Three days passed tranquilly enough with Ludolph, while patiently awaiting the re-appearance of his friend the gnome, but the fourth was beginning to hang very heavy, when the spirit entered the tent in the middle of the night. “I triumph,” said he; “I have unloosed the spell that kept you from the presence of Brunilda. The Dwarf, being mortal born, is subject to mortal necessities, and at this hour he sleeps; rise and throw yourself at the feet of the princess; give me your hand, and close your eyes.” Ludolph obeyed, and the next moment found himself in the apartment of Brunilda. As I, the honest chronicler of the loves of the Westphalian knight and Misnian princess, am no great dealer in sentiment, I shall omit all the particulars of the meeting, and only say how truly happy Brunilda was to receive him, and how grateful she felt towards the obliging gnome, whom she gladly summoned to her presence. To the great relief of Ludolph, who trembled and doubted grievously while making the proposal, she had not the slightest objection, even after she was made acquainted with its virtues, to try on the enchanted girdle, which fitted her graceful form as if it had been purposely made for her: her lover could not help commending the taste of the Yellow Dwarf, and was as much overjoyed at this earnest of success as if he already held the demon’s beard in his hand. The gnome then gave Brunilda the fatal scissors, and telling them that the spirits of their enemy could not perceive them, from the powerful spells by which they were surrounded, desired them to follow his footsteps fearlessly to the inner caverns, where slept the demon, and whom sleep would probably render defenceless. Stretching out their necks and stepping on tiptoe, the lovers followed the gnome to the private apartment of the Dwarf, whom Brunilda anxiously hoped to serve in quality of barber extraordinary. With beating hearts they beheld their guide throw open the door of his chamber, and desire the princess to advance, at the same time approaching the couch of the demon, and drawing back his curtain. Brunilda obeyed; mustering all her courage, and collecting a little army of disagreeable remembrances to her aid, she found herself so strengthened that, like Judith, she resolved to finish the business with a single snip. But the Holofernes of Germany had had more wit than his drunken predecessor, and had taken much better care of his shaggy head; for the Judith of Misnia looked in vain for the yellow beard that was to fall beneath the fatal scissors. That that had disappeared was not wonderful, since the face to which it formed such a remarkable appendage had entirely vanished from the body. There lay the carcase of the Dwarf, sleeping, it might be, but his head was dozing in some other place, for the body was very quietly reposing without it. Poor Brunilda shed tears of vexation, and the gnome looked silly enough to find himself thus completely outwitted; but knowing that he could find no remedy for the disappointment by standing gaping at the demon’s trunk, he drew the lovers from the chamber, conducted Ludolph back to his tent, and again had recourse to his spells, which told him that the Dwarf, fearful of surprise while disarmed by sleep, took off his head every night, and concealed it in some place of safety, but where he could not discover. This was a vexatious incident; but “ruse contre ruse,” thought the gnome, and to work he went with a fresh resolution to outspell the yellow conjuror and liberate the lovers. In the mean time the demon awoke from his invigorating slumber, and hastened to replace his ugly head upon his shoulders, and then, head and tail once more united, sat down to consider the possibility of recapturing the knight of Tecklenburgh, in whose hands, notwithstanding the success of his spells, he did not like to leave the magic scissors. Brunilda, it is true, was safe enough; but the Dwarf knew (though Ludolph could not discover them) that there were more virgins than one in the Misnian court; and that the count wanted neither eloquence to persuade such to assist him, nor resolution to attack his enemy, when that difficulty should be conquered. In the midst of these cogitations he was aroused by a summons from the princess, who had not permitted him to approach her since the day after Ludolph’s departure: the little coxcomb was enchanted by the message, and hastened to arrange his looks in the most becoming manner possible, ere he presented himself before the eyes of his lovely captive. Brunilda was in tears when he entered her apartment, and no sooner did she behold him than she poured upon him such a torrent of reproach and abuse, that the Dwarf, though in general tolerably well skilled in the use of that cutting weapon the tongue, stood utterly confounded, and knew not what to reply. She accused him vehemently of the murder of her lover, her dear Ludolph, which secret, she said, had been revealed to her in a dream by her patron saint that very night, and she had therefore sent for him to accuse him to his guilty face. The Dwarf listened in surprise; but this time, far from retorting with his usual bitterness upon Brunilda, he was hugging himself in the notion that the patron saint might have told the truth, and that Ludolph, whom all his arts had failed to discover, might really be no longer an inhabitant of the earth, in which case he flattered himself he might possibly succeed him in the affections of the fair Brunilda, whose hand he coveted no less than her brother’s lands, of which he resolved to dispossess him whenever he should become the husband of his sister. Full of these agreeable hopes and ideas, he soothed the weeping princess as well as the ruggedness of his nature would permit, and assured her, that though her lover was dead, (a circumstance of which he averred he was well aware, though compassion had hitherto prevented his informing her,) yet he had no hand in his death, and would endeavour by every mark of tenderness and attention to reconcile her to this inevitable loss. Brunilda suffered herself to be comforted, and even allowed his yellow lips to press her fair hand, which so delighted the lover, that he released her from her severe confinement, and permitted her to roam at large through the caverns, and occupy her former apartment, where he continued to visit her daily, and daily quitted her with the flattering hope that he had at length discovered the mode of making himself agreeable. Brunilda encouraged this delightful dream by her changed method of conduct; she ceased, after the first two interviews, entirely to reproach the Dwarf, and permitted his attentions without any ill humour. From permitting his devotions, she gradually appeared to desire them, and even frequently condescended to rally him upon the oddity of his dress, and the old-fashioned cut of his hood: he immediately adopted another to gratify her taste, and was exceedingly vain of the notice she took of him. She admired his flowing hair, and even his long beard had ceased to be an object of disgust to her: every thing became beautiful by custom, she said; and she now discovered, what her indignation before had prevented her from observing, that the colour of his beard was the same as that of her great grandfather the emperor Frederic II., who was universally accounted a very handsome man. The Dwarf smirked, bridled, and was equally delighted with Brunilda and himself, since he now hoped no further opposition on her part would be offered to his proposals: he grew excessively fond of, and very indulgent to the princess, suffering her to command in his caverns, and taking great delight in exhibiting to her the riches of which she was so soon to be the mistress. In all ages, among all nations, flattery has ever been the shortest and the surest road to the human heart; and men, however they may affect to smile at this weakness in the gentler sex, are not, whether giants, middle-sized men, or dwarfs, one whit less subject to this poor human frailty than the ladies themselves, in whom it is so pardonable. If Eve yielded to the compliments of the serpent, Sampson was subdued by the witching coaxing of Dalilah; the sage Solomon drank flattery from the lips of seven hundred wives (Heaven pardon the old monopoliser!) and three hundred concubines; Holofernes lost his head for listening to the seducing tongue of Judith; and the mighty Nebuchadnezzar was not sent to grass for any other reason than swallowing down too plentiful a dose of this bewitching opiate: of all these gentlefolks, Eve was certainly least blameable; for it required diabolical power to turn her from the path of right, but the men sunk their virtue before the lustre of black eyes or the gorgeousness of costly attire. As for profane story—O the tens and the fifties that might be enumerated!—but as this is not our present business, let us leave them to see what effect this pleasant medicine, so gently administered, had upon the mind of the little Dwarf. He was, in truth, the happiest of all yellow men; for, deceived by the tranquillity of his life and the strength of his spells, he believed his enemy had given up the task of conquering him, and left him to wear his beard in quiet. Brunilda still continued amiable, and heard him frequently, without any marks of indignation, express his hope that, when the time of her sorrowful mourning for the count of Tecklenburgh should be over, she would listen with compassion to the sufferings of a truer lover. She neither checked nor encouraged these expectations; and the happy demon determined not to forfeit her affection by any precipitation on his part. All this amiable conduct, however, on the part of Brunilda, was, in fact, but a contrivance of the friendly gnome, who thus hoped to extort by her means the secret of his nightly pillow from himself. According to the plan agreed upon by the allies, the gnome, at this period of his enemy’s courtship, began again to disturb and puzzle him by his enchantments; and he succeeded in discomposing the harmony of his feelings so much, that he was obliged to have recourse to Brunilda, and (secure of her attachment to his person) vent all his complaints and vexations in her compassionating bosom. She was all astonishment at the cruel designs projected against her Dwarf by his ungenerous enemies; she implored him pathetically to take care of his head, (a request with which he graciously promised to comply, more for her sake than his own,) and exhibited such anxiety to know if his precautions were sufficient, that the Dwarf almost betrayed his secret, overcome by the excessive vanity her conduct was so well calculated to inspire. Relaxing from his habitual caution, he was about to inform her of some arrangements of his spells, when Brunilda, overacting the part assigned to her, entreated him, if he valued her happiness, to commit his precious head every night to her keeping, promising to guard it with her utmost tenderness and care. At this imprudent request, all his suspicions returned; he eyed Brunilda askance, and gravely told her that, even were she his bride, he could not grant her desire, as it had always been his opinion that the less wives were trusted with the care of their husbands’ heads the better. He left her surlily: he had himself told her of his headless rest, but he did not expect such a request would follow his information; and Brunilda, alarmed by the consequences of her ill-timed petition, summoned the gnome of the mine to her presence. He chid her precipitation, but gave her a small vial containing a delicious cordial, which should repair the mischief. “You may have observed,” said he, “that the Dwarf neither eats nor drinks of your food: prevail upon him once to sup at your table, and pour a few drops of this cordial into his drink: he must take it willingly, or it will have no effect. In the sleep which follows the enchanted draught, he will be partly in my power, and compelled to answer any question you may propose to him. I need not direct you what to ask; but should he reply according to our wishes, summon me to your side, and the business is done.” The gnome gave her the potion, and vanished; while Brunilda diligently applied herself to remove the suspicions of the Dwarf. In a few days she completely succeeded; and the flattered demon, on hearing her frequently complain of the insipidity of supping alone, requested permission to attend her at table during her supper. This request was readily granted, and the visit constantly repeated by the Dwarf, who at length, at her earnest entreaty, consented to partake of her repast. This was continued till all suspicion was removed from the mind of the Dwarf; and in one of his happiest moods she insisted upon his pledging her in wine: he obeyed, and, with the contents of the bowl, swallowed the magic cordial. With what anxiety did Brunilda count the hours till she deemed the Dwarf had retired to rest; how she trembled as she quitted her chamber for that of her tyrant, whose beard, ere day-break, she hoped, would be the reward of her courage! With a beating heart she entered his apartment, and stepping up to him, demanded in a trembling voice—“Dwarf of the Orange Tree, where hast thou hidden thy head?” The stubborn carcase made no reply to this straight-forward question; and Brunilda shivered from head to foot as she considered the possibility of his not yet being asleep, and both hearing and understanding her question. “Should it be so, I am indeed utterly undone,” said poor Brunilda; “for how shall I ever be able to deceive him again, since he must now be aware of my motives.” Another reflection brought more comfort: she recollected, that as the head only can hear, so the head only can answer questions; and she determined to walk quietly through all the caverns, and repeat the question in each. She had but a short time allowed her for action, as the Dwarf was an early riser, and she lost none in putting her scheme in execution. Away she sallied, quick as anxiety would allow her; unwearied she pursued her task, but ranged through every apartment of the subterranean palace without obtaining an answer. She almost thought the Dwarf had removed his head further off, when, passing through a dismal-looking hole in which were two iron pillars, she paused to repeat the charm—“Dwarf of the Orange Tree, where hast thou hidden thy head?” “Here,” replied a well-known voice; “here, in the pillar on your left hand.” Brunilda started at the sound, but quickly recovered her spirits, and turning to the east, summoned, as agreed upon, her coadjutors to her assistance—“Gnome of this mine, I call thee hither: bring with thee my lover, and the magic scissors of fate.” In the next instant her friends were at her side, and the scissors glittered in her hand. She explained in few words the happy result of her enterprise; the gnome struck the pillar with his mace, the massy substance divided, and the ugly head of her detested jailer rolled at the feet of the delighted Brunilda, who, without any apology, seized it, and began most nimbly to ply the magic scissors. At that moment, the Dwarf, awakened by the near approach of morning, flew to replace his head upon his shoulders, and discovered, with the utmost rage and alarm, the intruders upon his premises. The opened eyes of the head now directed the motions of the body, which rushed forward and bounced upon them so suddenly, that Brunilda shrieked and dropped the head, only retaining a grasp of the beard. The Dwarf as nimbly caught it, and endeavoured to wrest it from her; but the princess, invigorated by despair and the exclamations of her friends, kept fast hold of it, and struggled stoutly with the demon. The gnome lent her his assistance, in holding the head for her scissors, while Ludolph kept shoving, thrusting, and hacking with his sword at the invulnerable demon, in the hope of obliging him to loosen his grasp of his head. The struggle continued some minutes, the Dwarf pulling, Ludolph shoving, and Brunilda, utterly regardless of the scratches he was liberally bestowing upon her lover, cutting away at the yellow beard with all her might and main. At length she observed, that the longer she cut, the weaker grew the resistance of the demon, and this gave new force to her delicate fingers; she snipped on till the last hair was separated from the chin, and the yellow head and deformed body both fell senseless together upon the ground. Brunilda was quietly looking upon her fallen enemy, when the magic instrument of her success suddenly sprung from her hand, and she beheld the scissors of fate gliding away rapidly through the air, as if borne off by an invisible spirit. The friendly gnome then conducted the lovers to the margrave’s court, (after demanding from Brunilda the magic belt, which he said would be too dangerous a weapon in the hand of a lady,) and a few weeks after the battle of Luckow, in which the margrave was successful, they were united, to the great joy of all parties, but more particularly of those who expected to be invited to the wedding dinner. But that dinner! O that dinner! why what a glory of gastronomy were the dishes! There was the porpoise stewed in his own oil; beeves roasted whole; and proudly pre-eminent, even among them, the noble wild boar, the standard dish of Germany, showed his grinning tusks, now no longer formidable; roasted cranes, standing upon their long legs, seemed just stepping out of their platters, making a “pretty drollery;” there was the knightly peacock, the bird of chivalry, dressed out in his brilliant feathers; the stately swan, sailing about in his golden dish; while herons, turkeys, geese, and such small fry, graced the magnificent board in quality of side dishes. In short, as the newspapers said, “there were all the delicacies of the season,” which the nobles washed down with floods of Rhenish, until they did not know what they were swallowing. The day was happier than it was long, for all thought its felicity was too short-lived, except Ludolph and his princess, who had many still brighter; as long years of happiness was the reward of their few months of suffering. The gnome of the mine returned to his recovered territories, and, as he had now no farther occasion for their services, never since that time interfered in the concerns of mortals. The princess Margaret lived to a good old age, and died at last in the odour of sanctity, eschewing evil, Satan, sin, and the yellow Demon of the Orange Tree.
DER FREISCHÜTZ;
OR,
THE MAGIC BALLS.
From the German of A. Apel.
Black spirits and white,
Blue spirits and grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.
“Listen, dear wife,” said Bertram, the forester of Lindenhayn, to his good and faithful Anne; “listen, I beseech you, one moment. You know I have ever done my utmost to make you happy, and will still continue to do so; but this project is out of the question. I entreat you, do not encourage the girl any farther in the notion; settle the matter decidedly at once, and she will only drop a few silent tears, and then resign herself to my wishes; but by these silly delays nothing rational can be effected.”
“But, dearest husband,” objected the coaxing wife, “may not Catherine be as happy with William the clerk as with Robert the gamekeeper? Indeed you do not know him: he is so clever, so good, so kind—”
“But no marksman,” interrupted the forester. “The situation which I hold here has been possessed by my family for more than two hundred years, and has always descended down in a straight line from father to son. If, instead of this girl, Anne, you had brought me a boy, all would have been well; he would have had my situation, and the wench, if she had been in existence, might have chosen for her bridegroom him whom she loved best; now the thing is impossible. My son-in-law must also be my successor, and must therefore be a marksman. I shall have, in the first place, some trouble to obtain the trial for him; and in the second, if he should not succeed, truly, I shall have thrown my girl away: so a clever huntsman she shall have. But observe, if you do not like him, I do not exactly insist upon Robert: find another active clever fellow for the girl, I will resign my situation to him, and we shall pass the rest of our lives free from anxiety and happily with our children. But hush!—not another word!—I beseech you let me hear no more of the steward’s clerk.”
Mother Anne was silenced; she would fain have said a few more words in favour of poor William, but the forester, who was too well acquainted with the power of female persuasion, gave her no further opportunity; he took down his gun, whistled his dog, and strode away to the forest. The next moment, the fair curled head of Catherine, her face radiant with smiles, was popped in at the door—“Is all right, dear mother?” said she. “Alas! no, my child; do not rejoice too soon;” replied the sorrowing Anne. “Your father speaks kindly, but he has determined to give you to nobody but a huntsman; and I know he will not change his mind.” Catherine wept, and declared she would sooner die than wed any other than her own William. Her mother wept, fretted, and scolded by turns; till at length it was finally determined to make another grand attack upon the tough heart of old Bertram; and, in the midst of a deliberation respecting the manner in which this was to be effected, the rejected lover entered the apartment.
When William had heard the cause of the forester’s objection,—“Is that all, my Catherine,” said he, pressing the weeping girl to his bosom; “then keep up your spirits, dearest, for I will myself become a forester. I am not unacquainted with woodcraft, for I was, when a boy, placed under the care of my uncle, the chief forester Finsterbuch, in order to learn it, and only at the earnest request of my uncle the steward, I exchanged the shooting-pouch for the writing-desk. Of what use,” continued the lover, “would his situation and fine house be to me, if I cannot carry my Catherine there as the mistress of it? If you are not more ambitious than your mother, dearest, and William the gamekeeper will be as dear to you as William the steward, I will become a woodsman directly; for the merry life of a forester is more delightful to me than the constrained habits of the town.”
“O dear, dear William,” said Catherine,—all the dark clouds of sorrow sweeping rapidly over her countenance, and leaving only a few drops of glittering sunny rain, sparkling in her sweet blue eyes,—“O beloved William! if you will indeed do this, all may yet be well: hasten to the forest, seek my father, and speak to him ere he have time to pass his word to Robert.” “Away,” replied William, “to the forest; I will seek him out, and offer my services as gamekeeper: fear nothing, Catherine; give me a gun, and now for the huntsman’s salute.”