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prehend; how did this all appear to Him, who at one and the same moment beheld the affluent mother encircled by the warm embrace of affection, and the one here crouching homeless upon the snow-covered steps?—I could not solve it; and at length was obliged to satisfy myself with the confident belief that profound wisdom forms the basis of this apparent perplexity, which in time will become clear, and that the Divine Spirit who rules all things moves in a mysterious manner.
"On the following morning I found the stranger invigorated, and almost recovered from her late fatigue. I also had recovered somewhat from that compassionate spirit which had overcome me on the preceding night. I visited the stranger in her room. I knew before the kind of dismal story I should have to hear, interrupted by sobs. I had already been too often cheated and imposed upon not to be sternly on my guard against its repetition. That is the lamentable part of it. Lies and deceit close our hearts, and often make us blind to the truth. And yet it is the principle of every benevolent heart-better shew kindness to ten undeserving objects, than let one single worthy person fall short of the tenderness and the humanity which his sufferings merit. But it is well that we are often less prudent than we wish to be-that the generous heart should run away with the wisdom of
"I found the stranger cheerful, and in a comfortable state of mind. She expressed her gratitude to me in a straightforward, simple manner. She was, according to her story, the daughter of a peasant, who inherited a little property, which, how ever, he had lost through mismanagement; and then, from too frequent change of abode, had sunk into poverty. She had seen better days in the paternal house. But her father and mother were now both dead, and she—her name was Christiana -took service at the postmaster's at , where she lived for three years. Here she became acquainted, to her misfortune, with a man-servant. She wept bitterly as she told this part of her story; but again she dried her tears, and her eyes beamed with an expression of pleasure as she spoke of her bridegroom,* as she always called him. She described him as a genuinely brave-hearted and industrious young fellow, and did not seem to have words enough for his praise. He would at once have married her; but as they were both without property, and had nothing to live upon but the labor of their hands, they could not raise between them the small sum of money which the police requires a young couple to have before it will grant a license of marriage. She spoke of the solitary nights she had spent in weeping, and that her mother could not have rest in her grave, because her daughter had strayed from the path of virtue. She said that her bridegroom was ready to put an end to himself because he had led her to this great error; and then she said, 'Our Lord will punish me for my sin; but I will uncomplainingly bear all, if only this poor little innocent thing may be spared to I will gladly work till the blood comes from my finger ends, and I and my bridegroom in two
or three years will have scraped together enough she sang and joked the whole day through, and had to take us out as emigrants to America.' not caresses enough for the child. They told me "I confess that this story did not affect me many anecdotes of her whenever I called, and we much; I had already heard so many such, partly all laughed at her extravagant spirits. It is amazmade up of truth and partly of lies. But when, ing how inventive passion is, in words either of love after a few days, the bridegroom made his appear- or of abuse. There is nothing too extravagant for ance-a handsome young fellow, with a fearless it. Whenever Christiana seemed to have exhausted expresssion of countenance, though now as much herself in expressions of love for the child, she alcast down as if he were a criminal-and when he, ways found something new, and she would say, with a trembling hand, offered me a small sum of setting her teeth together the while, 'Oh you—you money, and fearful of offending, added that per-golden lentil porridge-you-you-sugary firehaps I would let Christiana have something good tongs!' and such like. I fancy poor Christiana and strengthening, I began to have a somewhat wished to silence the cry of misery in her heart, to better opinion of the two young people. The forget herself; and to some extent she did so. On young man pleased me greatly. He was one of every hand I was met with praise and thanks for those who are not accustomed to express thanks; having procured such an excellent nurse. I refrom whose lips words of humility come with an ceived the thanks of the slave-dealer. effort, because they prefer receiving that only which is their right. I confess a liking for such characters. There is so much of the spirit of mendicity and cringing in the world, that it is very agreeable to meet with that kind of independence which requires favors and kindness with a manner that seems to say, if I ever have it in my power to return these to you, it shall be done with the same good will.
"On the tenth day after her arrival, Christiana gave birth to a fine boy. It would be impossible to describe her joy at the sight of the child. At this moment all sorrow and all sense of discomfort was gone; she was an entirely happy mother. And when she said that the child was as like his father as if cut out of his face, her countenance beamed as if it were overspread with a glory.
Eight days later, the lady of the rich merchant likewise bore a son. I proposed to Christiana to take service there as wet-nurse, as by so doing she would get a good sum of money. She looked at me with an agitated countenance, pressed the baby in her arms, and large tears filled her eyes. It was some time before she could speak, and then she said: 'I cannot say anything about it now; my bridegroom will be here to-day at the christening.' "The child was christened. They wanted me to stand godfather, but I had no time, and, candidly to confess, no great inclination. I might have been godfather to all the world if I had accepted all the invitations that were given me. However, out of respect and gratitude to me, the child bore my name. It was called Anton. The bridegroom wished to take the child with him to a village, where it should be well cared for. I advised this also; but Christiana made it as a condition that, if she took the situation of nurse, her child should remain in her own neighborhood.
"Winter soon wore on into spring; and Christiana was permitted, during the warm hour of noon, to walk on the sunny public promenade. Mr. Freidenberg had ordered for her a handsome new dress; it was made according to the costume of the peasants in the part of the country from which she came. She would have been better pleased to have had such a dress as was commonly worn in the city, so that she might have gone out as if in a foreign disguise; but her employers were better pleased to let the world see that they had a strong nurse from the country, and therefore she was obliged to put on the handsome dress. She carried the child upon a soft and beautiful cushion, over which was spread a rich cover, and held carefully over it a parasol, so that the sunbeams might not incommode it. The young lady-mother watched them go out from her window.
* It must be remembered that Christiana was a German, drink; everything was done for her, and the child and in Germany, when lovers are betrothed, they are spoken-Hermann, it was called-grew from hour to hour. of as bride and bridegroom, even if they are not married for Christiana looked now quite rosy and handsome;
seven years. Translator.
"I met Christiana as she thus walked along the street. She looked bashfully around her, and then told me that she seemed to herself as if she were sold; as if she was someway exchanged-was some strange person, and not herself; for she felt anxious and queer. She said she had to walk up and down the promenade, that they might surprise the child's father as he came home from the Exchange.
"Other nursemaids were taking their walks on the promenade; they were mostly giddy creatures, and gave more attention to the soldiers who were exercising than to the infants in their arms. One of them asked Christiana whether her child had yet said "adieu" to her. At these words a sort of feverish anguish overcame her. She had only once seen her own child since she bad parted with it, and that was on the day when the great christening dinner was given; on which occasion the old woman was permitted to bring the little nurse-child, and received herself plenty to eat and drink. Christiana was by that time almost a stranger to her own child; a strange feeling had overcome ber, and her heart seemed almost as if it were under a mask.
"The child accordingly was placed in the hands of a well-known woman who took in nurse-children; and the same evening I conducted Christiana into the family of Mr. Freidenberg. A shudder seemed to pass through her whole frame as she laid the "The thoughtless words which had been adstranger child to her breast, from which it turned dressed to her produced in her a singular exciteaway crying. The child, however, was soon right, ment; she felt as if driven by an irresistible imand Christiana was located like a princess, in a pulse to seek her child: she ran through damp and room, the warm temperature of which was regu- narrow streets, nor stopped till she reached the lated by the thermometer. Whatever was most house. She found her child alone in the room, crynourishing was provided for her, both for meat and ing bitterly: a half-peeled potato lay on its wretched cradle. It was like a little skeleton, and had a ghastly, yellow look. When she glanced from it to the little Hermann-and this I had from
the old woman who had by this time entered-it house. Onwards she flew, and at length reached was with an expression as of merciless resentment; the house where her child was. Late as it was, the as if her glance said, 'See, there is the robber who door stood open; for the old woman was gone to has deprived thee, my darling, of thy mother, thy gossip with a neighbour. Christiana found her nourishment, thy life! She sank down upon the child quiet in its bed; it no longer cried; it only cradle, and sobbed as if her heart would break, moaned. The full moon, which stood now calm whilst the two children cried in concert. Then she and clear in the heavens, looked down upon the rose, snatched up her child, embraced and kissed mother, who with tearless eyes bent over her child. it, and laid it to her breast; but it refused the The old woman came in with a light; Christiana nourishment. She lifted it up playfully: now she uttered a cry that pierced through bone and marscolded the old woman, but soon again was over-row as she beheld her child: she tore her hair, and "The marriage of the Freidenbergs has remained whelmed by anguish, as she remembered that here then again she was still. She laid the child to her childless; but they have now left the city." she must not stay; and tearing herself from her breast, and, oh, bliss! it opened its eyes, raised its child, she hurried home with the tenderly cared- little hand, as if to the lips of the mother, and for little Hermann in her arms. sucked. She carefully laid it again in its bed, and kissed the little quilt that covered it, and under which it slept-or at least closed its eyes.
It happened that I was out on my rounds, and just passing the house at that time, when, hearing a loud sound of voices, I entered. Christiana rushed towards me, exclaiming joyfully, 'My child lives! my child lives!'
"Arrived at the merchant's house, she was met by a violent outbreak of anger—as violent, at least, as they dared, on account of the nursling, for they feared that it should receive injury through her agitation. Everything during her absence had been in the utmost state of excitement. The father had returned from the exchange, but the child was no where to be found. Christiana would not confess where she had been, but pretended merely that she had lost her way; it was now, therefore, determined, that she was no longer to go out unattended. The little Hermann cried and wrangled through the whole day. Against my own will I betrayed where Christiana had been, and the terrible shock which she had sustained now produced its effect on the child. The indignation was great against her, and they were quite disposed to send her at once from the house; but I interfered for her, and promised to have a watchful eye upon her child-I had had that already; but of what avail was it?
"Christiana was once more calm and cheerful as formerly. The third evening from this time, Mr. and Mrs. Freidenberg spent with their parents. Everything in the house was still. Christiana was singing one of those melancholy songs of the people which are so abundant in our land. In the adjoining room sat one of the house-maids at her work. Suddenly Christiana started up, and opened the window hastily. The housemaid opened the door between the two rooms, and asked her what she was doing, and that she must shut it immediately, as the cold evening air would be injurious to the child.
"I looked in the cradle, but saw that it was at the point of death, and that any minute it might close its eyes for ever. I wished, therefore, to induce Christiana to return home; but she was obstinate, or lost in thought, and seemed scarcely to hear my words. She sang a cradle-song, and rocked the child. I felt its pulse, and while I did so, its beating stopped for ever-she rocked a dead child! I now endeavored to compel Christiana to leave the house, and return home, as I hoped by this means to conceal, for the present, the fact from her. She again tried to lift the child; and now I saw that the dreadful discovery passed through her frame like a death-stroke. She fell, without a sound, over the cradle. When we had restored her to consciousness, she smiled, and said, 'Yes, it has said adieu, my little Anton: but I have suckled it, for all that; yes, yes!'
"Christiana replied by inquiring if she had not heard something; for it seemed to her as if somebody was calling her by name in the street below. The house-maid replied that she heard nothing, and that it was only her own fancy.
"But Christiana could not be calmed by this assurance; she rushed about the room like a wild
beast in a cage. She then stood against the win
dow, and listened; all was still without, and yet
"Christiana," said the surgeon, "was the last wet-nurse I ever engaged. I have lost the half of my wealthy employers by my views on this subject. The true way of remedying this crying sin, however, after all, is to bring up our girls in a more healthy manner, in order that they may be able to become mothers in the true sense of the word. If they would but be content to spend less time at the piano-for before everything else we want a healthy generation! But where it is absolutely necessary to engage a wet-nurse, the parents ought to consider it an indispensable duty to watch over the wellbeing of her child—or, better still, receive her child into their own house. A society which would establish itself purposely to carry out these views would not be adverse to the spirit of the age."
Certainly the remedy must be sought for in this way," said the elder of the three. "There are "She then wandered up and down the room, difficulties in the plan," no doubt. But the first nodded her head the while as if she was saluting duty is to show to the world that they are guilty some one. As I had yet several patients to visit, I of murder, and are the means of sin and unspeakable desired her to remain here for a short time, wish-misery. Once prove this, and the remedy will not ing, in her present condition, to conduct her back be far off, let it be what it may. to Freidenberg's myself. She made no objection Who will lend a helping hand. at the time, to this arrangement; but, when I was gone, she persuaded the old woman to accompany her. She walked by her side along the street as THE DUEL: AN ANECDOTE OF THE quiet as a lamb, and just as they reached the house, the carriage drove up to the front door, having brought home the merchant and his wife.
CAMP AT BOULOGNE
"Let me get into the house before them!" said [TRANSLATED FROM THE BOULOGNE ALMANAO FOR
up the little Hermann, asleep as he was; kissed AT
and embraced him, and then sate down with him,
reached her climax, as far as the imperial era was concerned. The great number of ships that were equipped for sea were the means of spreading ease and prosperity amongst all classes of the population. Swarms of vessels, which became famous under the name of corsaires, swept up and down the Channel, and inflicted serious injury upon English commerce. The Boulogne fishermen, a brave and hardy set of fellows, displayed traits of courage worthy of being registered beside those of Jean Bart and other illustrious mariners, and were often rewarded with the Cross of the Legion of Honor, by the hand of the Emperor himself.
"Sleep, my baby, sleep;
Thy father tends his sheep;
and dashed the innocent baby from her arms upon the floor. It moaned but once. It was dead!
"At that frightful moment I entered the room: the child lay dead on the floor; the mother lay in a fainting-fit beside it, and Christiana rushed wildly about the room, singing. I was horror stricken. That same night Christiana was removed to a madhouse. It was what people call a milk fever. After a few weeks of the most violent paroxysms of insanity, she died.
"At that moment the mother opened the door and entered the room. 'How is my child?' asked she.
Such was the narrative of the surgeon.
"It was," continued the younger of the two, "terrible vengeance on an individual for the fault of thousands. It is lamentable, that amid such a disgraceful state of things, we should so miserably fashion our happiness. But a remedy must be found."
"There; behind that block of stone. Follow
longed till late in the evening. Our corsaires then
The spot which was to witness the dénoúment of another of the scenes then so frequent at Boulogne, was admirably selected for the purpose of concealAlmost as soon as the room was empty, an in- ing it from every prying and impertinent eye. A dividual stealthily slipped in. He was a strong patch of ground, sunken between steep cliffs, young fellow, with vigorous limbs and an athletic formed a hollow in the shape of a cradle, which is frame, dressed in a gray great-coat buttoned up to the reason why the place is called the Créche the top, and a police-cap cocked on one side over (manger, or crib). Into this lonely gorge Jean the ear, after the fashion of swaggerers and braw-Pierre conducted his adversary. He lifted up his lers. He gave a greedy glance at the remains of overcoat, and produced a couple of boarding-axes. the banquet, approached the table without ceremony, 'What!" exclaimed the Moonlighter. "Do you poured himself out a bumper, and then threw the take me for an English pinnace?" remains of his glass in the sleeper's face, shouting out to him, “Good health, old chap!"
"These are my arms. A truce to pleasantry. I am rather in a hurry to finish the business, for the 'Etoile' is only waiting for the tide to leave the harbour. Take that, and be upon your guard !" And he tossed one of the boarding-axes at his feet.
One fine and fresh morning, towards the close of the month of March, an immense crowd was stationed on the jetty. Every eye was anxiously watching two ships that appeared in the offing, and seemed to be making for the harbor. The look-out man on duty at the estacade soon signalled a corsaire and her prize. An hour had scarcely elapsed when the "Etoile," commanded by JacquesOudart Fourmentin, one of the boldest seamen belonging to Boulogne, entered the port, and was received with energetic cheers. He was towing behind him a handsome brig, which he had boarded and captured off Shoreham. The corsaire bore upon her rigging honorable marks of the enemy's fire. The English vessel was armed with twentyfour nine-pounders, and was returning from the West Indies with a valuable cargo-270 hogsheads of sugar, 290 bales of cotton, rum, and other colonial produce-a class of property which, from day to day, laid the foundation of the rising fortunes of Boulogne's merchant aristocracy.
The day following that on which a prize was brought in, was always kept as a holiday by the crew, who paraded, with a band of music at their head, the trophies of their victory through the principal streets. In the evening, the conquerors re-assembled to hold a grand gala at one of those houses which enjoyed the privilege of rapidly absorbing the money earned at the risk of life, and which was prodigally spent by handfuls, without the least regard for the future.
The crew of the “Etoile,” faithful to the traditional custom, met at the Petit Tivoli d'Hiver, in the Rue du Calvaire, and which stood upon the spot now actually occupied by the houses that are numbered 15 and 17. It was a guinguette, or suburban public-house, very much in vogue, where private and public balls were given, and which was also made use of for club-meetings. On ball days it was thronged by crowds of dancers, who poured, like living avalanches, both from the camp of the right and the camp of the left, and whose numbers were increased by a fair proportion of men belonging to the flotilla.
The principal building fronted the court-yard, and consisted of two rooms-an estaminet, or smoking and drinking-room, on the ground floor, and a large room on the first floor. This estaminet was very much frequented, especially by the maritime class. Its customers, when seafaring matters did not call them away, were fishermen, sailors, and privateersmen, who came thither to indulge in a chat about nets, navigation, and fighting. The master of this establishment, Baptiste Woisselin by name, had contrived to gain the confidence of his clients, to whom he behaved with the utmost complaisance, and was occasionally very liberal in the credit which he gave them. It must be confessed that this credit was founded on the pledge of some prize that had been taken, or was to be taken, from the English.
The crew, then, of the "Etoile" were celebrating their good fortune in the large room at the Petit Tivoli d'Hiver, which displayed on this occasion the usual character of such meetings as these. Strong excitement, not difficult to comprehend, reigned throughout the whole course of the feast. Wine flowed in all directions, like water, in honor of many a patriotic toast. The revels were pro
The sailor, roused by this aspersion, started to his feet, and drew himself up in front of the man who had thus insulted him.
"The devil fetch you, Mr. Footsoldier! do you mean by shoving against a sailor? the best you can of that!"
He seized him by the collar, as if he were grappling with an enemy on ship-board, made him spin round, and laid him flat at the foot of the table.
"Cursed sea-wolf!" said the soldier, brushing the sand off his coat; "you shall pay for this. I'll give you a pretty severe drilling, I promise you."
"I hope you will; and I also beg that you will not put it off later than to-morrow morning. If you will be so good as to walk to the Crêche at seven o'clock, we'll have a little quiet chat to gether, without any witnesses."
The other belonged to a class of soldiers who inspired great terror in the outskirts of the camp and the town, and who were designated by the title of Soldats de la lune, or "Moonlighters." A good shot, a perfect master of fence, and a successful duellist, every one was afraid of him; for his challenge was equivalent to a sentence of death. At this epoch duels were very common; there existed an abundance of professional bullies, who seized upon the most trifling pretext to assassinate any victim on whom they chose to set their mark. Exactly at seven o'clock the following morning, Jean Pierre halted in front of the Fort de la Crèche. He laid down upon a lump of rock a parcel which he covered with his overcoat, and walked forwards to meet a soldier whom he perceived emerging from the little valley through which flows the brook of Moulin Hubert.
The sailor appeared to be so determined, that the soldier seized the weapon, and advanced several paces. He had fought so many duels in the course of his life, that he reckoned, not unreasonably, on displaying his customary dexterity, and on getting out of this affair with his usual good fortune.
"That's the sort of game you pretend to play, do you? Just as you like. I accept your invitation, and leave to you the choice of weapons."
Very well; it shall be attended to."
The sailor retired, and went on board his vessel er's skull in twain. for the night,
Jean Pierre (the only name by which he was known), although scarcely twenty years of age, was reckoned one of the bravest of the "Etoile's" crew. Fourmentin had witnessed his intrepidity in several engagements with the English.
"Good morning!" said the new comer. "I call this punctuality,—a thing I insist upon when I am out a-pleasuring. We are going to have a little private amusement," he added, coaxing his moustache in the most insolent way; "but where are the weapons?"
Jean Pierre, firm as a rock, did not stir an inch. With his axe in hand he watched his adversary, who mistook his stillness for hesitation, and rushed upon him. The weapons clashed and the sparks flew. The combatants warded each other's blows with equal rapidity and skill. It was a deadly struggle. The young sailor, completely master of himself, attacked his opponent not more vigorously than coolly, and would not leave the circle he had marked out as his post. The soldier, furious at such a resistance, foamed with rage, bounded round him, made a leap, and struck at his head; Jean Pierre leaned on one side, and cleft the Moonlight
An hour afterwards the corsaire" Etoile" was sailing out of the harbor, to recommence her privateering career.
BY LEITCH RITCHIE, ESQ.
HAD occasion, in May last, to traverse a considerable portion of the Tyrol ; not on foot, however, as such a journey ought to be performed, but in the diligence. Among the finest specimens of the picturesque I saw in the whole country was the Castle of Salurn. Some idea may be formed of the extravagant situation of this ruin, from a vignette in the number of Mr. Brockedon's work on the Alps, which relates to the Pass of the Brenner, but only a very faint one. The very preciseness of painting, in fact, which usually gives it the advantage over poetry in description, renders it, in this case, less faithful to the object. It materializes, as it were, what seems nothing more than an odd and fantastic idea, even when subjected to the scrutiny of the senses. At Salurn all is dim, and shadowy, and visionary. The scenery is supernatural. It associates itself, in spite of our waking faculties, with dreams and nightly terrors, and the recollections of our haunted youth.
Conceive a vast range of mountains overhanging
the valley of the Adige, which seems to have been
I could learn very little of the history of this remarkable object. Salurn, it seems, was a ritterbourg, or knightly castle, of some importance in the middle ages; but the immediate causes of its falling into decay are unknown. Neumaier von Ramzla, an old German traveller, says boldly that it was impregnable till stormed by spirits; when the family immediately took to flight. A later visitor, Professor Schubert of Erlingen, assures us "You surprise me, sir!" in his " Wanderbuchlein," that he himself saw "Why so? I am indeed a sort of antique myself the master of the house, bowing politely, asked us something. For my part, I saw nothing but old but I am not the Wandering Jew." to sit down. This was a very unexpected recepwalls, most romantically situated; and I should "That is just what I was thinking." The stranger tion. We had come prepared to find informality have been very well satisfied to have attributed smiled. "I mean," continued I, "that I should not repelled by rudeness, and, after a little badinage their dilapidation to the change that has taken take you for so elderly a personage. But the truth with the "country girls," to get back to our quarplace in the system of warfare and the habits of is, I imagined from a certain intelligence in your ters sword in hand. We, indeed, looked a little the people, had it not been for one of my fellow-expression as we passed Salurn, that you could tell foolish, and had it not been for the good sense and something about the castle if you would." readiness of one of my comrades-a young Frenchman-we should perhaps have slunk away as suddenly as we had entered. He apologised with great frankness, bewailing the dullness of a garrison life, and imploring the ladies to mediate between us and the prejudices of their countrymen ; and in a very short time we found ourselves as much at home as if we had come by invitation.
"You were right. My story, however, is a modern one, and one that, connected as it is with my family history, and reviving recollections, some of pain, and all of interest, I do not choose to recite in a public company. My visit to Salurn was attended, most unexpectedly to me, with circumstances of public moment: and, as you appear to be actuated by nothing more than literary curiosity, you are welcome to listen to a page of Tyrolese history." I apologized to the old man for my folly (discovering at the moment, as the warm hue of life was spread over his complexion by the effects of the wine, that his eyes were not so very remarkable), and requested him to proceed with his narrative, which I knew I should find, at least so I said, more interesting than all the ghost stories in the world. The following is, as nearly as I can recollect, the substance of what he told me.
There was one of the ladies to whom I more particularly attached myself. She was very young, but possessed a splendour of beauty which constituted her the star of the evening, and entitled her to the exclusive homage of the senior officer. Dorathen herself did not seem displeased with her conquest, but on the contrary paid me every attention that was consistent with delicacy and good breeding; and, indeed, the whole party by degrees began to exhibit unequivocal symtoms of good humour and cordiality, with the exception of one man. This individual, whose name was Rusen, possessed not a line of the German physiognomy, but was evidently a decided Italian, although residing here in the confluence of the blood of the two races. His features were handsome, but his complexion singularly dark, and his eyes of a fierce and sinister expression, which contrasted strongly with the ingenuous blue orbs of Dorathen. The latter was evidently not only his mistress but his affianced bride; and there appeared to exist between them the kind of mysterious confidence which is usually observed among lovers.
This person was a Bavarian, apparently of the military order, and bore the marks of having been handsome in his youth. He was, however, much disfigured by hard service; and, over and above a most ghastly complexion, had a pair of eyes that no one could meet unmoved. What was their particular form or color, I know not; but perhaps Mr. Coleridge can tell-for I am sure they resembled those of the Ancient Mariner. When I inquired the name and history of the Ritterbourg, he gave me a look which I shall never forget. Nay, he seemed to be on the point of speaking; but, glancing suddenly at our companions, he leaned back in his dark corner of the vehicle, where nothing could be seen but the glare of his singular eyes in the gloom.
The invitation was given, and accepted. We no balls, no dinners, no promenades; the inhabitarrived at Botzen on a cold, dark, uncomfortable ants were either less civilised in their recreations night. When entering the room appropriated to than we of Bavaria, or even then their fit of sulleness me, an object I encountered at the door still more had commenced, before they could point out a unhinged my feelings. It was the representation, pretext for discontent. admirably well executed, of a corpse standing erect -naked, ghastly, wounded, and dabbled with blood. From the cross and other peculiarities, I perceived that it was one of those statues of our Saviour which are met with at every turn, both in and out of doors, in this part of the Tyrol. It was the first I had seen, and made my blood run cold with horror. The room was large, carpetless, floored with tile, and without fire. The rain beat against the casements, which rattled in reply. As the wind rushed groaning down the chimney, the flames of the candles wavered, forming windingsheets innumerable on the white tallow. I wished that I had not asked the stranger to supper.
We were, in fact, shunned-sent to Coventry, as the English say; and it is not to be supposed that we received with any affectation of mildness the tacit insult. Some disorders took place not strictly in consonance with civil etiquette. The inhabitants no longer remained silent; and, instead of keeping aloof as heretofore, they closed upon us with somewhat too much familiarity: in short a series of mutual aggressions took place, which kept the town in a perpetual ferment.
One day, in the midst of this anarchy, being somewhat heated with wine after dinner, it was proposed by two or three young officers to present themselves uninvited at an evening party, which we understood was to be given at a house in the neighborhood of the town. In a perfectly sober moment should have thought the frolic too boyish: however, out we sallied, to the number of four, and took the way to the scene of action, laughing boisterously at the idea of a Tyrolese soirée. Sending in our cards, we followed upon the heels of the astonished servant, and speedily found ourselves in a room filled with apparantly genteel company of both sexes.
Several times in the course of the journey to Botzen, where we were to rest for the night, my thoughts recurred involuntarily to Salurn. As we left the magical influence of the place itself, however, I was able to smile at the hold which had been taken of my imagination by the stranger, in connexion with the ruined castle. It is true, thought I, he is an elderly man, but he cannot be six or seven hundred years old; in spite of his remarkable eyes, he is not the Wandering Jew! He is old enough, however, to know something which may be forgotten by other people, and that may be interesting to a dreamer like myself. I will ask him to supper.
"Touching this Castle of Salurn," said I, "and
My regiment was stationed at Trent, from 1806, when the Tyrol was ceded to Bavaria by the treaty of Presburg, till 1809, the commencement of the peasant war. This period, of three years, I number among the most remarkable in my life. The early part of it, however, was spent in the lassitude, both of mind and body, which garrison-troops are so liable to fall into when they find themselves suddenly in a place destitute of the unmeaning nothings which fill up the life of a soldier during peace, under the name of amusement. There were
The conversation stopped; all eyes were turned upon the intruders; and, after a moment's pause,
from which I could view the road both before and behind.
By degrees, as my sudden acquaintance with Dor- "In what then, for heaven's sake?" athen seemed to approach towards familiarity, "In the will of the majority of the nation." Rusen became first uneasy, then indignant, then "In the will of the majority of the nation! In The caution with which I moved was highly cold and distant. His mistress, who treated his the will of an ignorant and ferocious peasantry, necessary; for another step would have brought me frowns with almost contempt, became alarmed at who can neither read nor write, and who are un-into bodily contact with a man who leaned with his desertion, and put in practice a thousand femi-acquainted even with the geographical position of folded arms against a corner of the ruin. I was nine wiles to lure him back to her chair. Was not Bavaria and Austria!" surprised that even the little noise I made did not this like love? And yet I could read something in attract his attention, but this was soon effected by her eyes that told a different tale. There seemed to the same ill-boding voice which I had heard before. be nothing tender in ber uneasiness; and once or "Is it time?" said Rusen, passing-for I was sure twice I detected in her stolen glance an expression of the voice. of fear rather than timidity.
"Salurn!" exclaimed the man, starting as if from slumber.
"Has he passed yet?"
The hour of parting came, and I requested permission to escort Dorathen home, understanding that she resided at some distance on the Botzen road. This was declined on the plea of a similar engagement with Rusen. The latter, however, although within earshot, would not hear. He did not stir from his place; the company had almost all left the house; and Dorathen, at last, with heightening colour, put her arm within mine, and calling her servant, we went out together.
The night was dark, and the way solitary. The servant walked before us with a lantern. Dorathen answered incoherently to my remarks; her thoughts seemed absent and perplexed. At last, suddenly interrupting me-
"Sir," said she, "you are a stranger in this part of the country, and as a Bavarian, the inhabitants imagine that they owe you no good will. For my part, I am at home, and am known both to the townsmen and the peasantry; I am under the protection too, of a trusty servant. Return to your barracks. I entreat you-return speedily, and not too openly and forget that I was ever so weak as to accept of a politeness which may cost you but too much!"
She was agitated. She pressed my arm as she spoke, and her words came low and muffled, as if she dreaded that some one should overhear her. For my part, I was touched and interested. The intoxication of wine had passed away, and I felt that of love rising upon my heart and my brain. I attributed her fears to inexperience, and the natural timidity of a woman; and continued, in spite of her entreaties, to enjoy my happiness.
On reaching her father's house, all was dark. The family had retired to bed, and she tapped lightly on a window. The window opened; and after whispering for a minute with some one within, a coarse cloak and a peasant's hat were handed to her.
"I entreated you to return," said she, "while yet no disguise would have been necessary. You owe it to me now, were it only for the sake of my own peace of mind, to do me the small favour of throw ing this cloak upon your shoulders, and concealing your military cap with this broad-brimmed hat."
"What is it you apprehend!" demanded I, in some surprise. "The Tyrolese and Bavarians are now one nation; we are not in war; the classes capable of forming opinion laugh aloud at their late Austrian constitution; and even the peasants will soon get reconciled to a government which demands nothing more than order and submission to lawful authority."
"There is no lawful authority," said the pretty rebel, either in the sword or the pen-either in battles or treaties."
"I will not argue with you," said Dorathen "on a subject on which we can never agree. I demand of you nothing more than a good night's sleep, and that is what you have no right to deprive me
"Alas, Dorathen," said I, "it would be in vain for me to make such a demand of you! However, I will not now dispute an authority which I hold to be more lawful than even that of the majority of the nation ;" and so saying, I equipped myself in the cumbrous dress she offered.
"Now, tell me," said I, seizing her hand, and bending forward to snatch the salute which I knew the custom of the country authorised on such occasions--“ tell me, Dorathen, are you engaged to that dusky Italian?”
"Yes-no," said Dora then, hastily. I closed her lips with mine, thus accepting the negative.
I began to retrace my steps gaily. She was the most beautiful, and the most interesting piece of womankind I ever had fallen in with; and in a country like this, she seemed nothing less than an angel descended on purpose to reconcile me to life. My thoughts however, were soon dragged down to earth by the difficulties of the road. I had no light to guide my steps, and the night appeared to become darker and darker. Trent, however, was in view, or at least its situation was indicated by some straggling lamps in the distance, and I stumbled on without apprehension. Presently I saw something against the dull sky, which resembled the figure of a man; but as it was without the accompanying sound of steps, I was in doubt. The figure vanished; and I became convinced that it was something endowed with the faculty of voluntary motion-for there was not a breath of air had passed through the gloom. A few minutes after, I was startled by a voice close to my ear.
"Is it time?" said some one passing me from behind. "Ay, time to be in bed," muttered I, catching by the hilt of my sword.
The challenger passed on without rejoinder-and I confess I was glad of it, for the voice was that of Rusen. I was somewhat agitated, as you will allow the best soldier may be at the idea of midnight assassination; and determining that it was no longer safe to keep the main road, I struck with as little noise as possible into a bye-path, determining to make a considerable circuit before venturing upon the highway again.
Whether it was owing, however, to my ignorance of the localities, or to my imagination bewildering itself with speculations on the revengeful jealousy of the Italians, and the dexterity of the Tyrolese at the rifle, I know not; but in a very few minutes I had regained the road. There were some ruins apparently those of a cottage, by the wayside, and before striking out into the valley again, I determined to make use of the cover they afforded, to take an observation. Accordingly, with my drawn sword under my cloak, for I had no pistols, I crept along the walls, and endeavored to find some point
The next day I learned that Rusen was a Veronese of considerable wealth and influence, who had settled in this part of the Tyrol, for the purpose of carrying into effect some extensive manufacturing speculation. He was publicly known to be the accepted lover of Dorathen; although the lady's inclinations were supposed to be biassed more by political considerations than by dreams of matrimonial happiness. She, in fact, as report represented her, was rather an extraordinary character. Although quite a girl when her country was ceded to Bavaria three years before, she had distinguished herself as a member of what was called the Female Patriotic Association; and had continued to throw every impediment in the way of the execution of the laws, which female ingenuity could devise. I could hardly conceive that the Dorathen of this romance and my own was the same being. She had seemed to me to be the very beau ideal of gentleness and grace; and she had commenced her acquaintance with one of the tyrants by saving his life. It is dangerous for a young man, as I was then, to perplex his mind upon such subjects. My thoughts dwelt upon the interesting rebel till she became a part of myself; and at our subsequent interviews, I had the happiness to find, or imagine, that I was by no means an object of indifference to her.
At first she made use of all the little arts of a woman to elicit political information, or to convince me of the iniquity of the government of which I was an agent. But, by degrees, she avoided such subjects; it seemed to me that a feeling of regard for my honor began to mingle with her generous, though mistaken, patriotism. She became silent, melancholy, absent: and, at last, she avoided my company so sedulously, that there was, sometimes, a week between our meetings. The morose Rusen, in the meantime, whom I saw sometimes, had apparently become more reconciled to my rivalship; and he even attempted, although in vain, to force his acquaintance with me into intimacy. This, of course, I attributed to political motives; for, although, at that time, we did not dream of actual insurrection, we were aware of the existence of a party hostile to Bavarian interests.