The Magic Maze. (From Colburn's Monthly Magazine.)
The Germans are said to be a philosophical and sagacious people, with a strong penchant for metaphysics and mysticism. They are certainly a leichtgläubiges Volk, but, notwithstanding, painstaking and persevering in their search after truth. I know not whence it arises—whether from temperament, climate, or association—but it is very evident that a large portion of their studies is recondite and unsatisfactory, and incapable of being turned to any practical or beneficial account. They meditate on things which do not concern them; they attempt to penetrate into mysteries which lie without the pale of human knowledge. It has been ordained, by an inscrutable decree of Providence, that there are things which man shall not know; but they have endeavored to draw aside the vail which He has interposed as a safeguard to those secrets, and have perplexed mankind with a relation of their discoveries and speculations. They have pretended to a knowledge of the invisible world, and have assumed a position scarcely tenable by the weight of argument adduced in its defense. What has puzzled the minds of the most erudite and persevering men, I do not presume to decide. Instances of the re-appearance of persons after their decease, may or may not have occurred; there may, for aught I know, be good grounds for the belief in omens, warnings, wraiths, second-sight, with many other descriptions of supernatural phenomena. I attempt not to dispute the point. The human mind is strongly tinctured with superstition; it is a feeling common to all nations and ages. We find it existing among savages, as well as among people of refinement; we read of it in times of antiquity, as well as in modern and more enlightened periods. This universality betokens the feeling to be instinctive, and is an argument in favor of the phenomena which many accredit, and vouch to have witnessed.
I inherit many of the peculiarities of my countrymen. I, too, have felt that deep and absorbing interest in every thing appertaining to the supernatural. This passion was implanted in my breast at a very early age, by an old woman, who lived with us as nurse. I shall remember her as long as I live, for to her may be attributed a very great portion of my sufferings. She was an excellent story-teller. I do not know whether she invented them herself, but she had always a plentiful supply. My family resided at that time in Berlin, where, indeed, I was born. This old woman, when she took me and my sister to bed of an evening, kept us awake for hours and hours, by relating to us tales which were always interesting, and sometimes very frightful. Our parents were not aware of this, or they never would have suffered her to relate them to us. In the long winter nights, when it grew quite dark at four o'clock, she would draw her chair to the stove, and we would cluster round her, and listen to her marvelous stories. Many a time did my limbs shake, many a time did I turn as pale as death, and cling closely to her from fear, as I sat listening with greedy ear to her narratives. So powerful an effect did they produce, that I dared not remain alone. Even in the broad day-light, and when the sun was brightly shining into every chamber, I was afraid to go upstairs by myself; and so timid did I become, that the least noise instantly alarmed me. That old woman brought misery and desolation into our house; she blasted the fondest hopes, and threw a dark and dismal shadow over the brightest and most cheerful places. Often and often have I wished that she had been sooner removed; but, alas! it was ordered otherwise. She pretended to be very fond of us, and our parents never dreamed of any danger in permitting her to remain under their roof. We were so delighted and captivated with her narratives, that we implicitly obeyed her in every respect; but she laid strong injunctions upon us, that we were not to inform either our father or mother of the nature of them. If we were alarmed at any time, we always attributed it to some other than the true cause; hence the injury she was inflicting upon the family was unperceived. I have sometimes thought that she was actuated by a spirit of revenge, for some supposed injury inflicted upon her, and that she had long contemplated the misfortune into which she eventually plunged my unhappy parents, and which hurried them both to a premature grave.
I will briefly state the cause of the grievous [pg 685] change in our domestic happiness. My sister was a year or two younger than myself, and, at the time of which I speak, about seven years of age. She had always been a gay, romping child, till this old woman was introduced into the family, and then she became grave, timid, and reserved; she lost all that buoyancy of disposition, that joyousness of heart, which were common to her before. Methinks I now see her as she was then—a rosy-cheeked, fair-haired little creature, with soft, blue eyes, that sparkled with animation, a mouth pursed into the pleasantest smile, and a nose and chin exquisitely formed. My sister, as I have already stated, altered much after the old woman had become an inmate of the family. She lost the freshness of her complexion, the bright lustre of her eye, and was often dejected and thoughtful. One night (I shudder even now when I think of it), the wicked old beldame told us, as usual, one of her frightful stories, which had alarmed us exceedingly. It related to our own house, which she declared had at one time been haunted, and that the apparition had been seen by several persons still living. It appeared as a lady, habited in a green silk dress, black velvet bonnet, with black feathers. After she had concluded her narrative, under some pretense or other, she left the room, though we both strenuously implored her to remain; for we were greatly afraid, and trembling in every limb. She, however, did not heed our solicitation, but said she would return in a few minutes. There was a candle upon the table, but it was already in the socket, and fast expiring. Some ten or fifteen minutes elapsed, and the chamber-door was quietly thrown open. My hand shakes, and my flesh seems to creep upon my bones, as I recall that horrid moment of my past existence. The door was opened, and a figure glided into the room. It seemed to move upon the air, for we heard not its footsteps. By the feeble and sickly light of the expiring taper, we closely examined the appearance of our extraordinary visitor. She had on a green dress, black bonnet and feathers, and, in a word, precisely corresponded with the appearance of the apparition described by the wicked old nurse. My sister screamed hysterically, and I fell into a swoon. The household was disturbed, and in a few minutes the servants and our parents were by the bed-side. The old woman was among them. I described, as well as I was able, what had occurred; and my parents, without a moment's hesitation, laid the mysterious visitation to the charge of the old woman; but she stoutly denied it. My belief, however, to this day, is, that she was concerned in it. My beloved sister became a confirmed idiot, and died about two years after that dreadful night.
My subsequent wretchedness may be traced to this female, for she had already instilled into my mind a love for the marvelous and supernatural. I was not satisfied unless I was reading books that treated of these subjects; and I desired, like the astrologers of old, to read the stars, and to be endowed with the power of casting the horoscopes of my fellow-creatures.
When directed by my guardians to select a profession, I chose that of medicine, as being most congenial to my taste. I was accordingly placed with a respectable practitioner, and in due time sent to college, to perfect myself in my profession. I found my studies dry and wearisome, and was glad to relieve myself with books more capable of interesting me than those relating to medical subjects.
I had always attached great importance to dreams, and to the various coincidences which so frequently occur to us in life. I shall mention a circumstance or two which occurred about this time, and which made a very forcible impression upon me. I dreamed one night that an intimate friend of mine, then residing in India, had been killed by being thrown from his horse. Not many weeks elapsed, before I received intelligence of his death, which occurred in the very way I have described. I was so struck with the coincidence, that I instituted further inquiry, and ascertained that he had died on the same night, and about the same hour on which I had dreamed that the unfortunate event took place. I reflected a good deal upon this occurrence. Was it possible, I asked myself, that his disinthralled spirit had the power of communicating with other spirits, though thousands of miles intervened? An event so strange I could not attribute to mere chance. I felt convinced that the information had been conveyed by design, although the manner of its accomplishment I could not comprehend.
A circumstance scarcely less remarkable happened to me only a few days subsequently. I had wandered a few miles into the country, and at length found myself upon a rising eminence, commanding a view of a picturesque little village in the distance. Although I had at no period of my life been in this part of the country, the scene was not novel to me. I had seen it before. Every object was perfectly familiar. The mill, with its revolving wheel—the neat cottages, with small gardens in front—and the little stream of water that gently trickled past.
These matters gave a stronger impulse to my reading, and I devoured, with the greatest voracity, all books appertaining to my favorite subjects. Indeed, I became so engrossed in my employment, that I neglected my proper studies, avoided all society, all exercise, and out-door occupation. For weeks and weeks I shut my self up in my chamber, and refused to see anybody. I would sit for hours of a night, gazing upon the stars, and wondering if they exercised any control over the destinies of mankind. So nervous did this constant study and seclusion render me, that if a door were blown open by a sudden blast of wind, I trembled, and became as pale as death; if a withered bough fell from a neighboring tree, I was agitated, and unable for some seconds to speak; if a sudden footstep was heard on the stairs, I anticipated that my chamber-door would be immediately thrown [pg 686] open, and ere many seconds elapsed to be in the presence of a visitor from the dark and invisible world of shadows. I became pale and feverish, my appetite failed me, and I felt a strong disinclination to perform the ordinary duties of life.