Many of these ruins on the borders of the Harz mountains remind us of Henry the Fowler, who built them to defend the plains and homes of this part of Germany from the wild and lawless Huns. As Duke of Saxony he is said to have lived here with his Duchess, in this hunting-seat, when he was chosen Kaiser of the holy Roman Empire in 920; several other places, however, claim the honour.
Later the Staufenburg came to the Earls of Katlenburg, who had their seat near; and after the extinction of this house it fell into the hands of the mighty Duke Henry the Lion, of Saxony and Brunswick, before whose sword even the powerful Barbarossa trembled, and remained in the possession of his descendants, several of whom wore the imperial crown.
The Harz forests with their rich stores of game attracted not seldom the hunt-loving princes of Brunswick to their deep shades, and horn and hound and the wild ho ho! hio hi! of the hunter were heard over mountain and vale.
Then came a calmer period for the old Staufenburg, as the retired seat of princely widows, and here lived, in the fourteenth century, the Duchess Elizabeth, widow of William the Younger.
Oblivion at last sits green a couple of centuries in this solitude, till it is chosen as the hiding-place of a sinful love, and wild tales came to be told among the simple mountaineers of a White Lady who haunted the castle.
On the grey stone balcony stood, one summer day in 1537, two persons in close conversation.
The lady, arrayed in white, was of remarkable and striking beauty. A tall form of the most perfect symmetry, brilliant white complexion, cheeks of a delicate rose, very large clear blue eyes, dark brown hair falling in luxuriant natural curls, and a dainty hand and foot, made her the delight of every eye that looked upon her.
The grace of all her movements seemed akin to poetry and music, and the expression of her radiant countenance betokened a noble and amiable mind.
Her companion, Duke Henry the Younger, of Brunswick-Lüneburg-Wolfenbüttel, clasped one of her tiny hands, glittering with diamonds, in his own, stroked her magnificent hair, and gazed into her face with silent rapture.
It was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon, and the coffee table, according to German custom at this hour, stood in the garden below draped in white, a silver coffee service glittered on the table, fragrant mountain strawberries lent a rich bit of colouring, and by one cup lay a spray of white roses.