No. 44.]

THE COFFIN-MAKERS OF EISENACH.

THEY who have known Eisenach for many years past, must remember a tall wooden pillar, standing near its entrance, on the road from Langensalza, bearing a carved and painted black 'scutcheon, surmounted by a baron's helmet and mantling, and charged with the effigy of a hideous red-haired dwarf, in a very ancient German habit, employed in making a coffin, over which he was looking with malicious joy, holding up a nail, and pointing to a scroll above him, on which was inscribed the words,-"Only seven are wanting!" Below the shield could be traced, by good eyes, the name of Adeliche Stark; though his story, and the date of its events, were entirely obliterated yet, as it was certain that every visitor to Eisenach used particularly to inquire about that strange armorial ensign, old Singpsalm, the Lutheran clerk, used generally to satisfy them by the following story; which is the more curious, as it seems to contain an allusion to smoking, at the least two centuries before it became general in Europe.

:

"In the earlier days of Eisenach," he would say (for every body knows that it is a town which existed even before the time of the great Friedrich Rothbart), "there used to live in it an idle fellow name Adeliche Stark, commonly called, through the principality, der Landstreicher, or the Vagabond, because he was one of those individuals who, though they are continually padding the hoof after employment, always pray heartily that they may never find it. Frosche Stark, the father of this hero, was as industrious a woodman as ever lifted an axe in the Prince's forests-lands; but neither advice, nor example, his mother Trudchen's entreaties, nor his uncle Steibel's stick, could make him any thing else than Adeliche the Vagabond.

"But it is not to be thought that idleness alone was the cause of his not taking to work; no, truly, for he always asserted that it was simply his being too clever. There was not a man in all Thuringia who knew so many wild stories and songs as Adeliche; and the consequence was, that he was so much in request at the Bier-shenckes, that he could at last do little else but wander from one to another, where his time and his legends where recompensed by black beer, straw, and potatoes. It is not wonderful that such a life should at last clothe him in a jerkin of rags, with a pair of netherstocks of the same silk, which procured him the new surname of "the Ragged Story-teller;" whilst his constitution daily undermined, it was usual to say of him, when he was seen seated in his glory on the ale-house bench,-Ah! there's Stark the Landstreicher knocking another nail into his coffin!'

"But so delighted was Master Adeliche with this kind of life, that there was no man more contented, and very few so merry. Having nothing of his own, all that was given him was gain; and whilst he was

NO. XLIV. VOL. IV.

[VOL. 4.

telling his stories, if he could but get some generous traveller to bestow on him a flask of better wine, he not only made them happy, but became so himself in spite of his nakedness. However, to speak Heaven's honest truth, as a biographer should do, this love of a jolly full bottle' was at once the spring and continuance of his ruin, since he ever liked a Kegel-platz, or Bowlingalley, better than a Church; and Wenzel Malzmann, the publican, better than Lorenz Puchertext, the priest. Dame Trudchen had nothing to answer for concerning him, since her advice was equally unceasing and useless; and one of her principal arguments against his intemperance was grounded on the effect which it must have upon the health, and was expressed in the common proverb, 'Adeliche Stark, Adeliche Stark, you're knocking another nail into your coffin !'

"It is said to have been in the beginning of winter, after a long conversation, concluded with this ancient saw, that Adeliche set off to Malzmann's, to decide upon a brewing which was that evening to be tried in full conclave. There were to be Claus Brommell, the charcoal-burner, and Karl Kranesnech, the tall goatherd, and little Velten Schwill, the swine-keeper, and I know not how many others, all good men and true, to pass the night with him; for he had promised to regale them with some of his best stories; and as he could command a truss in the stable, he was not expected back till the morning.

"I never heard whether it were by the strength of the getranke, or the astonishing nature of Adeliche's tales, but it is said that about midnight, his host and his companions were all fast asleep, some on the floor, and some on the bier-bank, remaining immoveable under the roughest means which he used to wake them. A loud voice was now heard without, calling on host, house, ostler, for shelter and provender; and Adeliche, after again stoutly though vainly kicking and shaking his friends, resolving that Wenzel should not lose a customer for the want of a little exertion, took up the lanthorn and opened the door, where he saw a remarkably short and stout man leading an immense black horse, to which he bore somewhat of the proportion of a bear's whelp to an elephant. It was a strange-looking night abroad, for whilst the distant prospect lay beneath a most beautiful moonlight sky, the planet itself was veiled by a dark purple cloud which hung like a curtain half drawn up, immediately in front and over the house, the rays of golden light falling in streams from beneath it. Adeliche at first stared a little at the traveller, but as he spake in a blunt and good-humoured voice, he lighted him first to put up his horse, and then ushered him into the Bier-shencke. How's this, mine host?' said the stranger, looking at the slumbering peasants; 'is your ale so potent, or do ye always slumber thus soundly? I trow that I called lustily at the door, and my horse stamped and snorted loud enough to have waked half Eisenach. 'In good truth,'

answered Adeliche, I know not what ails them all, for it can hardly be the score of ale-cans that we've emptied. We met here to-night to take a draught of a fresh brewing with our host Wenzel,-that's he in the goatskin jerkin lying across yonder the table,-and I'd been telling them some old tales of the Nibelungen; but about midnight, as I guess, they all fell asleep, and though I shook them soundly when I heard you call, there was no moving them any more than a full hogshead!'No' returned the traveller, tossing one off a bench on to the ground, and kicking another out of his way, they won't wake at present, I'll warrant you; for they've been driving another nail in their coffins!'

"Again Adeliche stared at his guest, whom he now observed to be dressed in a more ancient habit than any he had ever yet seen: his face had a singularly ugly ́and sarcastic expression, whilst a profusion of red hair, and immense pointed ears, like a satyr's, did not greatly improve it. But though Adeliche might have some odd thoughts about the traveller, his frank and good-humoured manner soon gave him confidence, which increased when he drew from his pouch some excellent provisions and wine, and invited Adeliche to sit down and partake with him. It proved a noble feast to our story-teller, who endeavoured to requite it by several of his most interesting romances; at the end of which the stranger said, "You tell these tales bravely, though I've heard them before, and methinks you might be better employed; for the song and the bier-kanne do but drive another nail into your coffin! But you speak of the Nibelungen Land, I promise you thre's some strange things there, that few people. wot of.' So I should guess,' replied Adeliche, since nobody knows where it is; for some tell us it's in Norway, and some say it's in Burgundy. Be it where it may,' rejoined the traveller, I came thence not an hour past. But you've played the host mightily well to-night, and I've a liking for you; now take this odd thing I brought from the Nibelungen-Land, and, if you use it rightly, 'twill make you tell a better tale than you ever yet heard of.' The stranger again felt in his pouch, and produced a short bent tube of some kind of yellow metal, having a large bowl and cover at one end, to which he put a lighted match, and then passing the Instrument to Adeliche, continued. There, put the silver bit in your mouth, and suck away as you would do with a reed in a. Rhenish-cask.'

6

The simile was so perfectly adapted to Adeliche's understanding, that he soon became acquainted with the strange-looking tube, which seemed to inspire him with a feeling of delicious intoxication; and for a while he thought himself in Paradise, clothed like a prince, and formed like an angel. Then, as he continued to inhale the fragrance of the burning perfume, he thought that a vast cloud of smoke arose from it, which conveyed him in his own shape and dress, along with his short companion to the side of a mountain, in a wild forest, which echoed with the deafening noise of ten thousand hammers.-Whilst he was looking round him at the perfect solitude of the spot, and wondering where the workmen were concealed, the traveller said to him, Well, how like ye the Nibelungen-Land? this is the Knocking mountain; and yonder,' he continued, pointing up to a terrrific-looking cavity, at a great height, in a very precipitous part of it, yonder is the goat's gateway; climb up it, and you'll see that which

you won't forget for one while.'-'I get up there!' exclaimed Adeliche, why there's not room on the rock for a goat to set one foot! and for climbing to it,-I could as soon mount the steeple of Eisenach outside!'Try man, try!' returned his companion, 'that perfume of mine has made you stronger than you think for :' and so Adeliche set out cautiously and slowly, and at length stood safely before the goat's gateway.

"Upon looking in, he saw a vast cavern lighted by immense lamps of brass, and containing some thousands of persons, shaped and habited like his conductor, all employed in making coffins; some being engaged in cutting them out, and others in joining them, the nailing of which produced a tremendous noise, to which the cavern replied with its countless echoes. When he was able to look more stedfastly, he saw that each coffin was marked with some person's name, and that when they were finished they seemed to be sent away through a passage in the earth. He next observed that some of the names were familiar to him; and he felt a strange sensation of fear, when he read those of Velten Schwill, Karl Kranesnech, and Wenzel Malzmann his host, on coffins that were nearly finished; from which he half began to think that their heavy sleep would never have a wakening. But he also observed that there were other coffins scarcely begun; and on one of these he read the name of Andreas Beyspiel, a hearty old shepherd, renowned throughout Thuringia, for his temperance and piety. His age was not certainly known, but some said he was more than a hundred, yet he looked as youthful as if he were only a quarter of it.

"Whilst Adeliche was making these remarks, one of the most malicious-looking dwarfs in the whole crew, whose work was almost finished, called out to him— Ho! honest friend? wilt buy thee a coffin now? Here is a sound one with thy name upon it,' continued he, slowly showing him the lid, which had, Adeliche Stark,' fairly graven upon it. Dost know, now that I have been these twenty years making this for thee? and I've often heard thy mother say thou wert driving a nail in thy coffin, when thou wert off to the Bier-schenke.' 'And art thou making that black box for me?' said the trembling Adeliche. Aye,' said the dwarf, I shall send it home to you when it's finished, and somehow the owner don't live many hours afterwards. I had a round three hundred nails to drive in it at first: I hammered in one for every night you were carousing with your mates; and now,' added he, holding up a large nail and speaking in a solemn voice, only seven are wanting!' Adeliche heard no more; for whether it were the vapours of the perfume in his head, or the dwarf's terrific words, he knew not, but he fell backwards, and on his recovery he found himself alone in the forest, as wretched and ragged as ever.

"With the most perfect recollection of all which had passed, he wandered on through the wood till he arrived at an iron-forge belonging to a baron of LowerSaxony; and as he had not a single coin in his pouch, and probably but a short time to live, he offered himself, in a sort of desperate fit, to blow at the furnace. In these old days there were no bellows, and so one of the smiths used to blow through an iron pipe; and whether this occupation gave him more breath, or temperance and labour made him more healthy, he could not tell, but he certainly began to look quite another He now wore a good coarse suit of clothes, and

man.

got together a little money; whilst years passed away and he heard no more of the coffin-makers, though he never forgot them. It was clear to Adeliche, that these dwarfs could not be other than the ancient inhabitants of Germany, who were driven into the woods and mountains, when Attila, king of Huns, overran the country about the year of God 432. They are said to have taken with them all their great riches and wonderful secrets, and to be still living in the Nibelungen-Land; but how true that may be, I can't pretend to say. One thing, however, Adeliche had learned from their mountain-work-shop, and that was the making of wooden bellows, by placing one box over another with a tube at one end, and then shutting them forcibly together. He made these somewhat in the form of coffins, and they raised so furious a blast, that many believed he had a familiar fiend confined in a box to blow for him as long as he lived. However, that was all an idle tale; but Adeliche told his secret only to the baron and his fellows, who kept it so well, that to this day the name of the inventor is doubtful; though it is acknowledged that wooden bellows were first used in the Hartz Forest. Shulter says, that the Bishop of Bamberg devised them; Andreas Rhyher gives the credit to Klaus Schelhorne, a miller of Schmalebuche; and Calvor makes it out that Ludwig Pfannenschmidt, bellows-maker to the Hartz, first brought them out of Thuringia, which seems to trace them to the descendants of Adeliche Stark. When the baron died, he bequeathed the iron-forge to Adeliche in recompense for his invention, by which, and the discovery of a golden wedge in his furnace, doubtless sent him from Nibelungen-Land, he grew so rich, that he bought an estate in his native country, and set up the pillar and escutcheon to record his story. He died perfectly hearty, somewhere about the age of 137 ; having repeated his fortunes to his great-grandchildren, and always closing his narrative with, Idleness and the tankard drive the nails of our coffins, but temperance and labour will build us a palace."

FROM "Tales of an Antiquary."

THE HAREM'S VICTIM.

Upon her ottoman, alone,

Just weeping into rest, I found her Her head and arm along it thrown, Pale as the moonshine playing round her, Closing her bright but languid eye With such serene repenting features, That guilty, as she slumbered, I

Could deem her sleep a sinless creature's. The Moslem has her presence left,

The spell is broke that led him thither, The rose is of its sweets bereft,

Nor heeds he now how soon it wither; A curse upon the tyrant fall

By whom a young heart thus is blighted; A curse upon his perfumed ball

That is for such a victim lighted!

Save the soft sigh her bosom heaves,
No sound is heard within her chamber,
Nor out, except the rustling leaves

That up her lattice lightly clamber,
As it desiring to be uear

The couch whereon her form reposes, To mix their dew-drops with the tear

That streak along her cheek discloses :

The blot is made, no future sun

Can re-illume her shaded feeling; The wound is given, and such an one

No balsam hath the power of healing: There was a time when one could cure, And chase her spirit's darkest brooding; Away, away! she then was pureWhy now are such vain thoughts intruding? The dreams of innocence are o'er; Farewell the visions Hope had painted! She will not see the loved one more,

She must not, with a heart so tainted; She could not, dared not, look on him, Whom once she met with pride and gladness, To let him see her eye grow dim

With tears of shame and lonely sadness!

Poor flower! thought I, as I retraced

Her sullied charms' decaying splendour, The spoiler who their bloom defaced,

In tiger's form had proved more tender; For he must have a fiercer breast,

Who, gazing on such youth and beauty, Could keep not the foul wish represt

To lure them from their peace and duty!

THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMISTRESS,

WOMEN, fortunately perhaps for their happiness and their virtue, have, as compared with men, so few opportunities of acquiring permanent distinction, that it is rare to find a female unconnected with literature or with history, whose name is remembered after her monument is defaced, and the brass on her coffin-lid corroded. Such, however, was the case with Dame Eleanor, the widow of Sir Richard Lacy, whose name, at the end of three centuries, continued to be as freshly and as frequently spoken, as 'familiar' a • household word' in the little village of Aberleigh, as if she had flourished there yesterday. Her memory was embalmed by a deed of charity and of goodness. She had founded and had endowed a girl's school for the instruction' (to use the words of the deed)' of twenty poor children, and the maintenance of one discreet and godly matron;' and the school still continued to be called after its foundress, and the very spot on which the school-house stood, to be known by the name of Lady Lacy's Green.

It was a spot worthy of its destination-a spot of remarkable cheerfulness and beauty. The green was small, of irregular shape, and situate at a confluence of shady lanes. Half the roads and paths of the parish met there, probably for the convenience of crossing, in that place, by a stone bridge of one arch covered with ivy, the winding rivulet which intersected the whole village, and which sweeping in a narrow channel round the school garden, widened into a stream of some consequence, in the richly-wooded meadows beyond. The banks of the brook, as it wound its glittering course over the green, were set, here and there, with clumps of forest trees, chiefly bright green elms, and aspens with their quivering leaves and their pale shining bark; whilst a magnificent beech stood alone near the gate leading to the school, partly overshadowing the little court in which the house was placed. The building itself was a beautiful small structure, in the ornamented style of Elizabeth's day, with pointed roofs and pinnacles, and clustered chimneys, and casement windows; the whole house enwreathed and garlanded by a most luxuriant vine. The