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 LI B R_ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS
 
 GOTHA: 
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 
 
 FOUNDED ON FACTS. 
 
 31n SDlJJO molnmts. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 By Mrs. S- 
 
 PRINTED FOR C, CHAPPLE, PALL MALL, OPPOSITE ST, JAMES's 
 PALACE. 
 
 1811.
 
 Half den, Printer , Bri/dg^s Street y Cwent Garden.
 
 i 
 
 ri3 
 
 M 
 
 GOTH A ; 
 
 OB, 
 
 ^ • MEMOIRS 
 
 i 
 
 OFTHB 
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 \ An the reigh of the Emperor Maximilian 
 o the Second, who (though by nature 
 ■y- disposed to peace) was by the valorous 
 ^ and ambitious Solvman the Second com- 
 pelled to a continual warfare with the 
 Turks: no one rose higher in favour 
 with his prince than Rhodolphus, Count 
 of Wurtzburg. Aspiring, proud, vin- 
 dictive ; yet loyal and attached to his 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 3 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 master, he assisted him in his councils, 
 and by his military exploits deserved and 
 obtained many marks of the Emperor's 
 approbation ; among these perhaps none 
 flattered Rhodolphus more than a grant 
 of the Castle and domain of Gotha, 
 which, for its extent of territory and its 
 celebrity in history, was highly and justly 
 prized by the lofty Count. 
 
 The Castle of Gotha was the same 
 property tendered by Charles the Fifth to 
 the courageous and magnanimous, but 
 indecisive and misguided. Elector of 
 Saxony, after the battle of Mulhausen, in 
 the year 1547. 
 
 At the period this little history com- 
 mences the family of Count Wurtzburg 
 f Hisisted of three sons; the eldest (by 
 ..e Emperor's partiality bore the name of 
 Maximilian) inherited the valor with- 
 out the blemishes of his, father, and very
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 3 
 
 early in life entered the navy. Albert, 
 the second son, was of a mild temper, a 
 refined taste, and a romantic disposition ; 
 his person was handsome, his manners 
 were elegant, and his language persuasive; 
 but a volatile spirit counteracted his more 
 amiable qualities, and the warmth of his 
 imagination frequently led him into error. 
 — He married most unhappily, and part- 
 ing from his lady requested his father's 
 permission to travel. The youngest son, 
 John, was of a quiet disposition, but 
 proud and unsocial ; he had entered the 
 army when a lad, but on marrying a 
 / daughter of the house of Weimar, had 
 retired from public life, much to the dis- 
 pleasure of his father; indeed so severely 
 did he resent the step his son had taken, 
 that the Count with a violence and enthu- 
 siasm common in those times, not content 
 with banishing his son for ever from the 
 paternal roof, denounced a heavy curse 
 on him, wishing that himself and detested 
 B 2
 
 * MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 progeny might never prosper. The 
 Count survived this disappointment only 
 tw^o jears^ and was succeeded in his 
 honors and dignities by the young Max- 
 imilian. 
 
 No sooner were the last duties paid 
 to his father than the Count was called to 
 the command of a ^essel^ in the ever me- 
 morable engagement in the Gulph of 
 lepantOj near Corinth, in the year 1571 : 
 great was the devastation among the 
 Turks, and astonishing the noble deeds of 
 that momentous day the Count performed 
 vvonders; his grief, his deep mourning, 
 his energetic directions to his sailors, hi« 
 cool and intrepid conduct all contributed 
 to render the young hero in the highest 
 degree interesting. Don John of Austria, 
 who commanded the expedition, bore am- 
 ple testimony to his merits and his exer- 
 tions. Alas ! Count Wurtsburg lived 
 not to enjoy his laurels, — he fell at the 
 moment of victory.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 5 
 
 ' It is now necessary to look a little back 
 into the history of AJbertj (become by 
 (he death of Maximilfan, Count Wurts- 
 burg:) we have already mentioned his 
 unfortunate marriage ; some further parr 
 ticulars may serve to throw a light on 
 the following memoirs ; — gifted, as we 
 have already observed, by nature, and 
 improved by education, the youthful 
 Albert became one of the most shiuinirr, 
 ornaments of the court : admired univer-* 
 sally by the ladies, he was unbounded in* 
 his gallantry, and truth obliges us to 
 confess his conduct was not always 
 governed by that strict propriety, which 
 cooler minds would exact, and which 
 riper years might probably produce. 
 
 Among the beauties of that day none 
 shone more conspicuous than Christina de 
 Stenfort — full of grace and elegance, her 
 person and manners were perfect; l.e-- 
 mind, however, but ijl accorded with the
 
 6 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 fair casket^ in wliicli it was enshrined : urn- 
 feelings yet voluptuous, vain, and selfish, 
 she lived but for admiration. Tc such a 
 woman the attentions of Albert were too 
 flattering not to be cultivated, and the 
 svren, by degrees, overcoming his good 
 sense and judgment persuaded him, by 
 veil-timed artifice, he alone had been ca- 
 pable of fixing her hitherto fiuctu.'iting 
 fancy : by marriage, she felt she should 
 l>e enabled more securely to pursue her 
 pleasures withont subjecting herself to the 
 disgrace which, as a single woman, must 
 sooner or later overtake her : her vanity 
 also was soothed by the eclat of such a 
 conquest, and without possessing one par- 
 ticle of affection for him, she became the 
 wife of Albert, From such an union 
 much happiness was not to be expected, 
 but the term of felicity was even shorter 
 llian the keen sighted old Count imagined. 
 To a father, such a marriage was of 
 course un pleasing, yet the fondness he felt
 
 WURTZBURfi FAMILY. *1 
 
 for this son, whose open and ingenuous 
 manners and dutiful attentions to his aged 
 parent had been the source of the highest 
 comfort^ led him to forgive what he could 
 not approve^, and he endeavoured to find 
 virtues in his daugter-in-laWj which in 
 fact, he felt did not exist — perhaps too^ 
 he was the more disposed to gloss over 
 those vices which were too palpable to he 
 denied, from the brilliancy of the con- 
 nexion. Christina's noble descent flat- 
 tered the grand foible of his soul ; add to 
 which, she had only one brother, and in 
 case of his leaving no successors the Mar- 
 quisate of Stenfort might he thought 
 (much as he knew himself in favour with 
 the Emperor) be obtained for his darling 
 son. 
 
 Scarcely w&re the numerous congratu- 
 lations over ere Albert discovered the to 
 tal Indifference of his beautiful wife ; an i 
 to increase bis disappointment and morti-
 
 ^ MEMOIRS or THE 
 
 lication, a very short time convinced him, 
 that fondness which he could not awaken 
 ^as bestowed lavishly on a man every way 
 his inferior. • 
 
 The Chevalier de Villeroy was a man 
 of low birthj but inslauatirig; and artful ; 
 played and sung well^ and possessed all 
 that levity and versatility so strikingly 
 draracteristiGof his countrymen. He was 
 a Frwichman^ the scti of an obscure Bur- 
 gomaster of Limoges^ and being of an 
 enter prizing upir it^ had involved himself in 
 80 much disgrace that concealment became 
 necessary. Having a slight acquaintance 
 with a dealer in jewels in the city of Mun- 
 ster^ he took up his abode in that place; 
 lodging with his friend^ where he assumed 
 the fictitious title of the Chevalier de Ville- 
 roy^ and by his musical abilities and extreme 
 cifrontery;, contrived to introduce himself 
 into the most respectable families in the* 
 neighbourhood. Among these was that tf
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 9r 
 
 the young Marquis de Stenfoit^ who being 
 a passionate admirer of music, and also ad- 
 dicted to gaming, naturally formed an 
 intimacy with the soi-disant Chevalier, 
 who supported himself by flattering the 
 foibles of the great, and obtained a pretty 
 constant supply of ready money by his 
 deep skill in cards and dice. This man 
 became by degrees almost necessary to 
 the vices and follies of the Marquis ; and 
 he very shortly removed from his obscure 
 lodging to the magnificent abode of de 
 Stenfort. Here he had constant oppor- 
 tunities of seeing and conversing with the 
 fair Christina. She had a sweet voice — 
 he sang with her ; and when her brother 
 was engaged, and did not require his at- 
 tendance, he read with her, and by his 
 choice of books, undermined by imper- 
 ceptible, but sure steps, morals previously 
 but ill confirmed. 
 
 . iVere young women to reflect more se- 
 b3
 
 10 MEMOmS OF THE 
 
 riously on the great importance of a judi- 
 cious selection of authors they would avoid 
 much danger. It is not such works as 
 are impious^ profane, or indecent^, as are 
 the most alarming ; they carry their anti- 
 dote with them ; what girl tolerahly well 
 educated but would shrink from them with 
 disgust? No; it is the more subtle, but 
 equally sure poison of high- wrought sen- 
 timent and dignified weakness she has in ge- 
 neral to combat with : it is when the mind of 
 a young creature^ formed for susceptibility, 
 antl open to every soft impression, begins 
 to expand, that she should fly from writings 
 too much admired and followed in these 
 days. Authors, who clothing the most 
 incorrect ideas in the most refined lan- 
 guage, overturn every lesson more rati- 
 onally and dispassionately instilled ; till 
 the whole soul, inflamed and subverted, is 
 im ladled to the highest misconduct un-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 11 
 
 der the mask of obeying the dictates of 
 nature. 
 
 Thus it befel the misguided Christina; 
 insensibly she became accustomed to con- 
 sider passion as a sufScient excuse for vice, 
 and at the time she married Albert^ was 
 the slave and the adorer of the infamous 
 de Villeroy. Her marriage was secretly 
 approved by the crafty Chevalier, who, 
 having, with his associates, considerably 
 drained the coffers of the Marquis, began 
 to think the addition which the fortune of 
 Albert would make to the scanty portion 
 of his intended wife, a matter of no small 
 convenience. 
 
 And now, having secured the object in 
 view, the subtilty of de Villeroy would 
 have carried on the affair with the utmost 
 secresy ; but the wife of Abert, no longer 
 able or willing to conceal her feelings, 
 boldly and unblushingly appeared in
 
 12 ^ ^MEMOIRS OF THE ,f 
 
 public with her paramour, and in the 
 course of twelve months, ( during which, 
 perhaps, Albert attended less to the pur- 
 suits and companions of his lad J than was 
 prudent,) the misconduct of his wife, 
 and his own disgrace, were the general 
 topic of conversation. For some time 
 Albert endeavoured to believe that his 
 wife, though imprudent, wasnotcriminal; 
 but many months did not elapse before his 
 eyes were completely opened ; and shocked, 
 disappointed, duped, and degraded, he 
 immediately parted from his lady; and, 
 no longer able to endure the spot where 
 aW his hopes had been so cruelly blighted, 
 he flew to the Castle of Gotha, imparted 
 the dreadful occurrence to his father, and 
 after requesting he would procure him an 
 immediate divorce, he mounted his horse, 
 attended by a single servant, determined to 
 rove about till the perturbation of hi» 
 mind was in some degree calmed.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILV. 13 
 
 CHAP. II 
 
 Vt hen a man in these days of im- 
 provement determines on travelling, he 
 has but to provide himself with a commo- 
 dious carriage^, a good itinerary, and a valet 
 qualified alike to guide and to cheat him, 
 and he may traverse Europe without in- 
 convenience^ as far as good roads and ex- 
 cellent inns are concerned. Sincerely and 
 heavily do we regret that other more cruel 
 preventives at present interfere; but in 
 the reign of Maximilian the difference was 
 great ; though the fell destroyer had not 
 then appeared to spread \yar and devas- 
 tation over the country, the want of roads, 
 and the difficulty of procuring any com- 
 forts^ far less luxuries^ was such, that a
 
 14 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 space of a few hundred miles was at that 
 time a great journey. This however was 
 a subject neither of regret nor inconve- 
 nience to Albert^ who had no determinate 
 object in view beyond flying from his own 
 thoughts; and to him it was perfectly 
 immaterial which way his horse carried 
 him. 
 
 He travelled southward some weeks, 
 trusting to chance for a night's lodging ; 
 but this^ as his rank was known and he was 
 not very anxious about the style of his 
 reception^ provided it w^ hospitable, or 
 the manner of his accommodation, pro- 
 vided it did not put his host to inconve- 
 nience, was a subject of little moment to 
 him. 
 
 At length he found himself on the bor- 
 ders of Svv^itzerland, a country of which 
 the romantic beauties have forages afforded 
 ample subject alike for the poet, the his-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 15 
 
 torian, and the novelist. In what way he 
 passed the Swiss mountains, and how much 
 he admired the wild scenery he witnessed, 
 we forbear to mention. 
 
 One fine evening, towards sunset, Al- 
 bert, attended by his old servant Bertrand, 
 reached a little village, of which the inha- 
 bitants were joyously returning from their 
 beautiful vineyards, the luxuriant produce 
 of which, as yet but half gathered, parti- 
 cularly attracted his notice: the simple 
 dress and innocent appearance of the 
 young girls were likely to captivate the 
 susceptible mind of Albert; he called to 
 Bertrand and desired him to enquire where 
 he might procure a lodging for a few days, 
 and in the mean time, joining* the little 
 procession, entered the hamlet. 
 
 His servant very soon returned, accom- 
 panied by the venerable Cure of the place, 
 who assured him he was welcome to an
 
 16 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 apartment in his little dwelling ; and with 
 the ease of natural good breeding, he led 
 the young stranger through a small wicket 
 to a neat garden, in the midst of which 
 stood the pastoral house : it was propor- 
 tioned more to the smallness of his flock, 
 than to the hospitable benevolence of the 
 worthy Monsieur Feuillide. His family 
 consisted of one daughter and an old maid- 
 servant. Mad^^^^- Feuillide, with the 
 most bewitching artlessness of manner, 
 welcomed her father's visitor. Albert, 
 while he contemplated the lovely girl> al- 
 most forgot his usual courtesy. Scarcely 
 seventeen, her figure had all the round- 
 ness of maturity with all the lightness of 
 youth, and perhaps to the eyes of a man 
 accustomed to the heavy magnificence of 
 German dress> the simple vest and petti- 
 coat of a Swiss peasant, lent an additional 
 charm to the beautiful Adelaide. A neat 
 and light supper was quickly spread be- 
 fore them. During the repast Albert had
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 17 
 
 an opportnnity of observing the strong 
 sense and well informed mind of his kind 
 entertainer. His daughter spoke little, 
 but her silence appeared more the result 
 of diffidence than want of information or 
 powers of conversation — so at least the 
 ardent . Sniper of Albert led him to believe. 
 Perhaps her beauty blinds me, exclaimed 
 he, on retiring to his little chamber for 
 the night, but surely this girl is free 
 from the coquetry, the vanity and the du- 
 plicity from which I fly, and of which I 
 am the victim. He then fell into many 
 reflections, not very flattering to his own 
 judgment, on the mind and disposition of 
 his wife : and it now occurred to him, 
 that had not love entirely shut his eyes, 
 lier levity, previous to her marriage, must 
 have struck him. 
 
 Occupied with these thoughts he passed 
 a restless night; and in the morning, when 
 he joined the family at breakfast, he ap-
 
 18 MEMOIRS OP THE 
 
 peared restless and unhapp3^ Insensibly 
 however, the pleasure he derived from 
 the conversation of the good old man and 
 his sweet daughter drew him from him- 
 self, and restored his usual flow of spirits> 
 
 After breakfast he walked v>ith the 
 Cure, while Adelaide performed her do- 
 mestic duties ; and in the evening. Mon- 
 sieur Feuillide propo&ed reading aloud a 
 work he had lately received from a friend. 
 For this purpose they seated themselves 
 under a tree, in the little pleasure ground 
 near the house; the young girl sat at 
 needle-work, while her father frequently 
 paused in the course of his reading, to 
 explain such passages to her as were ab- 
 struse or difficult. Albert was astonishefl 
 at the quickness of her perception, and 
 her knowledge of subjects, usually consi- 
 dered in those days, far beyond the intel- 
 lect of woman.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 19 
 
 When they quitted their book they re- 
 turned to the little parlour to supper^ and 
 Albert felt it was long since he had passed 
 so satisfactorj', or happy a day. He 
 found Adelaide totally unacquainted 
 with musiC;, as a science ; though at her 
 father's request she would sing the simple 
 airs of the country in tones, wild, yet ten- 
 der and harmonious, beyond expression. 
 Albert remembered Christina, and roman- 
 tically thanked Heaven this girl was un- 
 tuught. How dangerous vyould such ta- 
 lents be, thought he, in the society I have 
 hitherto known ! — It is thus men absurdly 
 argue from effect instead of causes. His 
 wife w as unworthy ; and Albert immedi- 
 ately drew from her example, the false 
 conclusion, that talents and acquirements 
 were dangerous to the sex. Are we then, 
 in order to preserve our wives and daugh- 
 ters from vice, to keep them ignorant and 
 uneducated ? or, is a girl less likely to 
 err, because her mind is in darkness, and
 
 20 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 her' l^owers of pleasing circumscribed ? 
 Suiely not ! Every day's experience proves 
 the contrary : it is not the possession of 
 accomplishments, but the mipuse of them 
 that is dangerous. While a girl is taught 
 that;, until she marries, she is to devote her 
 hojuHrs to music, drawing, and dancing, 
 merely and expressly to captivate; and 
 while she sees that when she becomes a 
 wife^ she is to neglect those accomplish- 
 ments as no longer necessary, their pur- 
 pose being fulfilled; it is not the music, 
 drawing, or dancing, that are mischievous^ 
 but the principle previously instituted. 
 
 Albert continued a fevr days longer with 
 his amiable friends ; and now, feeling that 
 he had met with companions capable of 
 producing the effect he had in view, when 
 he undertook his journey, he resolved 
 to make some stay in the hamlet. But 
 Albert was too much a man of the world 
 not to recollect, that continuing much Ion-
 
 WURT2BURG family; 21 
 
 ger under the roof of Monsieur Feiiillidc, 
 was objectionable for many reasous: he 
 therefore determined to remove to a lodging 
 he had met with at the house of a man 
 who managed a farm at about half a mile 
 from the abode of his friends. On im« 
 parting his design, the countenance of his 
 host evinced the pleasure he felt io the 
 idea of retaining Albert as a neighbour, 
 while it seemed to express something like 
 satisfaction at this judicious removal. The 
 truth was. Monsieur Feuillide did feel some 
 uneasiness at the lengthened visit of Albert, 
 He had passed much of his time in retire- 
 ment, but had in the small circle in which 
 he moved studied the human heart, and he 
 felt aware, that he acted with imprudence 
 inpermittingajoungman of his pretensions 
 much longer to continue in the house with 
 a girl, who had unhappily lost the tender 
 vigilance of a mother's care very soon 
 after she was born*
 
 82 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Time now passed uniformly^ but chear- 
 fiilly, with the little party; for Albert 
 seldom omitted a visit at the Curc*s in the 
 course of the day. Short excursions into 
 file romantic environs of the village, a 
 dinner in the little wood which skirted the 
 farm-house^ now the dwelling of Albert, 
 sometimes indeed, diversified the scene; 
 and in these amusements the gay man of 
 the world discovered so many charms that 
 he appeared to be in some danger of re^ 
 nouncing his native land for ever; but 
 that an occasional anxious thought for his 
 fond father and his affectionate elder bro- 
 ther would obtrude on his retirement, and 
 for a moment lead him to wish himself at 
 Gotha. The recollection however of Chris- 
 tina, who now only appeared to his ima- 
 gination as his evil genius, always restored 
 his resolution of remaining in the Swiss 
 •valley. It was after one of their little 
 rambles that Albert remarked to Feuillide, 
 how very free from romance and enthu-^
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 33t 
 
 iiiasm Adelaide appeared to be, while she 
 was feelingly alive to the beauties of na- 
 ture. There is not, I trust, one particle 
 of romance in my girl, he replied ; believe 
 me, enthusiastic rapture at the sight of 
 trees, rocks and rivers, is not an inherent 
 quality iii the mind of youth— common 
 reflection proves the folly of the suppo- 
 sition : is it natural to imagine, that ob- 
 jects, beheld every day from the earliest 
 infancy, can awaken such violent emotions 
 as we sometimes witness in sentimental 
 women ? The beauties of these scenes are 
 not lost on my child, but she admires them 
 rationall}', as objects of, pleasure, of de- 
 light, but particularly as incentives to 
 piety : instead of inflaming her mind with 
 exaggerated and high flown expressions of 
 rapture, drawn from the sickly feehngs of 
 enthusiastic poets, I have taught heri user 
 ful lessons from the works of the Creator. 
 From the rise, progress, and decay of the 
 vegetable world, I have taught her t^
 
 S4 KBMOIRS OF THE 
 
 watch the dawning, the advancement, and 
 the defalcation of the mind. I have 
 taught her independance and exertion from 
 the wild Chamois, who picks his preca- 
 rious subsistence unassisted, on the lofty 
 top of yon mountain; hut, above all, I 
 have taught her to raise her thankful heart 
 to the Deitj, from the example of the 
 beautiful plants in her favourite garden, 
 which daily expand their bosoms to the 
 face of Heaven. Let me not, however, be 
 understood to exclude poetry from the fe- 
 aialft library. My Adelaide is naturally of 
 a gentle timid disposition — my wish there* 
 fore has been to give her strength of mind, 
 and to preserve her from the foibles and 
 weaknesses of her sex ; but with more 
 ODol-blooded, more phlegmatic tempers, 
 the graces of tenderness and sympathy may 
 be gained from a well selected poetic 
 course of reading, and to such I would 
 by no means interdict an occasional ac- 
 quaintance with romance. Adelaide is
 
 ^VURTZBURG FAMILY. 25 
 
 also free from vanity, but perhaps that 
 may be attributed to the very small female 
 acquaintance she possesses, and also, to 
 the mode in which I have accustomed her 
 to dress. No doubt you have observed her 
 attire is precisely that of the village girls ; 
 she hasithercfore never devoted any time 
 to the study of a new fashion, and has no 
 idea of what would be more or less becom- 
 ing." "That," exclaimed Albert, with an 
 eagerness which made his friend smile, '^1 
 can perfectly account for — she is so beau- 
 tiful that every thing equally suits her ; it 
 must therefore be quite immaterial what 
 she wears." ^' You are very compliment- 
 ary," said Mons. Feuillide; ''but I think 
 your observation, were it fact, would tend 
 to prove her more than ordinarily vain — 
 the truth is, she has not yet associated 
 with persons who consider beauty the 
 only pleasing topic to a young girl : I 
 have hitherto," he added jocosely, ''been 
 her only admirer, and I trust you will not 
 YOL. I, c
 
 36 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 entertain her on the subject of those beau- 
 ties which nature has bestowed on her, 
 but rather join me in improving and culti- 
 vating her really excellent mind. '^I fear/' 
 said Albert, '' you will find me a very in- 
 efficient auxiliary in your important duty ; 
 but you may rely on my not counteracting 
 you in any of your lessons" — so saying, 
 they parted, and each took the path that 
 led to his own home. 
 
 As Albert became more intimate with 
 Monsieur Feuillide, hegradually imparted 
 to him the errors of his wife, and fre- 
 quently hinted at the comfort he felt in no 
 longer being united to the ill-fated Chris- 
 tina — for he considered from the time 
 elapsed since he quitted his father that the 
 divorce was effected. 
 
 He had now remained above eight 
 months in the hamlet, and notwithstanding 
 his love of variety, still continued satisfied
 
 V/URTZBURG FAMILY. 27 
 
 v/ith his humble dwelling. Perhaps he 
 was hardly aware of the sentiment that 
 held him in his retirement; indeed he did 
 not^ we belieyCj search much after it ; and 
 to the innocent Adelaide the truth was 
 completely veiled : yet, though unconsci- 
 ous of the effect her charms had produced 
 on the heart of Albert^ she was herself 
 painfully alive to the power of his attrac- 
 tions, it is true^ having- read no novels, 
 and being acquainted with no love-sick 
 damsels, she neither gave way to floods of 
 tears in her chamber, nor sought the solace 
 of retirement in deep glens and darkened 
 shades, there to sigh forth the name of 
 her lover : yet her brightened counte- 
 nance on his appearance, her earnest atten- 
 tion when he spoke, her glistening eyes 
 when he commended her, and her tender 
 attention to the most minute of his wishes, 
 all proved to the venerable Feuillide (and 
 he received the conviction with the anxiety 
 of a parent) that the happiness of his 
 .c2
 
 28 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 child depended on an acquaintance of a 
 few months. It is true, he had studied 
 the mind of this acquaintance till he felt 
 he was wortliy to become his friend, and 
 he had in consequence admitted him to his 
 warm heart; but, when he reflected on the 
 rank of Albert, and the improbality that 
 the Count should consent to such an union, 
 he trembled for the fate of his cliild, and 
 bitterly regretted his blindness in suffer- 
 ing such an intimacy. The means of 
 snatching his darling from the horrors of 
 disappointed love, and blighted hopes, now 
 occupied all his thoughts. He felt that a 
 decisiye step must ere long be taken, but 
 what that step should be, he was at a loss 
 to determine. Unconscious of the unea- 
 siness she thus innocently occasioned her 
 beloved father, Adelaide continued to oc- 
 cupy herself in her various employments ; 
 but her pale cheek, and abated spirits, 
 proved her mind but ill at ease, and each 
 day increased her own dejectio:^, and l-.er 
 father's misery. About this lime it bar-
 
 WLRTZBURG FAMILY. 29 
 
 pciied that Albert caught a severe cold in 
 one of his evening excursions^ which for 
 a few^ days interrupted his usual visits to 
 Monsieur Feuillide. The first moment 
 he felt himself sufficiently recovered 4o 
 quit his chamber,, he wrapt himself up, 
 and hastening along the little path, entered 
 the usual sitting room, where he was sur- 
 prized to find the good man alone : it was 
 evening, the time in which Adelaide was 
 always to be found with her father. Al- 
 bert, however, concluded she had quitted 
 the room to give some directions to her 
 ancient domestic, and waited with impa- 
 tience, though in silence, for her return; 
 l)ut, as the time passed on, and Josephine 
 brought him in the little meal, he began 
 to feel uneasy, lest Adelaide should be ill ; 
 and enquired with as much composure as 
 possible after the health of Mademoiselle 
 Feuillide. — '' She is v/e\\/' said the Cure, 
 '' and is gone on a short visit to a friend.'* 
 Albert was thunderstruck: there was a
 
 so 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 composure and solemnity in the manner 
 of his answer that secmeci io forlid a fur- 
 ther enquiry ; and, affer spending a less 
 liappj evening than he had ever expe- 
 i^liced since he sojourned in the hamlet 
 Albert felt relieved when the hour of de- 
 parture arrived. lie passed the wliole 
 i/ight in fruitless endeavours to account for 
 Adelaide's absence; he felt a confused idea 
 he v^iis by some means the cause of it, and 
 \iiiiily erifleavoured to discover whether his 
 tliouf-'^ ufssne^s iriid j?ivrn ofieKce tlUiCrto 
 ilief^il'lrcrordituchicr. >^othir.a: howtvcv, 
 struck iiim as incorrect in his manner or 
 conversation ; he had, in consequence of 
 his promise/ scrupulously avoided any 
 expression of admiration to Adelaide^ and 
 began therefore to consider her removal, 
 and the mystery attending it, as quite inex- 
 plicable. On enquiring of his servant 
 what were the reasons assigned by Jo- 
 sephine for her disappearance, Bertrand 
 replied, that the good woman said there
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 31 
 
 bad been lately frequent letters conveyed 
 bv private hands ; but^ as she could not 
 readj and her master always delivered them 
 himself, she did not know where^ or to 
 \vhom they v. ere sent; that on the second 
 morning of Albert's indisposition, a hand- 
 some voiture arrived before day-break^ 
 and a lady, whom it conveyed, breakfasted 
 v» i(h her master, and young mistress ; af- 
 ter which Monsieur Feuillide handed the 
 Lady and Mademoiselle into the carriage, 
 lie klii^?d h\i uau^hli'k' r. r^^u^utiy, ^inC i'\.\ 
 her he hoped she would be very hap[)y 
 with Madame ; ^'^ but somehow,*' said 
 Jos: phi ne, '^ Mademoiselle, looked as if 
 she could have been happier at home." 
 Just as she stepped into the carriage she 
 said, *' I will doubtless, endeavour to obey 
 you in all things, my father;" and then 
 she sobbed as if her heart would break ; 
 but presently tried to smile as she looked 
 from the window, and said " God bless 
 you, my good Josephine." " Since that
 
 32 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 time my masicr has never written any more 
 letters^ and I sniccrcly hope. Monsieur 
 Albert will soon be vreil enough to come 
 and chear hinij for be is quite lonely now." 
 Bertrand, then slightly hinted his surprize^ 
 that Monsieur Feuillidehad not explained 
 the business to his master in his last night's 
 visit ; but to this implied question Albert 
 did not attend. 
 
 And now^ a few days clearly convinced 
 Albert^ from whence the charm of his 
 retirement had arisen; and it was surprizing 
 to observe the alteration in his feelings, 
 respecting objects^ which hitherto, had 
 been invariably attractive. The autumn 
 had given way to the wiiitcr, and that 
 again had been succeeded hy the spring ; 
 yet;, the gradual advancement all nature 
 made to perfection at that time of the year^ 
 and of which he had spoken with so much 
 delight to Adelaide, had not the effect he 
 expected. The beautiful tints of the
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY.' 33 
 
 mountains were not so glowing, the trees, 
 he thought, did not promise so rich a 
 foliage, nor was the conversation of his 
 worthy friend so entertaining as heretofore. 
 Insensibly he became a prey to ennui and 
 listlessness. At first, indeed, he endear 
 voured, by turning his mind to study, to 
 while away the time till Adelaide should 
 return home ; but he discovered that soli- 
 tude and study were not favourable to his 
 tranquillity ; and, after failing in every 
 attempt to draw from the cautious Feuil- 
 lide, the secret of his daughter's new 
 abode, he resolved to renew his journey, 
 intending to devote himself to the disco- 
 very of her retreat, which, from many 
 circumstances, he considered to be at no 
 very great distance from her father's. 
 
 Monsieur Feuillide saw him depart with 
 undissembled grief; he dreaded the distress 
 his daughter would experience; hedreaded 
 the solitude he should himself be thus con- 
 demned to endure : fox he thouerht it 
 c3
 
 34 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 prudent not to recal his daughter imme- 
 diately on the removal of Albeit, and 
 accordinglj' remained a melancholy, but 
 unrepining sacrifice to parental fondness. 
 For some years his health had been de- 
 clining, and he now found his infirmities 
 rapidly encreasing. Unwilling however, 
 to alarm his daughter, he carefully' con- 
 cealed the circumstance from Adelaide, 
 with whom be did not correspond very 
 frequently from the difficulty of conveying 
 letters. 
 
 Albert continued his rambles for nearly 
 three months, during which time he was 
 often led to hope he bad discovered his 
 Adelaide, and as often met with disap- 
 pointment. AnxiouS; and unhappy, it 
 at length occurred to him, that perhaps, 
 her father had placed her in a convent ; 
 and animated by this idea, he renewed his 
 search with assiduity ; but with no better 
 success, till be reached the Conrtnt of
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 35 
 
 C . Here, tidings of the most pro- 
 mising kind reached him from an aged 
 man and his wife, the inhabitants of a 
 lowly cottage, under the convent wall. 
 Struck with its situation, so suited to his 
 plan of investigating the number and con- 
 dition of the young women admitted to 
 the Nunnery, for the purpose of education 
 or of concealment, he requested a night's 
 lodging, to which the hospitable old 
 couple readily consented ; and from his 
 garrulous host he obtained intelligdnce of 
 the most favourable kind. Fearful of 
 raising suspicion, Albert began, by en- 
 quiring, as mere matter of curiosity, into 
 the customs^ the manners, and the pri- 
 vileges of the holy establishment. Pierre 
 had now an opportunity of shewing how 
 very useful he was to the inhabitants of 
 tlie Convent; he felt much pride in de- 
 claringhimself gardener to tbccommunity, 
 and boaited of the great services he per- 
 formed for the young boarders^ who fre-
 
 o 
 
 6 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 quently employed him to make purchases 
 for them. The order, he said, was of the 
 most strict kind; but the ladies placed 
 there for education were usually treated 
 with much kindness. Among other indul- 
 gencies, they were permitted to spend 
 many hours each day in the garden ; and 
 though the nuns never entered when he 
 was there, these girls often remained there 
 while he was at work; he added, that 
 though they were in general very cheerful, 
 there were sometimes young women among 
 them, who appeared to be borne down by 
 misery and affliction ; and particularly at 
 present, he continued, there is one who 
 makes my heart ache to see her weep : 
 they say she is placed here to keep her 
 safe from a fine nobleman that was after 
 her when she lived with her father, poor 
 soul. 1 wish he had her, for I think she 
 will die of despair if she stays here much 
 longer. It is now nearly four months 
 since she was received into the convent;
 
 WUllTZBURG FAMILY. 37 
 
 and yet she does not appear at all more 
 reconciled to her situation. '' Is it possible 
 to see her?" said Albert, with eagerness. 
 ''You may see her/' replied Pierre, " but 
 her chamber is so high from the ground, and 
 the bars so close, that you will hardly be 
 able to distinguish her, particularly, as she 
 dares not appear there till the evening." 
 Albert, however, thought that the least 
 glimpse to a lover, must carry conviction, 
 and, with difficulty, dissembling his emo- 
 tion, accompanied the old gardener at the 
 close of the day to the western side of the 
 convent. He found the old man's obser- 
 vation just; for he obtained a very imper- 
 fect Tiew of the lady indeed ; so impossible 
 was it for him to decide upon her being 
 Adelaide or not, that a less romantic energy 
 would have been insufficient to urge him 
 to a repetion of his twilight investigation. 
 In this uncertainty he continued three 
 days ; on the evening of the fourth, all 
 doubt vanished, the enraptured Albert,
 
 38 ^ MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 not many minutes after he had taken his 
 post under the window, perceived a note 
 hastily cast down by the damsel^ who 
 instantly disappeared. Judge of his de- 
 light in reading the following words, 
 traced by a trembling hand. 
 
 ^' Scarcely have I courage to express the 
 joy I feel, in recognizing, through the 
 bars of my prison, my best, my only 
 friend: cruelly harrassed and persecuted 
 as I am— dare I tell you, that after ves- 
 pers, next Friday, if you can be at the 
 small garden gate, north of the convent, 
 with two fleet horses, you may yet be 
 the blessed means of releasing your Ade- 
 laide/' 
 
 Good heavens '.exclaimed Albert, what 
 must this sweet girl have suffered before 
 her delicate mind coiilcl be wrought to so 
 desperate a step — yes, aiy Adelaide, I
 
 WUHTZBURG FAMILY. S9 
 
 sliallj I tru&t, be the means of releasing 
 thee; or I will perish in the attempt. 
 
 The more he reflected on the severity 
 Monsieur Feuillide practised on his 
 daughter^ the more his astonishment en* 
 creased^ to recollect^ that this child, 
 hitherto the only solace of her father, 
 was an exile and a prisoner^, and on hit 
 account — the thought was madness ; and 
 he passed the two days previous to the 
 intended rescue in a state of perturbation 
 not to be described. 
 
 At the hour appointed Albert was 
 stationed at the garden gate ; his horses 
 were concealed in a neighbouring thicket, 
 under the care of his servant^ who was to 
 advance on a signal from his master — with 
 a beating heart he heard the gate unlock, 
 and in a moment Adelaide, disguised in a 
 horseman's coat and large flapt hat, seized 
 his arm. Albert was going to speak, but
 
 40 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 she placed her baud on his mouth, and 
 aware of the necessity of perfect silence, 
 he contented himself with kissing her 
 taper fingers before she could remove her 
 hand ; and with all the &peed her heavy 
 habilliments would allow^ they hastened 
 to meet Bertrand, who, on the appointed 
 whistle, led forward the horses. It was 
 now so dark that the lovers could scarcely 
 discern each other ; but the unhoped for 
 success their plan had hitherto met with 
 cheared their agitated souls ; and the terror 
 of pursuit urged the flying girl to a degree 
 that precluded Albert finding an oppor- 
 tunity of enquiring how Adelaide had 
 contrived her escape ; indeed, so fast did 
 she ride, that his horse could barely keep 
 pace with her's— four hours they con- 
 tinued their journey, and were just ap- 
 proaching a small town, when they were 
 met by a man, who, on perceiving them, 
 turned hastily, and called loudly on Albert 
 to stop.
 
 WURTEBURG FAMILY. 41 
 
 Terror seized the unfortunate girl : — 
 " I am lost ! we are overtaken!*' she 
 shrkked, and fell fainting from her horse. 
 Albeit, much alarmed at the accident, 
 instantly alighted to assist her. At this 
 time the moon began to rise, and cast her 
 mild light on the groupe — it was some- 
 what picturesque — the cloak had dropped 
 from the shoulders of Adelaide, and no- 
 thing of her disguise remained but her hat, 
 which completely shaded her face; her 
 long hair had fallen from its confinement, 
 and covered one lifeless arm — Albert, 
 supporting her beautiful head on one 
 knee, the other was on the ground; while 
 his left arm was passed round her neck, 
 the right grasped his sword. Bcrtrand, 
 holding his own and his master's horse, 
 (that of the lady had gallopped off on 
 losing its fair burthen) stood leaning rather 
 forward towards the poor insensible girl, 
 while his eyes were fixed in earnest obser- 
 vation on the stranger, who was advancing
 
 42 ' MEMOIRS or THE 
 
 sword in hand towards Albert, exclaiming 
 monster! villain! ruftlaii ! with horrible 
 volubility. I care not, said the ali/.ost 
 frantic Albert, for your reproaches ; but 
 I conjure jou do not injure my innocent 
 Adelaide. Alas ! already her gentle soul 
 appears to have flown far fi'cm your 
 tyranny or my tenderness — bis words 
 seemed to have some effect en the stranger ; 
 but this Albert heeded not, he was anxi- 
 ous to 2:1 ve the ofitient more air, and in 
 co3:Gor:::eiice %vas rcino\h::r: il\t: ha( IVosti 
 her face — but no sooner did he cast his 
 eyes on the fainting girl, than terror and 
 astonishment seemed to deprive him of all 
 powers of speech — he beheld a counte- 
 nance he had never before seen. Reco- 
 vering however a little from his surprize, 
 ^^some fatal mistake," he exclaimed, turn- 
 ing to the stranger, '' has placed this unfor- 
 tunate lady in mj hands ; perhaps you may 
 be, and I sincerely trustyou are, her friend,'* 
 '' her friend/' exclaimed the other wildly.
 
 WLRTZSUKG FAMILY. 43 
 
 • I aai her adoicT — Ler husband^-^butoh l" 
 be continued modcratUi-g bis voice as be 
 fpolie, '' assist me without loss of time to 
 coavey ber to some place wbere medical 
 aid may be procured/' '' That is exactly 
 V. bat i was going to propose/' replied Al* 
 bert ; '' there is I know, a tolerable Inn 
 at the next town, it is a short half mile 
 to the boiise, and I think we can 
 carry her thither/' The youiis; man then 
 assisted to raise the senseless female, wbo_, 
 fi>v a rnomc:nt, opening- hrr cyc9, frvr.d 
 iil^iij \4U.ailtly Oil iiiiVij Ui.u ajjviiu cic^cu 
 
 them. 
 
 Slowly they advanced to the inn, and 
 after some difficulty gained admittance. 
 The lady was placed on a bed, and proper 
 stimulants being applied, and a surgeon 
 having bled her, she began gradually to 
 revive. Her joy at finding herself safe 
 with her lover was extreme : her head 
 was but slightly injured, and the surgeon
 
 44 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 declared he considered the case as by no 
 means dangerous. — She had been stunned 
 by the fall ; but as the skull was not frac- 
 turedj he trusted, provided her mind was 
 kept easy, she would very shortly recover 
 from the effects of the accident. As he 
 desired she might be left perfectly quiet, 
 and the mistress of the house appeared 
 tender and careful, the stranger retired 
 with Albert, into an adjoining chamber ; 
 where the latter observed, that in the 
 distressing adventures of the night, he 
 thought the lady's ignorance of the mistake 
 which had attended her elopement was 
 most fortunate, as a knowledge of the 
 circumstance would have tended to increase 
 the agitation of her mind. And now the 
 young men sought from each other an 
 elucidation of the late mysterious adven- 
 ture. Albert's communication was soon 
 made; he simply mentioned, that being in 
 search of a lady to whom he was attached, 
 and being led by the similarity of name.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 45 
 
 and story^ he had flattered himself he had 
 discovered her in the convent they had 
 just quitted ; and was in consequence of 
 
 this persuasion led into the distress above 
 related. 
 
 The stranger^ after thanking him for his 
 little narrative, thus began : — 
 
 '' My name is Henry— my sirname I think 
 proper to conceal. My father was a mi- 
 litary officer of rank in the French array, 
 and having no ether means of providing 
 for me ( his only child) but in the same 
 profession, he entered me very early in life 
 into his own regimeftt. Under such a 
 master, whose skill and knowledge in 
 military tactics had been tried in many a 
 hard fought battle, and whose love of his 
 country could only be exceeded by his 
 fondiiess for his son, I could not fail of 
 improving rapidly, particularly as my 
 inclination had always led me to prefer the
 
 46 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 life of a soldier to any other. I accom- 
 panied my father in several expeditions ; 
 and, now that he is no more^ have the 
 comfort of reflecting that I was fully sen- 
 sible of the blessing 1 possessed in such a 
 parent, and that I never even in my boyish 
 days gave him a moment's uneasiness.*' 
 Here he paused in his narrative ; and 
 Albert thought he saw a tear tremble in 
 his eye, as he turned rather hastily to stir 
 the dying ernbe s round which they were 
 sitting. Albert respected the little tribute 
 to a kind father's memory and remained 
 silent— in a few minutes Henry resumed 
 the story. '* My father at his death left me 
 what little property he had amassed ; his 
 rank had, during his life, afforded him a 
 handsome income ; but it was impossible 
 to lay up much for me ; and I found it 
 necessary to live frugally on my small 
 property. This^ however, was a trifling 
 consideration with a man accustomed to 
 the hardships and privations of a camp.
 
 WURTZBUBG FAMILY. 47 
 
 During the first month that succeeded my 
 heavy loss, my chief comfort was derived 
 from the kind attention of my colonel. 
 Atljis house I met a pleasing and sensible 
 society of young persons, whom I had 
 known in happier times, and whose esteem 
 was not diminished by the change of :;iy 
 affairs. Among the number of those who 
 exerted themselves to cheer my drooping 
 spirits no one sncceeded so well as Ade- 
 laide did— she was the second aaiyouogest 
 daughter of an old nobleniP.n, whose largce 
 estate was to devolve on hio iwo girls, 
 and who unfortunately considered, that 
 rank and title were indis})epsably neces- 
 sary in any one, who pretcnclei to his 
 daughter's love. 
 
 " The eldest, in obedience to her father, 
 had lately married a Neapolitan gentleman, 
 possessed of every requisite to please the 
 old Count, though certainly not snch as 
 were capable of exciting much tenderness
 
 48 MEMOIRS OF THK 
 
 in the wretched daughter. Adelaide, 
 being thus deprived of the society of her 
 sister^ became melancholy and depressed — 
 to remove this objection^ her father per- 
 mitted her to devote much of her time to 
 the family of my worthy commander, and 
 thus I became acquainted with the lovely 
 girl. Perhaps our mutual distresses at- 
 tached us to each other ; certainlj^, from 
 the first moment of our meeting, a singu- 
 lar attraction seemed to approximate our 
 hearts. Much, however, as I felt devoted 
 to her, my poverty totally precluded all 
 hope of an union with her; indeed, I 
 endeavoured to conceal from her my fond- 
 ness, with the most scrupulous care. In 
 this, however, I did not succeed so en- 
 tirely as I imagined, and a circumstance 
 at length occurred which brought on a 
 mutual explanation, the consequences of 
 which have involved us in the utmost 
 distress.
 
 WURT2BLRG FAMILY. 49 
 
 . . *' The Duke de , has been celebrated 
 
 for his gallantries and dissipation for more 
 than 40 years — he is rich and still rather 
 handsome — is a man in power^ and the 
 intimate friend of my Adelaide's father. 
 Accustomed from her infancy to consider 
 ^iim in this lights she was always easy, 
 good humuured and sportive in his society 
 ■- — little did she suspect that she was by this 
 means laving- the foundation of her own 
 misery and persecution. Our intimacy 
 had continued about six months^ when 
 her friends were surprized by her ab- 
 senting herself entirely from the little 
 evening parties at the Generars. Se- 
 veral of her intimates had attempted to 
 gain admittance to her at her father's 
 house; but she was always denied to them^ 
 and we began to feel uneasy for her. 
 
 ' One evening, returning home after 
 another disappointed visit at theGenerars> 
 in passing through one of the narrow 
 
 YOL. I. B
 
 50 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 streets which led to my lodgings,, an elderljr 
 woman met me, and suddenly seizing my 
 arm, whispered * If you are Captain 
 
 Henry , follow me instantly.* 
 
 I enquired what service I could render 
 her, being unwilling to follow the old 
 lady on so strange an invitation. ' Con- 
 fide in me/ replied my new acquaintance, 
 ^ and do not question me.' Then, per- 
 ceiving that I continued to hesitate, she 
 gently laid her hand on my shoulder, re- 
 peating the name of Adelaide. All doubt > 
 instantly vanished, and I hurried after 
 my conductress with breathless impatience. 
 After walking down |iill, through several 
 obscure streets, we reached a small door, 
 in a high wall, which she unlocked, and 
 the moment I entered closed it upon mc. 
 Judge of my surprize, when I fiuind my- 
 «elf in a large vault, in one corner of 
 which stood a small lighted lanij). 'Here,' 
 said my companion, ' I must leave you 
 t^or the present — be not dismayed — yon
 
 WURTZBUllG FAMILY. 51 
 
 are safe, and I trust, in half an hour I 
 shall be able to release you — in the mean 
 time make no noise, and above all, do not 
 attempt lo follow me — if you do, death 
 must ensue*/ and, with these words, 
 pushing open a door on the other side of 
 the vault which I had not discerned, I 
 heard her fasten it after her. That I was 
 to be robbed and murdered now appeared 
 certain; feeling myself completely en- 
 trapped, I considered resistance as vain; 
 but it occurred to me, that if I could by 
 any means open the door through which 
 I had entered, I might yet escape from my 
 prison : with this idea, I snatched up the 
 lamp, by way of examining the fastening, 
 when my foot, striking against a stone, 
 I fell and extinguished the light! — Shall 
 I confess, though a soldier, my heart 
 failed me at this moment. I arose from 
 the ground, and bitterly reproaching 
 myself for my folly in allowing myself to 
 be so easily trepanned, drew my sword, 
 
 41, OF 81 Ub.
 
 52 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 determined to sell my life as dearly as 
 possible. In this state of suspense I con- 
 tinued nearly two hours^ and the cold and 
 damp began to affect me considerably. 
 When I heard the door gently unbarred, 
 I placed myself in a posture of defence, 
 and listened to ascertain whether my 
 assailants were numerous. Not a word 
 was spoken ; and my alarm considerably 
 subsided when I perceived my eld con- 
 ductress return alone. She beckoned me 
 to follow her, which I did, my sv/ord still 
 unsheathed. The old woman carried a 
 small taper, which barely enabled me to 
 Fee that we passed through some dark 
 passages into the basement story of a 
 house. Again I apprehended for my 
 safety, but was re-animated on finding we 
 were ascending to the ground floor — here-, 
 at least I thought I could make mvself 
 heard, and I followed with alacrity up a 
 small winding stair-case, at the top of 
 which she opened a door, and, 'closing it
 
 \VURTZ13LRG FAMILY. 53 
 
 upon me, I found myself in a dressing- 
 room^ and in a moment Adelaide ap- 
 peared from an adjoining apartment. She 
 seemed confused and abaslied^ on first 
 seeing me ; but^ composing her agitation 
 as much as possible, she took mj^ hand, 
 led^ me to a seat, and, entreating me not 
 to think too unfavourablj of her after the 
 measure she had been driven -to adopt, 
 began to explain the causes which had 
 induced her to take so indecorous a step. 
 She then, after confessing that she had long 
 been aware of my partiality, and, in the 
 most touching language, acknowledged 
 that she was not indifferent to me ; in- 
 formed me, that her absence from our 
 usual place of meeting was occasioned by 
 her father's having insisted on her imme- 
 diate marriage with the old Duke de . 
 
 Nothing, she said, could have been more 
 unexpected than such a proposal. She 
 received it with a sensation of disgust, 
 which she did not attempt to conceal ;
 
 51 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 and^ ill the most resolute maiiner, declared 
 she never would consent to such an union. 
 j\t firsts her father endeavoured to argue 
 Jier into compliance; hut^ finding her 
 quite immoveable^ he had confined her a 
 close prisoner in her own room. Every 
 day he had repeated his endeavours to 
 tonquer her; but^ finding it quite im- 
 I csaib'e^ Jie had the evening before come 
 to a fixed determination to conclude the 
 match on the following Monday. To 
 escape was inniossible — she must inevitably 
 hp pursued^ and overtaken immediately. 
 In this dilemma it had occurred to her 
 that, perhaps, I could devise some expe- 
 dient by which this dreaded marriage 
 might be averted; and^ having prevailed 
 on the old servant who attended her to find 
 me out^ and conduct me to her, the pre- 
 sent meeting had thus been effected. She 
 told me the vault, which had formerly been 
 used as a repository for coal, wood, &c. 
 was now useless in consequence of some
 
 WCRTZBLIiG FAMILY. 3J 
 
 alterations her father had made in the 
 offices to his house ; and said^ the reason 
 I was so long- detained there was, that the 
 Duke, and her father had spent the even' 
 ing v/ith her, and they had prolonged their 
 visit to so late an hour that her father had 
 retired to rest much bevond his usual time. 
 She assured me, had I followed the old 
 servant when she first quitted me, I should 
 most undoubtedly ha\e fallen a sacrifice 
 to my imprudence, as the numerous men 
 servants w ould have discovered me. 
 
 " We now began to consider seriously 
 bow to avoid the impending danger ; but 
 no means of escape presented itself to our 
 imaginalion ; and, when the old woman 
 returned io warn me I must depart, we 
 were still irresolute. We however agreed, 
 that if I could devise any feasible method, 
 I should write a note, and push it under 
 the outer door of the vault — the old woman 
 could, after the family were retired, deliver
 
 56 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 this to Adelaide^ and could also convej 
 her answer to the same pi are. After this 
 v/« parted. The poor girl burst into tears 
 and all her fortitude vanished when I, 
 quitted her. 
 
 ^"' Returning* home, I sat down by mj 
 litlie hre, and began to meditate on the 
 a 'ventures of the niglit : ray senses were 
 l:ewik;ered, so suddenly to have disco- 
 vered that my attachment was not only 
 < xcused^ but even returned— -that in the 
 moment I had received this delightful in- 
 timation, the object of my devotion was 
 for ever to be snatched from me, caused a 
 tumult in my mind unpropitious to the 
 cool deliberation which might enable me 
 to avert the blow. 
 
 " I attended parade in the morning ; but 
 iny ab?ence of mind was too visible not to 
 attract notice; and an old friend, who 
 happened to be among the spectators, ^vho
 
 WURTZEURG FAMILV. 57 
 
 usually attended our drills jocosely in- 
 quired v,bat fair damsel engaged my 
 attention^ w'hich appeared to be so com- 
 pletely withdrawn from my present em- 
 ployment. This sally recalled my scattered 
 senses^ and I began to reflect on the want 
 of caution, \\hich thus betrayed my unea- 
 siness to every accidental observer. The 
 men being dismissed, my friend took my 
 arm and we sauntered into the neighbour- 
 ing fields — here he questioned ma in the 
 most friendly manner, apprehending some 
 embarrassment in my affairs might occasion 
 my present air of distraction. 
 
 " He was a French priest, who had re- 
 ceived much kindness from ray father : in 
 former days he had known want, and had 
 from him received some pecuniary assist- 
 ance ; since that time fortune had smiled 
 on him, and, by the will of a distant 
 relation, he had lately inherited a 
 good property. He was thus placed
 
 58 MEMOIRS OF THEf 
 
 entirely beyond dependance^ and his grate- 
 ful heart always led him to shew kindness 
 towards the son of his old benefactor. A 
 thought at this moment struck my mind — 
 if my Adelaide could be induced to consent 
 to a private marriage, this man would unite 
 us — she might then declare at the altar 
 her previous engagement, and thus, at 
 once remove all possibility of compleating 
 her father's cruel intentions. I immedi- 
 ately, without mentioning any names, 
 proposed the plan to liim. After sonie 
 hesitation he consented, and I flew to my 
 apartment to write to my adored Adelaide. 
 You may suppose how strongly I urged the 
 step ; all tho eloquence I could command 
 was exhausted in this letter, and when night 
 enabled me to visit the door of my late pri- 
 son, I deposited ray epistle, as was agreed. 
 With the utmost eagerness I sought the 
 tnsv/er on the following evening ; and my 
 joy was extreme on finding, that in con- 
 sequence of renewed persecution, the
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILT. 59 
 
 harrassed girl consented to my proposal. 
 In the dead of the nighty my friend and I 
 were admitted by the old woman^ and in 
 her presence I Mas united to my sweet 
 Adelaide* 
 
 '' The day now arrived when she was to 
 be sacrificed to the Duke: at the hour 
 appointed for the ceremony I drew near the 
 house^ that J if necessary^ I might avow 
 my marriage. I continued some time to 
 walk up and down the street — all was 
 quiet — not a light appeared in any of the 
 windows. At length ; a servant came out 
 of the house^ I immediately accosted him^ 
 asking for the Count : he assured me, 
 none of the family were at home^ his 
 master having the day before conveyed his 
 daughter to a convent. Thunderstruck 
 by this iritelligence^ I continued to ques- 
 tion him^ but could not discover the prison 
 of my wife. Three days I passed in fruit- 
 less enquiries; on the fourth, I happened
 
 60 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 to pass by a lad whom I had seen in the 
 Count's service ; he was conversing with 
 a fellow-servantj and was describing a 
 journey he had just taken. I soon con- 
 trived to obtain the information 1 required. 
 The lad was postillion to the County and 
 not considering himself as sufficiently paid 
 for his exertion, in travelling night and 
 day, imagined the promise of secrecy so 
 sparingly purchased not worth keepings 
 and accordingly was communicating it to 
 his companion. 
 
 *^ Nothing now remained for me to do 
 but to follow and endeavour to release 
 her. This I accordingly immediately 
 undertook, having first obtained leave of 
 absence from my regiment, and was within 
 one day's journey of the convent, when 
 a fever, occasioned by fatigue and anguish 
 of mind, brought me to the verge of the 
 grave, and coniincdmc to my bed, in a 
 miserabre village, where I was destitute
 
 WURTZDURG FAMILY. 61 
 
 of every comfort and convenience mj 
 situation required. Here my naturally 
 good constitution enabled me to overcome 
 all the obstacles^ which bad living and an 
 ignorant apothecary laid in the way of my 
 recovery. At the end of eleven weeks I 
 found myself able to continue my journey. 
 When I arrived at the convent^ I^ like 
 yourself, discovered the old gardener. 
 It cost me some money,, and more trouble 
 to bribe him to deliver a letter to Adelaide^ 
 in whichj however^ I at last succeeded ; 
 and by degrees prevailed on him to convey 
 a loose coat and hat, by way of disguise^ 
 whenever she could arrange her escape. 
 At length she wrote me word, that she 
 had contrived to fit an old key, v»'hich she 
 had accidentally found, so as to unlock 
 the garden gate, and declared herself ready 
 to fly with me. Judge of my mortification 
 in finding myself obliged to return to Paris 
 before I could release her. My money 
 was expended, with which also she was 
 ill provided, and my leave of absence had
 
 6% MEMOIR* OF THE 
 
 now expired. I therefore quitted the place, 
 promising to return as soon as possible ; 
 and, often charging the old couple to be 
 secret, I quitted their hospitable little 
 abode. The rest you know — your ap- 
 pearance under the window, naturally led 
 Adelaide to mistake you for myself, I 
 was hastening to the convent, when I met 
 you, and the disguise, which would have 
 
 , concealed my wife from every one else^ 
 betrayed her instantly to me. It w^s 
 natural for me to suppose the Duke, or 
 some of his agents had deceived, and were 
 
 ^ conveying her away; and this idea caused 
 me to use language which your generous 
 conduct proves you have forgiven. " 
 
 Albert expressed his pleasure in having, 
 though accidentally, been the means of re- 
 storing these lovers to each other ; and after 
 diverting themselves with the manner in 
 which the old man had kept Henry's secret, 
 while he mentioned the object of it, and 
 by this partial concealment was, in fact.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 63 
 
 the means of accomplishing their wishes^ 
 they retired to their beds.. 
 
 The next morning the lady was con- 
 siderably better ; and Albert, having as- 
 sured Henry of his good wishes^ and 
 advised him to fly to Germany with his 
 bride, rather than return to France, he 
 announced his intention of re-commencing 
 his journey. He was now become weary 
 of constant disappointment and unavailing 
 search, and thinking it possible. Made- 
 moiselle Feuillide might, by this time, be 
 returned home, he resolved once more to 
 revisit the hamlet. Bertrand was de- 
 lighted to commence this journey ; being 
 somewhat older than his master, and 
 moreover, not at all in love, these rambles 
 possessed no charms for him • and, one 
 morning, asthey were pursuing their way, 
 began to remonstrate with his master on 
 his present wandering life : and reverting 
 to the Castle of Qotha, pictured his old 
 master, and Maximilian^ anxiously wish-
 
 64 MEMOIRS OF TUE 
 
 ing for intelligence from their favourite^ 
 ^' Ah ! Sir/' said the affectionate old ser- 
 vant, *^*^ the Count is in years and your 
 
 long absence maj« " ''^O Heavens!'* 
 
 exclaimed Albert, '' do not draw so dread- 
 ful a conclusion ; you do not surely sup- 
 pose my departure has been so severely felt 
 by my father !" '' I hope not/' said Ber- 
 trand ; '* but still, he is old, and age is 
 easily borne downby sorrow/' 
 
 This conversation led Albert into a 
 train of thoughts which completely oc- 
 cupied his mind till he drew near the 
 hamlet. As he approached it, the 
 sound of the village bell met his ear — 
 he stopt to listen — it was the knell of a 
 departed soul;-^^and a scnsatix)n of dread 
 and superstitious presentiment struck the 
 heart of Albert — he turned round to Ber- 
 trand ; but in the honest composed coun- 
 tenance of this worthy servant met no 
 reciprocity of feelinq;. He then endca-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 05 
 
 voured to chase the dejection of his mind, 
 and in a few paces reached the churchr 
 yard. 
 
 Here he met an old and respectable 
 peasant-, wliom he had often noticed by 
 little acis of k hid n ess, and in hurried ac- 
 cents Lsked^ for whom he heard the sad 
 sounds — the peasant looked kindly in his 
 face, and in a tone of pity and grief, 
 smilingly replied, '' Ah ! Monsieur, we 
 have lost our best friend!" The truth 
 flashed on Albert — he threw himself fiom 
 his horse, and scarcely knowing what he 
 did, quickly found himself at the door of 
 the pastoral house— here, sinking on the 
 bench which stood in the little porch, he 
 gave vent to his feelings in a flood of tears. 
 Shortly after he heard footsteps in the 
 little passage, and almost fienzied, he 
 opened the door, and in the next moment 
 found himself in-the presence of Adelaide.
 
 66 MEMOIRS OF TBI 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 X HE deep affliction in which Albert 
 found the poor orphan cruelly confirmed 
 his fears ; on his entrance, she raised her 
 head, her pale cheek wet with tears, and 
 uttering a shriek of surprize, fainted in bis 
 arms. Josephine, alarmed by the noise, 
 now entered the room ; her astonishment 
 was almost as great as that of her young 
 lady, though it had not so violent an effect 
 on her spirits. " This is a blessed event 
 indeed,'* said the good old soul ; " my 
 young lady wanted some such comfort; 
 and now. Sir, pray prevail on her to go to 
 bed — she has been sitting up with her 
 poor father eight nights, and is quite ex- 
 hausted; so pray,** continued she earnestly.
 
 WtJRTZBURG FAMILY. 67 
 
 '' do not talk to her till to-morrow even- 
 ing — indeed^ she cannot tell you all about 
 it yet." By this time Adelaide revived. 
 Albert considered the advice of the old \ 
 woman as too sensible not to be followed ; 
 and after murmuring something about 
 resignation and comfort^ in which he 
 acquitted himself but indifferently, he 
 conjured her to consider her health ; and 
 to endeavour to gain some composuVe. 
 He then bade her adieu, saying, that in 
 the morning, she must allow him to offer 
 his services in arranging any business she 
 might like to confide to his management, 
 
 Wc will now look into the little history 
 of Adelaide and her father. Monsieur 
 Feuillide, when very young, formed an 
 intimacv with a man of considerable for- 
 tune, who resided near Geneva. This 
 friend had continued steadily attached to 
 him through life — he had placed him in the 
 situation he held in the village ; and when
 
 68 MEMOIRS OF THK 
 
 he married. Mademoiselle Mireville be- 
 came equally interested for the amiable 
 friend of her husband. On the death of 
 Mademoiselle Feuijlide, the kindness of 
 these friends induced them to offer to take 
 charge of the little Adelaide; but^ highly 
 as the unhappy widower estimated the 
 value of the proposal^ he felt he could 
 not tear himself from his infant; and, 
 gratefully thanking them for their bene- 
 volent intentions, declined parting with 
 his child at that time ; though he added, 
 he should consider their house as an asy-^ 
 lum for his girl, should any unforeseen 
 event in future render a removal from her 
 native place necessary; and he had now 
 entrusted Adelaide to the care of Made- 
 moiselle Mireville. Previous to her de- 
 parture he had, in the most tender and 
 impressive manner, conversed with his 
 daughter on the state of her heart : always 
 gentle and yielding, and accustomed to 
 treat her father in the most open man-.
 
 M'URTZBURG FAMILY. 69 
 
 iier^ Adelaide confessed^ with tears and 
 blushes her attachment. With the most- 
 patient resignation she listened to his 
 affectionate admonitions, and promised to 
 struggle against her growing partiality 
 for Albert ; but^ when she found her 
 father dctermii^ed to remove her instantly 
 from the spot, which must every moment 
 overturn her good resolutions, her forti- 
 tude entirely forsook her, and he saw the 
 strength of her attachment by her dread of 
 quitting the object of it. But Monsieur 
 Feuillide united strength of mind to great 
 sensibility; and, while he deplored the 
 unhappiness he felt himself obliged to 
 inflict on his daughler, he remained steady 
 to his purpose. He had already imparted 
 his intention to Monsieur and Mademoi- 
 selle Mireville ; and the morning after this 
 explanation took place she accompanied 
 heT new friend to the Maison de Mireville : 
 and here Adelaide sought to fulfil her 
 promise to her father, and to cherish the
 
 10 ilEMOIRS OP THE 
 
 remembrance of Albert, only as an esti- 
 mable and valuable friend. Some times 
 she even persuaded herself she had, in some 
 degree, succeeded in her endeavours; but, 
 on a nearer examination of her feelings, 
 was convinced her composure arose only 
 from the certainty of seeing him on her 
 return home, which she hoped would be 
 in the course of a few months. 
 
 Mademoiselle Mireville possessed every 
 virtue, and every talent that could render 
 her worthy the trust reposed in her by her 
 aged friend. In her society Adelaide 
 improved in those little refinements of 
 manner, which can only be acquired by 
 mixing with the most select and well-bred 
 circles ; and she attained this last finish to 
 her powers of fascination, without losing 
 her own unaffected strong sense of pro- 
 priety. She was equally innocent^ equally 
 modest, equally diffident ; but she acted 
 with less painful constraint: and she was
 
 WURTZBUUG FAMILY. 71 
 
 less shy than when she first emerged from 
 her solitude. Each day she resolved to 
 think less of ihe merit, and the accom- 
 plishments of Albert and each day ; found 
 herself obliged to confess she had failed in 
 her resolution ; but, though her thoughts 
 were more engrossed by this subject than 
 she liked to confess, even to her own heart, 
 her conduct in society was not less pleasing 
 and attentive ; and her easy composure of 
 manner never raised a suspicion of her 
 affections being engaged. 
 
 Among those whom she saw most fre* 
 quently with her friends, was a young 
 man, the only son of Monsieur Mireville's 
 fister ; he was amiable and agreeable, and 
 was the acknowledged heir to his uncle's 
 property. He was of course a constant 
 visitor at their house, and often spent 
 much lime in the dressing-room of his 
 aunt, where he frequently met Adelaide. 
 At first be only coasidered lier as a pretty
 
 7S MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 girl, the daughter of an obscure man, 
 and looked upon her raerelj as the humble 
 eompanion of Madame; but^ as he be- 
 came more intimately acquainted with her, 
 he began to feel she was a great addition 
 to the pleasure of their little morning 
 parties, and at last he thought her pre- 
 sence absolutely necessary. Every day he 
 was struck with fresh beauties in her 
 person and mirtd. The transition from 
 admiration to love in the breast of ayoung 
 man is easy, and often rapid : so it was 
 with Frederic, and he very shortly dis- 
 cerned, as he expressed himself to a young 
 friend, that he was over head and ears in 
 love with the little beautiful rustic. He 
 was perfectly aware of the objection her 
 poverty would be to his family, and pru^ 
 dence would therefore have prevented his 
 encouraging this sentiment; but love 
 knows not prudence ; and he therefore 
 indulged in an unrestrained fondness for 
 Adelaide^ only resolving not to commu-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 71 
 
 nicate it to his relations, but confine it to 
 himself, and the object of his admiration. 
 For some time he endeavoured in vain to 
 meet her alone ; his aunt, with the most 
 provoking kindness, devoted so much of 
 her time to her young protegee, that he 
 could not find her by herself long enough 
 to explain his intentions. 
 
 At length the fortunate moment arrived ; 
 Madame Mireville took a morning drive 
 to Geneva, to convey two young ladies to 
 that place, who had been on a visit to her, 
 and Adelaide was not of the party ; but 
 remained in the study. She had been 
 reading for some time, when, recollecting 
 her friend would like to have the flowers 
 that decorated the apartment replaced by 
 fresh ones, she took a little basket in her 
 hand, and descended into the garden. 
 Frederic seized the moment to join her. 
 At first he politely assisted in gathering 
 such flowers as were beyond her reach-— 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 MEMOIRS OF THE • 
 
 then the basket was almost too full for her 
 to convey with ease, dnd it was therefore 
 necessary that he should carry it for her ;' 
 and at length, the flowers were placed in 
 fo disorderly a manner that they seated 
 themselves on a little garden seat, in order 
 to arrange them : from the flowers the 
 conversation gradually fell on the charms 
 of the country ; the walks, tho rides, the 
 drives, were so lovely : fronj the walks 
 the transition was natural to the compa- 
 nion, with whom to enjoy these beauties 
 of nature; and, in half an hour, Adelaide 
 was made to understand that the gay and 
 sprightly Frederic thonght her the moit 
 agreeable associate, not only in his occa- 
 sional rural pursuits, but for life. Ade- 
 laide, was not a girl likely to suppose every 
 man who saw her must of necessity fall 
 in love ; she therefore heard him with 
 unfeigned surprize and sorrow. In a hur- 
 ried manner^ thanking him for his flatter- 
 ing approbation, sh« assured him, it wa«
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 75 
 
 quite out of the question for her ever to 
 marry him, and entreated he never would 
 renew the subject. She then hastily 
 retired, leaving her enamorato not a little 
 astonished at so complete a rejection ; — 
 however, he resolved not to be discouraged 
 by a bashful country girl ; and, from that 
 moment, he was continually contriving 
 means to convey letters to her. This dis- 
 tressed her beyond measure. She felt 
 certain that his uncle could never approve 
 the match, if she were willing to accept 
 him : indeed. Monsieur Mireville had 
 already selected a lady, with whom he 
 hoped to unite his nephew. To mention 
 the affair to either of her friends was quite 
 impossible; to correspond with her new 
 lover shocked her delicacy ; and she began 
 to wish more than ever that she might be 
 recalled home. 
 
 At length she determined to write to 
 her father, and request he would permit 
 
 e2
 
 76 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 her return : this letter she had^ however, 
 for sometime no opportunity of conveying, 
 and Frederic still continued to persecute 
 her, and she regularly returned his letters 
 in an envelope ; when an unlucky accident 
 caused her immediate return, before her 
 request had reached her father. By some 
 strange carelessness, the girl, who always 
 conveyed Frederic's letters, dropt one of 
 them from her pocket as she was lighting 
 the fire in Madame Mireville's chamber ; 
 the latter picked it up, and her astonish- 
 ment and indignation were extreme, on 
 finding it addressed to Adelaide, in the 
 hand-writing of her nephew. Unwilling 
 to break the seal, she took it to her hus- 
 band and requested his advice. Enraged 
 beyond measure, he tore open the letter, 
 and found it contained a proposal to elope, 
 written in a style that led him to suppose 
 he was by no means a rejected admirer. 
 
 Aware of the cause of Adelaide's leaving
 
 WURTZBUR* YAMILV. i ^ 
 
 lier father. Monsieur Mireville felt dis- 
 gusted witli the young coquette, and in 
 his first irritation would immediately have 
 reproached her with the levity that could 
 induce her to listen to a proposal, which^ 
 as the intended match had never beeu 
 concealed from her, proved Adelaide, to 
 be both ungrateful and artful. The good 
 sense of Madame Mireville, convinced 
 her this was an improper mode of pro- 
 ceeding ; she represented that such a step 
 would be attended with so complete an 
 ecclaircissement, that all hope of their 
 wishes being accomplished must be frug- 
 trated, and the young people, probably 
 urged by opposition, would immediately 
 take the measure Frederic had just pro- 
 posed. By the timely discovery of this 
 letter Adelaide would continue ignorant 
 of this wild scheme, and they agreed the 
 next morning to convey her to her father, 
 without explaining their intention to their
 
 78 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 nephew^ or imparting their knowledge of 
 the correspondence to Adelaide. 
 
 With much surprize and extreme satis- 
 faction Madame Feuillide^ on retiring 
 to rest, heard from Madame Mireville, 
 that particular business called herself and 
 Monsieur Mireville suddenly from home ; 
 and that in consequence thej must restore 
 her to her parent. Poor Adelaide felt 
 unmixed joy — she would now see her 
 father and Albert, and she would escapt 
 from the solicitations of Frederic ; little 
 did she suspect how completely she had 
 sunk in the opinion of her friends, and 
 this was a most happy circumstance; 
 otherwise her strength of mind must have 
 forsaken her, on returning to her once 
 happy home; when, instead of meeting 
 her father cheerful and in health, she 
 found him confined to his chamber, and 
 unable even to see his friends, who had 
 themselves conveyed her home, and who
 
 •WURTZBURG FAMILY. 79 
 
 only staid to refresh themselves and horses 
 before they departed. Poor Adelaide, 
 was so much shocked at the state in which 
 she found her venerable parent, that she 
 had no time to reflect on the cool manner 
 in which Monsieur Mireville bade her 
 adieu ; and Madame Mireville participated 
 too deeply in her affliction to allow of any 
 diminution of kindness in such a moment; 
 she therefore, merely omitted any invi- 
 tation to repeat her visit;, but otherwise 
 conducted herself with her usual attention* 
 
 Adelaide, when her father was suffi- 
 ciently recovered from his first surprize^ 
 informed him of the alledged reason for her 
 return ; and the good old man felt happy 
 his child was thus accidentally restored to 
 him at the very moment he had just 
 determined to send for her. From this 
 time Adelaide seldom quitted his room ; 
 and for two days her thou2:hts were so 
 much engrossed by the situation of her
 
 80 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 father, that she did Aot even recollect her 
 lover. On the third day, while her invalid 
 was endeavouring to ohlain a little rest, 
 she ventured to mention his name to 
 Josephine, who informed her of Albert's 
 departure. poor Adelaide was disap- 
 pointed and mortified beyond measure. — 
 Alas ! how vain and weak must I be, to 
 suppose I could interest a gay man of the 
 world ! Already has the captivating, vo- 
 latile, Albert, forgotten the hamlet, and 
 its humble inhabitants. She was inter- 
 rupted in this painful reverie by her father, 
 who desired her to attend his bed-side- 
 he found himself somewhat revived, and 
 seized the moment to prepare his child 
 for the sad event which he felt was draw- 
 ing near. He spoke to her of her future 
 prospects with anxiety, and touched on 
 the motives of his conduct in removing 
 her from the presence of Albert, explain- 
 ing, that, while he trusted absence might 
 wean her mind from an object which he
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 81 
 
 found had engrossed it almost exclusively, 
 he hoped it was possible for Albert's 
 regard to be sufficiently strong to induce 
 him to remain in his simple dwelling till 
 her return. '' My hopes^, however, are 
 now destroyed/' said he, with some agi^ 
 tation, " and I applaud theprurl ace which 
 led me to inflict so severe a privatiou on 
 myself, as the loss of my lovely girl's 
 society, in the idea that I have thus 
 checked in the bud, a passion, which 
 could o(xasion nothing but misery." Poor 
 Adelaide sighed — she was painfully con- 
 scious of the fallacy of the measure, and 
 remained silent. Monsieur Feuillide then 
 proceeded to inforn her he had settled his 
 affairs in the best manner he was capable 
 of, and advised her (should any thing 
 prevent Monsieur Mireville's receiving 
 her) to remove to a distant province, in 
 which many of her family resided, with 
 whom, though she was unacquainted, he 
 had alwavs kept up a correspondence. 
 e3
 
 82 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Then, with a degree of energy which 
 illumined his venerable countenance, he 
 spoke to her of higher views — led her to 
 reflect on the bright prospect before him ; 
 and^ assuring her with what comfort and 
 composure he looked to the change about 
 to be wrought in him, conjured her to 
 continue in the same path which he had 
 by precept, and he trusted by example, 
 pointed out to her. While he spoke, the 
 heavenly glow on his features surprized 
 and charmed Adelaide. 
 
 '^ Oh ! my father \" sheexclaimed, press- 
 ing his hand gently to her heart, " you will 
 live — you will yet be spared to guide your 
 erring child : talk not, I conjure you, of 
 death ; I see an animation in your face that 
 betokens recovery ; you will be spared to 
 the fervent^ prayers of your child.'* Mon.- 
 sieur Feuillide smiled faintly on hit 
 daughter — he was unwilling to disappoint 
 lier hopes ; but even while she spoke, the
 
 WURT21BURG FAMILY. 83 
 
 pale hand of death seemed again to press 
 heavily on his cheeky and fatigued by the 
 exertion, he kissed his unhappy girl, and 
 desired to be left alone. Adelaide closed 
 the curtain and remained by his bed; 
 gradually he sunk into repose, and when 
 he awoke, she was shocked and alarmed, 
 to find sleep only appeared to have left 
 him more weak and exhausted. The 
 medical man now arrived: with what 
 trembling eagerness she watched his 
 countenance as she held the hand of his 
 patient. Alas ! life ebbed fast, and with 
 genuine sorrow, the apothecary announced 
 his dissolution to be at hand. 
 
 Adelaide knelt by her father ; one of 
 his cold hands clasped in bar's, the other 
 elevated as in prajer : suddenly raising 
 his head, he cast his eyes on his child; 
 and in almost inarticulate sounds, prayed 
 for a blessing on her head — then sunk 
 upon his pillow, and never spoke more.
 
 sit MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Adelaide^ at that moment, gave way to 
 an agony of grkf— all incentive to ex€rtion 
 was over^ and she became almost in a 
 state of distraction; her father dead, no 
 relation near — she wished the same grave 
 might close on herself and her parent. 
 
 Josephine had lived many years in the 
 family — she loved her young mistress as 
 her child ; and, with the freedom her long 
 services sanctioned, soon began to advise 
 with her on the necessary steps this me- 
 lancholy circumstance called for : and the 
 apothecary, in the most friendly manner, 
 undertook to announce Adelaide's loss to 
 the relations whom Monsieur Fuillidehad 
 mentioned. This was a most fortunate 
 consideration in him, for the poor mourner 
 was quite incapable of acting — the letter 
 was written, the apothecary took his leave^ 
 and Adelaide, left alone for the first time^ 
 retired into the little sitting room. Here, 
 the first object that struck her sight wts
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY: 85 
 
 the large easy chair in which her father 
 had been for many years accustomed to 
 spend his tranquil evenings — she threw 
 herielf into it^ ejaculating, ^' Oh ! my 
 father !'* and burst into tears; the emotion 
 such an object excites at such a moment, 
 can only be truly felt by those who have 
 experienced similar affliction — Adelaide 
 wept — a relief she had not till now expe- 
 rienced. 
 
 It was at this moment Albert arrived ; 
 and a more heart-rending sight had never 
 met his eyes. Sorrow and regret seized 
 his mind ; he felt conscious that if he had 
 remained quietly and rationally in his 
 retirement, he might have had it in his 
 power to soothe and comfort his lost 
 friend, and might have obtained Monsieur 
 Feuillide*s approbation of his intended 
 proposal. Albert had lived a life of small 
 expence — he had still a considerable part 
 of the sum with which he had originally
 
 S6 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 furnished himself remaining ; he therefore 
 was enabled to arrange and discharge the 
 debts of the worthy pastor immediately ; 
 this was a great source of comfort to Ade- 
 laide; who, quite ignorant of business, 
 had been much alarmed on receiving 
 several bills which she was unable to pay. 
 
 With the most delicate attention he 
 avoided any conversation with Adelaide 
 on the subject nearest his heart ; sensible 
 of the unpleasant situation in which she 
 was left" — without a female friend or rela- 
 tion near her ; he confined himself entirely 
 to matters of business, and never even 
 remained with her during her repasts^, lest 
 she should by such an indulgence draw 
 the censure of her little neighbourhood on 
 her ; for, although the inhabitants of the 
 hamlet were in an inferior line of life to 
 her, and much attached to Adelaide, 
 scandal finds votaries in all ranks, and all
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILV. 87 
 
 «ituations^ and there were not wanting 
 some sufficiently idle to be delighted with 
 the field of conjecture which the situa- 
 tion of the lovers opened to their othenvise 
 vacant minds.
 
 88 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 oIX weeks had elapsed since the death 
 of Monsieur Feuillide, when^ after a long 
 and tedious journey on a sorry horse, the 
 uncle of Adelaide arrived. With an 
 emotion she could but ill conceal, she 
 advanced to meet her relation— the brother 
 of her father must resemble him— they 
 should w eep together over the grave of her 
 parent; and, in the tenderness of her uncle, 
 she would find, she trusted, some alleviation 
 of her forlorn state. Her disappointment 
 was extreme on entering the room, to find 
 this long expected and long wished for 
 relative was in person and mind the very 
 reverse of her father: a thick clumsy 
 figure, with short legs, and a broad and 
 very flat face, of a deep purple hue, could
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. S9 
 
 not impress his niece with much admi- 
 ration ; and when he spoke^ his coarse 
 voice, vulgar tone^ and complete insen- 
 sibility, disgusted and shocked her. After 
 partaking most voraciously of Adelaide's 
 simple repastj he slept for one hour in an 
 arm-chair by the fire ; and Adelaide listened 
 to the deep and regular tones which indi- 
 cated how ill the enormous meal he had 
 just devoured agreed with his digestive 
 powers^ in astonishment bordering on 
 alarm. 
 
 When he awoke he told his niece he 
 had but little time to spare her, and there- 
 fore he must proceed to business without 
 delay — his family would expect him home, 
 and his employments were of such a nature, 
 as made his presence indispensably ne- 
 cessary. In truth. Monsieur Miraiide was 
 the half-brother of Monsieur Feuiliide^ 
 his mother having married a petty jobber 
 in money, (usurier) who had trained this
 
 9d 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 son to his own business ; and the foolish 
 mistaken mother, ashamed of the error 
 into which she had been drawn, sincerely 
 rejoiced her elder son, by his education 
 and pursuits, was early removed from her 
 house ; and distance precluding all possi- 
 bility of intercoursebut by letter. Monsieur 
 Feuillide knew his brother-in-law only as 
 the son of a parent for whom he felt a 
 tender attachment, and as a good hu- 
 moured boy, with whom he had often 
 played during the short visits, which, 
 when a lad, he had paid his mother, 
 
 Adelaide informed her uncle, the will 
 and papers of her late father were in the 
 hands of a friend, who had kindly acted 
 for her in the first moments of her loss ; 
 and referred him entirely to Albert for 
 the particulars he wanted to know. 
 
 Monsieur Feuillide had left all his 
 property to his daughter, after paying his
 
 WURTZBLKG FAMILY. 91 
 
 just debts, and the residue, though small, 
 promised a tolerable provision for a girl 
 accustomed to live in a frugal manner. 
 Albert no sooner saw Monsieur Mirande 
 than he disceriicd the selfishness of his 
 mind ; he was therefore not a little sur- 
 prized he should have taken so much 
 trouble to Visit a niece, whose affairs 
 appeared in no way connected with his^ 
 and whose small income could not render 
 her an object worthy his attention. The 
 truth however was soon explained : Mi- 
 rande insisted on a valuation of all the 
 effects of the deceased ; and, with the 
 most scrupulous exactness, looked over 
 every article, even of attire, which had 
 belonged to his brother. This done, he 
 presented the valuation to his niece, in 
 the presence of Albert, and, deliberately 
 drawing a paper from his pocket, began 
 to read a deed of gift fiom his mother of 
 all her property to himself; and then, 
 without evincing the smallest remorse.
 
 92 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 shewed a note in the hand writing of 
 Monsieur Fueillide, acknowledging a 
 debt to his mother, nearly equal to the 
 valuation of all his property. ''You 
 perceive therefore young lady/' he 
 gravely continued, '^ ^y duty to my own 
 family obliges me to seize the whole of 
 my poor indolent brother's propert3\ 
 The sum that remains is so small that I 
 have no objection to your either re- 
 ceiving it from me, and giving me up all 
 the effects of the deceased, or you may 
 select things to that amount from the 
 furniture, goods, and chatties, late the 
 property of your father/* He might 
 have spoken for ever : ^friendless, and a 
 btggar, poor Adelaide sat in mute as- 
 tonishment: at length, clasping her 
 hands, she faintly exclaimed, '^ Oh ! my 
 father, N^^hy is it not permitted me to join 
 thy blest spirit, and be at peac<^ ?" Al- 
 bert arose from his seat, indignation and 
 pity struggling in his breast, '' my dear
 
 WURTZRURG FAMILY. 93 
 
 Adelaide/' he said, taking her gently by 
 the hand, '' you had better retire ; this 
 subject must be discussed between your 
 uncle and myself; your presence there- 
 fore ig unnecessary, and painful to all 
 parties/* So saying he led her to the 
 door, and returned to his chair. 
 
 Left alone with the unfeeling man, he 
 remonstrated on the cruel manner in 
 which he had made his claim, and ex- 
 pressed much astonishment at the de- 
 mand, as among the papers he had lately 
 inspected was one mentioning the comfort 
 Monsieur Feuillide felt in haying been 
 enabled by, strict economy, to pay the 
 sum of money he had borrowed of his 
 mother, on first entering on his ministry. 
 Mirande coolly answered that, if he could 
 shew a discharge for the debt, he had 
 not another word to say : if not, of 
 course, he must have justice. '^ And 
 pray, in that case, what is to become of
 
 94 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 this unfortunate girl ? '* said Albert. 
 '' She may reside in my family, if she 
 pleases/' replied her affectionate uncle : 
 '^ I want a young woman to look after 
 my children, and will give her the pre- 
 ference, as she seems a quiet well behaved 
 girl." Albert could hear no more : he 
 started up, and, in a menacing manner, 
 approached the now trembling Mirande ; 
 but, recollecting himself, he checked the 
 violence of his displeasure ; and, casting 
 a look of the utmost contempt on him, 
 said, '' Take the property ; — rob your 
 innocent niece of all her worldly pos- 
 sessions : you cannot steal her mind, and 
 shall not enslave her person — I will 
 protect her." With these words he 
 rushed out of the room. Albert, hur- 
 ried by the violence of his feelings, 
 hastened to join Adelaide : he found her 
 in a state of the deepest dejection, re- 
 volving in her mind how she 'was in 
 future to support herself. Never much
 
 WURTZBLRG FAMILY. 95 
 
 addicted to prudence or reflection^ in 
 such a moment, neither could be expected 
 of the ardent Albert; he repeated to 
 Adelaide all her uncle had said, informed 
 her there certainly? was no discharge of 
 the debt among her father's writings^ 
 and conjured her to terminate all her 
 difficulties by consenting to become his 
 wife. The conflict, at this moment, in 
 the breast of Adelaide, was too much for 
 her harrassed frame. To unite her fate 
 for ever with the only being, who could 
 render life desirable, was a bliss he had 
 not allowed herself to hope for; and the 
 transition from the depth of grief to the 
 summit of felicity overpowered her spirits 
 so much that she fainted, Albert placed 
 her on a sopha, and calling Josephine, he 
 left her with her old servant, considering 
 that his absence might enable her to re- 
 cover her composure sooner than if he 
 continued in her presence. The glass 
 door towards the garden stood open — he 
 hurried into the little walk, which led to
 
 96 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 the favorite tree, under which he had often 
 sat with his venerable friend : he placed 
 himself on the rustic bench : and, revol- 
 ving the extraordinary adventures of the 
 day, found much to gratify, and some- 
 thing to distress, his mind. 
 
 That he bad found an opportunity of 
 declaring himself to the bewitching girl, 
 and that the conduct of her uncle would 
 induce h^r speedily to accept him, was an 
 idea that filled him with extacy ; but a 
 dark cloud seemed to overshadow his soul 
 when Christen a, and the divorce shot 
 across his recollection; yet, when he 
 reflected on the influence of his father, 
 and the atrocities of his wife, he en- 
 deavoured to persuade himself doubt was 
 folly. The men of the law were dilatory, 
 he well knew ; but he had left his home 
 nearly two years, and the case was so 
 clear it could not require half that time. 
 Still he felt a secret dissatisfaction, which 
 led him to dispatch his servant Bertrand
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 97 
 
 to his long neglected home ; from thence 
 to convey an account of all the pro- 
 ceedings against Christina, and the 
 verdict he had obtained. In the mean 
 time he resolved not to mention the 
 divorce to Adelaide. She had heard it 
 spoken of as a matter long since decided ; 
 and had always considered him as disen- 
 gaged; and he would not, on any account, 
 raise a doubt, which would only tend to 
 create causeless alarm. With respect to 
 Monsieur Mirande, Albert thought the 
 sooner he removed the better; and, as 
 money was no consequence to himself^ he 
 informed the morose wretch he was 
 welcome to take the property he so un- 
 justly claimed. This Mirande was pre- 
 viously resolved upon; and he immediately 
 entered into a treaty with the gentleman 
 appointed to succeed his brother, who 
 purchased all the furniture, and permitted 
 Adelaide to remain in the house, till he 
 was obliged to take possession. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 The next day, Albert conversed with 
 Adelaide on their future prospects ; every 
 word she spoke confirmed his high 
 opinion of her; she did not attempt to 
 conceal the pleasure his declaration had 
 given her, and only stipulated, that their 
 union should be deferred, till the mouru- 
 ins: for her father was ended. 
 
 Mirande rejoiced most heartily to find 
 himself relieved from the burden of an 
 indigent niece; and having concluded his 
 business, took his departure, well pleased 
 at the success of his journey. The case 
 was. Monsieur Feuillide had, five years 
 before, remitted the money to his mother : 
 age and infirmities had rendered her at 
 that time incapable of acting for herself; 
 her son received letters and transacted 
 business for her ; the money from Mon- 
 sieur Feuillide therefore fell into his 
 hands, and he merely wrote to his brother, 
 saying the parcel was duly received^ &nd
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 99 
 
 his mother had desired liim to acknow- 
 ledge it. Monsieur Feuillide was not 
 conversant in business, and thought too 
 well of his brother to suppose he had 
 not cancelled the bond. About this time, 
 Mirande prevailed on his mother, whose 
 intellects were much impaired, tp make 
 over all her property to him ; and she 
 died, shortly after signing the deed of 
 gift already mentioned. 
 
 Time now flowed calmly with the 
 lovers; Albert still continued to conduc4 
 himself with much prudence; and Ade- 
 laide felt the loss of her father was the 
 only drawback to her happiness ; — she 
 often wept, when slie remembered his 
 anxiety for her; and could not avoid 
 sometimes repining at his dying, igno- 
 rant of Albert's sentiments. 
 
 Bertrand had been gone so long, that 
 his master began to wonder at his pro- 
 f2
 
 100 MEiMOIRS OF THE 
 
 longed absence; indeed, he now could 
 not avoid feeling somewhat alarmed, 
 less the worthy old servant had suffered 
 from fatigue, and was incapable of re- 
 turning.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 101 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 JDERTRAND had pursued his journej;, 
 without meeting with any adventures, till 
 he reached the borders of the black forest : 
 at that time it was much infested by ban- 
 ditti^ who were the terror of the surround- 
 ing country. Most unwillingly Bertrand 
 entered a little, intricate path^ which he 
 had been directed to follow, as the short- 
 est way across the immense tract of 
 woodland that lay before him — natu- 
 rally courageous he yet felt somewhat 
 appalled, as the shades of night advancing 
 rendered it every moment more difficult 
 to distinguish the road. No human abode 
 near, he at length found it quite impos- 
 sible to proceed, arid dismounting from 
 his horse, he seated himself on the ground
 
 102 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 arid made an uncomfortable meal on the 
 slight provisions with* which he had for- 
 tunately supplied his wallet at the inn he 
 had that morning quitted. 
 
 After satisfjing his hunger he recollect- 
 ed he was in much danger from the wild 
 beasts which he was likely to encounter in 
 the forest ; he therefore fastened his horse 
 which was grazing by his side, to a tree; 
 and resolving to seek a night's lodging 
 among the immense braoches of an oak, 
 not far from the spot where he had placed 
 his steed, he sunk to sleep in his uncouth 
 abode, and had been at rest for near an 
 hour, when his slumbers were interrupted 
 by a confused noise near the place of his 
 concealment; and looking down, he beheld 
 with terror a party of men, whose gro- 
 tesque figures and ferocious aspect con- 
 vinced Bertrand they were depredators 
 returning home, probably, laden wiili 
 spoils. As the light of a brand, carried
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILt. 103 
 
 by the foremost robber, glanced across 
 the tree in which he was seated, the 
 poor old man felt sure of being' disco- 
 vered, when fortunately his horse attract- 
 ed their notice. He heard a shout of 
 exultation — the horse was seized, and a 
 strict but vain search made for the rider. 
 Meantime the little band was sufficiently 
 near Bertrand to enable him to hear 
 their conversation, and with unspeakable 
 horror he heard a plan for way-laying 
 some travellers, whom their spies had 
 imformed them were expected to pass 
 the night in a small inn (the master of 
 which he understood by their discourse 
 was one of their associates.) As they 
 spoke of robbing and murdering the 
 unfortunate victims, Bertrand's blood 
 seemed to curdle in his veins, and fear 
 for Iris own safety was superseded by 
 an earnest desire of saving the travellers, 
 if possible. Gradually the voices died 
 awav, and Bertrand felt that, had his
 
 KXi: MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 liorse been left him^ he might have reach- 
 ed the inn in time to prevent the horrible 
 tragedy which^ from what the robbers 
 had said, was to be effected on the follow- 
 ing night: resolved, however, his con- 
 science should not reproach him with 
 want of exertion, when the life of a 
 fellow creature was at stake, he determi- 
 red to pursue the same track the robbers 
 had taken, for the chance of their calling 
 on their companion, to arrange their 
 mode of 'attack^ and thus discover the 
 inn. 
 
 He had continued his dark and dreary 
 journey near an hour ; sometimes impeded 
 by the thick underwood, and sometimcp 
 by huge branches which the rough inha- 
 bitants of the forest had not found leisure 
 to remove ; when the moon rising enabled 
 him to quicken his pace, and he turned 
 into a winding path, which appeared 
 more used than that which he had quit- 
 ted. This led him up an irregular
 
 TVURTZBURG FAMILY. 105 
 
 ascent^ till he found himself on the very 
 verge of a precipice; and so close to the 
 edge did his road lie that he dreaded 
 to look to the left lest his head, becoming 
 dizzy, he might be plunged into the 
 abyss below. As he proceeded, with 
 cautious steps, he sought safety from 
 the fantastic branches of the knotted 
 oaks, whose venerable arms, stretching 
 across the track, seemed to offer their 
 friendly aid to the benighted traveller. 
 Having descended in safety to the bottom, 
 he crossed a small, but rapid, stream ; 
 which, rushing impetuously over fragments 
 of the rocks, served, by its murmurings, 
 to increase the solemnity of the scene. 
 
 He now found himself in a long, nar- 
 row valley ; on each side the stream arose 
 high and craggy mountains; those behind 
 ,him appeared chiefly barren, while those 
 in front, exhibited a majestic expanse of 
 the finest timber trees, whose lofty heads 
 t3 " .
 
 106 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 seemed to reach the sky. Through this 
 wood the path still continued to wind, 
 till, weary with exertion, Bertrand found 
 his strength and spirits fail him, and he 
 was on the point of sinking under fatigue 
 and anxiety, when, raising his eyes with 
 a languid despondency, he discerned, 
 through the tall trees, the grey turrets 
 of an ancient building, rendered visible 
 only where the moon cast her pale beams. 
 Hope now lent him strength ; it was 
 possible the castle might belong to some 
 chieftain, who would not only allow him 
 a refuge for the night, but might also 
 assist him in averting the cruel fate, 
 which must otherwise, he feared, await 
 the unfortunate travellers of whom he 
 was in quest: and should the building 
 be uninhabited, he could at least seek 
 repose and shelter till the morning. 
 
 Invigorated by hope, Bertrand now 
 reached an immense archway, which ap-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 107 
 
 peared to form the entrance to the castle. 
 A thickly studded door creaked on its 
 hinges^ as he forced it open; and he 
 found himself in an inner court; the 
 grass and briars, which had overgrown 
 the pavement, proved the owners had 
 long ceased to inhabit the magnificent 
 pile before him. He looked with some 
 dismay on the gigantic, but mutilated, 
 statues which adorned the centre of the 
 court: the partial gleams of light led 
 him almost to fancy he beheld living 
 objects ready to dart on him, and with 
 increased swiftness he hurried over the 
 fragments of stone which time and neglect 
 had hurled from many parts of the build- 
 ing. 
 
 Nearly opposite the archway, he as- 
 cended four handsome steps to a door, 
 which opened into a spacious hall; the 
 long windows admitted sufficient light 
 for Bertrand to discover it was unfur-
 
 108 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 nished ; and he determined to enter an 
 inner room, and endeavour to repose 
 himself in some more sheltered corner. 
 He passed through a door-way, and 
 found himself at the foot of a large stair- 
 case ; this he ascended;, considering that 
 he was more likely to be safe in one of 
 the upper chambers ; — the staircase ter- 
 minated in a long gallery ; and, pushing 
 open a door, he groped his way into an 
 apartment, just as the moon for a moment 
 retired behind a clotid. On her emerg- 
 ing from her concealment, Bertrand 
 thought he perceived an old couch in 
 one corner of the room — again all was 
 darkness ; with cautious steps he advanced 
 to the spot, and was preparing to stretch 
 himself on his antique bed, when, with 
 horror that almost overpowered his senses, 
 he laid his hand on something, which 
 he thought was a human body : shudder- 
 ing with dicad and dismay he snatched 
 away his arm and hurried towards the
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 109 
 
 door; — the room was large^ and he in 
 vain essayed to find a way out of the mys- 
 terious chamber ; when, to increase his 
 terror^, footsteps resounded through th 
 gallery, and a confused din of voices me 
 his ear. Bertrand now gave him.self up 
 for lost ; and, overcome by his alarm, he 
 sunk against the wall;, when suddenly 
 the decayed hangings gave way, and he 
 fell through a small concealed door, into 
 an adjoining apartment. He recovered 
 his feet as quickly as possible ; and, 
 closing the door, his fears by no means 
 decreased, on discovering a few lighted 
 embers in an old-fashioned fire-place. 
 Here was demonstration at once of the 
 place being inhabited ; and he had no 
 doubt, the castle was become the abode 
 of rufiians ; — perhaps the body he had 
 just quitted was that of some unfortunate 
 victim sacrificed to their rapacity ; and 
 he should himself be the next sufferer.
 
 110 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 The voices appear to draw nearer every 
 moment ; and Bertrand^ impelled by de- 
 spair^ made one more desperate effort to 
 escape; — he felt round the walls — they 
 appeared to he wainscotted ; and he had 
 not proceeded far before he found a half 
 open door; he passed through^ but could 
 not close it after him; and at that 
 moment, the chamber he had quitted, 
 was entered by several men. 
 
 All speaking at once, ^hey rushed im- 
 petuously towards the fire-place, and in 
 an instant, the whole apartment was 
 illuminated. Bertrand looked anxiously 
 around him, and discovered he was in 
 a small closet filled with lumber. Here 
 he found himself a close prisoner, but 
 so harassed did he feel, both in body and 
 mind ; so much overcome by fatigue and 
 hunger, and so completely worn out by 
 suspefiss and terror, that he was almost 
 disposed to wish the persons before him
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. Ill 
 
 might immolate him at once. Desire of 
 life however still prevailed, and he crept 
 softly behind some broken furniture, 
 which seemed to offer a temporary con- 
 cealment. From his hiding place, he 
 was enabled to take a partial survey of 
 the party, now assembled round the 
 table, which stood in the centre of the 
 room. Old, heavy armour, and grotesque 
 helmets, formed the dress of the band. 
 The rude ornaments of horsehair, which 
 flowed in savage grace above their heads, 
 gave an air of dignity to the men, while 
 their leader was distinguished by an huge 
 plume of feathers, which crowned his 
 casque. 
 
 Much murmuring seemed to prevail 
 among the party, which required all the 
 authority of their chief to quell. The 
 men were complaining of not having a 
 servant to spread the table, and prepare 
 their meal, against their return; and
 
 112 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 cursed the poor puling JeronimO;, who, 
 because they would not set him at liberty, 
 had pined himself into a decline. '' Is he 
 dead/' enquired the leader. *' Yes, Yes ; 
 lie*s off/' replied one of the men ; '' his 
 body lies in the tapestry room now." 
 ''But how to re-place him,'* echoed several 
 voices at once. '' That we might easily 
 have done," said the chief; ^' could we 
 have caught the fellow who owned the 
 chesnut mare; he might perhaps have 
 answered the purpose as well as another 
 — as it is, I charge you Ralpho, and you 
 Tycho, to provide one by to-morrow 
 night.*' 
 
 Bertrand thus found the mysteries of. 
 the dreadful chamber elucidated ; and 
 listened with some degree of interest to 
 the account these brave, but hardened 
 fellows, gave of their exploits. Large 
 flagons of wine went round briskly, till 
 the half- inebriated party were warned by
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 113 
 
 their chief to retire to rest. They in- 
 stantly quitted the table^ and hurrying 
 to the place where poor Bertrand lay, 
 began to pull out of the closet large 
 rugs, pieces of damask hangings, &c. 
 which they spread on the floor : — at 
 length one of the ruffians perceived the 
 intruder — he darted forward, and, seizing 
 him by the collar, pulled him into the 
 room. Every man drew his sword and 
 pointed it at Bertrand, who, more dead 
 than alive, fell on his knees, and lifted 
 his hands in supplication to the party. 
 
 All was now confusion ! some wishing 
 him to be instantly put to death ; and 
 others pleading for his life. At length 
 the chief, striking the table with his 
 sword, commanded silence ; and, address- 
 ing his men, harangued them on the im- 
 propriety of their undiciplined conduct; 
 and then proceeded to question the trem- 
 bling Bertrand, as to the cause of his late
 
 1 14 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 concealment. The faithful old domestic, 
 determined not to mention his master's 
 name, simply described himself as the 
 son of a peasant at Goth a ; entering 
 young into a gentleman's service, he had 
 accompanied his master into Switzerland ; 
 that, wishing to revisit his parents, he 
 "was travelling homev^ards ; and having 
 lost his way, had followed the track 
 which led to the castle ; and related the 
 adventures which had befallen him since 
 he entered the ruined building. The 
 chief eyed him with a degree of penetra- 
 tion that seemed to dive into his inmost 
 soul. '^ You are now my prisoner," said 
 he, " and must be aware your life is in 
 my hands; but the brave are always mer- 
 ciful ; and, though ray profession some- 
 times leads to bloodshed, I never yet 
 committed deliberate murder. You must 
 have heard the old domestic, who has long 
 served us, is now dead ; if you will un- 
 dertake his place, you shall fare as we
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 115 
 
 do ; and all we expect is, that you sliouid 
 be satisfied never to quit this apartment, 
 unless accompanied by some of my asso- 
 ciates.'* 
 
 Bertrand had no alternative : he agreed 
 to remain in a place he knew he could not 
 quitj thinking a chearful acquiescence 
 most likely to ensure his safety. The 
 party now set some provision before him, 
 of which he stood in much need ; and 
 told him he might sleep in security on 
 one of the rugs, which where spread 
 along the floor. Nature was so much 
 exhausted that he speedily sunk to sleep ; 
 and did not awake till the morning suri 
 shone through the painted glass window 
 full in his face : he started up, and 
 looked with some dismay at his sleeping 
 masters. At a distance from the rest lay 
 he chieftain — his fine limbs rested on a 
 large crimson damask cushion : his head 
 reclined on his arm ; near him lay his
 
 116 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 helmet; and, whilst Bertrand admired 
 his manlj countenance, round which his 
 strong dark hair curled gracefully, he 
 could not help wondering that such a 
 being should be devoted to so wild 
 and hasardous a life, likely one day to 
 terminate at the gallows. 
 
 The party now arose, and ordered Ber^ 
 trand to light a fire, and prepare their 
 breakfast; and this he did, in a manner 
 that seemed to gratify his employers. 
 They shewed him a closet, in which was 
 a large supply of fuel ; and locking the 
 door, left him to his own wretched reflec- 
 tions, after having directed him in what 
 manner to provide for their reception on 
 the following night. 
 
 No sooner did he cease to hear the 
 footsteps of the party, than he began to 
 investigate the doors and windows ; de- 
 termined, if possible, to effect his escape :
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 117 
 
 he was however too Mary, to intend 
 departing, could he find the means, till 
 he knew where and how the robbers were 
 likely to be employed during the day-time; 
 as he felt quite certain death must await 
 him if he should be retaken. The windows 
 were so high from the ground, that he 
 found some difficulty in reaching them ; 
 and when, by the help of the rude seats, 
 he had climbed to them, he w^as mortified 
 to find they only looked into a large court, 
 surrounded by buildings : — huge bars 
 precluded all hope of his escaping through 
 them. He next examined the doors : they 
 were equally secure; but what astonished 
 Bertrand most was, that he felt certain 
 he had not entered by the door, through 
 which the robbers had lately passed : yet 
 he saw no other opening that could have 
 admitted him. The day wore away ; and, 
 as the shades of night again prevailed, 
 Bertrand felt his dejection increase.
 
 118 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 About two hours after sunset, he heard 
 his prsion door unlock, and several of his 
 new masters entered. " Bertrand/' they 
 exclaimed, '' you must now follow us, 
 and do as we direct; but before you pass 
 the threshold, you must take an oath of 
 inviolable secrecy respecting us/* They 
 then tendered the oath to him, and he of 
 course complied : this done, they ordered 
 him to proceed with them to the next 
 apartment. His blood ran cold when he 
 approached the couch, on which lay 
 extended the exhausted frame of his 
 predecessor. One of the men raised the 
 body, and commanded him to assist in 
 conveying it, whilst two more carried 
 torches. Slowly they descended the mag- 
 nificent staircase ; and, passing through 
 several rooms, they entered an inner hall. 
 Here one of the men, taking a large key 
 from his pocket, with some difficulty 
 unlocked a low door : through this they 
 passed into a winding' passage of great
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 119 
 
 length, termiuated by an iron gatei^tlils 
 they likewise unlocked, and Bertrand 
 found himself in the open air. Looking 
 around, the place appeared to have been 
 once a garden : it was surrounded by high 
 walls ; and here he was ordered to place 
 the body on the ground, whilst he and his 
 companions dug a grave, in which they 
 deposited their unknown victim. They 
 now hurried back, aud found the rest of 
 the band were not yet returned. They 
 sat down near the fire, and enumerated the 
 passengers, whom they had laid under 
 contribution within the last fortnight. 
 Bertrand was astonished at the large sums 
 of money they spoke of having amassed 
 in the twelve years they had frequented 
 the forest; and moralized on the infa- 
 tuation, which could lead these men to 
 risk their lives, and forego all domestic 
 comforts, for riches they could not enjoy. 
 
 It was considerably past midnight when
 
 120 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 the rest of the band arrived : some of them 
 appeared wounded^ and all the party 
 seemed to have been engaged in a despe- 
 rate affray. Bertrand remembered this 
 night was appointed for the attack on the 
 unfortunate travellers he had vainly hoped 
 to save It— his heart sunk within him as 
 they conversed on the subject of their 
 late adventure; but he felt much relieved 
 on finding thatj though they had possessed 
 themselves of their property, they had not 
 taken their lives. This he understood 
 was in consequence of another party 
 coming up at the moment; and the ruffians, 
 perceiving they should be overpowered by 
 numbers, made a precipitate but masterly 
 retreat. The chieftain expressed himself 
 much disappointed in not having succeeded 
 in taking the lady, whose beauty seemed 
 to have made a great impression on his 
 mind ; and he appeared less gay, and less 
 communicative, than the night before. 
 After supper, '' Rodrigo/' said the chief-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 1^1 
 
 tain^ '' it is long since you have given us 
 a song : my spirits want cheering : let us 
 try what your melody can do." — '' Most 
 willingly/' replied Roderigo. — '' When a 
 youth, I learnt a ballad that may serve 
 to cure a love-sick mind — men of our pro- 
 fession, my good captain, should beware 
 of the infatuating sex — women only 
 charm us to our ruin/' Then, with a 
 powerful, but not inharmonious voice, he 
 sung the following stanzas : — the air was 
 wild but somewhat pathetic, and the 
 chieftain listened with interest to 
 
 TPIE ROBBER'S SONG. 
 
 Is the heart of the warrior o'erclouded with care ? 
 Is his spirit so dauntless, subdued by the fair ? 
 Shall the mighty Rinaldo for false woman pine ? 
 No ! he'll drown the weak passion in flagons of wine. 
 
 " This to me !" cried the chief, as he unsbeath'd hii 
 
 blade ; 
 *• Know, that death I will court ere I yield the iwect 
 
 maid — " 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Then he mounted his steed:—" 'Till fair Isahel's mine, 
 «« I will never again quaff your flagons of wine." 
 
 The still night wanes apace — ^where's Rinaldo the brave ? 
 He descends the drear mountain, he passes the wave : 
 Now, now, on his casque, see the moon faintly shine ; 
 Prepare quickly, my comrades, the flagons of wine. 
 
 He has sprung from his horse, and the chieftain draws 
 
 near; 
 He brings his fair lady, all fainting with fear ; — 
 " I come," says the hero ; ** fair Isabel's mine — 
 *♦ Oh ! now 1 will pledge you in flagons of wine." 
 
 She revives, and the roses blush soft on her cheeks ; 
 She clasps her white hands ; to the warrior she speaks : 
 ** Though you tell me, Alphonso must never be mine, 
 •* Yet, oh ! drink to my love in your flagons of wine." 
 
 The chief fills high the goblet — fair Isabel smiles : — 
 Ah ! woman, how often we fall by thy wiles ! 
 She drinks deep of the cup — ** Now the goblet is thine." 
 " This is sweetest," ^ he cries, ** of my flagons of wine." 
 
 ** Rinaldo, thou'rt dead ; and thou fall'st by my hand." 
 Then fiercely she looks on the gathering band. 
 »' Nay, arm not :— his death is united with mine : 
 ** We ne'er more shall drink of your flagons of wine."
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. V2S 
 
 He ceased ; — a frown clouded the 
 brow of the chieftain ; — '' It is well, 
 Roderigo ! '' he exclaimed^, '' thou hast 
 given me a lesson ; but I have drawn it 
 on myself, and forgive the liberty thou 
 hast taken : remember^ however, it may 
 not be repeated with impunity — I judge 
 and act for myself, — we will now retire 
 to rest/' 
 
 Day after day elapsed^ and still Ber- 
 trand remained a prisoner. By his as- 
 sumed air of composure he ingratiated 
 himself much with the robbers. The? 
 often conversed with him freely ; and, 
 among other things, explained the meani 
 by which they had become possessed of 
 the castle. 
 
 *' Nearly one hundred years ago/' said 
 the leader, '' a foul murder was com- 
 mitted in the very chamber we now 
 occupy. The lord of the castle had an 
 
 G 2
 
 124 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 only son^ who, by the indulgence of his 
 fond parents, was trained in idleness, and 
 selfish indulgence : as he grew to man's 
 estate he connected himself with a set of 
 gamblers, who despoiled him of large 
 sums. For some time his tender father 
 paid his enormous debts ; but when, at 
 last, the old man found his whole proper- 
 ty was likely to be swallowed up by the 
 harpies, who had got possession of the 
 youth, he declared his determination no 
 longer to minister to the vices of his son. 
 Enraged at the unexpected refusal, the 
 young man vowed to be revenged ; — in 
 the dead of the night he entered the pa- 
 ternal chamber, and the dagger of a son 
 drank a father's blood ! From that hour 
 the spirit of the murdered was supposed 
 to haunt the castle, ft was believed the 
 parricide had, previously to the act, de- 
 voted himself to the devil. The idea was 
 confirmed by the singular circumstance 
 ofno one being able to divine how he
 
 -WURTZBURG FAMILY. 125 
 
 had entered the room, as the doors were 
 found, in the morning, fastened as usual ; 
 so that the deed was not discovered till 
 the apartment was forcibly opened, on 
 the domestics feeling alarmed by the non- 
 appearance of the good old man. — Super • 
 stition acts strongly on the human mind ; 
 and, when to that weakness was added a 
 guilty conscience, it is not wonderful the 
 murderer dreaded to inhabit the scene of 
 his atrocity. He quitted the castle for 
 ever ; and no one was sufficiently hardy 
 to attempt entering it till about twelve 
 years ago, when we found it so commo- 
 dious, that we resolved to repair some of 
 the fastenings, and use it for a retirement, 
 which, till you arrived, has never been 
 interrupted/* 
 
 This little story made much impression 
 on Bertrand ; he was assured the depraved 
 wretch must have entered by the same 
 aveuua he had himself passed ; and he
 
 126 MEMOIRS or THE 
 
 renewed his search with redoubled 
 energy. Not a crevice escaped him; but 
 stiil in vain, till one night, after having, 
 with his usual ill success, examined the 
 pannel-work, he observed a crack, into 
 which he inserted a small knife ; this he 
 slipt carefully along, when suddenly a 
 violent blow felled him to the e:round.
 
 WURTSBURG FAMILY. 127 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 " My fate is decided !" ejaculated the 
 fallen Bertrand : '' now do jour ^^orst — 
 your prisoner has^ indeed^ sought to es- 
 cape/' He was, by this timc^ on his 
 feet ; and^ looking rounds discovered, to 
 his great joy, that he was alone, and also, 
 that the blow he had received, was in 
 consequence of having touched a spring 
 in a door curiously fitted into the pannel- 
 work, and which, on being unfastened, 
 fell back with sufficient force to have 
 knocked him down. 
 
 It was so near the time when the ban- 
 ditti usually returned, that he Jost not a
 
 12S MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 moment in closing the door ; after in- 
 vestigating thoroughly the secret of the 
 spring. On their return, he found it 
 difficult to dissemble his feelings ; and his 
 more than usual sprightliness drew a 
 good-humoured remark from his employ- 
 ers, on his increased alacrity in their 
 service. 
 
 Anxiously he counted the hours till he 
 was again left in solitude — he knew that 
 they always retired in the day-time to a 
 cave, a few miles from the castle, where 
 they divided the spoil, and dispatched 
 some of the party to sell such articles as 
 could be disposed of at a distant town: 
 Bertrand, therefore, resolved to commence 
 his escape, as soon as possible, after he 
 had seen them depart; having now filled 
 a bag with provisions, and armed himself 
 with a sword, he, with a beating heart, 
 opened the secret door ; and, passing 
 through the aperture, entered the tapestry
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 129 
 
 room ; but when there, he found the outer 
 door was fastened, so that he was almost 
 as far from liberty as before; however, 
 having no apprehension of being over- 
 heard, he thought he might force his way 
 out. 
 
 It struck him that the most prudent 
 method was, if possible, to leave every 
 thing in the same order as usual, as the 
 robbers might thus be misled in the road 
 he would take ; instead, therefore, of 
 endeavouring to force his way into the 
 gallery, he contrived, after some fruitless 
 efforts, to break open a door on the oppo- 
 site side of the chamber. He found him^ 
 self in a spacious room, and folt rather 
 surprised the banditti had not chosen this 
 as a more commodious abode, than the 
 small room they now used; but, on ap- 
 proaching the windows, foun<i they looked 
 upon the wood and adjacent country, so 
 that their nightly illuminations might 
 G 3
 
 130 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 possibly have attracted notice. This grand 
 apartment was connected with many others, 
 but all in very bad repair ; indeed, in some 
 places the floors were so entirely decayed, 
 lie found it often difficult, and sometimes 
 dangerous to proceed. At length, he en- 
 tered a small tower, in which was a 
 winding staircase — he descended, and 
 unbolted a low door, which admitted him 
 into the forest, to breathe the air again. 
 To find himself free and unconfined gave 
 a lightness to his footsteps he had never 
 before known : — he wandered for some 
 hours totally ignorant whither he was 
 going, carefully avoiding all inhabited 
 places ; till, evening drawing on, he began 
 to think of seeking shelter for the night. 
 At length, he reached a cottage : at the 
 door sat an old woman — she w as spinning, 
 and he ventured to enter into discourse 
 with her : he found she w as the wife of 
 an herdsman, and that she expected him 
 home every moment : he w as somewhat
 
 TTURTZEURG FAMILY. 131 
 
 later thaa usual, she said, but that she 
 attributed to his having gone in quest of 
 a calf, ^vhich he missed; but which she 
 thought hiin unlikely to recover, as ithad 
 probably been seized bj some of the 
 lawless depredators of the forest. Assured 
 by her discourse she was not connected 
 w ith the banditti, he requested permission 
 to repose under her humble roof. To this, 
 she told him, till her husband returned 
 she could not consent. Bertrand, how- 
 ever, found no difiicuity in prevailing on 
 the old man to receive him : artless in his 
 manner the herdsman seemed to possess 
 some shrewdness ; and Bertrand ventured 
 to consult him on the safest wav of crossing 
 the forest ; saying, he had already been 
 plundered by the freebooters, and there- 
 fore entertained some dread of again 
 encountering them. The man told him 
 in two days a drove was going to a town 
 about ten leagues froraGotha, and he had 
 better join them : he also recommended
 
 132 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 him to equip himself in the habit of a 
 drover ; and assured him he might pass in 
 safety^ as the robbers never seized the 
 cattle, but when they found them straying 
 in unfrequented parts of the woods, and 
 then only as they wanted provisions. 
 
 Bertrand remained concealed during his 
 stay at the cottage ; and before he departed, 
 changing clothes with the herdsman, was 
 completely disguised. He had very little 
 money, as the sum destined to convey him 
 to Gotha was in his saddle-bags, which, 
 with his horse had been stolen; but from 
 that little he presented a reward, trifling 
 indeed; but exceeding the hopes and 
 expectations of his host. 
 
 He now led a rough and unpleasant life ; 
 tlie men v ith whom he travelled seldom 
 reposed but in the open air, when they 
 lighted large fires for the double purpose 
 of warmth and defence. Nothing worthy
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 133 
 
 remark occurred during his long and 
 tedious journey. Fatigued^ his feet blis- 
 tered, his frame exhaustisd^ and in a pea- 
 sant's dress, he reached the castk of Gotha : 
 no wonder he was not immediately recog- 
 nized by the domestics. 
 
 No sooner had he made himself known, 
 than the traveller was summoned by eager 
 countenances ; some questioned him re- 
 specting himself ; others endeavoured to 
 communicate all that had passed since Ber- 
 trand and his master had quilted Gotha ; 
 while the rest stood in silent wonder, 
 their mouths half open, and their heads 
 advanced, to catch the wonders about to be 
 related. At this moment the party were 
 interrupted by a bell. ^' My lady rings," 
 said one of the men. '' My lady ?" ques- 
 tioned Bertrand : 'Ms the Count then 
 married ?" '' Certainly he is, and to one 
 of the most beautiful creatures you ever 
 saw. — Why, surely, you must have known
 
 134 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 that." '' No, indeed/* said Bertrand, 
 '' and sorry am I now to hear it ; my good 
 old master did not use to be imprudent." 
 
 " Is it possible/' said the cooV, '' you 
 are ignorant that our old master and young 
 Count Maximilian, are both dead, and 
 Albert is now Count of Wurtzburg V 
 
 Bertrand trembled, and turned pale, — 
 ^' tell me all at once !" he exclaimed, in 
 a voice almost overpowered by his con- 
 tending emotions, '' is Albert — is the lady 
 Adelaide here; oh! let me see them! — 
 What grief my poor master must have 
 suffered when he found his father was no 
 more, and the noble Maximilian V — 
 " Indeed/' said the old housekeeper, 
 '^ you take on too much, Bertrand ; cer- 
 tainly 'twas a great loss ^vhen the good 
 old Count died ; and, when the news of 
 the brave Maximilian's death reached this 
 place, we were very sad ; for we began to
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY, 135 
 
 think we must all look out for other 
 places ; but now that the new Count is 
 arrived, we shall be made happy. lie 
 is so noble^ and generous^ we are likely 
 to be better off than ever ; and then the 
 Countess is so young-, I tell her I must 
 manage every thing for her." — Bertrand 
 looked with diso-ust on the sordid woman, 
 then leaned against the wall^ and gave 
 vent to his honest tears. 
 
 Having, for some moments, indulged 
 his grief, he enquired into the particulars 
 of the melancholy storj. This we shall 
 not repeat, as we have already mentioned 
 the circumstances attending the heroic 
 death of Maximilian, immediately on 
 succeeding to his estates. Messengers 
 had been dispatched in quest of Albert ; 
 but no trace of the fugitive could be 
 found. The person, who managed the 
 the affairs of the Count, then thought 
 proper to inform John, the younger
 
 136 MExMOIRS OF THE 
 
 brother, of Albert's non-appearance ; 
 and enquired whether he would chuse to 
 take possession under the idea Count 
 Albert was also dead. This, however, he 
 declined ; sajing, a more extensive search 
 should be made beforje he removed with 
 his family to the castle. '' It is now ten 
 dajs/' said the housekeeper, '' since a 
 carriage arrived at the gateway; — the 
 porter opened the gates, and rang the 
 great bell ; we hurried to the door ; and 
 to our joy, and astonishment, the Count 
 Albert alighted from the carriage ; and 
 handing out a lovely young woman, was 
 proceeding across the hall, when our deep 
 mourniiig caught his eye. He laid his 
 hand on old Ernest's shoulder, and faintly 
 said — 'Oh! my father!' — Ernest looked 
 at him kindly, and led the way to the 
 little common parlour, without speaking; 
 then, after bidding him welcome to the 
 castle, told the young Count every thing 
 that had passed. The grief of Albert
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. IS? 
 
 was extreme ; and the tender assiduity 
 of the Countess was hardly sufiicient to 
 restore his composure. Yesterday Sta- 
 rinburg, the agent railed, and delivered 
 the old Count's papers into the hands 
 of his son. My master was shut up 
 with him during the whole day ; and at 
 night, when I lighted him to his cham- 
 ber, I thought he looked more dejected 
 than ever. He ordered his horse to be 
 ready by break of day, and Eustace to 
 attend him. This morning he departed 
 for Vienna, I heard him tell my Lady 
 particular business called him from home; 
 but that his absence should not last above 
 a week. My Lady is, of course, low and 
 uncomfortable : your presence will, I 
 hope, cheer her spirits; for both my Lord 
 and Lady have been very uneasy about 
 you.'' — ''Lead me then to her directly," 
 said Bertrand ; '' little did I expect to 
 find her arrived before me."
 
 158 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Adelaide's joy was great at seeing the 
 faithful attendant of her Albert; — she 
 made him sit down, and relate all his 
 adventures, to which she listened with 
 the highest interest; and then informed 
 him that the new minister, having sent 
 lier word, he must take possession of the 
 pastoral house, on the following week, 
 she had consented to become the wife 
 of Albert ; and the day after the stranger 
 arrived, he united them in the little vil- 
 lage church. Immediately after the 
 ceremony they began their journey on 
 horseback, attended by the lad, who waited 
 on Albert, during Bertrand*s absence ; 
 and Josephine, though old and infirm, 
 would accompany her mistress. Albert 
 determined, as soon as possible, to gain the 
 public road, as he was desirous Adelaide 
 should travel more commodious'lv than 
 on horseback ; and, also, knovi^ing the 
 dangers of the black forest, he resolved 
 to join any party, who might be going 
 the same way. He was so fortunate as to
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 139 
 
 meet with some gentlemen, after remain- 
 ing a week in an inconvenient town, 
 who gladly accompanied him. There 
 also, he procured a carriage; and, hy 
 these means travelled in safety and com- 
 fort to the castle. 
 
 Adelaide employed herself, during the 
 days Albert was absent, in examining the 
 building, and admiring the numerous 
 pictures, and statues, which ornamented 
 this abode of grandeur. In the evening 
 she read, and sometimes amused herself 
 in little poetic productions ; which, 
 though they did not attain to any great 
 degree of excellence, yet served to 
 occupy a lonely hour. The night 
 before the Count's return she wrote the 
 following little sennet, and placed it on 
 his table, where he found it on his ar- 
 rival.
 
 140 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 The wailing bird who sorrows all day long, 
 The while her gentle mate is far away, 
 
 When evening comes reaews her blithest song, 
 To welcome his return at close of day. 
 
 The beauteous thorn, sweet smiling child of May, 
 Hangs her fair head at coming of the rain ; 
 
 But, when bright Phoebus smiles with aspect gay^ 
 Her fragrant bosom she expands again. 
 
 The anxious deer, whose trickling tears explain 
 Her grief for absence of her spotted fawn. 
 
 Quickly forgets her bitter stoure, and pain. 
 When she beholds him bounding o'er the lawn. 
 
 So mourn I, love ! without, in thee, my guide; 
 So joy I, Love ! when thou art by my side. 
 
 Albert was gratified by this little effusion 
 of tenderness ; yet it seemed rather to in- 
 crease than diminish, that dejection which 
 now became every day more \isible. It was 
 evident to Adelaide that some heavy afflic-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 141 
 
 tion weighed on his mind. At firsts she only 
 endeavoured to amuse him^ attributing 
 his low spirits to grief for his recent loss; 
 but, when, month after month elapsed^ and 
 he still continued equally miserable^ re- 
 fusing to join in society, and ever admit- 
 ting any of his old associates to the castle, 
 she became seriously alarmed; and one day 
 ventured to enquire if any unpleasant 
 circumstance had lately occurred to sub- 
 due his original gaiety : — to this he only 
 answered with a sigh, conjuring her never 
 more to question him on a subject which 
 he hoped would be buried for ever in his 
 own bosom. From this moment joy was 
 banished from the ill-fated pair. Albert 
 appeared to be robbed of every comfort 
 by this oppressive secret ; and his lovely 
 wife, no longer feeling herself the con- 
 fidante, whose gentle bosom was ever 
 ready to share, and by sharing, to lessen his 
 sorrows, gave way to a depression of 
 spirits peculiarly unfavourable to her
 
 14S MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 health; stilly however, she flattered her- 
 self, that an event which was daily expected 
 would lead him to exert himself in regain- 
 ing- his captivating gaiety ; and when her 
 little daughter was born, looked with 
 hope to the restoration of their happiness. 
 
 Fond, however, as he was of the infant, 
 she seemed only an additional cause of 
 woe to the Count; and Adelaide endea- 
 voured to draw from her maternal duties 
 that gratification and amusement she vainly 
 looked for in the society of her husband. 
 Every day she discovered new charms in 
 the little Geraldine ; she watched her with 
 unceasing care, and felt occasional gleams 
 of delight in observing the daily advances 
 she made in her little nursery acquire- 
 ments. 
 
 Already she began to lisp a few im- 
 perfect words, and even Albert's deep
 
 ^ WURTZEURG FAMILY; MS 
 
 melancholy sometimes gave place to a 
 smile at her infantine frolics. 
 
 Albert, at certain intervals^ quitted the 
 castle to visit Vienna. Adelaide, once 
 expressed a wish to accompany him; but 
 this he advised her never to think of; and^ 
 looking' seriously yet kindly on her, added, 
 ^' nothing but misery would attend your 
 removal from Gotha."
 
 144 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 CHAP. VIL 
 
 C^OUNT Wurtzburg had been absent 
 on one of these little expeditions more than 
 ten dajs ; when, one afternoon, Adelaide 
 took her little girl, and sauntered down 
 one of the beautifulavenuesj which formed 
 the approaches to the building; the trees 
 spread their lofty tops so as to make a 
 complete shade over her head. Insensibly 
 she wandered, till she came within sight of a 
 building, intended for the accommodation 
 of parties of pleasure, who might seek 
 amusement, by fishing in the clear stream 
 which flow ed through the domain ; and 
 in this place, having been widened by 
 the tasteful hand of the old Count, formed 
 a large bason of which the banks were
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 145 
 
 planted with flowering shrubs : a small 
 bridge, so contrived as to have the ap- 
 pearance of being merely a plank thrown 
 carelessly across the brook, led to a little 
 neatly kept gravel walk^ which terminated 
 in a grass-plat in front of the building- 
 large stone steps, and a handsome portico on 
 white marble pillars^ formed the entrance 
 to a room, handsomely ornamented with 
 painted glass windows, and furnished to 
 accommodate a large company: behind 
 was a smaller room for the servants. 
 
 Adelaide amused herself in prattling f o 
 her child, as she proceeded ; sometimes 
 assisting its unsteady steps, and often 
 carrying the weary little girl, till she 
 insensibly reached the summer-house. 
 Here the child endeavoured to climb the 
 steps ; and, after diverting herself with 
 its puerile and ineffectual efforts, feeling 
 somewhat fatigued, the young Countess, 
 with her little companion, entered the sum- 
 mer-house, and seated herself on one of the 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 teats. In this place^ as the child amused 
 itself in safety^ she^ from the window, 
 watched the clear stream running over its 
 pebbly bed, her thoughts fixed on the 
 waywardness of her fate ; which in uniting 
 her to the man of her choice, had yet 
 deprived her of happiness by the myste- 
 rious secret which overshadowed her life. 
 
 Her meditations were at length inter- 
 rupted by a scream of terror from the 
 little girl ; and, starting hastily from her 
 reverie, she looked towards the spot where 
 Geraldine stood, and felt little less alarna 
 than the infant, on observing a tall, stately 
 female figure advancing from the inner 
 room. She hastily snatched up her child, 
 and w as rushing towards the portico, when 
 the stranger, in an authoritative tone, com- 
 manded her to stop. Adelaide paused; 
 and, with a tremulous voice, enquired her 
 business. '' If,'' said the lady, " I am 
 not strangely deceived, you are the person
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY: 147 
 
 I have for some days endeavoured to find 
 alone ; but first, tell me who you are^ lest 
 I address one not concerned in my im- 
 portant mission." — ^' I am the wife of 
 Count Wurtzburg/' said the trembling 
 Adelaide. *' That, indeed^, you are not/' 
 said the stranger haughtily. Then, ad- 
 vancing, with a mein that seemed to 
 threaten instant destruction to the half 
 fainting Adelaide — '' Know, that in me 
 you see the wife of the detested Albert ! 
 Did'st thou never, poor minion, hear of 
 Christina de Wurtzburg ?*' '^ I have heard 
 of the divorced wife of Albert," she re- 
 plied, her lovely voice rendered almost 
 inarticulate by her fears. 
 
 '' Thou liest !'* screamed the fiend-like 
 woman, raising her arm, and placing her- 
 self in a menacing attitude. '' 1 am his 
 wife ; no divorce, believe me, has enabled 
 him to make another choice." Adelaide 
 cast her eyes on her child, and with much
 
 148 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 difficulty kept herself from fainting. The 
 stranger seeing the effect her conversation 
 had on her hearer^ told her to sit down ; 
 and, softening her manner^ thus addressed 
 her :•— 
 
 '' It is nearly four years, since Count 
 Wurtzburg, taking offence at some little 
 gaieties in my conduct, chose, in the most 
 unpardonable manner, to proclaim his 
 conviction to the world of my criminality; 
 and, without vouchsafing to converse with 
 me on the subject, and thus give me an 
 opportunity of defending my character, 
 he desired his father to proceed imme- 
 diately in procuring a divorce, and then 
 quitted the country. These circum- 
 stances you probably know ; but you 
 are yet to be told^ that Christina de Sten- 
 fort was born with too noble a spirit to 
 yield tamely to oppression. From the 
 moment I married the Count, I found him 
 by no means capable of engaging my 
 aflfections; but we lived on a friendly loot^
 
 irURTZBURG FAMILY. 149 
 
 ing ; and^ I then overlooked his gallant- 
 ries, (which were indeed most notorious.) 
 considering I had also a rights at least, 
 to amu^e mjself in any society I might 
 approve ; — the Count thought otherwise : 
 we parted for ever ; and disgust and 
 hatred followed iadifFerence. When I 
 found that he was mean enough to aim 
 at my complete disgrace, my rage knew no 
 hounds, and I swore to oppose his regain- 
 ing his liberty to the utmost of my power. 
 When the trial came on, I recriminated ; 
 and so glaring had been the irregularity 
 of his life, that I had no difficulty in 
 proving a divorce quite impossible. The 
 manner in which Albert had fled, was 
 urged with much eWect by my counsel — 
 as it proved the badness of a cause, the 
 issue of wEich he did not dare to await. 
 On his return from his secret expedition, 
 long after the trial had terminated so 
 much to my satisfaction, the Count ar- 
 rived at Vienna, impatient to know the
 
 150 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 verdict he had obtained ; and I was told 
 his grief was sufficient to compensate 
 for all I had suffered. I gloried to think 
 I 'had now been able to touch the feelings 
 of my haled husband; judge, therefore, 
 how much my gratification was increased, 
 on discovering that, trusting his father 
 would have secured his liberty, he had 
 married another. My curiosity was now 
 excited to know how he would conduct 
 himself; and this was much increased^ 
 when, after an interval of some months^ 
 I heard of the biith of a supposed heiress 
 to the domain of Gotha ; and that the 
 deluded mother was ignorant of its ille- 
 galit}. This was too fair a field for my 
 revenge to neglect ; and I resolved to 
 contrive to open your eyes, and complete 
 liis misery. ^ 
 
 ^^ For some time I could not arrange 
 my plans ; but at length determined to go 
 incognito to the town of Grotha ; I then
 
 WURTZBL'RG FAMILY. 151 
 
 visited the cottages in the neighbourhood 
 of the castle^ and at length prevailed, by 
 a bribe^ with the wife of a peasant, who 
 resides in a little hut, not far from this 
 spot, to admit me for a few hours every 
 afternoon, under pretence of taking views 
 of the surrounding country. I have pas- 
 sed six dajs in this manner, and have 
 often seen you at a distance; on these 
 occasions, ray hatred for the Count ex- 
 tended to yourself, and I have sometimes 
 felt resolved to rob him of his concealed 
 treasure, by a da^'ger. Nay, do not start! 
 shall I confess ? your gentleness and 
 beauty have softened ray heart, and at 
 this moment I feel only that^you are like 
 myself, a victim to the libertine Count. 
 You are now informed of the duplicity 
 of your supposed husband; — judge for 
 yourself; if you like to fly from him with 
 your child, and take refuge in some deep 
 retirement, where your vicious admirer 
 may never see you more, I will conduct
 
 152 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 you, and will pay you an income suffici- 
 ent to support you both ; if not, I now 
 quit you for ever." More dead than 
 alive, Adelaide arose, — '' Let me never 
 more behold you/' said she, in a low 
 tone; you have murdered my peace of 
 mind ; and, but for this poor infant, I 
 would gladly, this moment, be annihilated 
 by your dagger. — That the Count never 
 meant to deceive me — that he is as 
 wretched as myself, I am convinced ; I 
 will not therefore increase his misery, by 
 leaving him in doubt, what fate may have 
 befallen myself and child :" then burst- 
 ing into a flood of tears, she quitted the 
 summer-house ; and, with tottering steps, 
 at length reached the castle. Christina, 
 for one moment, looked after her with 
 compassion; but her violence of dispo- 
 sition, and extreme malevolence, quickly 
 subdued her better feelings, and she 
 quitted Gotha, well pleased with the suc- 
 cess of her journey.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY, 153 
 
 The heart-broken Adelaide, after de- 
 livering her Geraldine into the arms of 
 her nurse, retired to her own chamber ; 
 here she gave way to every expression of 
 distraction ; uncertain what conduct 
 would be proper^ and feeling, most 
 poignantly, the disgrace that must inevit- 
 ably await her, she was almost tempted 
 to cast off that life which was become 
 hateful : but the lessons of her excellent 
 father were too strongly imprinted on 
 her mind to allow such an idea long to 
 prevail ; and she shuddered at having 
 indulged the thought, though but for a 
 moment. The great clock struck three 
 in the morning; and still Adelaide 
 continued pacing the chamber, when 
 Josephine tapt at the door, supposing 
 her lady had been reading and was not 
 aware of th^ lateness of the hour. Ade- 
 laide admitted her ; the worthy servant 
 was shocked at the appearance of her 
 mistress^ and kindly enquired the cause. 
 H 3
 
 154 MEMOIRS Or ffi[2 
 
 Adelaide attributed it to a severe head- 
 ache, and with some truth ; for her 
 temples beat violently ; and when, by the 
 care of Josephine, she was put to bed, 
 coldness and shivering indicated so much 
 fever that she thought it necessary to call 
 in advice ; and the domestic physician, 
 who immediately attended, was much 
 alarmed at the state in which he found 
 her. 
 
 Not niany hours elapsed before the 
 malady had made such rapid advances 
 that the suffering Adelaide became insen- 
 sible to all around her ; the attendants 
 dispatched a messenger for the Count, 
 who, when he arrived, found her in a 
 state of delirium, the most distressing. 
 During these paroxysms her incoherent 
 language astonished Albert ; perfectly 
 unconscious he was near her, sometimes 
 she implored his return, and the next 
 moment insisted on never more beholding
 
 WI3RTZBUR* FAMILY. 155 
 
 liiin. Then starting up wildly, and 
 uttering tht; most piercing shrieks, she 
 entreated to be saved from Christina, and 
 with an hysteric laugh sunk into stupor. 
 
 Albert was astonished, and grieved to 
 think that, by some means, to him quite 
 incomprehensible, Adelaide must have 
 discovered the secret, which he had so 
 scrupulously confined to his own bosom. 
 On conversing with his agent, the Count 
 liad first received a hint of the verdict 
 not being quite so favourable as he had 
 flattered himself. Starenberg was a 
 sensible man, and truly attached to the 
 family of de Wurtzburg: he had, there- 
 fore, mentioned the circumstance as 
 slightly as possible ; but advised Albert 
 to go, without loss of time, to Vicmna. 
 This he agreed to ; and, from that mo- 
 ment, he had been vainly endeavouring, 
 by moving the suit iiito other courts, to 
 sliake off his shackles^ and become, in the
 
 156 MEMOIRS or THE 
 
 eye of the law, the husband of his adored 
 Adelaide. He had now received a final 
 confirmation of the impossibility of pro- 
 curing the divorce ; and had set out on 
 his return more than ever resolved, by 
 living in perfect seclusion, to preclude all 
 danger of Adelaide being apprized of the 
 unfortunate issue of their too hasty union, 
 when he was met by the servant bringing 
 the alarming information of her illness. 
 
 Eight days Adelaide continued in the 
 same state, during which the Count sel- 
 dom quitted her chamber. On the ninth 
 the physician declared that a few hours 
 must decide her fate. With anxiety, 
 more easily imagined than described, 
 Albert watched by her bedside : — She 
 had fallen into a deep sleep, from which 
 it was doubtful whether she would ever 
 awake. A solemn silence prevailed in 
 the chamber, only interrupted, at inter- 
 vals, by the uneasy sobs of the sleeping
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 157 
 
 patient ; when suddenly Adelaide started, 
 and, in a low, but composed tone, re- 
 quested something to drink. She looked 
 on Albert, apparently unconscious that he 
 had been her constant attendant; and, 
 smiling, faintly said, '^ I have been very 
 ill, and have had horrid dreams, but am 
 now better/' The physician beckoned 
 Albert; — ''As it is evident,'* said he, 
 '^ something affects the mind of the Coun- 
 tess, of which she has now a very imperfect 
 remembrance, ^vould it not be better to 
 keep out of her sight till her frame has 
 recovered sufficient strength to enable her 
 to support a conversation she will pro- 
 bably seek with you, as soon as possible ?" 
 '' Perhaps it may/' replied the Count, 
 sighing deeply; '' I will, therefore, 
 remain in the outer chamber, where I 
 shall be able to attend without being seen 
 by her, till you permit an interview/' 
 
 For some days Adelaide continued in so 
 weak and precarious a state, that she
 
 138 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 scarcely spoke ; but when she began io 
 regain, though slowly^ her strength, she 
 enquired tenderly after the health of the 
 Count. Being assured he was well, though 
 naturally anxious and unhappy at the 
 state in which he had found her; she 
 desired the physician to inform Albert of 
 her amendment, and to request him not to 
 visit her till she sent for him, as she feared 
 the sight of him would affect her too 
 much. Albert felt hurt, but not surprized 
 at her refusal to see him. He continued 
 to watch near her chamber, and when she 
 was asleep sometimes ventured to look in 
 upon her ; but his tenderness precluded all 
 idea of thwarting the wishes of his un- 
 fortunate Adelaide. Whole days he 
 passed in hopeless misery : — at length, the 
 following little note, written ina trembling 
 hand, and blotted with tears, was just put 
 into his hands by Josephine. 
 
 *' I have seen Christina de Wurtz-
 
 WtRTZBURfi FAMILY. J 59 
 
 burg ! need I add more to explain the cause 
 of my late illness^ and of my present deter- 
 mination never more to see you ? Believe me, 
 Albert^ nothing can ever weaken that aflec- 
 tion which it now becomes almost a crime 
 to acknowledge. Hitherto, I have erred 
 unintentionally and ignorantly, and I firmly 
 believe you to have been equally innocent 
 in your intention, though, alas ! too hasty 
 in your decision — let us, then, though un- 
 fortunate, avoid the imputation of wilful 
 guilt— the dread of what we should both 
 suffer in an interview has induced me thus 
 to address you. Our unfortunate child I 
 need not recommend to your care; she I 
 know will always be the object of your 
 fondness ; and, for her sake, you must 
 support yourself under the heavy affliction 
 that has befallen yourself and Adelaide/' 
 
 The more the Count reflected on the 
 contents of this letter, the more highly he 
 estimated the treasure now for ever torn
 
 160 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 % 
 
 from him; — the strength of mind^ the 
 resignation^ the tenderness of Adelaide, 
 were conspicuous in every line; and the 
 malignity of Christina made a strong con- 
 trast to the magnanimity of her lovely 
 A ictim. Albert felt strongly the propriety 
 of sacrificing the future happiness of his 
 life to the virtuous resolves of Adelaide; 
 and, hedetermined, by quitting the castle, 
 to preclude the necessity of her removal, 
 "which, in her state of weakness, ill health, 
 and misery, must be attended with great 
 inconvenience. 
 
 By this means her character would be 
 free from all reproach; and, he ad- 
 dressed her, in a note, full of the most 
 tender 'regret, making it his particular 
 request, that she would continue to reside 
 in the castle^ alledging as his reason for 
 desiring it, his anxious wish that his 
 daughter should be attached to the place.
 
 WURTZBUEG FAMILY* 161 
 
 I 
 
 After this he took an affecting leave of 
 Geraldiiie; andj. attended, as usual, by 
 Bertrand, the Count once more became 
 a wanderer. He did not, however, as 
 before, conceal his vaiious places of abode; 
 as he corresponded regularly with Ade- 
 laide : a solace they allowed themselves, 
 as it could not be objected to by the most 
 rigid observers on their conduct; and 
 which, indeed, they persuaded themselves 
 was absolutely incumbent on them, as it 
 was necessary the Count should be con- 
 sulted on all occasions respecting his 
 daughter. 
 
 Adelaide was now somewhat recovered 
 from her severe indisposition ; but it had 
 left her feeble and exhausted, and the 
 bright glow which frequently tinged her 
 cheeks, raised fears in her skilful and 
 attentive physician, which were, alas ! 
 too soon realized. For some months, 
 Adelaide continued unconscious of the
 
 162 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 deep ravages the disorder bad made on her 
 constitution ; but a painful cougb^ and 
 oppression on the breath, at k^igth opened 
 her eyes ; and she required her attendant 
 to give his real opinion — the task was 
 unpleasant^ but he was a man of too much 
 honour to deceive her, and he confessed 
 himself apprehensive of the worst ; though 
 he assured her he did not consider her yet 
 beyond the power of medicine. 
 
 Adelaide required no other confirmation 
 of her ^wn opinion; and she wislied most 
 earnestly for some female friend to attend 
 her in the last stages of her painful disorder. 
 After some consideration, she determined 
 to send to her former friend Madame Mi- 
 reville^ requesting her, if possible, to visit 
 Goth a. She wrote a long and affecting 
 narrative of all the events which had 
 befallen her since the death of her father, 
 and conjured Madame Mireville to attend 
 her in her last moments.
 
 M'URTZBURG FAMILY. 16S 
 
 This letter was conveyed by express ; 
 but the journey was a long one, and 
 Madame Mirevilie must be some weeks 
 ere she could reach the castle^ even if she 
 set out with the utmost expedition. 
 
 Meanwhile^ Adelaide, insisted the Count 
 •hould not be apprized of her illness^ as 
 she was unwilling to increase his sorrows 
 by a knowledge of her danger. For a time 
 she continued to educate her little girl, 
 and also, employed much of her leisure in 
 reading the works of learned men on reli- 
 gious subjects; thus endeavouring to 
 fortify her mind against the awful period 
 which she was each day more convinced 
 was approaching, by slow, but certain 
 advances. 
 
 Seven weeks from the departure of the 
 messenger Madame Mirevilie arrived : 
 she was shocked beyond measure at the 
 emaciated appearance of the yet beautiful
 
 164 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Adelaide, and saw but too evidently that 
 all hope of recovery was vain, The society 
 of her friend was a source of much comfort 
 to her, and they spent many hours in 
 reviewing former events, and recalling 
 circumstances long since passed away. 
 
 It was in one of these conversations that 
 Madame Mireville explained the cause of 
 her former coldness ; and thus enabled 
 Adelaide to defend herself from the 
 imputation of coquetry, so unjustly cast 
 upon her. Her kind-hearted companion 
 wept bitterly when she remembered that, 
 perhaps, had her house continued open to 
 the orphan daughter of Monsieur Feuillide, 
 the fatal events of the last five years might 
 have been averted — she must in that case 
 have been acquainted with all the parti- 
 culars of the Count's circumstances; and 
 neither herself nor Monsieur Mireville, 
 would have consented to the marriage, till 
 the divorce was certain and complete ; and
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 165 
 
 the ill-fated girl \vouldj doubtless^ have 
 yielded to their more mature judgment. 
 
 Adelaide heard with pleasure that^ after 
 the ebulitions of disappointment for her 
 disappearance had subsided; Frederic, 
 yielding' to the wishes of his family, had 
 married the lady so long destined for him: 
 and^ as he was not of a disposition long to 
 suffer any unpleasant impression to remain 
 on his mind, when he ceased to see Ade- 
 laide, he speedily ceased to think of her; 
 and was now as full of heedless gaiety as 
 before he knew her.
 
 166 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 ALBERT kept up a constant corres- 
 pondence with his beloved Adelaide ; and 
 in these letters, always held out a hope, 
 that the time might arrive when all ob- 
 stacles to their union would be removed. 
 To these flattering insinuations, poor 
 Adelaide replied cheerfully ; wishing to 
 appear to her wretched lover, as easy as 
 her situation would admit; but she felt 
 perfectly hopeless of living to become the 
 acknowledged wife of the Count; and, 
 indeed, ceased to be solicitous on the 
 subject, as her darling child would derive 
 little or no advantage from such an union. 
 Her birth must ever be considered as dis- 
 graceful ; and Adelaide's hopes and wishes 
 all concentred in Geraldine.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 167 
 
 The encreased illness of Adelaide could 
 now no longer be concealed from the 
 Count, as she became entirely incapable 
 of writing. Madame Mireville, there- 
 fore, thought it necessary to acquaint 
 Albert with the real state of her disorder; 
 and the Count, distracted by his appre- 
 hensions, flew to the castle, that he might 
 obtain, if possible, a last look of the only 
 woman for whom he had ever felt a solid 
 and lasting attachment. 
 
 It was deemed most prudent to conceal 
 his arrival, unless Adelaide should express 
 a wish to see him ; and he remained for 
 two months in complete solitude, except 
 when Madame Mireville stole for half an 
 hour from the sick room of her friend, 
 to weep with the Count over the fate of 
 the patient sufferer. 
 
 From his sympathizing companion he 
 learnt the particulars of the summer-
 
 168 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 house scenCj and was no longer astonislied 
 at the tragical eifect of such an interview 
 on the gentle mind of Adelaide. The 
 period of her sufferings was now fast 
 advancing ; and the Count made con- 
 tinual;, but fruitless^ efforts to strengthen 
 his mind to support the impending blow. 
 
 No disorder is more deceitful than 
 consumption. Adelaide found herself, 
 one beautiful spring morning, so much 
 better, as to feel a desire of being con- 
 ■veyed into the air. Madame Mireville 
 trembled at the effect this exertion might 
 produce^, but was unwilling to deny her 
 a gratification which she was fully con- 
 vinced was the last of the kind her young 
 friend would ever enjoy. She was carried 
 with much caution and tenderness to a 
 rustic seat not many paces from the house, 
 and laid on an easy chair, placed there for 
 the purpose, by her assiduous nurse> 
 Josephine.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 169 
 
 The air revived her; and looking afFcc- 
 tionately on Madame Mireviile, she said> 
 ^' Let me, my kind friend^ now, while I 
 am capable of speaking, thank you for 
 that friendship which has been my solace 
 in the months of misery and sorrow I 
 have experienced ; you know not the 
 comfort and support I have derived from 
 your society; and, believe me, I am tru!y 
 sensible of the sacrifice your excellent 
 husband has made to my sufFeringSj in 
 permitting your lengthened stay with me, 
 I feel the time draw near apace^ when 
 you will be released from your painful 
 task, and I meet the moment without 
 terror. I have reviewed my past life 
 with the most scrutinizing accuracy ; 
 and, though I am sensible of the imper- 
 fections of my nature, I cannot accuse 
 myself of any wilful transgressions ; and 
 I, therefore, look with the brightest hope 
 to futurity. My ciiild, at this moment, 
 alone holds my thoughts to sublunary 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 things ; hut, with such a father as the 
 County and., I trusty such a friend as your- 
 self, she will, I hope, escape the cruel 
 fate of her mother and live to he an or- 
 nament to that world I have only known 
 as a continued scene of disappointment 
 and disgrace.** During the course of 
 this conversation, she paused freqAiently, 
 to regain breath and strength, sufficient 
 to enable her to proceed. She now repo- 
 sed, for a few moments, on her couch ; 
 and then, looking mildly and pensively on 
 the surrounding scenery, — *' all nature 
 seems to smile on me, at this crisis,** she 
 said ; '"^ and I now feel ready to yield up 
 my harassed spirit into the hands of my 
 maker. I could have wished,** she 
 added, gently sighing, '' once more to 
 have seen the Count, to have drawn my 
 last breath in his arms ; but that is, 1 
 fear, impossible.** — '' Not impossible, if 
 you desire it, my love," replied Madame 
 Mireville: '' we can send for him to
 
 WURTZBURCJ FAMILY. 171 
 
 come to the castle/' — '' Ah ! mj excel- 
 lent friend, my term of life is too short to 
 admit his return from so great a distance ; 
 and, perhaps, it will spare him some 
 anguish, if he never more behold me." 
 Madame Mireville was now doubtful 
 how to proceed ; she coloured, hesitated, 
 and uttered some inarticulate words, 
 respecting his speedy arrival. Adekide 
 looked with a penetrating glance on her 
 friend ; " he is here, at this moment, per- 
 haps ; — oh ! if he be, delay not to bring 
 him :*' she spoke in convulsive agitation, 
 Josephine hastened to call the Count, — he 
 arrived instantly : x\delaide made a slight 
 effort to advance towards him ; she sunk 
 into his arms ; faintly uttered the name 
 of Albert,—- and never spoke more, 
 
 To describe the scene that ensued is 
 
 impossible ; the distraction of the Count ; 
 
 the clamorous grief of poor Josephine ; 
 
 the heavy, but silent, sorrow of Madame 
 
 i2
 
 172 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Mireville ; all are more easily imagined 
 than depicted. The body of the unfor- 
 tunate Adelaide was conveyed to the 
 castle; and Albert gave himself up to 
 the most poignant agony of regret : he 
 insisted on the last remains of his treasure 
 being deposited in the vault under the 
 chapel, which was within the castle : 
 and here he every evening retired to be- 
 wail, in floods of tears, his heavy loss. 
 Madame Mireville, with unequalled 
 kindness, remained nearly a fortnight 
 with Albert. During that time she eur 
 deavoured to draw the Count's thoughts 
 from Adelaide, to her lovely child ; and 
 before she quitted Gotha, had the plea- 
 sure of observing Geraldine gaining every 
 day more attention from her father. 
 
 With much regret he saw the friend of 
 l^is Adelaide depart : before she quitted 
 him, he presented her with a beautiful 
 picture of Adelaide, and a large lock of
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 173 
 
 lier hair, handsomely set. These were 
 indeed treasures to his newly acquired 
 friend ; andj after promising, if it should 
 ever be rn her power, to return to Gotha, 
 she took a kind leave of Albert, and 
 commenced her journey homewards, 
 where she arrived melancholy and de- 
 jected ; and found Monsieur Mireville 
 most highly rejoiced at her restoration to 
 him. 
 
 Albert never recovered his spirits after 
 the death of Adelaide ; his conscience 
 smote him continually ; and he looked 
 back, with never-ceasing regret, on his 
 unpardonable volatility; which had thus 
 precipitated her form simple happiness, 
 and rural content, to the depths of 
 misery ; and which had ultimately 
 brought her to the grave. The only 
 comfort, he ever knew, was in observ- 
 ing the promising disposition, and beau- 
 tiful person, of his little Geraldine. He
 
 174 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 devoted all his time to her education, and 
 seldom admitted any society except tlie 
 family of Baron Altenberg. He was a 
 man of information, talent^ polished man- 
 hevsy and a most friendly heart ; his son 
 and daughter where all a fond parent 
 could wish. To know the Count of 
 Wuitzburg^ and not to esteem him, was 
 impossible ; and, after the overthrow of 
 all Albert's hopes, Altenberg sought, by 
 every means in his power, to call his 
 thoughts from the sad object on which 
 they were unceasingly fixed ; and^ indeed, 
 the Count never felt so composed, or so 
 cheerful, as in the society of his friendly 
 neighbour. His solitude was also less 
 agieeably interrupted by the annual 
 visits of his brother John, and his 
 family. John, as has been elsewhere 
 observed, was of an unsocial disposition ; 
 his daughters felt no affection for a father, 
 who had never evinced any great tender- 
 ness towards them ; so that, though aa
 
 WURTSBURG FAMILY. 175 
 
 jprigbt and worthy man, be passed 
 through life without friends ; never 
 having excited much interest, even in the 
 breasts of his own relations. It cannot 
 be supposed the warm-hearted Count 
 derived much comfort from a meeting 
 with a brother, whose mind and manners 
 were so ungenial to his own; and the 
 pride^ the arrogance^ and the ambition 
 of the two daughters completely disgust- 
 ed their uncle. 
 
 Johanna^ the eldest^ was tall and finely 
 formed ; her dark eyes beamed with dis- 
 cernment ; but they knew not to express 
 tenderness and feminine loveliness ; she 
 was magnificently handsome, but pos- 
 sessed not the powers of captivating; her 
 manners were supercilious to her equals, 
 and oppressive to her inferiors. Her 
 sister, Roxalana, was of a less marked 
 character ; she had all the seeds of her 
 sister's faults, but they were less brought 
 to light.
 
 176 MBTMOIRS 0> THE 
 
 Both these women considered it good 
 policy to keep up a continual intercourse 
 >vith their uncle, whose large property 
 was an object well worthy their atteiition; 
 and they determined to endeavour^, if 
 possible, to secure it to themselves. 
 
 The Count was too much a man of the 
 world to be ignorant of their views ; but 
 he did not condescend to take any notice 
 of their plans, which he was fullj^ resolved 
 ghould not succeed. He doated on his 
 daughter ; she would, he trusted, be an 
 honour to his family, and he intended 
 making her eventually his sole heiress. 
 
 At the expiration of two years after the 
 death of Adelaide, the Count had the 
 pleasure of hearing from Madame Mire- 
 ville, who proposed paying him a visit 
 with her husband, whom she was very 
 desirous of introducing to Albert. The 
 tender regard he entertained for the friend
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 177 
 
 of his Adelaide, madehim desirous of shew- 
 ing every possible attention to Monsieur 
 Mireville ; and the Count exerted himself 
 so much to entertain his guests, that he 
 appeared occasionally almost cheerful. 
 His extensive possessions enabled him to 
 present great variety of amusement to his 
 friends : hawking was the Count's favorite 
 sport : in this he excelled, and his birds 
 were the best in the country ; — he did not 
 however confine himself to that alone, and 
 they sometimes fished in the fine streams 
 that watered his noble domain, and not 
 unfrequently hunted the wild boar of the 
 forest. 
 
 Altenberg frequently joined" these par- 
 ties, and his daughter became the favourite 
 associate of Madame Mireville, who had 
 sufficient discernment to perceive, through 
 the modest reserve of Emmelme, the most 
 amiable qualities. She was too diffident to 
 shine in large mixed societies; it was 
 I 3
 
 178 MEJflOIRS OP TPtt^ 
 
 necessary to know her thoroughly to 
 estimate her worth ; but, when oiice become 
 intimate^ it was impossible not to appre* 
 ciate her justly. Emmeline was pretty, 
 without being regularly handsome; and 
 there was much elegance in her appearance : 
 she was well informed, although the 
 retired life she led precluded her acquiring* 
 any accomplishments beyond what she 
 attained at a school in Vienna, where she 
 had passed twelve months after the death 
 of her mother. 
 
 Perhaps no one was better calculated 
 to gain the Count's approbation than 
 Monsieur Mireville. He was a man of 
 much reflection, and great erudition, yet 
 had nothing either morose or pedantic in 
 his conversation — of an impetuous temper, 
 he appeared to be constantly struggling 
 against this infirmity, and usually suc- 
 ceeded ; a shade of melancholy seemed to
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 179 
 
 pervade his cliaracter^ which rendered him 
 highly interesting to Albert. 
 
 Adelaide had herself frequently observed 
 it ; but, as neither Monsieur nor Madame 
 Mireville ever mentioned any cause of 
 sorrow, she concluded it was merely con- 
 stitutional. Indeed, the only affliction 
 they had ever experienced^ (she had un- 
 derstood from her father) was the loss of 
 a child several years before Adelaide 
 had known them ; but, as her friends 
 frequently spoke of such of their ac- 
 quaintance, who were without children, as 
 being peculiarly fortunate, she considered 
 they had recovered from the grief their loss 
 must, for a time at least, have occasioned. 
 
 Nothing opens the heart of man more 
 than a similarity of fate; however trifling 
 the resemblance, it is sufficient in general 
 to draw confidence, because it ensures 
 commiseration ; and Monsieur Mirevilie,
 
 ISO MEMOIRS OF rat 
 
 who for jears had preserved a profound 
 silence on the subject of his distress, could 
 not resist^ when he met with a wounded 
 spirit, such as Albert's, imparting his 
 sorrows to him. 
 
 One evening, as they were sitting toge- 
 ther, Albert indulging himself in the 
 melancholy pleasure of talking with one 
 who knew her excellencies^ of his lost 
 Adelaide, and shewing him many little 
 poetic productions of her pen, which he 
 treasured up with the fondest care ; he 
 appealed to the feelings of his friend to 
 judge, whether any man had ever expe- 
 rienced more heart-rending affliction than 
 himself: — his whole life, he observed, had 
 been a tissue of misfortunes : from the 
 moment of his connecting himself with 
 his depraved wife, all his wishes had been 
 thwarted, all his hopes disappointed. 
 
 '^ It is true/' repl'ed Monsieur Mire*
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 181 
 
 \ille, " your misfortunes have been great, 
 and are irreparable ; but you have no 
 self reproach to embitter your thoughts; 
 the utmost errors you have committed 
 have proceeded from youthful imprudence 
 alone. How much more acute must be 
 the anguish of mind attendant on a man, 
 conscious of having suffered passion and 
 violence to overwhelm him in never-ending 
 regret! — and such a sufferer you behold 
 in me. 
 
 '' Your astonishment," he continued, 
 '' is natural ; I have never till this moment 
 spoken on the subject ; but I will relate a 
 circumstance in my life^ which may serve to 
 shew that othershave experienced afHiction 
 equal, if not exceeding^ yoi^r own. 
 
 ^^ I lost my mother when an infant ; and 
 my father did not long survive her. I was 
 thus left to the care of guardians^ who 
 attended most carefully to my temporal
 
 189 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 concerns, l)ut trusted my mind and dispo- 
 sition entirely to the guidance of a master, 
 who considered it too much his interest to 
 gain the good-will of a young heir, to 
 oppose my wishes in any thing. Naturally 
 of a warm temper, which was never 
 checked; I grew up impetuous^ ardent, 
 and ungovernable; and, on being put into 
 possession of my estates, I considered the 
 world made but to be subservient to me. 
 
 " I had not been complete master of my 
 actions many months, before I had the 
 good fortune to become acquainted with 
 Madame Mireville. I had the happiness 
 of pleasing her, and the match was, in 
 the opinion of her family, too brilliant 
 for me to meet with any objections on 
 their part. Her gentleness, sense, and 
 judgment, never called forth my irri- 
 tability ; and, till our son was of an 
 age to be sent from home, I experienced 
 nothing but happiness in my domestic
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 183 
 
 arrangements, except indeed, occasionally 
 when my servants excited my displeasure, 
 by their negligence, and disobedience; and 
 on these occasions my wife always tem- 
 porized matters with admirable skill. 
 
 *^ Our son was a fine, lively, promising 
 lad; and 1 placed him at Geneva with a 
 tutor, in whom I thought I might con- 
 fide : — it unhappily proved otherwise, and 
 our boy had many opportunities of forming 
 an intimacy with a set of very wild, and 
 very young men, who led him, child as 
 he was, into every species of dissipation, 
 and extravagance. My fortune, no doubt* 
 led the spendthrifts to gain him over to 
 their party. The first bills my son sent 
 in to me, ( though I was enraged to a great 
 degree,) I discharged, after requiring a 
 promise from him never more to join his 
 profligate friends. Judge of my displeasure 
 and disappointment ; within ten months 
 from the time I had treated him with so
 
 184 , MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 much lenity, at receiving demands to a 
 much greater amount. The boy was at 
 that lime at home for a few days, and 
 unfortunately my v/ife was absent on a 
 visit, to a sister, who was ill. 
 
 *' I say unfortunately, because I am 
 certain, her mild, yet firm, and judicious 
 mode of conduct, would have moderated 
 the excess of my intemperate violence. 
 Alas ! left to act for myself, I yielded to 
 the excess of my resentment; and, after 
 inflicting severe corporeal punishment on 
 the youth, 1 turned him out of doors, 
 swearing he should never more enter my 
 dwelling. At first, the boy entreated my 
 forgiveness, with many promises of amend- 
 ment ; but he was bold, and high spirited ; 
 and, finding I still continued to give way 
 to the ebullitions of passion, he suddenly 
 changed his manner. In a calm tone, he 
 assured me, he would never again intrude 
 on me; and, hurrying from the house.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 185 
 
 left me still venting my rage ; even when 
 I knew he was beyond the reach of my 
 voice. "^ 
 
 '^ -iS&ti would imagine that my anger 
 would cool on losing its object; but that 
 was by no means the case ; and it was 
 not till the second day after his depar- 
 ture^ (at which time Madame Mire villa 
 was to come home^) that I began to 
 relent. As I saw her approach the house, 
 my heart smote me : I recollected her 
 fondness for her only child, and trembled 
 at the alarm his absence would cause in 
 her gentle bosom. The lovely manner, 
 in which she behaved, will never be ob- 
 literated from my mind ; she did not 
 reproach me with my cruelty, nor did she, 
 in my presence, give way to her grief; 
 indeed, at first, she flattered herself the 
 boy would seek a re-admission to the 
 bosom of his family. I confess 1 enter- 
 tained the same idea myself, till a note
 
 186 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 from my son to his mother^ crushed all 
 our hopes, and plunged us in despair. 
 He wrote kindlV;, assuring her of his ten- 
 der affection for the best of mothers ; and, 
 bitterly regretting, he could now never 
 more hope to see her. He said, he had 
 accident! J met with associates, who, like 
 himself, spurned at restraint; that he 
 was determined nothing should induce 
 him again to submit to the disgraceful 
 chastisement he had received from his 
 father ; and that, when his family recei- 
 ved this intimation, he should be in 
 another country, never more to return to 
 his native place. Oh ! my friend, much 
 as you have endured, you can hardly 
 form an adequate idea of my anguish of 
 mind, and my self-reproach, on receiving 
 this blow to all my future prospects* 
 We made every enquiry, as you may 
 imagine, after our son, but in vain. 
 
 ^^ Madame Mireville continued her
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 187 
 
 heroic endurance before me ; but the 
 exertion was too much for her delicate 
 constitution, and a long- and tedious ill- 
 ness succeeded, which threatened to add 
 to my punishment, by depriving me of 
 the mother^ as well as the child. Slowly 
 she recovered her health, though certainly 
 not her spirits ; and, from that time, we 
 have neither of us had courage to men- 
 tion the subject to each other ; indeed, 
 any allusion to her son had so powerful 
 an effect on her mind, that I was induced 
 to forbid the mention of his name in my 
 family : an injunction which has hitherto 
 been strictly obeyed. From the hour of 
 his departure we have never received any 
 tidings of the youth j and, although time 
 has mellowed our grief, my thoughts 
 continually revert to the unpardonable 
 violence of my manner ; and I feel that, 
 however dreadful may be the fate of my 
 son, I alone have caused it."
 
 188 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Albert listened, with much interest, to 
 this recital ; he entered most feelingly 
 into the misery of his new friend ; but 
 assured him he judged too severely of his 
 conduct ; as, had the boy met with less 
 evil-disposed advisers, he would not, so 
 immediately, have thrown off the paren- 
 tal authority ; as he certainly must have 
 been conscious of deserving some punish- 
 ment, although Monsieur Mireville 
 might have imagined a more judicious 
 mode of correction. 
 
 Monsieur Mireville then cautioned 
 him never to hint his knowledge of the 
 transaction before Madame : the world in 
 general, he said, imagined young Mire- 
 ville had sunk into an untimely grave ; 
 and, indeed, the remembrance of the lad 
 was now almost obliterated. It is some- 
 what remarkable that, after this conver- 
 sation. Monsieur Mireville never again 
 touched on the subject: a proof how
 
 "WURl'ZBURG FAMILY. 189 
 
 earnestly he desired, if possible, to drive 
 the afflicting remembrance from his me- 
 morj. 
 
 The time now approached, when the 
 party were to separate, as business obliged 
 Monsieur Mireville to return home : the 
 days and weeks had flown so rapidly 
 away, that, it was with astonisment, they 
 found four months had elapsed since their 
 arrival ; and such was the repugnance of 
 the friends to quit each other, that it was 
 at length settled Albert, with his daugh- 
 ter, and the two young Altenbergs should 
 accompany Monsieur and iVJadame Mire- 
 ville into Switzerland. This was a great 
 effort on the part of the Count, who 
 had never quitted Gotha since the death 
 of Adelaide; and Madame Mireville felt 
 much rejoiced, they had been able to 
 draw him, for a time, from scenes which 
 continually kept alive his sorrow.
 
 190 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Josephine was too old to undertake so 
 long a journey; but Bertrand accom- 
 panied the travellers ; and a young 
 woman, who had for some time assisted 
 Josephine, attended the little Geraldine> 
 ^and Emmeline Altenberg. These, wtih 
 the grooms and other attendants of the 
 Count, and the retinue of Monsieur 
 Mireville, formed so large a party, that 
 they considered they had nothing to dread 
 from banditti ; and therefore agreed to 
 cross the forest. The romantic beauty of 
 which was highly gratifying to Albert^ 
 who still delighted in the use of the 
 pencil, and was a proficient in the de- 
 lightful art. 
 
 They travelled more or less rapidly as 
 the country and accommodation either 
 tempted them to linger, or urged them to 
 proceed ; and, when they had entered the 
 forest, it happened, not unfrequently, 
 that they found themselves obliged to
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 191 
 
 pitch a large tent, with which they were 
 provided, and repose under it for the 
 night. The men servants, on these occa- 
 sions, watched alternately, and the little 
 group amused themselves, so iietimes in 
 reciting stories, and sometimes in listening 
 to the rude songs of their servants, who 
 were keeping alive a large fire, at no 
 great distance from the tent. Most of 
 their ballads were tinctured with the 
 superstition of those days ; and the travel- 
 lers were often much entertained by the 
 wild fancy of their early poets. 
 
 The favourite songs of little Geraldine 
 were, of course, the most frequently re- 
 sorted to : among these, her childish 
 preference was usually given to such as 
 rehearsed supernatural wonders ; and she 
 was one evening so much delighted with 
 the adventures of a maiden, who devoted 
 herself to the spirit of the deep, that she 
 earnestly entreated the musician might
 
 192 MEiVIOIRS OF THE 
 
 be admitted to the tent, to enable her to 
 hear more perfectly the words of his song. 
 Her request was instantly complied with ; 
 and the man, much flattered by the appro- 
 bation of his young mistress, sung the 
 following ballad with effect and feelings 
 though without much skill. 
 
 Now the howling tempest roars. 
 Now the wild birds scream. 
 
 Now the boatman plies his oars, 
 While the red lights gleam. 
 
 Frantic, down the craggy height, 
 Wing'd by wild despair, 
 
 Through the horrors of the night, 
 Hastes a maiden fair. 
 
 Soon her lover's back she spies 
 On the high ^ave tost, 
 
 Spirit of the deep, she cries, 
 Help, or he is lost ! 
 
 Borne upon a foaming wave, 
 
 Let my love appear ; 
 Louder now the wild v/inds rave ; 
 
 All her soul is fear.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 
 
 Grant me but to clasp ey'n now 
 
 Him for whom I weep. 
 And to thee myself I vow, 
 
 Spirit of the deep ! 
 
 While she speaks the rolling tide 
 
 Beai-s her love to shore ; 
 Higher still the billows ride. 
 
 Loud the torients roar. 
 
 <« Close the clasps him to her breast ;- 
 ** Now all danger's o'er; 
 
 -«* Safe my Harold here may rest :— 
 «* We will part no more !" 
 
 Vain her words ! for while she speak*, 
 Death notes meet her ear ; 
 
 And, where vivid lightning breakg, 
 Stands a spectre drear. 
 
 •* 
 *♦ Spirit of the deep ! she cries, 
 
 ** Thy sad victim spare, 
 
 " Now my love has blest mine eyes, 
 
 *' Give my vow to air." 
 
 ** Come my fair, nor idly rove, 
 *' Thou must be ray Queen !" 
 
 Quick they plunge into the v/ave, 
 And no more are seen, 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
 193
 
 194 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Agreeably, and not unprofltably, 
 the httle company passed their time : the 
 season was peculiarly favourable, the rich 
 tints of autumn had already overspread 
 the foliage, and the Count had frequent 
 opportunities of studying the effect of the 
 grey and cold hue of the early dawn, and 
 the warm glow of the setting sun on the 
 lofty hills. 
 
 Hitherto their journey had been pros- 
 perous; Bertrand alone, was restless and 
 uneas\ ; he lived in continual dread of 
 again meeting his former masters. It was 
 however more than six years since he had 
 escaped from his prison, and his kind
 
 ITURTZBURG FAMIIT. ^ 195 
 
 master often endeavoured to quiet his fears^ 
 by representing that^ probably they had 
 long si«ce changed their abode. True to 
 the vow which had been extorted from 
 him, Bertrand had never hinted at the 
 place of their concealment :•— indeed^ he 
 would probably have found some difficulty 
 in pointing it out^ as the castle was quite 
 out of any beaten track, and in the most 
 unfrequented part of the forest. 
 
 They were now within one day's jour- 
 ney of an inn, the only one likely to affurd 
 any chance of a tolerable reception for so 
 large a party; and, they agreed to pitch 
 their tent for the last time in a beautifully 
 romantic spot, which they reached just 
 at sun set. It was a small glade, sufficient 
 however to accommodate them all, and 
 was surrounded on three sides by craggy 
 mountams. Midway up the mountain a 
 waterfal precipitated itself into the depth 
 belovvj and formed a rapid stream, which 
 k2
 
 196 MEMOIRS OF THK 
 
 meandered in irregular windings through 
 the forest. The entrance into this enchant- 
 ing spot was narrow, and the whole formed 
 a rustic retirement^ which promised shelter 
 from the winds, and appeared totally 
 removed from human intrusion. 
 
 Towards the middle of the night, their 
 fuel being exhausted, two of the servants 
 •went a small distance to collect broken 
 branches to supply their fires. Thej had 
 not been gone more than half an hour, 
 when, returning hastily, they waked 
 their sleeping companions, advising them 
 instantly to arm, as (hey had been observed 
 by a party of horsemen ; who, they had 
 no doubt, would speedily attack them. 
 
 Scarcely had they ceased to speak when 
 they were alarmed by the sound of horses 
 feet, and in the next moment a desperate 
 onsei c( mmenced. The Count, Monsieur 
 Mireville, and young Altenberg, after
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY-' 1^7 
 
 placing the women beliind the tent, under 
 the care of Bcrtrand, hurried to the 
 assistance of the servants, one of whom 
 was already wounded. On the appearance 
 of the Count and his companions^ the 
 ruffians seen^xd more desperate than 
 before^ and the leader^ advancing hastily, 
 fired a shot^ which wounded Monsieur 
 Mireville in the arm^ and grazed the hat 
 of the Count. Victory now seemed to 
 favour the assailants, when suddenly, their 
 chiefs uttering an exclamation of horror, 
 hastily called on his men to desist. He 
 was instantly obeyed, and the next moment 
 the enemy was- out of sight. 
 
 Albert was astonished at the panic of 
 the robbers, till he reflected such depre- 
 dators were not likely to be endued with 
 the calm and heroic fortitude of men, who 
 engage in the cause of their God and 
 their country; and he had no doubt they 
 were intimidated by himself and friends
 
 198 
 
 MEMOIRS or THE 
 
 appearing in aid of the servants. The 
 terror of the ladies had been extreme:— r 
 little Geraldine cried bitterlj:, while Em- 
 meline^ half distracted by her fears^ 
 vainly endeavoured to re-assure the child. 
 Madame Mireville evinced much the most 
 fortitude; and^ on finding her husband 
 was wounded^ entreated thej might imme- 
 diately proceed to the inn, in order, if 
 possible, to procure assistance for the 
 sufferers. This was readily agreed to, and 
 they travelled in mournful silence, very 
 unlike the pleasant journies they had 
 hitherto made. About noon they safely 
 reached the inn, and Monsieur Mireville 
 and the servant were immediately put to 
 bed-— the latter had suffered the most 
 severely ; Monsieur Mireville's was hap- 
 pily only a flesh wound, which, though 
 painful, did not threaten any evil conse- 
 quences. 
 
 Bertrand could not even here shake off
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. ^ 199 
 
 Ilis alarm ; he was convinced this was 
 the house the robbers had formerly alluded 
 ^o; and he feared every night some sur- 
 prize : — he imparted his suspicions to 
 Albert^ who told him he did not appre- 
 hend any danger^ but ordered the servant! 
 to be vigilant, and to keep on the alert^ 
 
 On the third evening after their arrival, 
 Bertrand apprized them the host had been 
 out all the night before, and had not 
 returned till dusk : Bertrand had no doubt 
 he had been to consult with the robbers 
 on the subject of another attack, and 
 Altenberg agreed this conjecture was pro- 
 bable; and, as the chamber in which 
 Monsieur Mireville was confined was 
 large, and he was so much better, their so- 
 ciety was pleasant to him, it was agreed, the 
 friends, with Bertrand, should continue 
 together throughout the night. An inner 
 apartment with two beds accommodated 
 Madame Mireville, Emmeline, Geraldine,
 
 SOO MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 and her attendant; and thus, by securing 
 the door of Monsieur Mireville's room, 
 they should be safe from any surprize, 
 and the more so as the servants had cham- 
 bers at no great distance from their masters. 
 
 As night advanced. Monsieur Mireville 
 endeavoured to sleep : the lights were all 
 extinguished except one small lamp, the 
 ladies had retired to their repose, and the 
 Count, Altenberg, and Bertrand, drawing 
 close round the fire, courted the drowsy 
 god in large arm chairs. 
 
 They had remained in this state two 
 hours, and the clock had just struck one, 
 when they were startled by a noise at the 
 further end of the room : they hastily 
 arose from their seats, and Monsieur Mire- 
 \iile, disturbed by their moving, opened 
 his curtain to enquire the cause of their 
 hasty removal. At this moment a trap 
 door was opened slowly^ and, with asto-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 201 
 
 nishment and alarm, they observed a tall 
 figure rising as it were from the floor : he 
 was cased completely in mail ; on his head 
 he wore a huge helmet with the \izor 
 closed. Albert hastily armed himself, 
 Alteubergh did the same, and both pre- 
 sented their pieces at the intruder, when, 
 in a solemn voice, and impressive manner, 
 the stranger bade them remark he was 
 alone, and without weapons. As he 
 spoke, he closed the opening by which 
 he had entered, and approached the bed 
 where Monsieur Mirevilie lay : — as he 
 passed Bertrand, the old domestic felt a 
 conviction he beheld the chief, who had 
 formerly spared his life, and who now 
 probably would seek revenge on him for 
 his flight — pale and trembling he stood, 
 while with slow steps, the stranger con- 
 tinued to advance towards Monsieur Mi- 
 revilie. Albert and Altenberg, likewise 
 approached, fearful of intended mischief; 
 when, to their extreme surprize, the mys- 
 £.3
 
 202 MEMOIRS OF Ttti 
 
 terious warrior said in a low and agitated 
 tone^~— '' Is he ^et alive ? may he be 
 spared to— — ?'* '' Good heavens !" ex- 
 claimed Monsieur Mireville, '' to what 
 can all this tend? I am better, — I am 
 nearly recovered ; but what can mean 
 this wonderful intrusion ?" 
 
 '' 1 thought/' said the stranger^ " to 
 have found you alone ; as it is, my errand 
 admits no delay : I come not as a robber 
 to steal your purse, — not as a murderer 
 to take your life, — I come, as a penitent, 
 to seek your pardon : — can you forgive 
 the wound this ill-fated hand has in- 
 flicted ; a deed, which no penitence, 
 alas? can ever expiate/'' Then, knee- 
 Sing on one knee> he gently raised his 
 vizor, and displayed a countenance at 
 once open, ingenuous, interesting, and 
 agitated by a thousand contending pas- 
 sions. '' Are these features,'* he con- 
 tinued, '' quite obliterated from your
 
 ^fURTZBURG FAMILY. 203 
 
 memory*'? Monsieur Mireville, weaken- 
 ed by his wound, now appeared almost 
 overpowered ; he looked earnestly on the 
 stranger, and then, throwing his arms 
 round his neck, feebly ejaculated, " My 
 son! my long-lost Alfred T' Overcome 
 by the violence of his feelings, the father 
 now sunk on his pillow : the young man 
 appeared much alarmed. — '' Alas !'' he 
 exclaimed, " am I then doomed to be a 
 parricide ? my imprudence has hurried 
 my parent to the grave ; even before he 
 has pronounced my forgiveness. Oh ! 
 Sir," turning to the Count, '' can no 
 remedy be applied?** — At this moment 
 Bertrand approached with a medicine, 
 which quickly restored Monsieur Mire- 
 ville: — he was exhausted, but not insen- 
 sible ; and, pressing the hand of his son-, 
 poured forth a prayer of thanksgiving to 
 the great Being, who had thus wonder- 
 fully granted his child to his fervent 
 petitions.
 
 204 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 By this time the noise and voices had 
 disturbed the watchful wife of Monsieur 
 Mireville ; and^ fearing he was worse, she 
 entered the room to enquire after him. 
 As she advanced, the lighted lamp shone 
 full upon her : Alfred raised his head, 
 and immediately recognized his mother ; — 
 he arose : — Ah ! what length of time, 
 what change of feature, what disguise of 
 dress, can conceal a child from a fond 
 mother*s recollection ? Instantly her 
 heart told her she beheld her son ; and, 
 uttering a shriek of extacy, she sunk into 
 his arms. The Count was alarmed for 
 Madame Mireville : he knew the effect 
 ^rief had once had on her mind, and he 
 feared the excess of her joy might be 
 attended by the same melancholy conse- 
 quences ; he, therefore, took her hand, and 
 thus addressed her : — 
 
 '' My amiable friend, it is true, you 
 again behold your son : the hand of Pro-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 205 
 
 \idence seems, in a peculiar manner, to 
 have guided us to this spot ; where the 
 unexpected blessing has been bestowed: 
 but remember Monsieur Mireville is yet 
 weak, and must not be too long, or too 
 violently agitated : the sight of your 
 emotion may have a bad effect ; let me^ 
 therefore, entreat you will now retire to 
 your chamber ; and, in the morning, you 
 shall again behold your child/* These 
 observations had the desired eflfect : her 
 mind instantly reverted to her husband. 
 In accents the most touching, she con- 
 gratulated him and herself on this for- 
 tunate event; and, tenderly kissing her 
 son, she suffered the Count to lead her to 
 her room. 
 
 The manly check of Alfred was suf- 
 fused with tears during this affecting 
 scene : indeed there was not any one, 
 who witnessed the interview without 
 emotion. Alfred now again approached
 
 206 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 hJB father's bed: — " The undeserved 
 kindness with which you have received 
 me/' said he^ " encourages me to hope I 
 may again present myself before you — I 
 must now quit you. The dawn is fast 
 approaching; but^ by to-morrow evening, 
 will return/*—- Then again embracing his 
 father^, he was walking towards the trap- 
 door^ when^ as he crossed the room^ he 
 perceived Bertrand, whose fears were 
 much quieted by the discovery of the 
 chief being Monsieur Mireville's son^ 
 Alfred immediately stretched out his 
 Imnd : " Bertrand!'* he exclaimed, 
 "^ have you forgotten your former mas- 
 ter ? — here. Sir/' he said, turning to his 
 father, '' is one, who will, at least, assure 
 you I have never committed any greater 
 enormity than raising contributions on 
 the unwary traveller, and keeping him 
 in mj society somewhat longer than he 
 wished/' Bertrand bowed respectfully. 
 '' Sincerely do I rejoice. Sir," he said.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. ^^07 
 
 *' in the happy disclosure of this night. 
 Thejoung man then disappeared; and 
 Albert could not but be struck with the 
 characteristic manner in which this wild, 
 but warm-hearted, youth had apostrophi- 
 zed Bertraiid, while the tears of filial 
 tenderness jet glistened in his eje. 
 
 Left alone to his own meditations. 
 Monsieur Mireville's joj was consider- 
 ably abated, when he reflected on the 
 disgraceful life, to which his son had 
 been for years inured. He shuddered to 
 think of the atrocities he had probably 
 committed ; and again reproached him- 
 self with his own intemperate severity : 
 he, hjowever, derived some comfort from 
 the words of Alfred to Bertrand, as they 
 clearly represented him innocent of mur- 
 der ; and, after vainly endeavouring to 
 repose^ he summoned Bertrand to his bed- 
 side, and questioned him on the conduct 
 of his son, during the time he remained
 
 208 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 in the ruined castle. At firsts the wor- 
 thy old man was fearful of imparting 
 what he had sworn to conceal ; hut, 
 when Monsieur Mireville reminded him 
 the chief had himself released him. from 
 his engagement^ he readily informed him 
 of all he had witnessed in the ahode of 
 the robhers ; and^ with truth, assured 
 Monsieur Mireville the chief had always 
 reprobated the cruel tendency of some of 
 his associates, and invariably expressed 
 his abhorrence of shedding innocent 
 od. 
 
 The next day the parents formed many 
 plans for their future conduct towards 
 their son, and they agreed upon the abso- 
 lute necessity of withdrawing him from 
 his present ignominious course. Mon- 
 sieur Mireville informed his Lady the 
 Count had long known the cause of 
 their secret sorrow ; and consulted her 
 on the propriety of imparting the whole
 
 •WURTZBURG FAMILY. 209 
 
 story to young Altenberg * who had, 
 w ith extreme astonishment, witnessed the 
 meeting between the father and son : 
 both agreed on making this communi- 
 cation to hirn, arid they determined to 
 admit his sister also to their conhdence; 
 knowing how entirely they could rely on 
 her prudence and discretion ; they, there- 
 fore, took an opportunity, in the after- 
 noon, of relating their little history to the 
 two young people, while Geraldine and 
 her servant were walking out. The re- 
 cital interested them so much, they were 
 almost as anxious for the arrival of 
 Alfred Mireville, as were as his father 
 and mother. 
 
 Emmeline had sufficient romance in her 
 disposition to wish to see the chief of the 
 banditti : she pictured him to her imagi- 
 nation, steel-clad— armed at all points — 
 his plumes nodding majestically above his 
 head — his clanking armour resounding
 
 ^10 MEMOins OF THE 
 
 through the chamber, as he advanced, 
 bold aUd magnificent, towards them : 
 indeed her youthful fancy converted him 
 from a captain of robbers to an heroic 
 warrior. Full of these ideas she watched 
 with much earnestness that side of the 
 room on which he had before entered : 
 every noise made her start, and communi- 
 cated her impatience to the rest of the 
 party. It was not till near ten o'clock 
 the long expected Alfred arrived. Em- 
 meline felt somewhat disappointed on 
 hearing the host announce Monsieur 
 Mireville, who immediately followed 
 him into the room, Alfred was not 
 armed, he was not even in armour : — no 
 helmet graced his temples, — no corslet 
 adorned his person, — no glave hung pen- 
 dant at his side^— no mysterious door 
 admitted him : attired in the usual dress 
 of his time, he arrived as any indifferent 
 person might have done : he tenderly 
 saluted his parents ; and then, with easy
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 211 
 
 elegHiice, paid his compliments to the 
 assciiibled partj. His fond mother look- 
 ed on him with delight : he^ who bad 
 quitted her a stripling, now appeared in 
 all the mature beauty of manhood. He 
 was tall, yet graceful ; and the natural 
 polish of his manners added a charm to 
 ever J action. 
 
 In about an hour after his arrival, he 
 requested a private interview with his 
 parents. The re«t of the company in- 
 stantly arose ; and, quitting the chamber, 
 left them together. 
 
 They were no sooner alone than Alfred 
 repeated his earnest hope they would 
 forgive the years of misery he had inflicted 
 on them. Monsieur Mireville assured 
 him on one condition alone they could 
 pardon him ; and, that condition fulfilled, 
 their only wish would be for ever to drive 
 the remen^brance of past follies from their
 
 ^12 
 
 MEMOms OF THE 
 
 minds. Alfred looked earnestly at his 
 father, and entreated to know the price of 
 his pardon, assuring him he should think 
 no sacrifice too great to promote so hlessed 
 an event. Monsieur Mireville informed 
 him he could never be re-admitted to their 
 affection till he had entirely renounced 
 his present companions. *' It is already 
 done, my dear Sir T' he exclaimed ex- 
 ultingly ; '' the anguish of my mind, on 
 finding I had wounded my father, on the 
 dreadful night when we attacked your 
 party, exceeded every thing I have before 
 suffered. I had long been weary of the 
 restless life I had for nearly twelve years 
 pursued ; and after hastily withdrawing 
 my men from the attack, I hurried to our 
 place of rendezvous, and imparted the 
 event of the evening to my companions, 
 declaring my firm determination to quit 
 them. A general murmuring of discontent 
 prevailed on my announcing this change in 
 my sentiments ; and there were even some.
 
 WUUTZBURG FAMILY. 213 
 
 who appeared inclined to use violence to- 
 wards me; but I have been so fortunate 
 to conciliate the affection of most of my 
 misguided associates, and have, indeed, 
 thus been frequently enabled to check 
 their violence. On the present occasion, 
 I derived much advantage from their pre- 
 dilection in my favour, as, by means of 
 my friends, these hast} demonstrations of 
 displeasure quietly subsided. I took a 
 voluntary oath never directly, nor indi- 
 rectly to betray any of the party, even 
 should they choose to continue their 
 nefarious practices ; but, at the same time, 
 I earnestly urged them to quit their present 
 mode of life, and endeavour to regain 
 their proper station in society. My share 
 of the plunder was considerable, and I 
 offered to divide it equally between all 
 those who would follow my advice. I 
 exerted my persuasive powers so success- 
 fully that I at length prevailed on eleven 
 out of nineteen of my men to relinquish
 
 814 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 tlieir dangerous employment and return 
 to their families : the men who remained, 
 determined to join a party with whom >ye 
 were connected in a distant part of the 
 country. V» hile these affairs were ar- 
 ranging the master of this inn arrived. It 
 is probably no news to you that this man 
 i« one of our friends — he came to give us 
 notice of your arrival. I anxiously en- 
 quired after the wounded men, and jou 
 may imagine my horror at hearing your 
 life was considered in the greatest danger. 
 This mistake arose, I believe, from your 
 servant being in an alarming state : — thank 
 Heaven, 1 understand he is now recover- 
 ing : — from that moment I never closed 
 my eyes without seeing your mangled 
 form ; and, to increase my misery, I found 
 it impossible to reach the inn till you had 
 been there three days, as my companions 
 swore I should not leave them till I had, 
 with my own hands, delivered each man 
 his share of booty.
 
 VVURTZBURG PAMPLV. 215 
 
 ^' I informed your host of our new re- 
 solves — he heard me with astoiiishment ; 
 bi:t declared, he was not sorry for aa 
 event which would enable him to separate 
 himself from associates, who kept him in 
 continual alarm; and said, he should 
 endeavour to part witli the house, and 
 engage one in a village about thirty leagues 
 distant. This man was never quite bold 
 enough io enter into our risks ; but, 
 though he did not share our danger, he 
 provided us with much booty, only making 
 us promise most solemnly, no sojourner 
 with him should be destroyed. This 
 injunction was strictly adhered to, except 
 once, when, but for my interference, two 
 or three desperate fellows had detern>ined 
 to destroy a lady and gentleman, who we 
 understood, had much money and some 
 public papers in their possession ; and ih^ 
 ruffians were fearful government would, 
 on their representation, use such measures 
 as would bring the depredators to justice.
 
 216 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Happily I was apprized of their bloodj 
 intentions, and resolved to head the party 
 myself. I pretended to perceive a large 
 company approaching just as we had, by 
 the most desperate courage^ possessed 
 ourselves of their property, and withdrew 
 my little troop. The Lady was very 
 handsome, and her countenance appeared 
 peculiarly beautiful as she held her hands 
 in supplication towards us. The light of 
 torches, which her attendants carried, 
 perhaps, gave an additional charm to her 
 appearance : — be that as it may, I was 
 then not more than twenty years of age, 
 and began almost to fancy myself in love 
 with the fair unknown, till other adven- 
 tures and new pursuits withdrew my 
 attention from a stranger ^to my own im- 
 mediate concerns. 
 
 ^' I have digressed strangely/' continued 
 Alfred, " but you will excuse me/*' — 
 '*' Most willingly/' replied Monsieur Mi-
 
 wurtsburg family. 217 
 
 reville. " It seems to me, Bertrand, must 
 at that time, have been with you, as, 
 among the recitals he made of your 
 exploits, during his residence among vou, 
 he mentioned one, in which he was much 
 interested for the lives of some travellers, 
 who were to be robbed and murdered on 
 the night succeeding that in which they 
 had rested at this house/' " Your obser- 
 vation is j u s t, my dear father, ' * said Al fred, 
 " and I now recollect the circumstance 
 did occur a day or two after we took the 
 poor fellow prisoner. 
 
 " Some years ago, the man who now 
 keeps this house, contrived a subterranean 
 passage from a cave about half a mile off, 
 which communicates with this chamber by 
 a narrow staircase; and thus, we have 
 been enabled to plunder passengers, who 
 have been unconscious of the means by 
 which they have been laid under contri- 
 bution. On enquiry, I found you were 
 
 VOL. I, h
 
 218 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 confined here^ and I resolved^ atall rlsks^ 
 to see you, to entreat jour pardon, should 
 you be yet alive ; and then to retire into 
 some religious society, there to end my 
 days in penitence. Now your never to 
 be tbrgotten goodness> and. your happy- 
 escape from the imminent danger, in 
 which I had placed you, have given new 
 life and hope to my soul ; and I cannot 
 help entertaining a flattering idea of 
 enjoying years of comfort and happiness 
 with you, and my excellent mother." 
 Joy now predominated over every other 
 feeling ; and the exulting parents, after 
 enjoying the society of their son for two 
 hours, requested their friends would 
 again join them. 
 
 Relieved from all anxiety, Alfred, on 
 being introduced, in form, to hii new 
 acquaintance, appeared to peculiar ad- 
 vantage : he felt his soiil expand in society 
 so much more adapted to his naturally
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 219 
 
 elegant mind ; and the charm of female 
 loveliness gave a pleasing tenderness to 
 his manner. He was desirous of quitting 
 scenes, which continually recalled his 
 misdeeds;, and he waited impatiently for 
 the moment when his father might travel 
 without danger : this^ however^ could 
 not be expected for some days ; and^ in 
 the mean time, he became every hour 
 more and more agreeable, and interesting 
 to the little circle. 
 
 Bertrand was admitted to a conver- 
 sation with xllfred, in which the latter 
 ingenuously related his adventures^ and 
 desired him not to repeat, in the family, 
 any circumstance relating to young Mire» 
 ville's former connexion with the ban- 
 ditti. This Bertrand solemnly engaged 
 never to mention, and he adhered most 
 religiously to his promise. 
 
 L*^
 
 S!20 MEMOIRS OF THB 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 One day, as Alfred was sitting with 
 his father^ to whom, during his confine- 
 ment, he entirely devoted himself, he was 
 called out of the room by the host, who 
 informed him a person desired to speak 
 with him. Alfred immediately followed 
 the man ; and was absent above two 
 hours. When he returned. Monsieur 
 Mireville observed his mind seemed much 
 engrossed, and kindly enquired if any 
 thing unpleasant had occurred i re- 
 minding him he might command his 
 purse.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 2!ll 
 
 Young Mireville thanked his father 
 most gratefully ; but assured him he was 
 not in want of money. " The truth is, 
 my dear Sir/* said he, " I wish to ask a 
 favour of you ; and yet it is so lately you 
 have extended your, goodness to me, I feel 
 ashamed of preferring ray petition, al- 
 though for a friend/* *' If the request 
 is such as I can, with propriety^ accede 
 to, I will readily oblige you," said the 
 father. — *' I really think," replied Alfred, 
 " there is no impropriety in what I am 
 about to ask, though for one of my late 
 associates.** Monsieur Mireville looked 
 grave ; he was sorry, he said, any of 
 those men should still engage his son's at- 
 tention. " I will, with your permission, 
 relate the history of my friend,** said 
 Alfred, '' and then submit the matter 
 entirely to your better judgment.*' — He 
 then began as follows : 
 
 " You, no doubt, remember the old
 
 222 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 English merchant, Nicholas Thompson, 
 of Lausanne, — he was in thewir)e trade— 
 his eldest son v/as in the British service ; 
 and his second son was with mj' tutor at 
 Geneva, during my residence in that 
 place. He is about two years older than 
 myself, and has been at the Maison 
 Mircville with me frequently.'* '' I re- 
 member Orlando Thompson perfectly ; " 
 said Moiisieur Mireville, '' they used to 
 call him the handsome Englisliman.* 
 ** This young man/* continued Alfred, 
 '* joined me in the profligate parties, m 
 tvhich I was, unhappily, early initiated. 
 H« had a turn for cards ; but, that vice 
 excepted, was amiable, and well inten- 
 tion ed. He only belonged to aur nightly 
 meetings six months; and then, having 
 lost a considerable sum of money, with- 
 drew from us ; but, although he ceased 
 to join our midnight revels, he did not 
 renounce our acquaintance; and, indeed, 
 was particularly kind to me — had I fol-
 
 WURTZBURG I'AMILY. 223 
 
 lowed his advice, I should have spared 
 myself and family much uneasiness. 
 
 " It happened, about a quarter of a 
 year hefoie.i he dreadful night, on which 
 I conducted myself so undutifully, in 
 withdrawing from your protection, we 
 were joined by some dashing young fel- 
 lows; who, when they had a run of ill 
 luck, regularly absented themselves for a 
 few days, and always returned with their 
 purses well filled. This excited much 
 surpri2?e among us ; and, after a time, 
 they confided to us the secret, by which 
 they obtained their reimbursements. 
 They had joined a party of banditti, who 
 frequented the Alps ; and with whom, 
 when in want of cash, they sojourned till 
 they had acquired a sufficient sum to en- 
 able them to pursue their vicious amuse- 
 ments. After bidding you, as I then 
 madly determined, adieu for ever, I re- 
 turned to our place of meeting. My
 
 224 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 companioRs perceived my agitation, and 
 enquired the cause, which I communi- 
 cated. Three or four of them instantly 
 surrounded me, assuring me nothing had 
 ever happened more a propos — they had 
 just heard from their mountain associates, 
 who had lately been in such imminent 
 danger of detection, where ihey were now 
 concealed, that they had determined to 
 quit the Alps, and take possession of an 
 unfrequented part of the Black Forest — 
 that they themselves intended to retire 
 with the party, and advised me immcdi- 
 diately to join them, as we should thus 
 be entirely safe from detection ; that, to 
 noble spirits like ours, fieedom was alone 
 worth living for; and that henceforth we 
 should be entire masters of ourselves. I 
 listened to these suggestions with plea- 
 sure ; and, before day-break, accom- 
 panied my friends to join their daring 
 associates. Orlando saw me depart with 
 regret; he promised not to betray me;
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 225 
 
 and, after using every argument in his 
 power to prevail with me to relinquish 
 my present infatuating schemes, he took 
 a friendly leave of me, engaging to con- 
 vey my farewel letter to my mother. 
 
 " About two years after we quitted each 
 other, old Thompson determined to send 
 his son to Portugal : — he had an ac- 
 quaintance at Lisbon, who was also in 
 the wine trade, and with whom he hoped 
 to form a useful connexion for Orlando, 
 whom he earnestly wished to establish in 
 England. 
 
 '' Orlando was received with every mark 
 of attention by his father's friend^ and 
 was well pleased with his situation, when, 
 unfortunately, he formed an acquaintance 
 with the daughter of a Portuguese noble- 
 man, which eventually terminated all the 
 hopes of the young man, and, at length, 
 rendered him an outcast from society.
 
 226 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 ^' Doima Serapliina was very young, and 
 eomewliat handsome : she quickly distin- 
 guished young Thompson J among- her 
 father's numerous visitors, and they became, 
 mutually attached. Unhappily, the desire 
 of aggrandizing his son, led the unnatural 
 fafherof Seraphinato resolve on immuring 
 her in a convent, that all his foitune might 
 devolve on his favourite boy. She heard 
 her father's determination with unutterable 
 anguish ; and, after passing a day or two 
 in extreme perturbation of mind, she de- 
 clared her fix^d resolution, never willingly 
 to take the veil. The old Portuguese, 
 heeded neither her words nor her tears : 
 he assured her he v^'as as obstinate as her- 
 self; and, sternly bidding her prepare to 
 obey him, informed her he should, in the 
 course of the ensuing week, convey her 
 to a nunrery, where she must as soon as 
 possible be professed. Distracted by this 
 i«telligence, she contrived to convey the 
 infbfmalion to Orlando, declaring, she 
 
 I
 
 WURTZnURG FAMILY. 227 
 
 should endeavour, if possible^ to witlidraw 
 from her father's house, and should rely 
 on him for protection : — in such a dilemma^ 
 there was no alternative for Thompson, 
 but securing* a passage in an English ship, 
 then lying oft' Lisbon, for himself and his 
 fair companion; and Donna Seraphina, 
 disguised as a sailor, arrived safely on 
 board the vessel. They were no sooner 
 under way than Orlando prevailed Vvith 
 the chaplain to unite them ; and they 
 arrived safely at Portsmouth, where, 
 however, they only remained till they 
 could meet with a ship to convey them to 
 a French port. In ten days they were so 
 fortunate as to meet with a captain of a 
 trading vessel, who agreed to carry theni 
 to Taulon, from whence Orlando thought 
 he should find little difficulty in reaching 
 Lausanne. During their stay at Ports- 
 mouth they remained entirely concealed, 
 fearful that any emissaries from the Donna's 
 father might discover them. Careful as
 
 228 lilEWtOIRS OF THE 
 
 they were, they however were traced, and 
 a spy, placed in the inn, watched all their 
 movements : this man had been an admirer 
 of Seraphina's waiting-woman, and she 
 had incautiously mentioned the elopement 
 of her Lady to her tender swain ; who, 
 considering he might derive great advan- 
 tage from detecting the fugitives, took his 
 passage on board the English vessel within 
 half an hour of the Donna's escape; and, 
 before they weighed anchor, conveyed the 
 information of his daughter's embarkation 
 for Portsmouth to her father, and of his 
 own intention to follow them. As soon as 
 they landed he again communicated with 
 the enraged Portuguese, and also, un- 
 luckily, had an opportunity of sending 
 another letter by a small trading vessel, 
 as soon as the fugitives had determined to 
 go to Toulon. 
 
 *' Orlando and his bride had a tempes- 
 tuous voyage; and, when they arrived at
 
 TTURTZBL'RG FAMILT. 229 
 
 Toulon^ Seraphina was so much indisposed 
 that they were obliged to remain there till 
 she had a little recovered the fatigues of 
 the sea. Here they received so much 
 attention from the inhabitants^ they were 
 tempted to prolong their stay much after 
 the Donna's recovery. Nothing could be 
 more unfortunate than this delay^ as it 
 enabled the father to overtake the unsus- 
 pecting pair. 
 
 '^ They had only proceeded one day's 
 journey from Toulon, when the Don 
 alighted at the same inn where they had 
 taken up their al)ode for the night. He, 
 however, concealed himself carefully 
 from the travellers, meaning to take them 
 bysurprize, rather than by open assault. 
 
 '' It happened that Orlando, wishing 
 to make some purchases in the town, 
 walked out in the evening, leaving Sera- 
 phina^ who was fatigued with the journey.
 
 230 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 in the inn. No sooner did the Don find his 
 daughter was alone, than he suddenly 
 entered her apartment, attended by several 
 domestics; and, seizing the astonished 
 and terrified Seraphina, hurried her into a 
 carriage, intending to convey her back to 
 Toulon. 
 
 ^' Orlando, onhis return, was thunder- 
 struck at hearing of the misfortune which 
 bad befallen his wife ; he knew the ex- 
 treme severity, with which she would be 
 treated, for having married an heretic; 
 and determined, at all risk, to recover her, 
 if possible. He, therefore, armed him- 
 self; and, pursuing them as speedily as 
 possible, overtcK)k them just as the car- 
 riage had stopped at a small house on 
 the road side ; into which the father had 
 entered; atid into which two stout fel- 
 lows were forcing Seraphina. Orlando 
 called to them to desist, and deliver the 
 lady to him : then, jumping off bis horse.
 
 WFRTZBURG FAMILY. 231 
 
 liis pistol In one haijd^ he with the other 
 seized one of theio, and tlireatened to shoot 
 him if he did not relinquish Seraphina ; 
 the nnan, intending to remove the pistol 
 which Orlando pointed towards him, 
 suddenly struck at his right hand ; the 
 \ioleriCe of the hlow changed the di- 
 rection of the pistol; and, causing it to 
 go off; the ball struck the unfortunate 
 Seraphina, who instantly fell. Orlando, 
 almost dead with apprehension for 
 her life, assisted to raise her from the 
 ground : she was carried into the house, 
 and laid upon a bed: when, her father 
 ordering' his servants to seize the mur- 
 derer ; the J30W passive Orlando, was 
 conveyed into a small room, and strictly 
 guarded. Here he remained in unspeak- 
 able agony, sometimes entreating to hear 
 if his wife was yet alive, and at others 
 requested to see her once again. His 
 attendants, however, neither spoke to, or 
 interested themselves about him : they.
 
 SS2 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 like their master, considered him as an 
 heretic ; and consequently rejoiced in his 
 sufferings. In this suspence he remained 
 till the middle of the night, when the 
 Don entered the room. He told the ser- 
 vants thej might retire, hut desired them 
 to remain within call, lest he should 
 require their assistance ; and then, in a 
 solemn tone, addressed the afflicted Or- 
 lando. — ' Young man, you have com- 
 mitted one of the greatest outrages ever 
 inflicted on a miserable father : you have 
 seduced a daughter from her parent, and 
 have prevailed on her to unite herself io 
 an heretic. This alone is sufficiently 
 attrocious ; but your crimes have not 
 ended here: you have stolen a soul from 
 the church, which she was intended to 
 adorn ; and have thus plunged her into 
 everlasting punishment; — and now to 
 complete the measure of your iniquity, 
 you have deprived her of life*.
 
 "WURTZBURG FAMILY. 233 
 
 " Orlando became almost frantic at 
 this intelligence ; he tore his hair, wildly 
 callina: on his lost wife ; and then, turn- 
 ing towards the father, desired to be 
 delivered into the hand of justice. ' That' 
 replied the Don, ' is what most men, 
 situated as I am, would do ; but I am of 
 a calm and dispassionate nature; and, 
 though you have inflicted an incurable 
 wound on my peace of mind, still I 
 mean, knowing the murder was uninten- 
 tional, to spare you, provided you imme- 
 diately withdraw where I may never 
 more behold you.' * Your mercy is 
 cruelty/ replied Orlando : ' in the en- 
 tire destruction of all my hopes, and all my 
 prospects of happiness, you, by prolong- 
 ing my life, only inflict a more refined 
 punishment on me.* 'The time will 
 come,' said the inmioveable Portuguese, 
 ' when you will feel grateful to me for 
 allowing you time to repent. Obey me 
 now, and quit this part of the world be-
 
 2S4 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 fore the sun gilds the east/ The Don 
 then took him by the arm ; and, acconi- 
 panying him to the stable, placed him on 
 horseback, nor ever quitted him till he 
 saw him depart from the inn. 
 
 '' I shall not attempt to describe the an- 
 guish of Orlando's niind/as he travelled 
 baek to the spot, from wherfce his wife 
 had been stolen. He remained there only 
 long enough to pack up a few things, 
 tfnd what money he possessed, together 
 ivjth a lock of Seraphina's hair; and 
 then again resumed his journey. 
 
 When he reflected on the disgrace 
 that would attend him through life, he 
 dreaded to return, a criminal, to his 
 father's house. He pictured to himself 
 the disappointment of his parents ; and, 
 after some deliberation, he determined to 
 write, in a feigned name, to inform his 
 family, he had fallen in a duel; and
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY, 
 
 235 
 
 then, tecoUecting his former intimacy 
 with me, resolved on joiaiag myself and 
 comiades. For this purpose he travelled 
 to a place where be knew we were in the 
 habit of disposing of som.e of our booty : 
 here he remained till, in the dusk of the 
 evening, about a week after his arrival, he 
 recognized one of our old companions. 
 He immediately accosted him, and very 
 soon explained his intentions. Orlando 
 was too well known to us to allow the 
 man, for an kistant to doubt his sincerity ; 
 he informed him that having lost our 
 chief, (\viu> had beenkiilcd in a desperate 
 afFrayJ 1 had been unanimously chosen 
 thei If leader ; and, he knew the pleasure 
 I should derive from the society of my 
 friend. 
 
 ^^ My joy was, great on thus, unexpect- 
 edly, being re-united to Orlando; he 
 knew ray parents, and we could talk 
 together over former scenes of happiness.
 
 236 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Aided by his judgment and stead ines^ I 
 disciplined my men better than before; 
 Orlando seldom accompanied us in our 
 nightly exploits; but when he did he 
 displayed the most intrepid courage : he 
 was always melancholy, and often wan- 
 dered alone whole hours in the forest. 
 
 " When he heard of the revolution in 
 my affairs, he congratulated me in the roost 
 affectionate manner, and declared his 
 intention of remaining in solitude, the 
 lonely inhabitant of the ruined castle. 
 Last nig'ht, however, actuated by filial 
 tenderness, he determined to enquire of 
 your servants respecting his family, and 
 with deep regret, learned, a sad reverse 
 had taken place in his father's affairs, who 
 was now nearly ruined, and lived in ob- 
 scure poverty in a little village at no great 
 distance from Geneva. 
 
 He passed a sleepless night after re-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 237 
 
 ceiving these sad tidings, and this morning 
 has been with ine to consult on the possi- 
 bility of his returning home, and, by 
 honest industry assisting his aged parents; 
 thus hoping to atone for the errors of his 
 former life : — now, my dear Sir, he is 
 persuaded, if you would undertake to 
 introduce him to his father, he would be 
 admitted again without diiSculty; and, 
 he trusts to your explaining the events of 
 the last few years, so as to avoid wound- 
 ing the feelings of his parents ; as they 
 always entertained a peculiar partiality for 
 their youngest child/' 
 
 It gives me sincere pleasure, replied 
 Monsieur Mireville, to be able to accede 
 to your wishes : Mr. Thompson is one of 
 the most worthy men I know ; and you 
 shall introduce his son whenever you think 
 proper. He has been more unfortunate 
 than guilty, and I shall be delighted to 
 restore him to his honest old parents.
 
 1B3S MEMOIRS or THE 
 
 The next day Orlando joined them ; he 
 was melancholy to the greatest degree, 
 and had acquired so pensive a turn of 
 mind, that it rendered him, though not a 
 lively, a very interestingcompanion. W ith 
 this addition to their party, they in two 
 days departed on their journey, and pro- 
 ceeded very agreeably, although, on 
 account of Monsieur Mireville's weak 
 state, very slowly, towards Geneva.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMlUr. 23^' 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 A.S the two joung men approached their 
 long lost homes, their sensations were 
 such as to exceed our powers of description. 
 The evening was cold but fine, and the 
 travellers were quietly enjoying their own 
 meditations in silence^, when a joyous 
 exclamation from Alfred roused them from 
 their reverie : — he had just espied a grove 
 of trees on the rising bank before him, 
 where stood a small rustic seat of his own 
 construction when a boy. Here, he had 
 sometimes enjoyed a light supper of fruits 
 and milk with his indulgent mother ; and 
 here, he had often conned his morning 
 lessons. He hailed the well-known spot 
 with the most lively demonstrations of 
 joy ; and Emmeline though the had never
 
 ^40 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 appeared to more advantage than in this 
 moment of innocent delight. 
 
 When they reached the house, he was 
 welcomed bj his cousin Frederic, with 
 unfeigned pleasure. He had been apprized 
 of the restoration of young Mireville, and 
 had, with his Lady, purposely attended to 
 pay his congratulations to his uncle. 
 
 The young man appeared in a very 
 advantageous light on this trying occasion. 
 He had long been considered as the heir 
 to the Mireville property, and now relin- 
 quished his flattering prospects in the most 
 manly and generous manner. 
 
 His uncle and cousin, however, were fully 
 sensible of the disappointment Frederic 
 must naturally feel on this reverse in his 
 affairs, and they not long after their return 
 presented him with a valuable estate, as
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 241 
 
 lome recom pence for the change in his 
 prospects. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the Joy of the 
 domestics^ on recognizing their young 
 master; and his old nurse, putting on 
 her spectacles, and removing the hair from 
 his forehead, to ascertain, by a small scar, 
 if he were indeed her nursling, throwing 
 her withered arms round his neck, ex- 
 claimed, while the tears rolled down her 
 aged cheeks, '' it is indeed, my child — I 
 thank the Lord, 1 have lived to see my 
 own babe returned to me ! — now I can die 
 in peace." 
 
 Alfred gracefully saluted his ancient 
 guardian, and smiling, told her she must 
 live to take care of him for many years ;-— 
 then thanking his parents for their kind- 
 ness to his worthy old attendant, he fol- 
 lowed them into the drawing-room, 
 
 TOL. I. M
 
 2i3 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Every heart seemed to expand with 
 pleasure — every eye glistened with delight. 
 Orlando sighed as he contemplated the 
 joyous party :— he had no hope of finding 
 his family otherwise than poor and de- 
 pressed by misfortunes ; — no Seraphina to 
 greet his return — no ancient domestic to 
 delight in his restoration. He passed 
 great part of the night in pacing his 
 chamber, and almost repented having 
 quitted his solitude, whose wildness suited 
 bis melancholy, and soothed his sorrows. 
 But when he reflected* on the important 
 duty the misfortunes of his parents imposed 
 on him, he endeavoured to repress these 
 ideas, and to turn his thoughts to their 
 comfort and advantage alone. 
 
 The next morning Monsieur Mireville 
 repaired to the humble dwelling of 
 Nicholas Thompson; — he was received 
 with honest joy by the venerable pair; 
 who, since their misfortunes, had often
 
 WURTZBLRCi FAMILT. 243 
 
 received assistance from their richer 
 neighbour. 
 
 With much caution he began to speak 
 of Orlando ; asked if thej were certain he 
 was dead, and seemed to doubt the authen- 
 ticity of the account they had received. 
 From raising doubts he proceeded to excite 
 hopes ; and, at length, informed them of 
 the existence of their favourite son. He 
 mentioned his Portuguese adventures so 
 skilfully, and represented the whole affair 
 so favourably, that the good old man and 
 his wife, felt only tenderness and pity, 
 without any mixture of displeasure to* 
 wards their son. 
 
 Monsieur Mireville seized the most 
 advantageous moment of introducing 
 Orlando, (who remained during this pre- 
 paratory conversation a few paces from 
 the house) representing him as a support 
 gent by Providence to be the staff of their 
 m3
 
 344 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 old age, and he left the happy parents 
 and their son, ovei powered by joy and 
 gratitude. 
 
 Count Wurtzburg seemed to recover 
 some of his former sprightliness in the 
 contemplation of his friends happiness, 
 Geraldine, like all crliildren, was delighted 
 with novelty ; and to EmmeKne, the so- 
 ciety of so enlightened and accomplished 
 a female friend as Madame Mireville was 
 a source of peculiar gratification; the 
 ipore so perhaps, as, living a very retired 
 life, she had seldom had an opportunity 
 of associating with persons of much 
 information, or talent, among her own 
 sex. 
 
 Orlando Thompson was a constant 
 visitor to his old friend ; he devoted him- 
 self to his venerable parents, and gained 
 the approbation of all who knew him, by 
 his correct^ and amiable conduct. He
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 245 
 
 bad been at home only a few months, 
 when his father rcceiv'eda letter of a most 
 extraordinary nature. It was dated Lis- 
 bon, contained a most tender enqui^y 
 after the family of Nicholas Thompson ; 
 and was signed, Seraphina Thompson. 
 
 The letter stated that, having, by the 
 death of her father, regained her liberty, 
 and acquired an ample fortune, she was 
 anxious to know if it was in her power to 
 assist in any way, the relations of Orlan- 
 do, whose premature death she more than 
 ever lamented; as had he lived she would 
 have been enabled to present him with a 
 sufficient property to have precluded the 
 necessity of his entering into any line of 
 business, a circumstance pecuh'arly grati- 
 fying to the pride of a Portuguese. 
 
 Orlando no sooner read this letter, 
 than with a joy that almost deprived him 
 of the power of utterance, he flew to his
 
 246 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 faithful friend^ and imparted to him tlic 
 jojful tidings. He met with a sincere 
 participation in his happiness, not only 
 from Alfred, but the whole circle assem- 
 bled at the Maeson Mireville. After 
 making this communication, he lost no 
 time in departing for Lisbon in quest of 
 bis Seraphina, whose death he bad so 
 long bewailed. 
 
 Alfred could not remain long in tho 
 society of Emmeline without being sen* 
 sible of her attractions; and not many 
 days after Orlando quitted Switzerland, 
 he imparted to his father his desire of 
 unitirig himself to the lovely girl. 
 
 Monsieur Mireville had no objectioa 
 to his son's choice ; he would pvi^bably 
 have preferred a country-woman of his 
 own ; but that was an idea he never com- 
 r)[iunicated : Emmeline was of a good 
 familv, and would have a tolerable for-
 
 WRTZBURG FAMILY. 247 
 
 tune ; that, however, was no consideration 
 with persons of their property ; and 
 Madame Mireville sincerely rejoiced in 
 Alfred's judicious selection. 
 
 The approbation of Baron Altenber^ 
 alone remained to be obtained, for Alfred 
 certainly did not entertain any doubt o^ 
 the young lady's acquiescence. How 
 that might be we do not pretend to 
 know, nor have we been able to ascertain 
 whether the explanation was obtained 
 through the medium of the eyes, or 
 whether he ventured boldly to declare 
 himself before he sought the approbation 
 of his father. Certain it is, however, 
 that he was not mistaken in the flattering 
 idea he entertained of Emmeline's as- 
 senting to his proposal. 
 
 A servant was immediately dispatched 
 to Baron Altenberg, who carried some 
 very eloquent epistles from Monsieur
 
 248 MEMOIRS or the 
 
 Mirevillc, Alfred, and Emmeline. An 
 explanatioa was deemed necessary res- 
 pecting Alfred's former occupation ; and 
 this raised much alarm in the minds of 
 the lovers, lest the Baro^ should object 
 to uniting his daughter to a man who had, 
 in early life, conducted himself so wildly, 
 and associated with such disgraceful 
 companions. 
 
 Young Altenberg was not of ah age to 
 act in so momentous an affair. Emme- 
 line was only eighteen, and her brother 
 one year younger : he, however, en- 
 couraged hi« sister to hope for her 
 father's Approbation; and, by his lively 
 sallies, amused her when she sometimes 
 indulged in low-spirited feara for the 
 success of their embassy. 
 
 All this caused the Count of Wurtz- 
 burg to protract his stay till a much 
 more distant period than he originally in-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY, 249 
 
 tended ; but as his little girl was with 
 him, he did not regret a circumstance 
 which enabled him to enjoy the con^er-^ 
 sation of his friends for a longer space of 
 time. 
 
 With the messenger. Baron Altenberg 
 himself arrived. He wished to deliver 
 in person, his opinion on the proposed 
 union ; and_, moreover, felt it desirable to 
 judge of the young man himself, before 
 he bestowed his daughter on him. Every 
 thing he saw prepossessed him much in 
 Alfred's favor ; he consulted with his 
 long tried friend, the Count, on the pro- 
 priety of acceding to the proposal 
 Monsieur Mireville had made, in the 
 name of his son ; and in a short time he 
 consented to the union. ^ 
 
 It could not, however, be concluded 
 immediately ; and Monsieur Mireville 
 earnestly entreated Count Wurtzburg 
 M 3
 
 650 JlEMOiRS OF tH* 
 
 would remain with him io honor the 
 ceremony with his presence. He also 
 represented the advantage he would thus 
 derive from the society of the Baron on 
 his journey home^ as this would enahle 
 them to return to Gotha together. 
 
 Baron Altenberg informed his daughter 
 that, as he was now to be deprived of her 
 iBOciety, he felt peculiarly gratified in the 
 prospect of having her elder sister with 
 him. She had been married some years, 
 and as her husband was going on a 
 foreign embassy, and it was not con- 
 venient for her to accompany him, she 
 had requested permission to return to her 
 paternal home, during his absence. 
 '^ So, you perceive, my dear," said the 
 fond father. '' though this sad fellow 
 robs me of my little housekeeper, her 
 place will be well supplied.** 
 
 This intelligence delighted Emmeline^
 
 TTURTZBURG FAMILV. 251 
 
 as she had felt uneasy at the idea of 
 leaving her father quite in solitude. 
 
 We shall not describe the wedding — 
 it was conducted without parade. The 
 generous parents of Alfred wished to re- 
 tire and give him immediate possession of 
 their family seat; but^, to that be would 
 by no means consent. They therefore fit- 
 ted up an elegant house on the estate, 
 where he assured his father he hoped to 
 remain many years^ and where he had 
 every comfort, good taste, and a large 
 income could procure. 
 
 Count Wurtzburg, with his daughter, 
 the Baron, and young Altenberg, de- 
 parted not many days after the marriage 
 had taken place : — they had a safe and 
 pleasant journey ; Geraldiue and Philip 
 Altenberg were great friends ; the young 
 man, with much good humour, entering 
 uilo the amusements of the lovely little
 
 ^52 MEMOIRS OP THE 
 
 girl ; and she hardlj missed the society of 
 Emmelinej so assiduous was her lively 
 companion in his attentions towards her. 
 
 Albert's spirits sunk as he approached 
 Gotha. The recollection of his arrival 
 with the beautiful mother of Geraldine, 
 struck his imagination most forcibly; 
 and his wounded mind seemed to be 
 awakened to all his former woe. For the 
 sake of his daughter, however, he en- 
 deavoured to dissipate his melancholy, 
 and devoted himself almost entirely to 
 her educati6n. The Baron became more 
 intimately connected with him than ever; 
 and his daughter, Maria Saintonge, was a 
 sensible, pleasing woman, to whom the 
 Count looked forward, as a valuable 
 auxiliary in forming the manners of his 
 child. 
 
 Year after year passed away ; and 
 already Geraldine had attained many of
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 253 
 
 those accomplishments her father was so 
 capable of giving her : she united to the 
 gCiitleness of her mother^ the sprightliness 
 of her father ; was beautifully fair, with 
 the most regular features ; and her bright 
 auburne hair hung in luxuriant ringlets 
 on her finely shaped neck and shoulders. 
 She was smaller thin her mother, and her 
 nymph-like figure was admirably suited 
 to her delicate face, and soft voice, — in- 
 nocent as the lovely Adelaide — she had 
 more firmness of character; and the 
 Count flattered himself she was likely to 
 possess sufficient energy and strength of 
 mind, to acquit herself nobly ii her ele- 
 vated situation. Her cousins, with their 
 father and the husband of Johanna, con- 
 tinued to pay their annual visits at the 
 castle. The two ladies affected to ex- 
 press great fondness for Geraldine ; and 
 her uncle was really more attached to 
 her than to his own daughters.
 
 254 MEMOIRfi OF THE 
 
 Johanna had uniW >^erself to Monsieur 
 de Gustrovv, a man of family, whose 
 pride equalled hers, and whose ambition 
 was scarcely less. 
 
 Count Wurtzburg reflected, with con- 
 cern, on the disadvantageous light in 
 which his nieces appeared, when com- 
 pared to the amiable family of the 
 Mirevilles. They had been prevented 
 visiting their good friends at Gotha ; but 
 they kept up a regular correspondence, 
 and the Count was charmed with the 
 details he constantly received of the 
 happiness of liiis friends. 
 
 In one of these communications Mon- 
 sieur Mireville mentioned the return of 
 Orlando Thompson, and Seraphina; and, 
 knowing the interest their.former adven- 
 tures had excited in the mind of the Count, 
 lie informed him of the events attending
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 255 
 
 their former separation and happy re-union. 
 They were briefly as follow : — on the 
 eventful day in which, as we have already 
 mentioned^ Orlando believed he had been 
 the author of Seraphira's death: her 
 father had ( after consulting a surgeon on 
 the state of the wound, who pronounced 
 it by no means dangerous) detero^ined to 
 avail himself of the alarm of Orlando, to 
 obtain complete and secure possession of his 
 daughter ; for this purpose, he resolved 
 to represent her as already dead, and to 
 appear to make a merit towards the young 
 man, of preserving a life, which in fact, 
 he knew was not forfeited. Fearful, if 
 Orlando met any of the attendants of the 
 Donna, he might discover the deception, 
 the Don would not suffer him to be out 
 of his sight till he was assured he had 
 taken his departure from the house: — then, 
 returning to i is daughter, he seized the 
 first opportunity of informing her, Or- 
 lando, in the terror of the moment^ had
 
 256 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 destroyed himself. Seraphina how became 
 perfectly docile; her father had no diffi- 
 culty in prevailing on her to return home. 
 The idea of her husband's untimely end 
 preyed so much on her spirits^ that she 
 refused to enter into any society^ and lived 
 a life of perfect seclusion. About tv^^o 
 years after the supposed death of Orlando, 
 her brother, who was some years younger 
 thanherself diedof afever; and, as she was 
 thus become the heiress to all her father's 
 property, he wished much to unite her to a 
 grandee who was attached to her. Sera- 
 phina, however, would not hear of a 
 second marriage, and continued to live in 
 retirement till she lost her father ; when, 
 as we have seen, she formed the generous 
 plan of sharing her property with the 
 family of her much lamented husband. 
 
 After remaining in Lisbon about a year 
 to settle their affairs, they removed to 
 Switzerland, and established themselves in
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 257 
 
 a beautiful house near the Lake of Geneva, 
 where they had a continual intercourse 
 with the faithful friends of Orlando. 
 
 Count Wurtzbur^, finding there was 
 little prospect of his having the pleasure 
 of entertaining his Swiss friends at Gotha, 
 began seriously to meditate a second visit 
 to them, when he was seized with a pleu- 
 risy, which in a few days terminated his 
 existence. 
 
 This was the first affliction Geraldine, 
 now about fifteen years of age, had ever 
 known, and she felt it with the greatest 
 poignancy. Her mother she had lost 
 before she knew her value; and, having 
 been the object of all her father's fond- 
 ness, every wish had been complied with— 
 every desire gratified. 
 
 Unfortunately, business of importance 
 had at this period called the Baron to
 
 $58 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Vienna : — had he been on the spot, as he 
 was appointed bv the Count guardian to 
 Geraldine, he would probably have pre- 
 vented much of the distress and perse- 
 ciition with which the joung orphan was 
 assailed at the moment of her loss. 
 
 Three days after the Count's decease, 
 Johoj now Count of Wurtsburgj arrived 
 with his family. He was sincerely and 
 deeply concerned at the death of Albert, 
 and felt real repugnance at taking so 
 immediate a possession of his brother's 
 mansion. 
 
 Johanna, however, over-ruled all his 
 prejudices, and although it was late when 
 they arrived, she insisted immediately on 
 looking over the castle. *' Of course. Sir," 
 said she, '' you will be sole heir to my 
 uncle's property, let us therefore proceed 
 round the building to-night; to-morrow 
 we shall be too busy to amuse ourselves ;
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 259 
 
 Roxalana has retired fatigued, aud my 
 husband and myself will accompany you. 
 In this assertion she was however mistaken; 
 de Gustrow was unwilling to investigate 
 the castle at that time of the night; she 
 went to his-chamber, where she remained 
 gome time, and then quitted him, mutter- 
 ing the words fool and coward !— then 
 taking her father by the arm, dragged 
 him most unwillingly through the diflereat 
 apartments, and it was not till near five in 
 the morning that she retired to her bed. 
 
 The next morning, the weeping Gerul- 
 dine was informed of the arrival of her 
 uncle and cousins. She sent a message 
 requesting to see her uncle, but was in- 
 formed he had not yet risen : — she tb?a 
 desired to visit her cousins. ** Astonish- 
 ing!'* exclaimed Johanna, ^' has that 
 base-born brat the assurance to call us 
 cousin ? — Tell her we shall send for her 
 ^I'lien we choose to see her.*'
 
 260 ^ MEMOIRS OF THB 
 
 The day was now advanced, and Count 
 John did not appear. " He is much 
 fatigued I doubt not/' said Johanna; 
 " he did not retire till late last nighty and 
 we had a long journey/' While she w^as 
 speaking a servant entered hastily — his 
 countenance expressive of terror. "The 
 Count has drowned himself^ I fear/' he 
 exclaimed : '^ a labourer^ passingthe banks 
 of the river discovered something floating 
 on the water — it was the hat of Count 
 John — his watch now lies with his coat 
 by the side of the stream. Alas ! he must 
 have thrown himself in." 
 
 Johanna instantly fell into strong fits ; 
 she called loudly on her father, then re- 
 proached her sister with not expressing 
 sufficient sorrow — then renewed her fits, 
 and, lastly, was conveyed to bed, over- 
 powered by the excess of her grief. 
 
 In the evening, however, she was
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 261 
 
 sufficiently ^recovered to attend the open- 
 ing her uncle*s will ; and her otherwise 
 Well- acted sorrow now yielded to the 
 stronger sentiments of avarice and am- 
 bition. 
 
 Count Albert had bestowed the do- 
 main and castle of Gotha on his brother 
 for his life, subject to a large annuity to his 
 daughter Geraldine ; and after his death 
 the whole was to devolve on her, and was 
 to be at her entire disposal. He ap- 
 pointed Baron Altenberg sole guardian 
 of the child, and bequeathed him a hand- 
 some legacy : the rest of the will consisted 
 of trifling remembrances to the son and 
 daughter of Barou Altenberg; to the 
 family of Monsieur Mireville ; and, an 
 ample provision for the venerable Jose- 
 phine, and the faithful Bertrand. To the 
 agent Starenberg he left a sum of money, 
 and particularly expressed his entire ap- 
 probation of his conduct; indeed, Staren-
 
 263 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 berg had by his zeal for his etnplojer, 
 and his strict honor and honesty deserved, 
 and long enjoyed the Count's confidence. 
 Neither of Count Wurtzburg's nieces 
 were mentioned in the will ; a proof how 
 strongly he resented the part they had 
 acted, both towards himself and their 
 father ; and the whole terminated with a 
 bequest for charitable purposes to the 
 townof Gotha.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 263 
 
 CHAP. XIL 
 
 CjfREAT was the disappointment of dc 
 Gustrow and Roxalana, on reading the 
 Count's distribution of his property. 
 But angry and violent as they both were, 
 on this trying occasion ; their expressions 
 of disappointment were gentle, and de-» 
 corous, when compared fto the effusions 
 of Johanna. Her rage knew no bounds, 
 when she found neither herself nor sister 
 had been mentioned by her uncle ; she 
 expected a considerable legacy at least ; 
 indeed, she did not scruple to assert he 
 had no right to bestow the estate oa hw
 
 264 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 daughter Geraldine, as her hirth was 
 illegitimate ; ai:d she was jet venting her 
 anger, when several persons arrived to 
 inform the family the body of the un- 
 happy suicide could not be found. The 
 rapidity of the current had, doubtless, 
 carried him many leagues before he was 
 missed. His daughters renewed their 
 noisy demonstrations of woe^ on receiving 
 this intelligence. 
 
 They did not, however, suffer unavail- 
 ling regret to interfere with their worldly 
 concerns ; and after some consultation, it 
 was agreed, the next morning, to speak to 
 the orphan child of their uncle. 
 
 Monsieur de Gustrow, on. her entering 
 the room, took her kindly by the hand, 
 and led her into the pleasure grounds, 
 which ornamented that side of the build- 
 ing ; when there, he thus addressed her : 
 ^' In consequence of the insanity of your
 
 YTURTZBURG FAMILY. |^ 2(55 
 
 late father^ my dear girl, I have tiken 
 possession of this castie, in right of my 
 wife and her sister^ who are, by the sad 
 accident that has befallen their parent, be- 
 come heirs at law to the whole of this 
 domain. You are, of course, too young to 
 imderstand these matters— do not, however, 
 make yourself uneasy on the subject; yau 
 are welcome to remain in my castle, as 
 my guest, as long as is agreeable to you." 
 Geraldine looked surprized, — '' Oh ! Sir,'' 
 said she, '' indeed there must be some 
 mistake, my dear father was most 
 thoroughly in his senses, believe me.*' 
 
 '"^ Poor thing,'* replied de Gustrow, 
 smiling contemptuously, '' you must be 
 a great judge of the sanity of the Count. 
 But, come, we will now return to the 
 house. He then drew a key from his 
 pocket, and unlocking the large entrance 
 door repeated his invitation to her. 
 VOL. I. ' ~ VI -^— —
 
 266 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 Geraldine was too young to understand 
 that she Avas thus dispossessed of her 
 right, and her property taken possession 
 of by this unworthy artifice. She fol* 
 lowed him into the sitting room where 
 she was introduced, as a visitor, to her ^ 
 cousins. '' Oh I" exclaimed Johanna, 
 carelessly, '' you are at liberty to have 
 the run of my house, as long as you can 
 make yourself happy in it. '' She maj^, 
 you know," turning to Roxalana, "^ share 
 Bridget's bed — she is a good servant, 
 and may give the girl useful lessons." 
 Geraldine burst into tears — she rushed 
 out of the room, and running to Jo- 
 sephine, hid her face on her bovsom : at 
 length, she explained all that had occur- 
 red. Josephine knew not how to advise 
 her ; but determined to consult Bertrand. 
 
 The next day was fixed for the Count's 
 funeral, and the two faithful domestics 
 agreed it would be better to convey her
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 
 
 267 
 
 to some place where she might avoid the 
 insults she was now hourly subject to re- 
 ceive ; and, also, be spared the agony of 
 witnessing the last sad honors paid to her 
 father. 
 
 They were, at firsts much perplexed 
 where to take her ; but, at lengthy deter- 
 mined to conduct her to the abode of her 
 legal protectdr. Baron Altenberg. He 
 was at that time (as we have already 
 observed) from home ; or, no doubt, he 
 would have offered his services to the 
 child of his friend^immediately. His son 
 and, daughter Maria, were, however, at 
 the family residence, about a league from 
 Goth a ; and they would not hesitate to 
 afford the persecuted Geraldine a refuge 
 from her oppressors. Bertrand, there- 
 fore, informed Johanna that his young 
 Jjtdy was going away from the castle, 
 and de Gustrow permitted her to take a 
 beautiful poney, the Count had lately 
 N 2
 
 268 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 given lieF;, a small casket, in which were 
 contained a few childish ornaments, and 
 the portraits of both her parents, and a 
 hawk, with which she had been in the 
 habit of hawking, and which was well 
 acquainted with her voice. 
 
 Imagine, reader, the beautiful heiress 
 of Gotha, departing from that property 
 she had always been accustomed to con- 
 sider eventually her own, mounted on her 
 elegant little palfrey, equipt in a riding 
 dress of the fashion of those times : 
 upon her hand sat the hawk, while close 
 behind, on a borrowed horse, rode Bert- 
 rand, with Josephine en croup pe, carry- 
 ing the little casket. 
 
 Geraldine shed many tears, as she 
 quitted her native place ; and when she 
 reached the dwelling of her friends, was 
 long incapable of explaining the cause of 
 her appearance. Maria Saintonge^ with
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY* 269 
 
 the most tender kindness,, endeavoured to 
 comfort the unfortunate girl : she repre- 
 sented that her father^ on his return, 
 would endeavour to procure justice for 
 her ; and, in the mean time, assured her 
 of their unshaken attachment. Philip, 
 the youthful heir of Altenberg, joined 
 his sister in all her little attentions to 
 Geraldine, and she had regained some 
 composure. When the Baron returned 
 home, he was greatly shocked at hear- 
 ing of the death of the Count, and his 
 indignation at the conduct of de Gustrow 
 and his wife, impelled him to reproach 
 thexn instantly with their unlawful pro- 
 ceedings ; and commence an action against 
 them, to recover the property for the 
 right heir. His better judgment, how- 
 ever, speedily induced him to resign this 
 wild scheme ; and he resolved, after the 
 funeral of the Count was over, to call at 
 the castle, and discuss the matter dis-
 
 ^70 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 passionately with de Gustrow and hi$ 
 wife. 
 
 He accordingly repaired to Gotha^ two 
 days after the remains of Albert were 
 deposited in the family vault. 
 
 The Baron was immediately admitted 
 to the presence of the haughty Johanna, 
 her husband, and sister. He lost no time 
 in communicating the purport of his visit, 
 and requested to know what plea they 
 set up for seizing the property of Geral- 
 dine, so clearly devised to her by her 
 father^ after the death of her uncle. 
 
 To that sad catastrophe he alluded as, 
 to a circumstance of much astonishment 
 and surmise. John de Wurtzburg had 
 always appeared a most unlikely man to 
 commit so rash an act ; and what motive 
 could at the moment of his becoming 
 possessed of a princely fortune tempt him
 
 •VYUlirZGURG FAMILY. 271 
 
 to rush into the presence of his offended 
 maker was an inexplicable enigma. 
 
 *' Strange as it is/' replied Johanna, 
 *' it is vet most true^ and our right to 
 the property is founded on the acknow- 
 ledged insanity of Count Albert.'' ""Ac- 
 knowledged !*' repeated the Baron^ indig- 
 nantly. — '' Yes/* continued the wife of 
 de GustroWj haughtily, *' I say acknow- 
 ledged, and I have many witnesses io 
 prove the truth of the assertion/' — *^^and 
 I many to refute it/' said Altenberg; 
 ^' this matter must be referred to higher 
 powers ; the law will, I trust, restore the 
 rightful owner to the Castle of Gotha." 
 So saying, he quitted the presence of 
 Johanna and her colleagues : Monsieur 
 de Gustrow, assuring him he was ready to 
 carry the cause through any court of 
 law. 
 
 Altenberg returned home much per-
 
 S72 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 plexed how to act. He could not endure 
 the idea\ that the daughter of his friend 
 should be unjustly reduced to poverty: 
 yet the expence (should she lose her suit) 
 would be more than the fortune of a 
 private individual like himself could 
 prudently undertake^ and particularly,, as 
 having a family of his own^ he could not 
 injustice to his children^ involve his affairs 
 in a cause of such magnitude. Pensive 
 and irresolute he reached his home, and 
 retiring with his son, mentioned his doubts^ 
 and the melancholy prospects of poor 
 Geraldine. 
 
 Philip, with generous warmth, entreated 
 his father not to forsake the lovely orphan, 
 and not, in consideration of his future 
 prospects, to sufier her to be deprived of 
 what common justice must acknowledge 
 to be her due. '' It is most probable," 
 said the ardent youth, " that the property 
 will be restored to her, and then of course.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 273 
 
 you will be indemnified for any expence 
 you may have incurred ; and, should she 
 be unfortunate, we shall have the gratifi- 
 cation of knowing we, at least, have done 
 our utmost to assist oppressed innocence/' 
 
 The father looked at his son with an 
 expression of approbation in his counte- 
 nance, very gratifying- to Philip ; and 
 they agreed to lose no time in commencing 
 an action against de Gustrow. For this 
 purpose they must visit Vienna ; and^ 
 Altenberg, considering the youth of Ge- 
 raldine, resolved to take the opportunity 
 of placing her at a seminarv in Vienna, 
 where she would have advantages of edu- 
 cation, no where else to be met with. 
 
 To so young a girl all change is usually 
 agreeable; but Geraldine did not appear 
 to derive any pleasure from the proposed 
 journey ; she was sincerely attached to 
 Madame Saintonge, and felt a dread ( ' 
 n3
 
 274 MEMOIRS or' the 
 
 forming new acquaintance, and residing 
 with entire strangers. She was, however, 
 too well aware of the kindness of her 
 friends to oppose their wishes, and, joung 
 and sanguine, was convinced her property 
 would speedily be recovered, and, she 
 should then have the comfort of restoring 
 to them all they had so generously ex- 
 pended in her cause. 
 
 The evening before she quitted her 
 amiable friend Maria, as they were sitting 
 in an alcove, from which they had a fine, 
 view of the country, and from whence the 
 towers of Gotha were dimly seen, Madame 
 Saintonge, observing the dejection of her 
 little companion^ said, smilingly: — 
 
 *' Ah ! Geraldine, the novelties of 
 Vienna and the new associates you will 
 acquire will very shortly, I fear, drive the 
 remembrance of your now regretted friends 
 from your memory,— the separation, my
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 275 
 
 sweet girl, appears painful ; but your active 
 mind will very soon supply other amuse- 
 ments, and other occupations, which will 
 weaken, if not eradicate, the remembrance 
 of our tranquil happiness/' 
 
 " Never, never/' said Geraldine, with 
 an energy that made Altenberg smile, 
 '' can 1 forget my best, my only friends. 
 Oh ! may I one day,'' she added, casting 
 her eyes towards the battlements of Gotha, 
 ^' be enabled to prove my gratitude to my 
 benefactors." " Be but as amiable and as 
 lovely as you now are,'' said AUeiiberg, 
 kindly taking her hanrl^ '' that will be 
 sufiicieiit gratification for any little exer- 
 tion we may be enabled to make for you.'* 
 He then, with the solicitude of a parent, 
 conversed with her on the new scenes io 
 which she would be introduced; and 
 pointed out the line' of conduct he wished 
 her to pursue. Madame Saintonge pro- 
 mised to correspond with her as often as
 
 276 MEMOIRS OP THE 
 
 possible. Philip did not join nvuch in 
 this discourse; but he watched the beau- 
 tiful variations in the countenance of 
 Gerald ine^ and appeared deeply inter- 
 ested in the conversation. 
 
 The next morning the}' departed. Ge- 
 raldine was greatly distressed at quitting 
 her friends ; but the variety of objects 
 that met her eye, as she proceeded on her 
 j ourney, by degrees engrossed her thoughts. 
 The Baron determined on placing her 
 where his own daughters had been edu- 
 cated, and had apprized the person of his 
 intention who conducted the seminary. 
 He therefore, immediately, on arriving at 
 Vienna, conveyed Geraldine to her new 
 abode. Here she soon, in some degree, 
 regained her spirits; she had many agree- 
 able young companions ; and Madame 
 Armfeld, under whose guidance she was 
 placed, shewed her every kindness in her 
 power. Altenberg often called to see her.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 277 
 
 and hisjion yet more frequently. On these 
 occasions he usually brought her some 
 trifling present, which Geraldine preserved 
 with the utmost care. 
 
 The Baron commenced his action against 
 deGustrow: — the business em ployed much 
 time, and he was detained three months 
 in Vienna before he con Id put it in train. 
 At the end of that period he returned to 
 his own home^ accompanied by his son. 
 
 Geraldine took leave of them with a 
 heavy heart ; but they assured her they 
 shouhl not be long absent from her, and 
 in the mean time advised her to loie no 
 time in improving htsf mind, and gaiaino* 
 those acquiremerits which would he ne- 
 cessary to render her an ornament to society. 
 
 This Geraldine promised to do, and she 
 exerted herself so effectually that, when 
 the Baron afterwards returned to Vienna, 
 
 w.;t.
 
 278 MEMOIRS OF THR 
 
 he was quite astonished at the advance- 
 ment she had made. He was the more 
 pleased^ because he feared it would be 
 impossible to continue her %i so expensive 
 a situation^ should the issue of the law-suit 
 be unfavourable; and he was^ therefore, 
 doubly desirous she should take every 
 present advantage in her power. 
 
 Geraldine had been with Madame Arra- 
 feldj about six months, when she was one 
 day called into the parlour, where the 
 friends of the children were admitted to 
 visit them ; and, on her entrance, was 
 received in the most warm and affectionate 
 manner by a tall, handsome woman, who, 
 patting her check, enquired her christian 
 name. Geraldine informed her, and the 
 lady said, '' My dear, you must be very 
 fond of me, and call me mother ; I am 
 the Countess de ^urtzburg: certain cir- 
 cumstances obliged me to be parted from 
 your father — he is now no more, and I
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 279 
 
 will endeavour to supply his place to 
 you.- > 
 
 Geraldine^^bn hearing her father men- 
 tioned, burst into tears; this Christina told 
 her was very pleasing to her, as it evinced 
 the tenderness of her disposition ; and she 
 contrived by her blandishments completely 
 to captivate the youthful mind of the 
 artless girl, who had heard but little of 
 the Countess, the subject being always 
 unpleasant to Albert, and of course not 
 to be entered on with his child. 
 
 Madame Armfeld did not hesitate to 
 comply with the earnest request of the 
 Countess, to be allowed sometimes to 
 receive a visit from the interesting girl ; 
 and the next day, Christina called and 
 conveyed her to her magnificient abode. 
 The Countess was alone, and she devoted 
 the evening to the amusement of Geral- 
 dine. She sung, she played, she shewed
 
 S80 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 her valuable paintings, and,, when she 
 restored Geraldiiie to her governess^ loaded 
 her with trinkets. 
 
 These visits nOw became thechief delight 
 of the grateful girl, and Madame Armfeld 
 was pleased at the variety these little 
 occasional absences made, as Geraldine 
 did iiOt quit her for the holidays with the 
 rest of her companions, the journey from 
 Vienna being too great to allow Altenberg 
 to remove her to his house. 
 
 It happened that the Baron arrived from 
 the country to visit his protegee, at a 
 time when Geraldine was gone to spend 
 the day with Christina. His astonishment 
 was great when he heard of the interest 
 she took in the little girl, and^being well 
 aware of the malignity of her mind, he 
 felt apprehensive she could not intend the 
 ultimate advantage of Geraldine : yet, no 
 reason for this attention beyond appro-
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 281 
 
 batiou of the daughter of her much injured 
 husband occurred to him; and he began 
 to hope remorse for all the misery she had 
 inflicted on him had at length struck 
 her heart ; and that, bj kindness to his 
 daughter, she wished to expiate her former 
 atrocities. 
 
 After conversing with Madame Armfeld 
 for about half an hour, he quitted her, 
 promising to call again on the morrow. 
 
 About seven o'clock in the evening, 
 -a message from the Countess alarmed 
 Md^'ame Armfeld : — it was an enquiry, 
 why Geraldine and the servant she had 
 sent feu* her ic the morning did not arrive. 
 Madame Armfeld immediatelv fl."w to the 
 Countess, and iiiforaied her that the man 
 had called before tea o'clock that m ;rriing^ 
 and that her pupil had ins{a*iliy accom- 
 panied him. Chris'lna's terror was even 
 greater than that of Madame, She insisted
 
 282 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 on an immediate search being made after 
 her^ and advised Madame Armfeld to 
 send into the suburbs of the town^ to a 
 place she had heard mentioned as the re- 
 sidence of some of the servant's relations. 
 Here^ however, no intelligence could be 
 learned of her. Altenberg had not left 
 his address, and Madame Armfeld was 
 obliged to wait in dreadful suspence till 
 the morning. 
 
 The Baron's astonishment was ex- 
 treme ; and his fears for Geraldine's 
 safety surpassed any thing he had ever 
 before experienced. — At first his. sus- 
 picions rested on the Countess ; but when 
 he heard of the great anxiety she had 
 displayed, de Gustrow and his wife 
 appeared alone capable of such villany. 
 Indeed, the advantage to Chrislina from 
 her destruction could be nothing, but to 
 the usurpers of Geraldine's inheritence it 
 was of incalculable importance. Full of
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 2S3 
 
 this new idea, he resolved to depart imme- 
 diately for Gotha, and/ at once, charge 
 them with the fact. He hurried to his 
 lodging, sent information to the magis- 
 trates, and then put his plan into 
 execution. 
 
 Altenberg arrived at the moment the 
 castle was full of company : Johanna 
 had given a splendid entertainment in 
 honor of her eldest boy, and every thing 
 was elegant and expensive beyond mea- 
 sure. He desired to have a conference 
 instantly, either with de Gustrow or his 
 wife. Johanna attended his summons, 
 arrayed in eastern magnificence, looking 
 more majestically beautiful than ever : 
 her young son followed her into the 
 room. Altenberg looked on the child— 
 *' And can you, Johanna/' he cried, 
 '* regard that sweet boy with fondness 
 and pride, yet feel the consciousness of 
 having stolen an innocent child from the
 
 284 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 protection of her friends ? Oh ! if you 
 have one spark of tenderness in your 
 nature^ restore^, and that instantly, the 
 lovely Geraldine to my care." 
 
 Johanna either was, or pretended to 
 be, highly astonished at this speech : she 
 desired an explanation, and expressed the 
 utmost indignation at his supposing her 
 capable of so foul a deed. She then 
 summoited her hiisband, and after an 
 ineffectual conference, of more than aa 
 hour, the Baron returned home to reflect 
 on the most effectual means of recovering 
 Geraldine. 
 
 Philip declared he had no doubt of her 
 being murdered by the emissaries of the 
 de Gustrows : it was easy for them tQ 
 employ some person, on whom they could 
 depend, to entrap and destroy Geraidiue; 
 and now there could be no opposition to 
 their possessing every thing to which
 
 TV'URTZBURG FAMILY. 2S5 
 
 thej aspired. The idea was horrible ; 
 but Altenberg confessed it was probable. 
 He would not, however, reiiaquish the 
 search ; and again set out for Vienna. 
 
 His endeavours to trace her were still 
 ineffectual ; but the lawyers advised him 
 to continue the law-suit, under the hope 
 Geraldine would jet appear. Indeed, 
 there were not wanting persons who 
 suspected the servant had carried her off 
 in order to force her into a marriage, 
 which would thus raise him to the noble 
 property to which she was supposed the 
 rightful heir. 
 
 The Baron, however, began to waver 
 in his resolution; he had already incurred 
 a considerable expenc^, and he could 
 not help feeling, there was something 
 rather exceeding the calls of friendship in 
 these efforts, which might, very probably, 
 prove ineflfectual, He had already ap-
 
 ^86 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 plied to some distant relations of Geral- 
 dine, who, however, did not choose to 
 undertake ao uncertain an affair ; and 
 Altenberg had nearly determined to yield 
 the property quietly to de Gustrow, when 
 lie received the sad confirmation of all his 
 fears. 
 
 About a fortnight after Geraldine's 
 mysterious disappearance, the servant, 
 who was sent by the Countess to conduct 
 her to Christina, re-appeared, fatigued 
 and ill, bringing with him some of the dress 
 in which the sweet girl had been attired,— 
 The account he gave of the transaction, 
 was this: that, on receiving the young 
 Lady from Madame Armfeld, as he was 
 crossing one of the streets near the great 
 church, some one suddenly caught him 
 by the shoulders ; he turned round 
 hastily, and saw another ruffian, who, 
 having seized the terrified girl, was 
 hurrying her into a carriage, which stood
 
 TVURTZBURG FAMILY. 287 
 
 round the corner of an obscure alley. — 
 That the man who held him, on his 
 endeavouring to give the alarm, struck 
 him so severe a blow, on the head, as 
 stunned him for a few seconds — recover- 
 ing himself, however, as quickly as pos- 
 sible, he followed the carriage till he saw 
 which road the driver took — that, fearful 
 of terrifying his lady, (whose fondness for 
 the child he well knew, ) he would not 
 return to her house; and, therefore, 
 hastily procuring a horse, he pursued the 
 ruffians with the utmost expedition ; but 
 that, although his horse was fleet, he did 
 not overtake them till'^night, when they 
 had advanced some distance into a large 
 wood. He immediately called to them 
 to stop, hoping to obtain some expla- 
 nation from the villains. His reception, 
 how^ever, was very unlike a parley, for 
 one of the men presenting a pistol, fired 
 at, and wounded him in the arm. The 
 servant fell from his horse, and the fugi-
 
 288 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 tives were out of sight in an instant. 
 The wound was not vcrj deep, although 
 it bled' profusely, and binding it up with 
 his handkerchief, he again mounted his 
 horse, which was quietly grazing at no 
 great distance from the spot where he had 
 fallen ; and slowly continued his way, 
 hoping to find some place where he 
 might procure assistance. He still felt 
 unwilling to relinquish' the pursuit; but 
 was too weak and faint to be capable of 
 riding much farther, when, at the distance 
 of about half a mile from the place where 
 he had been wounded, he found the 
 carriage had been overturned ; and, as he 
 advanced, saw, by the imperfect light of 
 the evening, (for it was now dusk) some 
 men fly hastily into the inmost recesses of 
 the wood. He therefore ventured to 
 approach the carriage, flattering himself 
 the ruffians, on perceiving themselves 
 closely pursued, and the means of pro- 
 ceeding destroyed, had quitted their
 
 WURTZBURO FAMILY. 289 
 
 joung prisoner ; he was, however^ much 
 shocked to discover only some of the 
 garments of Gerald ine. — He was convin- 
 ced, on examining them, that the wretches 
 Lad murdered her ; and were proceeding 
 to strip her ; finding they could not con- 
 vey her to her place of destination ; and, 
 probably, fearful she might, if found 
 alive, discover them and their employer. 
 The servant, from observations on the 
 spot, which was near the brink of a stu- 
 pendous precipice, was led to suppose the 
 body might have been precipitated into 
 the gulph below : at all events, further 
 search was vain; and, taking up the frag' 
 ments of her dress, he proceeded till he 
 reached a hamlet. Here he obtained some 
 refreshment, and a direction to a town at 
 no great distance^ where dwelt a relation 
 of his. 
 
 He found his cousin just setting off on 
 a journey; but from the wife received 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 MEMOIRS OP the' 
 
 every accommodation, till he was suffi- 
 ciently recovered to return home. He was 
 just arrived with the Countess at Madame 
 Armfeld's, when Altenberg, likewise, 
 stopped at the door ; the dress was in- 
 stantly recognized, and no doubt could be 
 entertained of the wretched fate of Ge- 
 raldhie. 
 
 It was now out of the question to pro- 
 ceed with the law-suit, and a day was fixed 
 for withdrawing: Gerald! ne's claim. Al- 
 tenberg still felt convinced Johanna and 
 her husband were concerned in the mur- 
 der, and fully acquitted the Countess, 
 who, during this awful suspense, had 
 shewn much anxiety and feelitig, and had 
 even sent persons to the places mentioned 
 by her servant ; and she informed Alten- 
 berg, she bad received full confirmation 
 of the servant's story from the person at 
 whose house he had remained.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 291 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Jl he morning now arrived which was 
 fixed on to terminate the action against 
 de Gustrow. Altenbergh, with a heavy 
 heart attended — the business went through 
 the usual forras^ and the Baron declared 
 the unfortunate circumstances which pre- 
 vented his proceeding any farther in the 
 cause. 
 
 De Gustrow, Johanna, Roxalana, and 
 her husband attended. Great wereM^ie 
 mutual congratulations of the party, on 
 finding themselves thus put into quiet 
 possession, when a young lawyer informed 
 the Bench, that though the untimely death 
 of Geraldine de Wurtzburg bad removed 
 
 0%
 
 $92 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 her claim, another most material one was 
 now to he made. 
 
 Every one looked astonished^ — there 
 appeared no possible impediment to the 
 secure possession of de Gustrow ; not one 
 of Albert's relations had considered them- 
 selves sufficiently nearly concerned in his 
 affairs to undertake the cause of Ge^aldine, 
 and the whole party waited with the utmost 
 anxiety for the issue of this extraordinary 
 intimation. 
 
 At length, the lawyer, drew forth a paper 
 in the hand-writing of Albert tothis effect: 
 — that deeply, though too late, convinced 
 of the innocence of Christina de Wurtz- 
 burg, and wishing to make her every 
 amends in his power ; he had devised, after 
 the death of Geraldine, provided she did 
 not leave any children, the whole of his 
 property to the said Christina : — he also 
 added, that although he hoped his daughter
 
 WURTSBURG FAMILY. 29S 
 
 would live to enjoy and transmtt his estate 
 to his grand children ; vet, as he was 
 desirous of clearing the reputation of his 
 much injured wife^ he wished to give this 
 strong and convincing proof of his high 
 approbation of her conduct. It was signed 
 by the Count, sealed with his own seal 
 and attested by two witnesses, one of 
 whom was now dead ; but the other was 
 ready to come forward and swear to the 
 hand-writing of the Count. 
 
 The rage and vexation of Johanna were 
 extreme at this new obstacle to all her 
 flattering prospects. " It is a forgery, a 
 base forgery,'* she exclaimed ; "^ and we 
 never will relinquish our right." The 
 lawyers requested she would be cool, 
 and represented to her, that the business 
 must (if she still continued her claim) go 
 through many other forms. 
 
 The young man employed by Christina
 
 254 MEMOIRS OP THE 
 
 informed the Court his client intended to 
 proceed with the cause, and the disap- 
 pointed party retired, venting their anger 
 in the most unbecoming manner. 
 
 The more Baron Altenberg reflected on 
 this new claimant, the more convinced he 
 felt the deed was a forgery : — it was quite 
 incredible that Albert, who constantly 
 expressed his abhorrence of a woman, 
 whose cruelty had hurried his Adelaide to 
 an untimely grave, should have made so 
 complete a recantation, and even have 
 bestowed the whole of his property on her. 
 He was however entirely indifferent which 
 of the two harpies possessed Gothd ; and 
 he retired to his own peaceful abode, 
 more than ever disgusted with the proud 
 Johanna, and the artful Christina. 
 
 The suit was now prosecuted with the 
 utmost vigour. Christina, when ques- 
 tioned on the reason of her concealing the
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILV, 2G5 
 
 deed, alledged her unwillingness to risk 
 Iier money for a mere chance, which 
 would have been expected of her, had her 
 interest in the estate been known : and 
 moreover, she assured the enquirers that, 
 having- no idea and no desire to inherit 
 the property, she wished not to increase 
 the intricacy of the cause by other claims. 
 
 Few of her hearers gave her credit for 
 wishing to spare either trouble or unea- 
 siness to any one concerned in the affair ; 
 but, her objection to parting with her 
 money for the advantage of another, was 
 a sufficient reason ; and the validity of 
 the deed seemed ascertained by the oath of 
 a man, who was the surviving witness to 
 this extraordinary instrument. 
 
 Immense sums were expended on both 
 sides, and yet no advances were made to a 
 conclusion of this sad business. In the 
 mean time de Gustrow^ revelled in hixwry
 
 296 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 at Gotha; — the pictures, the statues^ and 
 the ornamental marbles he procured from 
 Italy, were expensive in the extreme, and 
 a stranger would have concluded. Fortune 
 had heaped her utmost blessings on his 
 head. The reverse was however the fact. 
 His astonishing extravagance so far ex- 
 ceeded his income, that he was in constant 
 uneasiness lest he should not be able to 
 meet the expences of the law : and, at 
 home, daily and hourly in broils, embit- 
 tered all his life. Never could Johanna 
 and her Lord entertain the same opinion 
 on any subject, and threats and reproaches 
 usually terminated every conversation. 
 
 In nothing did this ill-assorted pair 
 agree, but in their extreme desire to 
 become firmly planted in their usurped 
 property, and this alone prevented their 
 parting; at least, so Johanna, sometimes 
 in her violence declared ; — when de Gus- 
 trow, usually hinted sjie was too much in
 
 TfURTZBURG FAMILY. 297 
 
 his power to dare part from him. What 
 might be iatended by these hints, if indeed, 
 fhej had any meaning, no one could disco- 
 ver ; and the only inference Altenberg ever 
 drew from them was, that they allude^i to 
 the death of Geraldine. 
 
 Philip was much affected by her un- 
 timely fate, and no longer seemed to derive 
 any pleasure from his former pursuits;— 
 he often blushed, when he reflected on the 
 weakness of placing his affections on a 
 child, who, had she lived, would probably 
 have bestowed her hand upon some man 
 of rank and importance, and not on a 
 private individual like himself — and, in- 
 deed, he would not have married her while 
 there was a doubt of the issue of her ca.'Tse. 
 It was herself, not her domain he admired, 
 and he would not for the worlihave risked 
 the appearance of having speculated on 
 her chance of recovering Gotha. 
 
 3
 
 298 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 The Countess continued to refute all the 
 proofs the opposite party adduced of the 
 insanity of the Count, yet still more were 
 produced ; — indeed^ her long separation 
 from Albert much weakened her testimony ; 
 and at the end of two years there appeared 
 no more prospect of the cause being ter- 
 minated than when it first began. 
 
 Meanwhile^ de Gustrow. deported him- 
 self as if conscious of ultimate success ; 
 and he determined to assume the title of 
 Count, to which he had not the smallest 
 right. There was no one, however, to dis- 
 pute the matter with him ; and he there- 
 fore continued to indulge his absurd vanity 
 uncontrolled. 
 
 Johanna, proud and haughty, maintained 
 the most dignified deportment ; and, by 
 her repulsive manner, seemed to preclude 
 all friendship and intimacy with the neigh- 
 bouring gentry. In her situation this was
 
 WURTZRURG FAMILY. 299 
 
 exquisite policy; — it precluded her ever 
 hearing unpleasant truths from a mis- 
 judging^ but anxious friend; and by placing 
 her at a distance from common observation, 
 raised in the minds of the lower class, an 
 high idea of her grandeur. When she 
 chose to appear^ it was in the most daz- 
 zling splendour : — she never gave a dinner 
 but it was followed by some fete equally 
 Dew and expensive ; and the noble enter- 
 tainments at the castle were the general 
 topic of conversation. Among other modes 
 of surprizing her neighbourhood, she re- 
 solved to give a grand masked ball : for 
 this purpose, the whole castle was fitted up 
 in the most judicious and elegant manner. 
 The company, on entering the immense 
 hall, found themselves in a magnificent 
 puirden, composed of the most valuable 
 *id scarce green-house plants : — through 
 these the winding walks led to different 
 rooms, fitted up as temples, grottos, &c. 
 At the farther end, a flight of steps^ the
 
 300 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 whole width of the hall, lighted by statues 
 of great price, holding tapers in their 
 hands, conducted the parties to a Turkish 
 apartment, where Johanna, habited as a 
 Sultana, received her visitants. This room 
 and the adjoining one were equally mag- 
 nificent. From them the company pro- 
 ceeded to the ball-room, and from thence 
 to various rooms where refreshments were 
 provided. The supper was prepared in the 
 tipper apartments of the castle ; — to these 
 roomsj a beautiful stair-case led through a 
 picture gallery, and the whole was con- 
 ducted in the most skilful manner. Nothing 
 could exceed the hilarity that prevailed: 
 Albert, Adelaide, and Geraldine, were all 
 forgotten, and the beautiful Sultana alone, 
 occupied every thought. Immediately 
 after supper the company returned to t^ 
 ball-room, and Johanna, wishing to gi^^. 
 some directions to her servants, who yet 
 remained in the supper-room, re-ascended 
 the stair-case. As she entered the gallery.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 301 
 
 she was somewhat startled at perceiving a 
 mask standing alone in the furtlier part of 
 it: — concluding some of the party had 
 missed their waj^ she advanced, and offered 
 to conduct him to the ball-room. As she 
 approached, the figure turned hastily 
 round, and opening the domino in which 
 he was enveloped, shewed to the terrified 
 Johanna, the dreadful appearance of* * * 
 * * * * her father ! " Knowest thou me/' 
 said the spectre, in a hollow voice. Jo- 
 hanna uttered a fearful shriek^ — '^ I am 
 ruined,'* she exclaimed, and fell fainting 
 on the floor. In this state she remained 
 some minutes ere any of the gay party dis- 
 covered her; when they did, she was 
 raised up, and looking wildly round her, 
 she pointed to the spot where the figure 
 had stood, avid ejaculated, '' there ! — 
 there!" Collecting however, her scattered 
 senses almost instantaneously, and per- 
 ceiving the object of her terror no longer 
 remained, she politely apologized for the
 
 302 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 alarm she had caused her friends, assured 
 them she was merely overcome by the 
 heat and exertion of the evening; and 
 requesting they would resume their 
 gaieties, said she would retire for a 
 short time, to reco.ver her spirits, and 
 would again join them in the ball room. — 
 She did so, but was not absent more than 
 ten minutes. On her return pleasure 
 seemed to smile on her brow, and no ves- 
 tige of the horror and agony she had 
 endured, remained on her well-regulated 
 countenance. 
 
 Notwithstanding this appearance of 
 composed happiness, anxiety, doubt, and 
 dismay, harassed her soul by turns. 
 The idea of an apparition never occurred 
 to her mind; no weak superstition ever 
 alarmed her ; but there was a mystery in 
 the late adventure, that appalled, even 
 her bold spirit.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 303 
 
 At the first moment of perceiving the 
 figure, a cause of terror, known only to 
 her own breast, was sufficiently powerful 
 to have nearly deprived her, for a few 
 seconds, of her senses. On recovering 
 herself she had retired (not to repose, as 
 she had represented) ; but to ascertain 
 whether her worst fears were to be con- 
 firmed or not; they, however, proved 
 groundless ; and she now thought the 
 appearance must have been a cruel trick, 
 performed by obtaining a suit of her 
 father's clothes. The dress was so re* 
 markable, that she could not mistake it — 
 she knew it had always been carefully 
 locked up in a chest, with the rest of his 
 wardrobe ; and of this chest she had the 
 key. But it was possible some one might 
 have broken open the lock, and stolen 
 away the things ; and she resolved to 
 seize the first moment in her power, to 
 investigate the circumstance; no sooner 
 therefore, did she find herself alone, after
 
 504 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 the party had retired, than she hastened 
 to t] e chest ; it was secured as usual, and 
 the dress lay near the bottom of the box, 
 under several other arti( les. 
 
 The mystery, therefore, continued quite 
 inexplicable ; and Johanna alarmed and 
 perplexed, was long before she recovered 
 her wonted composure. She had no fond 
 husband to participate in her fears, or 
 lighten her uneasiness. The adventures 
 of the masquerade she concealed most 
 carefully from him ; knowing he would 
 irritate, rather than sooine her mind : and 
 to add to her distress the expences into 
 which their pride led them, and the 
 encreasing demands, with which they 
 were every day assailed, rendered it neces- 
 sary to raise money by some means; and 
 how to do this, without betraying their 
 difficulties to the world, was a matter 
 that equally engrossed the thoughts of 
 both.
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 305 
 
 ■ To Starenberg, the agent, they could 
 not apply — he was inimical to all their 
 projects ; and, indeed, never attended at 
 the castle, but when some business of im- 
 portance called him there. De Gustrow, 
 however, at last, contrived to raise the 
 sum he wanted in Vienna, and thus, for 
 a time, concealed the entanglement of his 
 affairs, from the neighbourhood. 
 
 He continued to devise many schemes 
 for his future supplies ; but when he 
 found it almost impossible to procure 
 money, as fast as he required it, he pro- 
 posed lo lessen bis domestic expences, by 
 taking a house in Vienna, where they 
 might live with a smaller establishment, 
 and only visit the castle for a short time, 
 every year ; and thus the change in their 
 circumstances, would not appear, as they 
 might assign the education of their chil- 
 dren as the reason of their no longer 
 residing continually in the country.
 
 306 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 To thisj however, Joliaima positively 
 declared she would not consent. He 
 might leave her there, with a single do- 
 mestic ; but she never would quit her 
 favourite abode ; and, indeed, since they 
 had taken possession of the castle, 
 she had never been absent more than three 
 days successively, and then, only to 
 receive the verdict of the court, whea 
 Christina presented her unexpected 
 claim. 
 
 From this time they lived upon worse 
 terms than ever, and de Gustrow gave 
 way to a violence of passion, that assumed 
 the appearance of temporary insanity ; 
 indeed, Johanna sometimes tauntingly 
 observed to him, she thought he was as 
 mad as her uncle. During these fits of 
 rage, he would often wander through the 
 domain, whole hours together, with his 
 head uncovered, venting hi§ anger in loud 
 abuse, of all he met; and on returning to
 
 WURTZBLRG FAMILY. 307 
 
 the castle would commit many outrages 
 on the furniturCj &c. and particularly, 
 if Johanna had any favorite article of 
 ornament that was sure to be sacrificed to 
 his displeasure. 
 
 By degrees this violence was of longer 
 duration ; and, at length, the fatal ca^ 
 lamity, which they had so wickedly attri- 
 buted to the unhappy Albert, visited the 
 husband of Johanna, in its most melan^- 
 choly forms. He was now decidedly 
 deranged ; sometimes low and dejected ; 
 at others boisterous, loud, and imperious 
 — now he fancied himself a prince, sur- 
 rounded by power, and gii^ing laws to the 
 universe ; and then pronouncing himself 
 to be a murderer. He would sit vv^hole days 
 in an agony of horror, declaring he saw, 
 before his eyes, the hand of justice, ready 
 to revenge the bitter outrages he had 
 committed. Then again supposing him- 
 self in a court of justice, he would argue
 
 308 MEMOIRS OF THE 
 
 his cause against Christina^ with a degree 
 of perception and connexion^ hardly to 
 be credited in a madman. During these 
 paroxysms, Johanna appeared to listen to 
 every word he uttered, with fear and 
 apprehension. By degrees, however, she 
 attended him less frequently; and, , at 
 length, consigned him wholly to the 
 care of persons employed by the medical 
 men who attended him, and who pro- 
 nounced him to be in a most hopeless 
 state of insanity. 
 
 At this juncture, even Baron Altenberg 
 felt some compassion for the wife of de 
 Gustrow. She had two children, whose 
 educatioYi, and whose worldly concerns, 
 must now devolve entirely on herself; — 
 she was at variance with her sister, 
 respecting the division of their property. 
 Roxalana, therefore, never visited her ; 
 and consequently could not be a source 
 of any comfort in her troubles. Her 
 husband deranged, and a ruinous law-suit
 
 WURTZBURG FAMILY. 309 
 
 on lier hands : besides which he added to 
 the long list of her miseries — a guilty 
 consciencQ ; in this^ however, he might 
 do her injustice: be that as it may, her 
 situation led him to make many reflections 
 jOn the insufficiency of beauty^ grandeur^ 
 and riches^ to a being destitute of virtue 
 and the graces of the mind. Meanwhile 
 Johanna carefully concealed her feelings 
 from a prying world. — She ceased to give 
 grand entertainments^ it is true; but, 
 otherwise^, she lived in her usual splen- 
 dour^ and always spoke with certainty 
 of her ultimate success against the 
 Countess. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 London : 
 Printed hy G. Hayden, Brydges Street^ Covent Garden,
 
 UNIVERSITY OP ILUN0I9-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 046407844