-hilt of the
duelling-sword. Each wore long hair, hanging in elflocks
about the face and ears, and each wore all the
moustachios and beard that Heaven had blessed him
withal. Lastly, each member was provided with a powerful-looking
horse, arrayed in trappings corresponding
with those of the riders, and each stood with one foot in
the stirrup, waiting the signal to start.
Presently the trumpet blew a stirring blast, and each
Pommeranian sprang to his seat—another, and the
whole company formed themselves into two lines, leaving
a space between—a third, and a knight in complete
armour, with his lance in rest, and the green-and-gold
pennon waiving from its point, suddenly appeared, galloped
through the alley formed by the double lines, and
took his station at the head of the assembly. This was
of music, arrayed in military uniform of green and gold,
marching in cadence to slow and solemn measures. Next
came two buffoons, in chequered clothes, with fools-caps
on their heads, and bells on their heels. They danced
along the lines, mouthing and grimacing, and uttering
gibes and jests on the spectators. Next came a standard
bearer, with a herald's coat, and bearing a splendid
flag. He was followed by the con-senior of the club, in
a suit of silver armour, followed by two pursuivants on
horseback. After these came the Pommeranians, riding
slowly along, two by two, and followed and surrounded,
when they had passed out from the court-yard, by a rabble
rout of boys, and curs, and beggars.
The procession moved slowly through the principal
streets of the town, and after having displayed their
finery to their hearts' content, proceeded with all due
pomp and regularity to the “German Emperor,” the
inn where they were to sup, and conclude the day's entertainment.
We entered an immense hall, where the tables had
already been laid. The band was stationed in the gallery
immediately above the supper table. Another room
of tolerable dimensions communicated with the hall. I
looked in, and found the floor entirely covered with straw,
as if it was intended for a stable.
“What is the meaning of that room?” I asked, of
Rabenmark, with whom I was associated in the procession,
and next whom I was of course seated at supper.
“That is the `Todtenkammer,' (the chamber of the
dead,)” said he.
“And what is the use of the Todtenkammer?”
“It is a receptacle for the dead, of course,—that is to
company drops from his chair, he is rolled into that
chamber, and left till he recovers.”
“Ah! a very excellent and wholesale way of doing
business. Have the kindness to favour me with a kick,
if you find me in need of it.”
“Certainly; with the greatest pleasure.”
The senior and con-senior took their seats at each end
of the table, and the company attacked an excellent supper
without further ceremony. The eating part of the
business lasted about an hour; the band all the while
inspiring the appetites of the club by a series of enlivening
airs.
As soon as the cloth was cleared, and a few preliminary
glasses had been drunk the peculiar ceremony of
the Landesvater commenced.
This is a ceremony which is peculiar to the German
University, and in which, for the life of me, I never could
discover any meaning or moral.
The president rapped on the table for attention, and
then he and his next neighbour drew their swords and
laid them cross-wise on the table. The con-senior and
his neighbour did the same at the other end of the table.
All were silent. The music played the prelude of a
peculiar and most exquisite air. The faces of all present
became enthusiastic The music was repeated.
All arose. The senior again rapped on the table. The
music ceased. The members resumed their seats. All
was again silent.
“Are you all ready?” asked the senior, solemnly.
“All ready,” repeated the con-senior, with equal solemnity.
The senior nodded solemnly to the leader of the orchestra,—the
the signal. The music again sounded, and a wild
and singular song resounded through the hall.
During the time when the first stanza was being sung
by all the company present, the senior and con-senior of
the club, rose gravely from their seats, and advanced towards
each other till they met in the centre of the hall.
On meeting, they turned about, and hand in hand advanced
to the senior's place. The first stanza was concluded.
The senior stationed himself behind the person
who sat immediately next him, at the end of the table.
The con-senior stationed himself behind the member
who sat opposite the first student. He likewise rose.
The senior and con-senior laid their swords cross-wise
on the heads of the students. The second stanza was
then sung.
While this was singing, the senior and con-senior each
placed his sword in each student's left hand. Obedient
to the precepts of the oracular ballad, each took his cap
from his right hand, placed it on the top of the schläger,
and forced the blade through the cap entirely to the hilt.
All four then remained in the same position while the
third stanza was sung.
During the singing of this strophe, the two students
seized each an enormous goblet of Rhenish already prepared,
rang them against each other, swallowed them at
a draught, and turned them triumphantly on their nails;
the two dignitaries all the while holding the schlägers
over their heads. At the conclusion, the two kissed
each other affectionately, restored the swords with their
caps sticking upon them to the senior and con-senior,
and then resumed their seats. The chorus was then
sung.
As soon as this was finished, and the prelude was
again played by the orchestra, the two presidents then
stationed themselves behind the two next in succession;
and the first, second, and third stanzas with their accompanying
mummery were repeated.
The schlägers passed by loaded with caps, and becoming
heavier at each step in their progress.
When it came to my turn, the sword that was presented
to me, was so encumbered that it was a difficult
matter for me to execute my share in the ceremony.
The blade was stuck over with caps, jammed tightly
together, and reaching from hilt to point. I put as grave
a face as I could on the matter, to avoid having my
throat cut as the penalty,—added my cap to the pile,—
gulped down my wine,—kissed my vis-à-vis, — restored
my schläger to the president, and sat down, after having
got through less clumsily than I expected. During the
time the schlägers were passing down the table, those
not employed in the ceremony, of course found time to
empty a goodly number of bottles, and the chorus was
consequently sung with increased spirit at every step.
As soon as all present had gone through the ordeal,
there was a short interval, and then the second part of
the ceremony commenced. The senior and con-senior
retraced their steps; stationing themselves behind the
last couple who had affixed their caps to the schlägers;
and again placing their swords on their heads, the second
part of the song was then sung in full chorus.
During this, the couple, in obedience to the oracle,
received back their caps and sat down. The song was
then resumed, and the next couple received their property,
and so on, till the conclusion of the whole exhibition.
This was the venerable ceremony of the Landesvater,
which is, I believe, regularly observed, at least once in a
semester, by every club at every German university, and
of which, as I before observed, I was never yet able to
discover the meaning. It is traditional of course; but
whether it is connected with any historical personage or
event, I was never lucky enough to be informed.
After this business was finished, the conversation became
of course general. A thousand uproarious songs
were sung, and incredible quantities of wine were drunk.
Such was the “potency at potting” of the greater number
of those present, that we were far advanced in the
small hours, before any serious defalcation in our numbers
took place. Occasionally a student would quietly
roll out of his chair, and after floundering a few minutes
on the floor, would be kindly kicked by some two or
three of his particular friends into the Todtenkammer,
and left on the straw to sleep off the effects of his debauch.
Towards four or five in the morning, I looked
into that pleasing receptacle, and saw dozens sprawling
about in all possible postures and directions. In one
corner there would be a pile of dead heaped cross-wise
and heterogeneously upon each other. Some lay motionless
as the dead; some struggled and tossed about;
and some snored vehemently in their uneasy slumbers.
The “chamber of the dead” was no unapt designation
for the apartment. A dim lamp, which was suspended
to the wall on one side, cast a feeble and ghastly
light upon the carcasses. The disgusting and sepulchral
appearance of the whole spectacle, reminded me forcibly
of what I had once seen on looking into a public vault
of the Campo Santa at Naples, where the dead bodies
are cast in from above, carelessly and promiscuously,
the eyes, is entirely dispensed with. Occasionally
I saw a prostrate form,—after struggling a few moments
with his lethargy,—at last succeed in throwing it off,
and arise from the heap of corpses, pale as a ghost,
with disordered dress, matted hair, ghastly eyes, livid
lips, and resembling rather a goul than a human body.
As soon as his resurrection was complete, he would hurry
to the scene of action, drain rapidly a half-dozen goblets
to signalize his recovery, and join again in the frantic
revelry under which he had once succumbed.
With the break of day there were still many who had
held out. Some indeed, were sleeping on their elbows,
and some were reclining in their chairs, full of wine and
fatigue. But the numbers at the table were still more
than half. As may be supposed, the freshest of the
party were the resurrectionists, or those who had last
emerged from the Todtenkammer; but all were horribly
drunk.
The waiters appeared,—the shutters were opened,—
the room aired; and those who were able, took advantage
of the interval, to make a hurried and drunken sort
of toilet.
Breakfast was then brought, consisting, of course, of
the most stimulating dishes, such as oysters, caviare and
herring salad; while plenty of claret and Burgundy was
added to the supply of Rhenish. The morning was
passed in drinking, although, of course, with diminished
vigour, and in playing Landsknecht. The doors were,
however, locked by universal acclamation, and no one
allowed to leave the room. Dinner was served at four.
The band of music again resumed their places, and after
dinner the ceremony of the Landesvater was repeated.
had been no intermission, but only a slight and temporary
diminution of the debauch since its commencement.
In Germany, the best and only remedy for having
been drunk over-night, seems to be to get drunk the
next morning. This is precept and practice at the universities,
and on this occasion it was certainly carried
out to the full.
On the termination of the Landesvater, the drinking
was desperately resumed. Bocales, holding a bottle,
were passed frequently round the hall, and each member
obliged to drink them at a draught. Again the hall
resounded with uproar and with song. Again the terrible
drunkenness reached its height, and the fiend of debauch
rose triumphant from his slight prostration. One
after another again dropped from their places, and were
kicked into the sepulchre; and one after another of the
revived supplied the places of the last departed.
The second morning appeared,—the second night had
been passed like the first,—and at the third dinner, almost
all the original revellers, haggard, and ghastly, and
drunk, resumed their original seats. The Landesvater
was repeated for the third and last time. Bocales, larger
than ever, went the rounds, and all seemed to make a
furious effort to terminate the carousal in a manner
worthy of its commencement. The quantity of wine
that was drunk was truly frightful. If I should mention
the quantities of bottles that I knew were emptied, my
statistics would be discredited. At half-past twelve
o'clock on the third night, there were but few remaining
at the table. Among them were fox Rabenmark, Trump
Von Toggenburg Pappenheim, Lackland, and myself.
Besides these, were perhaps twenty others.
“A health to the future plenipotentiary!” cried Rabenmark
to Pappenheim, draining off a large goblet.
It was answered by Pappenheim.
“I wish I had been a soldier instead of a diplomatist,”
said he, when he had finished his goblet.
“I would not be a soldier while there were such scoundrels
in the army as I know,” said Klingspohr, a young
man whose brother had been broken in the army owing
to the severity of some representations made by Count
Wallenstein, who was a great enemy to the whole family.
“I think our army a very respectable body — I know
of no scoundrels in it. Name one,” said Rabenmark.
“Count Wallenstein!” said Klingspohr unhesitatingly,
for he knew nothing of Rabenmark's interest in that
family.
“Wallenstein—Wallenstein!” cried the fox, starting
to his feet. “Retract that, Sir—retract—or by the God
of Heaven”—
“Hey-day, hey-day!” interrupted Klingspohr, “what
the devil do you mean, Mr. Von Rabenmark? Retract!
—what? Who instituted you champion of the Commandant?
Retract, indeed! I tell you that you are
grown insolent since your accidental success with Kopp
and Fizzelberg. You need a little wholesome correction.
Retract!—psha! I tell you, Count Wallenstein is a
base, cowardly, detracting, tyrannical scoundrel; and if
he were here I would tell him so myself. Now, make
the best you can of it, Mr. Fox Rabenmark.”
Rabenmark was furious. Although he knew full well
that the Commandant was no friend of his, yet an aspersion
of the fame of his beloved's father was more
than he could bear. Klingspohr was seated nearly opposite
to him. He hardly concluded his sentence, before
his head. He staggered—fell but rose again immediately.
He collected himself, and sat down. German gentlemen
never fight without weapons. An occasional blow like
that given by Rabenmark sometimes happens on great
provocation; but an interchange of fisticuffs is unheard
of.
“This is no common insult, Rabenmark,” he said in
a tone of forced calmness, “and I swear to you that it
shall be avenged in no common manner. But enough
for the present; we shall have time enough to-morrow.”
“And I swear to you, on my word of honour,” said Rabenmark,
“that when we do meet one of us at least shall
be carried from the place.”
I have observed a praiseworthy custom among the
Germans. The word of honour is never given in sport
or on slight occasions. It is rarely used, and hten it is
regarded as a pledge of absolute holiness and solemnity.
I felt certain that before to-morrow night either Klingsphr
or Rabenmark would be a corpse.
This quarrel, with one or two more that had taken
place, had cast a gloom over the assembly. The merriment
gradually subsided, and exhaustion and ennui
succeeded
The third morning shone in upon us at last, and I
think I never saw a more wretched and dissolute-looking
set of youths in all my experience. All were more or
less drunk, and all wearied and exhausted. Those who
at the breaking up of the party were still in the Todtenkammer,
were left to their fate, and the rest staggered
blindly through the streets to their respective dwellings.
Lackland and I had lately taken lodgings together in
the same house, whither we mutually piloted ourselves,
and as soon as we reached home, we hastened to our
beds to recruit our exhausted frames.
19. CHAPTER XIX.
THIRTEEN AT TABLE.
“You must second me,” said Lackland quite cooly,
when we met at breakfast about two o'clock the same
day.
“Have you an affair on your hands?” I asked.
“Yes. I had a quarrel with some blackguard Pommeranian
or other, named Frosch, or Fischer, or some
such name, last night. He was impertinent, and I pulled
his nose very foolishly. But we are all liable to vagaries,
if we will be such children as to get drunk. He has just
sent me a message, and has anticipated my choice of
weapons.”
“Very polite of him.—Well, if Rabenmark's business
comes off the same day, we shall have a gay party.”
It was soon settled that the two duels should be despatched
at once, and a pleasant pic-nic party was arranged
to take place the next day at the ruins of the
Castle Plesse, about five miles from Göttingen.
Schloss Plesse stands on a hill of no great elevation,
and is completely embowered in beautiful woods which
surround it, and extend far along the valley below.
There are two round turrets, and large portions of the
walls of the old baronial castle remaining, and the spot
is one of the most sweetly sequestered and lovely places
I ever saw. Altogether, a more delightful place for our
pleasure party could hardly have been found.
We all breakfasted, according to agreement, at the inn
of a little village at the base of the hill.
Just as we had concluded our repast, for which I confess
I had not much appetite, I happened to count the
number of the assembly, and a look of consternation
was visible on many countenances, on observing that
there was exactly thirteen.
Nowhere in the world is the prejudice against that unlucky
number at table so strong as in Germany. We
had not time, however, for further comments, as we
wished to finish the business before the lateness of the
hour exposed us to interruption.
We reached the place, and chose our ground in a
little open space, just below the mound on which the
castle stands.
We cast lots for priority, and it was decided that Lackland
and Mr. Fischer should open the proceedings, and
Klingspohr and Rabenmark finish the game.
Twelve paces were measured off, and I loaded the
pistols for Lackland, while Fischer's second did the same.
I threw down one of my gloves to mark my principal's
position, and Fischer was placed opposite to him by his
second. Lackland, who was near-sighted, although an
excellent shot, was quietly eyeing Fischer through the
glass that always hung round his neck.
“Poor old Fischer!” said he, “how awkwardly he
holds his pistol. I dare say he never saw one before.
Lucy for me that I am not obliged to try the schägers
with him. I hear he is a great swordsman.—Take care
of yourself, Morton, for that chap manages his weapon
in such an extraordinary manner, that he is as likely to
shoot you, or himself, or his second, as me.”
“Are you a shot, Lackland?” I asked, just before retiring.
“Pretty well,” said he; “but I shall try to let him off
as easily as possible.”
“It was agreed that I should count five, and that
either might fire while I was counting. I began to
count, and I hardly numbered one, before Fischer discharged
his pistol in a great flurry. The ball flew wide
of the mark, and struck among the bushes, at some distance
on the left.
“He is determined not to lose his shot, at all events,”
said Lackland, very cooly adjusting his aim. “He is
right, for I shall not give him another chance.”
He fired as he spoke. The light smoke rolled away,
and Fischer was seen dancing about in the most vivacious
manner. He grimaced with pain, uttered the
most tremendous oaths, and after skipping round for the
space of a minute, like a maniac, concluded by throwing
himself on the ground.
“I succeeded exactly,” said Lackland, who was
standing as calm as a clock, with his glass at his eye.
“I once saw exactly such a case before. He is struck on
the elbow. I was afraid I should not hit so exactly
with those pistols. It is very painful for the moment—
but his arm will only be broken, and he will be well in a
few days.”
The report of the surgeon confirmed what Lackland
said. The wound was very slight, but very painful.
As soon as he had been properly attended to, the other
business came upon the carpet.
Klingspohr and Rabenmark now prepared for action.
They were to fight with sabres, but there was to be no
defensive armour; no caps nor neck-stocks, nor leather
breeches. Each stripped off all clothing but his shirt
and trowsers; each threw his cap upon the ground, and
seized his sabre. The turf where we were standing was
as smooth and level as a carpet, and the space was sufficient
for the purpose.
Pappenheim and Affenstein were the seconds, and
the everlasting Dummberg, who was always sure to be
present on such occasions, was the umpire. There was,
however, but little need of any assistants. There were
but few formalities to be observed, for it was a deadly
quarrel, and to be terminated only by the total discomfiture
of one of the parties.
They advanced with their sabres to the spot, and
threw themselves on guard.
“Join your blades!” said Dummberg.
“Joined they are,” said the seconds.
“Los!”
The seconds retreated, and left them to themselves.
The combatants eyed each other a moment, like bloodhounds,
and then rushed furiously to the encounter.
Each struck, and in the very first outset, each received
desperate wounds. The seconds, however, remained in
their places, for the duel was to continue as long as the
combatants could stand. They paused an instant, eyeing
each other all the while—it was but an instant, and
again they flew upon each other. Rabenmark struck a
succession of furious blows, right and left—tierce and
quart—which Klingspohr found impossible to parry.
He sunk under their violence, wounded, and bleeding
desperately. He recovered himself however, in a few
moments, and fastened upon his enemy for the third and
last time. The conflict was deadly—all science was disregarded—neither
thought of parrying: both aimed rapid
and successful blows at each other, and both were already
covered with blood. At last they closed and struggled
with each other—both were of equal strength—
neither could force the other to the earth. Again they
separated, and again their meeting sabres clashed.
partially parried, but glanced along his shoulder. Before
he could recover his guard, Rabenmark, who was
always quick as a ripost, retorted with his furious “deep
tierce.” He struck him in the side—buried his sword's
point in the wound, and then, with a tremendous exertion
of strength, forced the weapon through his body,
till the hilt struck against his side. Klingspohr glared
wildly at him for an instant, and then fell stone dead.
20. CHAPTER XX.
A MARRIAGE AT THE COFFIN-MAKER'S.
“Where is he?”
“He is concealed, and safe for the present, Countess
Bertha.”
“I must see him.”
“Impossible.”
“If he were in his grave, I would join him even
there. Can any thing keep us apart, then, if he be
living?”
“He is concealed in the house of a desperado—a
smuggler—a robber.”
“Let us hasten thither.”
“At midnight we will go. Can you absent yourself
at such a time?”
“Is there any thing I cannot do when Otto is in
danger?”
“But your father—?”
“— Is severe; but his daughter is also a Wallenstein.”
“I will meet you at your own door at a quarter-past
twelve to-night, and conduct you.”
“I shall not fail.”
A little after midnight accordingly, I conducted
Bertha Wallenstein to her lover. He had fled immediately
after the fatal termination of his duel to the
house of the coffin-maker. Lawless and desperate as
were the manners of the university, a man's life was
still held of some importance. If the slain had moreover,
powerful friends, the slayer endangered his own.
Klingspohr was a noble, and his family influential.
There was, moreover, a family pique between the
Klingspohrs and Rabenmarks, who were all Bohemians.
Rabenmark would soon then be exposed to the
most active persecution which grief and revenge could
dictate. The jackalls of the police were already on the
track, but he was at present under the protection of one
who was most crafty in evading and opposing the laws.
The lovers were left to themselves. I held a conversation
with Skamp. He recommended all parties to
keep themselves out of the way. Presently Rabenmark
desired to speak to me. We went aside together, and
he informed me of a resolution he had made. Bertha
had, by the step which she had now taken, entirely
compromised herself. She could not fail to be discovered.
Her character, which he could not bear that the
breath of detraction should even momentarily assail,
would be defamed. It was probable that the commandant
would never consent to their union. Still he
might be induced to pardon his daughter when it was
accomplished. Rabenmark was in want of friends.
mean time he might be cast into prison. He must flee—
they must separate; but before separation they were determined
that they would be united; so that it should no
longer be in the power of man to hold them asunder
after his immediate danger was averted. In short, they
had agreed to be married that night.
Skamp, to whom all things were possible, was despatched
for a priest. He engaged to bring one to the
spot in half an hour. I went in search of Pappenheim,
whom Rabenmark wished as a witness, in company
with myself. In less than an hour all was ready.
The smuggler's house was a hovel. It was rudely
constructed of stones, and had but one room, with mud
walls and an earthen floor. It was lighted up by a
single candle of the meanest description.
In that house, at an hour and a half past midnight,
in the presence of Pappenheim, myself, and the coffin-maker,
was the high-born Bertha Wallenstein united to
Otto Von Rabenmark.
21. CHAPTER XXI.
THE COUNTER PLOT.
A week or two had passed since the events recorded in
the last chapter. I now found myself established in a
cavern in one of the most savage and secluded forests of
the Hartz. Rabenmark, Pappenheim, Trump Von Toggenburg,
Lackland, and myself, with a score or two of
others, whom we had persuaded to be our companions,
less violated the laws—we were all reckless and dissipated
young men. All were panting for an unrestrained
and lawless existence. It is exactly under such circumstances,
and by such wild spirits, that a band of
outlaws was not unfrequently formed in these regions.
Our pioneer and principal captain was the versatile
Skamp. It was not the first time that he had exercised
the profession to which we now devoted ourselves. As
for Pappenheim and Trump, they had both been reduced
to despair by the frustration of their plans on the
occasion which I have recorded, and by a rather serious
quarrel which their subsequent dissolute conduct had occasioned
between themselves and their mistresses.
Rabenmark had remained a day or two concealed in
the town, at the imminent risk of his life. Although he
had on one or two occasions miraculously escaped discovery,
yet it was impossible for him to hope for such
success any longer. It was necessary to separate for a
time from Bertha. She was left to take the important
step she had so long meditated. She returned to her
father. Rabenmark hovered for a few days in the suburbs
of the town. He heard nothing from her.
At last he reluctantly submitted to the solicitations of
Pappenheim and myself, and together we all retired to
the Hartz mountains. Very soon after this we made
an incursion into a neighbouring village for the necessaries
of life. We had no money to buy, and so we committed
depredations. It was found such capital sport,
that we commenced hostilities on all the villages for miles
round. I have no intention to dilate upon adventures,
which, although true, are of a hackneyed description.
Suffice, that we went from one indiscretion to another.
we proceeded to direct attacks upon passengers on the
road. In a word, we became robbers. It is true, that
we were faithful to the creed of all romantic highwaymen.
We only robbed the rich, that we might give
unto the poor. It was our chief delight to surround a
parcel of peasants and poor devils, and take them off
with many threats to our retreat; after which, we would
present them with the total spoils of some rich hunks
whom we had rifled the day before, and send them
away rejoicing. We most certainly never earned a
groschen by our fatiguing and hazardous profession.
We were only footpads for fun. I will not, however,
vouch for Skamp. He was too much of a man of
business to be contented long as an amateur; but it
was, of course, impossible for us to be rid of him, and he
was allowed to follow his own course.
It was customary for some of us to penetrate, in disguise,
into the very heart of the villages which had been
the scene of our rogueries. It was amusing to join in
the conversation of the peasants, and be entertained by
the exaggerated accounts of our own achievements. On
one occasion, Rabenmark and I had advanced far beyond
the usual limit of such masquerading excursions. We
were so successful, that we resolved, in spite of every
thing, to effect a journey to Göttingen. He hoped to
have an interview with Bertha, and thus to relieve the
anguish of his mind. After a little dissuasion, I found
that his purpose was not to be shaken. I agreed to accompany
him. Lackland was to be associated in the
enterprise.
We reached Göttingen in a few days, without much
difficulty. We were all disguised as peasants. We entered
A long deal table was in the middle of the dirty-looking
public room. A number of persons were seated at it.
Some were drinking schnapps; some were eating an
offensive kind of cheese, much beloved by the lower
classes; some were smoking a filthy sort of tobacco;
some were drinking beer.
We seated ourselves, and ordered portions of the villanous
cheese, beer, and tobacco. We entered into
conversation with the worthies who were assembled
there. I recognised several of the faces. The towncrier
was present. A barber's boy asked him the contents
of a paper he had with him. The crier opened,
and read it in a pompous voice. It was a proclamation
describing the person of the Baron Otto Von Rabenmark,
and offering a thousand rix dollars for his apprehension.
It was signed “Wallenstein.” The fox turned pale for
a moment, but recovering himself suddenly, he began a
colloquy with his next neighbour. It was the postillion
Schnobb. Little by little, Rabenmark led him on to a
description of the Robbery on Baron Poodleberg's carriage.
Schnobb congratulated himself that he had been
indisposed on that occasion, and that another postillion
had been substituted for him.
“By whom do you think the robbery was committed?”
asked Rabenmark.
“Who knows?” said Schnobb. “Perhaps by the
same devil that dwells now up there in the Hartz.”
“What devil?”
“Sacrament! have you not heard of the fiend of the
Hartz? He has appeared in the mountains after an absence
of fifty years. The cottages of the peasants, and
the castles of the nobles, are all pillaged by him.”
“Then the story that a gang of robbers had taken up
their abode in those regions is not true?”
“Donnerwetter,—no! I tell you it is by the Hartz
devil. He has a tail more than seven yards long, and
lives on the top of the Brocken.”
“Truly an interesting personage. Has any one seen
him?”
“Yes; there is a friend of mine who has been making
a pedling expedition to Gosslar; he was met by this
devil. He was, however, a religious man, and held a
crucifix towards him. The devil uttered a yell, and
disappeared into the earth.”
“Who is your friend?”
“There he is; he is just coming into the room. It is
Mr. Skamp, the coffin-maker.”
All three of us gave an involuntary start. Luckily it
was not observed by any of the company. We directed
our eyes to the door, and the coffin-maker stood indeed
before us.
He walked into the room with the utmost coolness.
He had a pack on his back, and a staff in his hand.
He saluted the company, with most of whom he seemed
familiarly acquainted; nodded carelessly to us, and
then very quietly opened his pack, and exposed his wares
to the company.
“Here, Schnobb,” said he, “here is a silver mouthpiece
for your bugle. I bought it for you on purpose;
the price is two gulden. Buy it; the elector will never
give you one for your skill in melody.”
“Here, Gottlob,” he continued, to the red-headed son
of the executioner; “here is a pair of braces to tie up
your breeches, when you get a pair; and here is a silver
buckle which I bought as a present for your father.
paper of pins that your wife told you to buy for her at
the fair, Mr. Farmer.”
With these last words, he tossed a package to Rabenmark,
which his quick eye instantly told him was a
letter.
“The price is six groschen,” said he.
The fox adroitly haggled a moment about the price.
He at last paid him five groschen. Soon afterwards he
slipped out of the room, whispering to us that he would
soon return.
In the meantime, after Skamp had disposed of most
of his merchandise, he entered into conversation with the
postillion.
“Well, brother-in-law!” said he, “you have not
thanked me for my company on a certain evening last
month. But for me on that occasion, you would have
been indubitably eaten up by that Hartz devil. It was
he, I have since discovered, who made the attack on
Poodleberg's carriage. God alone knows what has become
of the unfortunate postillions who drove that carriage!”
said Skamp, piously lifting his hands and eyes
to heaven.
Lackland and I left the room; we made a sign to
Skamp, and in about half an hour he joined us. It was
dusk. We all walked together, and conferred. We
took care, however, to keep in the neighbourhood of the
tavern, that we might meet Rabenmark.
“In the name of wonder, old Skamp,” said Lackland,
“how the devil came you here?”
“Why, your excellency, when I found that three of
my most promising disciples had engaged in so hazardous
an expedition, it behoved me to be watchful, and to
youth and inexperience might hurry them. I instantly
assumed this disguise that I might follow you and protect
you. Oh my dear children! (if your excellencies
will permit me the endearing expression) you have no
conception of the agitation of mind into which I was
thrown. Unmindful of all dangers, I determined to
watch over you as a hen over an infant brood.”
“But are you not afraid of discovery?” I asked.
“Lord bless you! no. Now that I am here, I affect
no disguise; every body here knows, and, I may add,
respects pious Skamp the coffin-maker.”
“Yes; but I have heard people speak disparagingly
of a certain `Crooked Skamp the smuggler,' and `poaching
Skamp,' and a gentleman who bears a variety of
other nick-names. Is he no relation of yours?” I asked.
“Oh your excellency!” said the rogue, with a grin,
“I cannot deny that I have heard of such a person, and
that I take a deep interest in his welfare. But, jesting
apart, I assure you I am in no sort of danger; they
would as soon suspect Count Wallenstein of a share in
a conspiracy as me.”
“Apropos of Count Wallenstein! what has become
of the fox?” said Lackland.
“Happier than any of us, I suspect,” said the smuggler.
“On arriving here, I was happy enough, by the merest
accident, to convey a letter from the Baron Rabenmark
to the Countess Bertha. He entrusted me with it
some days ago, and I promised to use all exertions to
get it to her as soon as possible. I did not think, then,
that I should take it to this town in person. I found
this afternoon a washerwoman who was going to the
gossip of mine. I gave her the letter. It was not a
very sentimental method; but it proved a very efficient
one, as I gave Baron Rabenmark an answer just now.
But enough of this at present. Now give me all your
attention. I have just formed a plan which shall be
both pleasant and profitable. You know, Mr. Lackland,
and I dare say you too, Mr. Morton, that I have been
engaged with the Jew Potiphar in certain mercantile
transactions. These were of a character which the law
unfortunately does not look upon with the same indulgence
that I do. I have always observed that legislators
have very contracted views of life. Suffice, that if these
doings of ours were revealed, and Mein Herr Potiphar
brought to trial, he would suffer a certain imprisonment,
to say nothing of a confiscation of the greater part of his
immense property, which, of course, he would do any
thing to save. I owe old Potiphar a grudge. I am, besides,
particularly incensed against him for his appearance
at Wolfenbüttel so inopportunely. No matter, I
shall yet have my revenge. I shall also have the pleasure
of serving most effectually Count Trump Von Toggenburg,
in whom I take a great interest. There is, in
fact, no one of my protegés in whose welfare I am more
interested than in his. I have no doubt also, that if the
plan, which I am about to mention to you, succeeds, he
will reward me liberally. Count Trump Von Toggenburg
is a generous young nobleman. Now the matter I
have in hand, is this: I have just heard that Potiphar is
to set out the day after to-morrow night, alone, on a journey
to Hamburg. As he wishes to visit a relation in
Gosslar, he must pass directly through the Hartz. His
carriage must pass within a dozen miles of our retreat.
drag him up into our retreat. We will threaten him
with disclosures of his doings, and we will be so minute,
that he shall be frightened, although we will take good
care to keep ourselves disguised. We will thus force
him to sign a paper, giving his consent to Count Von
Trump's marriage with his daughter. The Count shall
receive this paper, and hasten to his sweatheart. After
that, perhaps I may induce the old gentleman to confer
a small gratuity upon me.”
The virtuous coffin-maker concluded. Lackland and
I assured him that we gave him all due credit for his ingenuity,
and would do our best to serve Trump's interest
and his own.
To do this effectually, however, it was necessary to
hasten our departure for our retreat. Rabenmark had
not yet returned. What were we to do? After waiting
as long as was prudent, we at last followed the advice of
Skamp. He represented to us that we could do nothing
for Rabenmark; that our waiting only endangered ourselves,
without assisting him, and that the best thing we
had to do, was to beat a retreat as soon as possible. He
promised for his own part, to wait for Rabenmark, and
to meet us all at the cavern in three days.
We were convinced by his reasoning, shook hands
with him, and departed.
22. CHAPTER XXII.
THE JEW'S DILEMMA.
Three days after this, we were all waiting in the cavern.
Skamp appeared punctually to his appointment.
“Where is Rabenmark?” burst from a dozen mouths.
“The boy is lost!” said the smuggler, despondingly.
“I waited, as agreed upon, for a long time,” continued
he, addressing himself to Lackland and myself,
“and still he did not come. I scoured the town. I went
to the inn and slept; determining not to give him up, if
I lost my life in the attempt. The first news that I
heard in the morning, was, that he had been discovered
and taken. I instantly resolved to repair hither, to engage
a few assistants from our band, and to rescue him
from his bondage.”
Skamp's account was heard with dismay. The heroic
determination with which he concluded, revived, however,
our courage. We swore to dare every thing to
liberate the “Fox.”
In the meantime, a scout came in from an advanced
ambush; he informed us that a carriage was approaching.
We made preparations for an attack. There was no
doubt it was the Jew.
“Alas! alas! that poor Rabenmark is not with us to
enjoy the frolic!” said one of the party.
“Are you sure of that?” cried a joyful voice; and
presently there was a rustling in the thicket, and the fox
sprang through the bushes, and stood before us.
“Welcome! welcome!” shouted a dozen voices.
“But we thought you were in prison,” said Pappenheim.
“So I have been,” was the answer.
“Well—tell us all about it directly.”
“You must know then—” began Rabenmark.
“Stop, my children!” said the phlegmatic Skamp,
“we have now no time for detail. We must act. When
it will be too late,) we shall have plenty of time to hear
the Baron's story. In the meantime, I hope his excellency
will lead on to the attack.”
The information of our spy was correct. It was, indeed,
the Jew's carriage that was now rapidly ascending
the pass. A systematic plan of attack had been laid
down—we now hastened to execute it. A few words
will tell the tale.
The carriage was surrounded—the postillions were
knocked over—some of us blindfolded and gagged them.
Skamp, in the meantime, amused himself with rifling
the carriage. It was very pretty picking, as he afterwards
informed me. There was, however, little time
lost. We dragged the imploring Jew up into the remotest
part of the forest. When we had arrived, we
blindfolded him, and then took off our masks.
The smuggler, who was an adept in all kinds of disguise,
now addressed him in a feigned voice. The Jew
was tied to a tree, and we were all seated in a semi-circle
around him. Skamp addressed him in a series of
questions. As I am in a hurry, I shall not detail them.
Suffice, that the Jew felt that he was in our power. Besides
this, we frightened him to death; and his anxiety
to save his skin, led him to confess more, and to promise
more, than he might otherwise have done. He became
aware, from the interrogations that were put to him, that
his iniquitous transactions had been revealed. He offered
large sums for his release, and engaged to do every
thing if we would not expose his guilt to the government.
Skamp produced his paper. It was a contract of marriage
between Hermann Adolphus Caspar Ulrich Count
Von Trump Von Toggenburg and Miss Judith Potiphar.
signature of the father to make it complete.
The Jew, after a few remonstrances, signed the paper,
on promise that he should be released from his bondage
within twelve hours. The contract was delivered to
Trump, who immediately began to caper for joy.
Skamp next read to him a second document, which
was simply a note of hand, promising to pay the bearer
on demand for value received, the sum of ten thousand
dollars.
“Holy father Abraham!” shrieked the Jew, and nearly
fainted. “I will give you two thousand,” said he, at
last, “on condition that I am guaranteed against all disclosures
of the unhappy matters we have been conversing
about.”
“My dear good friend, Moses Potiphar,” said Skamp,
suddenly assuming his natural voice, “I have been an
attentive listener during this conference. You, probably,
recognize the familiar accents of my tongue, and so I
say no more. You can have little doubt for whose benefit
this note of hand is intended. In recompense, I can
assure you that I, in whose power you will see that you
are, will never divulge a syllable of all your d—d nefarious
transactions—transactions which every virtuously disposed
person, like myself, must always look upon with
abhorrence and disgust. I assure you that your most
iniquitous doings shall be kept secret; but in case you
refuse—”
“Well, what is the alternative, my dear good friend
Skamp?” tremblingly demanded the Jew.
“The alternative is, my dear good friend Moses, that
if you refuse—nay, if you hesitate five minutes, I will
instantly chop you into ten thousand pieces, and make
sausages of your misbegotten carcase!”
The Jew, who knew better than any one, the true and
desperate character of the smuggler, which was concealed
under such a bland and hypocritical demeanour, nearly
fell into convulsions. He eagerly demanded the paper
—signed it with a trembling hand, and delivered it to
Skamp.
The latter promised that he should be liberated, and
sent on his way in safety by the morrow's dawn.
23. CHAPTER XXIII.
THE LOAN OF A SHROUD.
“And now, Fox—tell us all about it.”
We were all seated round a crackling fire of dried
branches. The autumn evenings were chilly in those
elevated regions.
“When I returned from my interview with Bertha,”
began Rabenmark, without any further preface, “I found
that I had, naturally enough, much overstayed the appointed
time. I skulked about in the neighbourhood of
the `Swine,' but could see nothing of Lackland, Morton,
or the coffin-maker. I resolved to set out by myself. It
was about nine o'clock, and a bright moon. I had travelled
about ten miles, when I perceived that I was dogged.
I reached the shadow of a tree, and sprang into a
field. I had been perceived, however, and was immediately
followed by my persecutors. In five minutes I was
attacked by four stout men. At first, I hoped that they
were robbers. I, however, soon recognized in one, an
agent of the police, and presently they all addressed me
course, too much for me. They took me prisoner, bound
me, and carried me back to the nearest village.
“I was confined for the night in an upper room of a
house of large dimensions. As it was dark when I
went up stairs, I could not exactly understand where I
was. They threw me into a room which was unfurnished,
and locked and double-locked the door. They told
me, on departing, that I should be, to-morrow, conducted
to the common jail. They observed, that I must
be grateful for one night's respite. They helped themselves
to all the money I had with me, as an earnest,
they said, of the thousand dollars they were to have for
my apprehension. They then went away.
“I lay for a long time quiet. I was fatigued, and a
little injured from the rough handling I had received.
At last I shook off my torpor and arose. I found that
my hands had been bound behind my back. I made a
violent exertion, and snapped the cord in twain. I
walked round the room: as I said, it was unfurnished,
and of rather large dimensions. There was a door,
communicating, apparently, with another chamber. A
light streamed through the key-hole. I looked in. A
corpse was laid out on a bed; candles were placed
around, and there were two or three attendants present.
There seemed, however, to be no mourners. From the
conversation of the servants, I gathered that it was the
body of a nobleman, who was a stranger in the place.
It seems, that he had died suddenly; that in dying, he
had made a last request to be buried at once, at the dead
of night, in the most secret manner possible, and in a
designated place, about a mile from one of the city
gates. One of the three persons stated that he had received
promised to see his dying wishes fulfilled. The proper
authorities had been notified, and permission of interment
obtained. The others were to assist him in his
undertaking. As it wanted three quarters of an hour
to midnight, they went to another room. They agreed
to meet together exactly at twelve, and in the mean time
went to repose.
“The corpse was left on the bed. The candles were
still burning. I waited a long time. The men went
away talking and laughing. I heard them in the passage.
I listened till I heard their last footfall on the
stairs. All became again as silent as the grave. After
a few minutes a bold idea occurred to me. I hastened
to put it into execution. I knew that no additional
harm could result to me if I should fail. I tried the
door which opened between the two rooms. It was
locked. It was, however, of a slight construction. I
easily kicked out a panel. I crept into the room. I
drew my cloak after me.
“Without a moment's hesitation, I seized upon the
dead man. I dragged him without ceremony from the
bed. I tore off his shroud. I threw around him my
cloak. I placed my large slouched hat upon his head.
I again crept through the door, seized the corpse by the
heels, and pulled him into the room after me. As I was
forcing him through the door, the hat fell off. A ghastly
moonbeam fell full upon his distorted features. The
face assumed an unearthly grin. I felt a little frightened.
I manned myself, however, and completed my
task. I placed the body in a natural sleeping position
in the corner of my room. I folded the cloak closely
about it, and pressed the hat upon its brows. I looked
left him as my representative. In return, I now hastened
to assume his place. I borrowed and put on his grave
clothes—wrapped myself in his shroud, and laid myself
down on his bed of state. I waited patiently, but not
without some tremors, for the issue. At last the door
opened. In spite of my singular and precarious situation,
I had almost fallen into a doze. The noise, of
course, aroused me. The three men entered. They
were vulgar-looking persons. One was smoking a pipe.
They jested at the absurdity of the old fellow for insisting
on so whimsical a burial. They lifted me from the
bed, and placed me hastily in the coffin which they had
brought with them. They had not the least suspicion
of the trick I had been playing. They carried me down
stairs, and placed me in a hearse. Two of them
mounted the driving-seat—one of them ran on before
with a spade.
“I had been careful to retain my dagger with me.
With this I easily forced off the coffin-lid. Watching
my opportunity, I rolled myself out of the coffin, sprang
from behind upon the two men who were driving, uttered
a hideous yell, and jumped upon the ground.
The men had fallen out on each side. The horse had
stopped. When they perceived, by the light of the moon,
that the coffin had been overturned, and directly afterwards
saw the dead body stalking across the road in his
shroud, they were horror-struck. They fell upon their
knees, and began to pray. Of course, they could not
doubt that it was a ghost.
“Without more ado, I hastened to complete my escape.
I tucked up my winding-sheet with one hand, as
scrupulously as an ancient gentlewoman her petticoats
gone I should think five miles, I paused for an instant's
repose. I now threw away my borrowed attire, and
pursued my way more leisurely in my peasant's dress.
After this, I completed my journey hither without interruption.
I esteem myself peculiarly fortunate that I
arrived in time to see the capture of old Potiphar, and
the happiness of my friend Trump.”
“A very pretty and very ingenious escape,” said
Skamp. “I assure you, Herr Baron, that I am proud of
my disciples.”
“I wonder who the old gentleman was whose place
you usurped in so irregular a manner,” said Lackland.
“Did I not mention his name?” said Rabenmark.
I forgot then to tell you what I heard from my friends,
the undertakers. It seems he was a Pommeranian gentleman,
of great wealth, as reported, and a stranger in these
parts. His name was Count Bernard Von Rothenberg.”
“Thousand Donnerwetter!” shouted Pappenheim.
“My old uncle, Rothenberg!”
“Your uncle! your uncle! What uncle?” cried a
dozen voices.
“The very same rich old tyrant of an uncle,” said
Pappenheim, “who has always opposed my union with
Ida on account of her plebeian blood. His estate was
entailed upon me. He could not keep it from me after
his death, so he took devilish good care to make me feel
the want of it during his life. He was a miserly old tyrant.
But no matter. Peace to the dead! Give me joy, my
boys. I am now Count Pappenheim Von Rothenberg,
with twenty thousand dollars a-year.
“Well,” said Trump, “it was as well, after all, my
dear Pappenheim, that our elopements miscarried. We
As for you, I suppose there is no doubt about
old Poodleberg's consent to your union with his daughter
in your present improved circumstances.
“Certainly not—certainly not. I shall marry her to-morrow.
I might probably have done so before now, if
I had chosen to demonstrate the certainty of my inheritance
to the satisfaction of the Professor; but Ida
was romantic, and I was obstinate, and so we determined
to elope instead. No matter, it is all over now, and I bid
you all to my wedding.”
It may easily be believed that the happy termination
of Trump and Pappenheim's amours enlivened the assembly.
We had a plentiful supply of wine, and we
devoted ourselves to merriment. The grey tints of morning
were already visible before any of the party sought
repose.
24. CHAPTER XXIV.
THE MODERN HANNIBAL.
A week had passed. Our band had separated. There
has never been the least suspicion thrown upon any of
us. We were accordingly not liable to detection, after we
had once dissolved our body. I took up my abode for a
short time in Brunswick. While there I received a letter
from Skamp: he informed me that there was no danger
in my returning if I chose. Several of the members of
our late honourable society were in Göttingen; among
They were both shortly to be married on the same day.
They were anxious that I should be present at the ceremony.
The latter part of the letter afflicted me deeply.
To my horror and dismay, I was informed that Rabenmark
had returned, had met his brother-in-law, Count
Leopold Wallenstein, the son of the commandant, and
had slain him in the streets. The rest of the history
was to be related to me by word of mouth.
I hastened to Göttingen. I found the smuggler. I
eagerly demanded news of Rabenmark. He told me
that immediately after the murder he had surrendered
himself to justice, and that he was now in prison. His
trial was to take place on the morrow, and that there was
no doubt he would be condemned to death.
“My poor dear disciple!” said the singular narrator,
wiping a real tear from his cheek: “I took such a pride
in him. He was my favourite of all of you. Alas! that
he should die so prematurely.”
Together we went to visit Rabenmark. We found
him chained in a dungeon. He was grown haggard.
His features were sunken, and his eye like a maniac's.
He informed me, in a few words, of his whole horrible
history. Immediately after his last interview with Bertha,
the commandant discovered their intercourse. A
faithless servant betrayed their secret. The Count even
believed that their intercourse had been criminal, for the
infernal servant had concealed, or was ignorant of the
important fact of their marriage.
Incensed at the dishonour which he believed to have
been cast on his illustrious name, the iron-hearted Wallenstein
summoned his daughter. Unmindful of and
disbelieving her protestations of innocence, her entreaties
house. She refused her food—she became ill. Nothing
softened him. By and by, the same servant who had
betrayed her to her father brought her an exaggerated
history of the capture of her husband. He informed her,
moreover, that the commandant had thrown him in
prison, and had sworn that he should be executed the
next day. The unfortunate Bertha was already, from
the effects of exhaustion and agony of mind, the victim
of a violent fever. She became delirious. In the course
of the night her fever increased to frenzy. In a fit of insanity,
she cast herself from the window, which was in
the topmost story of the house. She was dashed to
pieces.
“I saw her body, Morton,” said the fox, when he had
finished relating, in the calmest manner, this short and
fearful history. “I saw her body, and the next instant I
met her brother. He had ever been my enemy, more
implacable than her father. I slew him on the spot.
Still my vengeance is not quite complete; but the hour
has almost come.”
As he ended, a fearful expression passed across his
features, and then he relapsed into a state of apparent
apathy.
This lasted a few minutes, and presently afterward he
aroused himself, and asked the jailor, who, of course, had
not quitted us, what had become of the coffin-maker?
The smuggler had left the cell for a moment. The jailor
called him and he returned.
“I understand,” said Rabenmark, looking towards the
jailor, “that there is little doubt of my condemnation and
immediate execution.”
The man shrugged his shoulders.
“I suppose,” he continued with a ghastly kind of mirth,
“the authorities will not object to my bespeaking my own
coffin. I wish to be buried as becomes a gentleman,
although I die a felon's death. Skamp, be sure to place
a silver shield upon the lid, and engrave my arms upon
it. Here is my signet; you can copy from that.”
As he spoke, he drew his seal-ring from his finger, and
gave it to the smuggler. Skamp gave him a significant
look.
Soon after this we all retired. As I took leave of him,
Rabenmark threw his arms about my neck, and kissed
me.
“We shall never meet again, except for a moment in
the judgment-hall to-morrow,” said he.
“I shall visit you afterwards,” I interrupted. “I can
obtain permission easily.”
“Well, well—perhaps. Adieu!—Morton, adieu for
ever!”
I left the place. I was suffocated with emotion. I
passed a sleepless night. The next morning I hastened
to the council-chamber. An early hour had been appointed
for the trial.
I entered the room. The commandant and the civil
government of the town were in their places. The judges
wore a gloomy look. The prisoner was seated, out of
respect to his rank, and perhaps in consideration of his
evident bodily illness. The trial was short. No defence
was made. The judge inquired if he could say
nothing in extenuation of his guilt. He obstinately refused
to speak. The senior judge read with due solemnity
the accusation and the conviction. He concluded by
passing sentence of death on the Baron Otto Von Rabenmark.
The execution was appointed for the following day
but one.
The guards went forward to conduct the prisoner
back to his dungeon. He motioned them away. They
retired several paces. Rabenmark arose.
“My Lord Judge,” he began, “you have asked me
what I had to urge in extenuation of my offence. I answered
nothing; for there was nothing I could urge.
There is another question which I could have answered
in a manner more satisfactory. I have much to say in
aggravation of my offence. The catalogue of my crimes
is not complete. There are two more deaths which I
shall have to answer for at another tribunal than yours
—if indeed there be a future judgment, as your priests
inform us.”
The judge made a gesture of surprise. Even the
gloomy Wallenstein, who was next him, and within
arm's length of Rabenmark, became attentive, and a little
agitated. The secretary seized his pen to note down
the new disclosures. Rabenmark resumed.
“I am the last of my race. The last of a house,
which has been illustrated by the achievements of a hundred
heroes, ye have condemned to die a felon's death.
But ye have yet to learn that a Rabenmark will at least
be no common felon. If he be crushed, his fall shall at
least be signalized by no ordinary catastrophe. My
bride—my true and lawful bride, the daughter of this
proud man—is dead; and Leopold Wallenstein is dead;
and Otto Von Rabenmark, as ye think, is in two days
to lay down his head on the executioner's block;—but
there is yet another victim whom you dream not of.”
“Whom mean you?—Speak!” cried the judge with
earnestness.
“The Count of Wallenstein!” shouted Rabenmark,
and as he spoke he suddenly drew a dagger, strode forward
to the commandant, and struck him to the heart.
He fell without a groan. The weapon remained,
buried to the hilt, in the wound. For a moment all present
seemed paralyzed. During the instant's delay, Rabenmark
slipped his signet from his finger, plucked out
the stone, and applied the large hollow ring to his mouth.
All was done with the rapidity of thought.
The judge, recovering himself, shouted to the guard
to secure the murderer.
“You are too late, my lord,” said Rabenmark. “The
executioner is cheated. The felon shall not die a felon's
death. Bertha Wallenstein, thou art revenged!”
As the last words passed his lips, he fell a corpse.
Through the agency of the smuggler, a potent and
subtle poison had been procured, and introduced into the
cavity of the ring. The executioner was baulked.
| Morton's Hope, or, The memoirs of a provincial. | |