It was long past midnight, that I once happened to be sitting alone in my chamber, expecting my husband’s return from a carousal at a neighbouring Baron’s; and I was endeavouring to prepare myself for the painful scenes, which seldom failed to follow such entertainments. Suddenly Gertrude entered the room with a terrified countenance, and informed me that having seen from her window which overlooked the garden some dark-looking figures, whose appearance was made still more terrific by the contrast of the newly-fallen snow, she had descended to examine what they really were; and that she had found it necessary to admit into my anti-chamber the persons, who had given her so causeless an alarm.
—“Do not be terrified!” said she, “they are only poor afflicted spirits, who hope for relief from your hands.”—
I was too well acquainted with the friendly anxiety of my faithful attendant to spare me pain, and prepare me for unpleasant news by the manner in which she related it, to be deceived by her assurance, that I had nothing to fear. I waited for the appearance of these strangers with a beating heart. What was my surprise at recognizing the excellent Abbot of Cloister-Curwald, the venerable Matthias, and several other of the most respectable monks, whose evident consternation already seemed to implore my assistance, before they yet had time to give their petition words.
—“Oh! dear good lady,” exclaimed the Abbot, “we are undone! the dreaded storm has burst, and we must all be the prey of death, unless you can find means of preserving us! This morning while officiating at the altar, we were seized in the name of our liege-lord, the Count of Carlsheim, and imprisoned in a subterraneous dungeon. Our appeal to the Bishop of Coira was treated with derision; and we collected from some suspicious remarks of our jailor, that our doom would be finally determined, long before our appeal could be made to a superior jurisdiction. Alas! we know but too well, what can be done in convents! The fore-warnings of approaching death presented themselves on all sides; the noise of revelry resounding from the chambers above us increased our anxiety! What had we not to fear from the rage and malignity of these intoxicated monks!—Fortunately, one of my secret friends found means to gain admittance to our dungeon, and explain to us the real and pressing danger of our situation. It seems, that the enemies of order and of virtue are protected by the Count of Carlsheim; he was himself assisting at the dissolute entertainment; and probably at this moment we should no longer have been numbered among the living, had not the friend who brought us this intelligence, secretly assisted us to escape from the convent, and accompanied us in our flight. Now then our life is in your hands; save us, dear lady, either by softening your husband through your entreaties, or by pointing out to us some place of concealment. To you alone could we have recourse; had we sought any other refuge, we must surely have been overtaken before we could have reached it.”—
—“Save you by entreaties?” I exclaimed, while I hastened to unclose a door conducting to my baths; “entreaties to Count Ethelbert? Instant flight is your only chance for safety! Follow me, father! Follow me, and lose not a moment!”—
I hastened onwards, and conducted the trembling monks through a long subterraneous passage, unknown to all in the Castle except myself and the faithful Gertrude. The outlet was in the mountains; and here I quitted the fugitives, convinced that they would easily find their way through the intricate passes, with which the Prior Matthias was perfectly well acquainted, having frequently traversed them in his botanical pursuits.
Half of the night was consumed in this employment. On my return, I found the furious Ethelbert waiting for me in my apartment, and immediately a tremendous storm of rage burst over my devoted head. Convinced that my friends were now in safety, I attempted not to conceal my share in the transaction; and when he loaded me with insults, I replied to him by reminding him of the promise which he had formerly given me, to protect the opprest Abbot in the preservation of his rights, a promise which he had so shamefully broken. Truth and justice were on my side, but power was on that of my adversary. There was no one to hear me, and judge between Count Ethelbert and myself; he was the strongest; the reward of my remonstrances was the most unworthy treatment, and my chamber became my prison.
The vassals, who loved me, exclaimed against such an act of violence, as soon as they understood by means of Gertrude, how cruelly I was treated; but Ethelbert’s art soon succeeded in giving another colour to the transaction. He justified his severity by accusing me of a shameful intrigue with the banished Abbot of Cloister-Curwald. His assertions were so positive, that they soon produced the desired effect; and it was without any violent agitation, that the peasants a few days after saw me conducted away under a strong guard, no one knew whither; nothing gave me more pain in this abrupt departure than being deprived of the only comfort which was still left me, the society of my faithful Gertrude, and of my young friend, the Damsel of Mayenfield.
One man alone, one of the most distinguished inhabitants of that quarter, a man who breathed the true spirit of Helvetic courage, and of love of freedom, Henric Melthal alone dared openly to blame the proceedings of my tyrant. He spread his own noble sentiments around him, and communicated his feelings to his companions with a success, which might have rescued me from my bondage, had not Count Ethelbert resolved to withdraw me from public attention without a moment’s delay.
On the other side of the mountain of Halsberg, near the lake of Thun, stands an old Castle belonging to the family of Ravenstein, a family which has been in alliance with the Counts of Carlsheim and Sargans since time immemorial. At the period of which I am now treating, it was entirely deserted. The owner resided in a remote part of Italy, where he had lived on terms of intimacy with Ethelbert; and having himself no occasion for this mouldering castle, he consigned the use of it to his friend the Count of Carlsheim; the use to which the Count applied it, was the only one for which it now appeared to be adapted, the confinement of the innocent.