"LI B RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 0938 
 v.l
 
 V
 
 THE 
 
 CURSE OF ULRICA; 
 
 OS THE 
 
 WHITE CROSS KNIGHTS 
 
 OF 
 
 HIDDARIIOLMEN, 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE 
 
 Curse of Wiixm: 
 
 OR THE 
 
 JVHITE CROSS KNIGHTS 
 
 OF 
 
 RIDDARHOLMEN. 
 
 A 
 
 SWEDISH ROMANCE 
 
 SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 Chi va lontan dalla sua patria, vede 
 Cose, da quel, che giii credea, loiitanet 
 Che narrandole poi, non se gU crede, 
 E stimato bugiardo ne rimaiie : 
 Che'l volgo sciocco non gli vuol darfede, 
 6e non le vede, e tocca chiare, e piane» 
 Perquesto io so, che I'ine8i)ericn7,a 
 Fark al mio canto dar poca credenza. 
 
 Arioato, Orl. Fur* 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES, 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for Black, Parrv, and Co. Booksellers to the 
 
 Hon. East India Corapany, Lcadsiihall Street, 
 
 1815.
 
 Pritittd by dx and iJaylis, 7\ Gnat Qutti. flictt.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The following tale is intended as 
 an illustration of a populiar super- 
 stition, prevalent in many coun- 
 tries ; but which holds a very 
 remarkable influence over the 
 ^ minds of the inhabitants of the 
 "^ North of Europe. It commences 
 ^ at a period sufliciently remote to 
 ^render it likely that men,, even of 
 ^ the highest rank and attainments, 
 would not be exempt from its 
 ^ influence
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 influence;* but even at a much 
 later and more enlightened era, 
 the mind vras not completely 
 emancipated from what may be 
 deemed the childbood of philo- 
 sophy. Our own Dryden affords 
 
 a re- 
 
 * The author has inspected the curious 
 MS. written by Eric the XlVth of Sweden, 
 and deposited in the library of the Univer- 
 sity of Upsala. It might be deemed a 
 prospective journal of the King's life; the 
 events of each day are predicted from the 
 appearances which the heavenly bodies 
 would exhibit, &c. The calculations seem 
 elaborate — but the figures and symbols are 
 studiously obscure, and the mystic accom- 
 paniments were no doubt intended to veil 
 it from profane eyes. It is a curious relic 
 of the imbecility of a regal mind; of one 
 who aspired to the hand of our glorious and 
 talented Queen Elizabeth.
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 a remarkable instance of the in- 
 fluence which astrology held over 
 a great mind ; and surely the 
 errors of the credulous may be 
 pardoned, when we reflect that 
 we owe to their fondness for the 
 favourite baubles of the age—- 
 the Philosopher's Stone and Astro- 
 logy, — some of the most extra- 
 ordinary discoveries which dis- 
 tinguish the natural philosophy of 
 the present day. 
 
 A residence of some time in 
 the North of Europe, enabled the 
 author to describe the character 
 of its scenery ; and if the descrip- 
 tions of such local peculiarities 
 
 occur
 
 Vlll rHEFACE. 
 
 occur too frequently in tlie follow- 
 ing work, he confesses his in- 
 ability to resist transcribing them 
 from his port-folio : but he offers 
 them, he presumes, witTi some claim 
 to the indulgence of the reader, as 
 sketches from nature only. 
 
 He may be charged with having 
 given too gloomy a portrait of the 
 rehgion of the sixteenth century, 
 but in the historians of that age 
 there may be found many more 
 terrible examples of the effect of 
 bigotry and intolerance in harden- 
 ing the human heart ; and the com- 
 paratively recent instances which 
 might be adduced from a sister 
 
 kingdom,
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 kingdom, shew tliat wherever the 
 gloomy spirit of fanaticism sways 
 the minds of opposite factions, the 
 cruelties and most dreadful ex- 
 cesses of a barbarous age are re- 
 newed, and the tragedy is acted 
 by difierent characters, but with 
 the same result. When men are 
 resolved to do a great injustice, 
 they do not borrow aid from argu- 
 ments, which would not stand the 
 test of their reasons and under- 
 standings ; they appeal to some 
 undefined right of conscience for 
 their support, — and when all hu- 
 man arguments are untenable, and 
 their actions would become the 
 
 mockery
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 mockery of their understandings, 
 they are satisfied to commit tlie 
 greatest enormities, in . . .God's 
 name ! 
 
 To amuse the reader and gratify 
 his love for the marvellous, was 
 not altogether the intention of the 
 author ; his modesty does not pre- 
 vent him declaring, that his object 
 is to instruct as well as to amuse. 
 For, in making the following work 
 the vehicle of his sentiments on 
 many subjects, he would feel the 
 deepest shame if he had not had 
 a moral in view ; and he would ex- 
 perience the acutest remorse, if it 
 was disfigured with one line which 
 
 could
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 could injure the cause of morality 
 and virtue, or deepen the hue 
 which mantles the cheek of inno- 
 cence and beauty. The author 
 deprecates the supplicating pos- 
 ture of many of his brethren, 
 when according to the established 
 ceremony of literary politeness, he 
 makes his debut in a preliminary 
 address. Conscious of the inca- 
 pability of the following trifle to 
 stand the test, he would yet rather 
 provoke criticism than escape it ; 
 for he sincerely desires to be in- 
 structed in those points in which 
 he may have failed. In conclu- 
 sion, and while he recommends 
 
 this
 
 XH PREFACE. 
 
 this tale to the indulgence of the 
 reader and candour of his critics, 
 he begs leave to observe, that in 
 the execution of many composi- 
 tions of a more serious character 
 than any which the present can 
 lay claim to, he has felt the truth 
 of the folhnving observation of 
 Diderot, -^^ II est facile de critiqiicr 
 ^^ juste, et difficile d'executer me- 
 ^^ diocrement." — De la JPocsie 
 drcnnatique, 
 
 London^ Feb. 1815.
 
 ■■•:> 
 
 \. 
 
 THE 
 
 CURSE OF ULRICA, 
 
 S^c, S^c, 8^c. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon windsi 
 
 What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain. 
 
 And question'deveiy gust of rugged wingg, 
 
 That blows from off each beak'd promontory. 
 
 They knew not of his story ! 
 
 Milton's Lycidas. 
 
 In the latter end of the autumn of 
 1573, the body of a young man, 
 bruised and bleeding, was discovered 
 lying on the verge of a precipice which 
 overhung the little lake Unden in the 
 northern part of Sweden, by a young 
 peasant of the name of Carl Olofson. 
 The moon had just risen, and her 
 light, gleaming through the scathed 
 VOL. I. B firs,
 
 S THE CURSE 
 
 firs, which here and there had struck 
 their roots through the deep fissures of 
 the rocks, guided the benevolent pea- 
 sant to the spot where it lay. Carl 
 felt the body, it was yet warm : he 
 examined the wounds, they were not 
 deep; — the stranger appeared to be 
 more stunned than hurt. " Poor 
 soul," exclaimed Carl, ** how pale 
 it looks ! — His heart still beats, his 
 life may yet be saved ! — It was well I 
 came hither before the wolves had 
 made their meal of thee ! " 
 Carl now tried to lift up the body, 
 but his strength was unequal to the 
 burthen ; he tore off his handkerchief, 
 and binding it round the head of the 
 stranger, which seemed to have chiefly 
 suffered, he ran to his fi\ther's cottage, 
 which was only a short distance from 
 the spot, to obtain assistance. Old 
 Axel Olof, his father, hastily tied to- 
 gether some boards to form a litter, 
 
 and
 
 OF ULRICA. 3 
 
 and accompanied Carl to the place 
 where he had found the body. They 
 raised it gently on the litter, and 
 the stranger giving some signs of 
 returning animation, they hastened 
 with their burthen to the cottage. 
 Axel desired his son to hasten his 
 mother, who was preparing some cor- 
 dials for the wounded mati j while he 
 heaped on their little bed, in which 
 he had placed the stranger, all the 
 spare bed cloaths the cottage afforded, 
 and washed the blood carefully from 
 his wounds. 
 
 " May the cross of Christ protect 
 
 " us^.'' exclaimed the old woman, 
 
 when she beheld the ghastly figure 
 
 stretched on the bed. « Here has 
 
 '' been bloody work, and so near our 
 
 '* cottage ! He seems of some rank 
 
 ** also— observe how that brilliant 
 
 '' sparkles in the light of the lamp.'* 
 
 '' Peace! ''cried Axel, "prithee try 
 
 B 2 i* ta
 
 * THE CURSE 
 
 " to pour down his throat some of 
 " your best cordial." 
 
 The old Ulrica now approached the 
 stranger, and while Carl held the 
 lamp, she succeeded in making him 
 swallow some of her restorative. He 
 now opened his eyes, and, after a feeble 
 expression of thankfulness, endeavour- 
 ed to make them understand his wish 
 for repose. 
 
 " The like of him," said Ulrica, 
 " don't travel a foot ; who can he be?" 
 
 " I will look into my book," replied 
 Axel. 
 
 In Sweden the peasants, at certain 
 distances, are obliged to procure from 
 the neighbourhood post-horses for the 
 accommodation of travellers and to 
 forward the royal post. Axel Olof was 
 a postmaster ; and having brought out 
 •his book, in which he had entered the 
 names of all those who had sent forward 
 a courier to bespeak post-horses, he 
 
 found
 
 OF ULRICA. 5 
 
 fouiid an order for three post-horses to 
 be ready at ten o'clock on that night, 
 to proceed towards Stockholm, signed 
 the Count Adolphus de Beaumarchais. 
 The hour was passed and the Count 
 had -not arrived, as they expected, and 
 they all agreed that the Count de 
 Beaumarchais was their guest. Their 
 suspicion was perfectly right. It was 
 the Count de Beaumarchais, whom 
 their son had rescued from the grave. 
 
 Shortly after the sun had risen, they 
 crowded round the bed of the Count. 
 They found he had obtained no rest ; 
 his cheeks were flushed, his hands 
 burned, and his eyes w^andered wildly. 
 
 " I will go," said Axel, ** to Biom- 
 " berg, for Father Laurentius. I fear 
 " the Count is likely to be very ill; 
 " do you, Christina," added he to 
 his daughter, ** attend on tlie Count, 
 " while your mother is busied putting 
 " things to rights." 
 
 B 3 Christina
 
 6 THE CURSK 
 
 Christina drew ovqr a stool and her 
 :>pinning-\vheel, and sat down to her 
 Avork by the Count's bedside. 
 
 Christina was young and even in- 
 teresting for the daughter of poor 
 peasants ; but her large expressive 
 blue eyes were often bent on the 
 ground, and the lassitude of her 
 clieerless deportment was but ill 
 calculated to display the graces of 
 her dignified form. She had received, 
 for a person in her situation of life, a 
 good education ; but the wild and ro- 
 mantic scenery, by which she had been 
 surrounded from her infancy, and the 
 powerful effect of some singular events, 
 which were mingled with her earliest 
 impressions, gave to her mind a pecu- 
 liar colouring of enthusiasm and ro- 
 mance ; while a soft and tender melan- 
 choly which often tinged it, rendered 
 her still more interesting. She yielded 
 an implicit faith to all the popular 
 
 superstitions.
 
 OF ULRICA. 7 
 
 superstitions, which held so remark- 
 able an influence over the mind in tlie 
 credulous age in which she lived. Her 
 fancy was easily fired by the marvel- 
 lous. Unforeseen events, a tale of spi- 
 rits, visions of the shadowy world, had 
 for her mind no common charms. 
 She would often sit for hours on the 
 rocky shore, with her eyes fixed on the 
 surface of the blue lake, tracing the 
 shadows of surrounding objects, as 
 they changed in fantastic forms on the 
 tremulous mirror, or watching the 
 existence of a curling wave as it 
 dimpled, swelled, and rolled along, 
 until it broke against the mossy rock 
 on which Uie sat. The bounding of 
 the majestic elk, the plaintive cry of 
 the wild water fowl, as they flew along 
 the surface of the lake, seeking their 
 haunts, would often awake her from 
 these reveries and hurry her to the cot- 
 tage, 'ere the dews of evening de- 
 
 B 4- scended
 
 8 THE CURSE 
 
 scended on her head, She felt inter- 
 ested for the Count, from the mystery 
 which seemed to envelope him ; she 
 listened, while he raved in a broken 
 slumber, and bent with excited cu- 
 riosity over the unhappy stranger. 
 ** Edda ! Montbazon ! they sink 
 
 «* they perish ! there he sits, 
 
 ** dressed in his bloody shroud ! he 
 " beckons to me, there is room in his 
 narrow grave !. . Father, I come- 
 quick, help ! help 1. . they tore out 
 my heart at midnight. Your friend ! 
 — a dagger! Hark, music t it is the 
 " song of the dead, who have burst 
 " their coffins asunder ? — Room, 
 " room there ! for the spirits who de- 
 <* scend on the breeze of midnight ! '* 
 " Holy mother of God ! " ejacu- 
 lated Christina, " how he raves ! *' — 
 She offered him drink j his lips were 
 parched,'«4ie tasted but a little. " I 
 ** burn, I burn,** he exclaimed, and 
 
 immediately
 
 OF ULRICA. 9 
 
 immediately dropped into a deep 
 sleep. 
 
 In the course of the morning Axel 
 arrived with Father Laurentius, whom 
 he was so fortunate as to find at home. 
 On looking at the Count, he shook 
 his head. He felt his pulse : " the gen- 
 " tleman," said the Monk, ** is highly 
 " feverish! " He examined his wounds, 
 and pronounced them not dangerous* 
 — " He is young, I shall order him 
 " something to procure repose ; na- 
 " ture and his own constitution must 
 " do the rest." 
 
 Father Laurentius w^as one of those 
 benevolent beings, who exercised his 
 medical skill rather for the benefits it 
 enabled him to confer on his species, 
 than for the emolument it brought to 
 him~he was faithful to his vow of 
 poverty. In early life he had suffered 
 great disappointments, yet his temper 
 was not ruffled. His heart, which 
 B 5 severe 
 
 41
 
 10 THE CURSE 
 
 severe anguish might have soured, 
 only melted with a more open expan- 
 sion to the tale of woe — He had been 
 unfortunate himself j this had only 
 taught him to feel more exquisitely 
 keen the distresses of others — That 
 which would have made another a mi- 
 santhrope, only expanded the finer 
 feelings of his soul ; it taught him to 
 look up to the most perfect of all mo- 
 dels — he went about doing good. 
 
 In the course of a few days, the 
 skill of Father Laurentius had suc- 
 ceeded in allaying the violence of the 
 fever. The Count was now able to sit 
 up ; his first inquiry was after Bertrand, 
 his servant; " had he arrived?'' He was 
 answered in the negative, ** alas ! I^en 
 " he has perished ! " exclaimed the 
 Count. 
 
 There was a matchless grace and 
 symmetry that adorned the fine 
 though faded form of the Count, 
 
 which 
 
 #
 
 OF ULRICA. 11 
 
 which irresistibly attracted the sym- 
 pathy of the too sensitive Christina j 
 and yet, while she eagerly gazed on 
 him, it was not love which fascinated 
 her : and when the splendour of his 
 full dark eye would beam on hers, it 
 was not love which taught her timi- 
 dity to withdraw them, cast them on 
 the ground, and thus conceal the 
 tears which dimmed them. It was a 
 more exquisitely refined sensation she 
 experienced ; admiration, respect, and 
 even fear, constituted this mixed feel- 
 ing. She saw before her a form which 
 embodied all the various images her 
 mind had been in the habit of pour- 
 traying; she now saw realized the 
 idea of all her romantic visions ; at 
 least, so fancied the visionary maid, 
 and while she shaped new wonders, 
 she would marvel and gaze, with an 
 untired eye, for hours, spell-bound on 
 her seat, with a look as fixed and mo- 
 B 6 tionless 
 
 m
 
 12 THE CURSE 
 
 tionless as the Venus of Pygmalion, 
 ere the Gods had listened to his pray- 
 ers, and before the statue had started 
 into'life and motion. 
 
 Father Laurentius was particularly 
 anxious to keep the Count from any 
 mental exertion : he perceived that 
 conversation fatigued him, and excit- 
 ed the irritability of his mind, and his 
 present weakness was induced, and 
 protracted, by a thick melancholy, 
 which clouded and undermined his 
 mental powers. Adolphus mentioned 
 to the benevolent Monk his inability to 
 give any adequate remuneration for 
 his professional attendance ; but Lau- 
 rentius in the most decisive manner 
 refused to accept of any tokens of the 
 ^Count's gratitude, and Adolphus saw 
 that he could not press him farther on 
 the subject without giving him offence. 
 
 It was on account of this tender 
 care of Adolphus's mental health, that 
 
 Laurentius 
 
 ^
 
 OF ULRICA. 15 
 
 Laurentius would not as yet allow him 
 to relate those events which had brought 
 him to tliat perilous situation, in which 
 he would have perished but for the as- 
 sistance of the cottagers. It was in 
 vain that Christina threw her inquir- 
 ing eyes on Adolphus, anxious to hear 
 his tale of woes ; Laurentius had pe- 
 remptorily forbidden any question to 
 be put to him on that subject j ** but," 
 he added, " that as soon as he- saw 
 " the Count sufficiently recovered, he 
 " would himself demand from him the 
 " long expected recital." 
 
 The effects of this treatment soon 
 became visible. Adolphus rapidly al- 
 tered for the better ; his mind now re- 
 covered its tone, he was able to con- 
 verse with the good family of the cot- 
 tage, and their cheerfulness helped to 
 dispel the bad spirits which retarded 
 his convalescence. A good constitu- 
 tion,
 
 14 THE CURSE 
 
 tion, and the attention o£ these good 
 peasants, had completed the Count's 
 cure in a few weeks. He still felt 
 himself too weak to travel, and deter- 
 inined not to pursue his journey until 
 his health was completely re-establish- 
 ed. On the Monk's arrival that morn- 
 ing he pronounced him completely re- 
 covered. 
 
 It was arranged that Laurentius 
 should return in the evening to the 
 cottage, in order to hear the Count's 
 long wished for narrative ; for Axel had 
 never demanded of the Count any ex- 
 planation of the calamity which had 
 occurred to him, and the anxious cu- 
 riosity of Ulrica and Christina had gi- 
 ven way to the stronger interest they 
 had taken in his recovery. 
 
 The Count was now sufficiently 
 strong to be moved in a chair to the 
 outside of the cottage. It was on a 
 
 fine 
 
 m
 
 OF ULRICAt 15 
 
 fine autumnal evening, they ventured 
 to allow their invalid to inhale the 
 mellowed air. 
 
 The cottage was situated on the 
 shore of the lake, which, indented 
 with little promontories, and studded 
 with woody islands, reflected their 
 tints on its surface. As far as the eye 
 could reach, forests of fir and pine 
 filled up the outline of the landscape 5 
 a few green patches, surrounding the 
 cottage, shewed marks of cultivation. 
 Above it rose a rocky cliff, where im- 
 mense pines, of the greatest diversity 
 of shapes, had rooted themselves ; 
 some rose straight to Heaven, while 
 others, forsaking their scanty hold, 
 hung with their roots uppermost over 
 caves and rocks ; while torrents of 
 water rushed through them, and, curl- 
 ing in white lines through the dark 
 foliage of the fir, lost themselves in 
 distance, where they mingled with the 
 
 waters
 
 l6 THE CURSE 
 
 waters of the lake. The cottage was 
 formed of the rough trunks of trees, 
 laid horizontally, and dove-tailed into 
 each other ; where the corners met the 
 crevices were carefully filled up with 
 moss. The roof was covered with tliin 
 green sod, on which grew abundance 
 of wild roses, strawberries, and sweet 
 forget-me-not. 
 
 The soul of Adolphus was moved at 
 this scene ; it formed so striking a con- 
 trast to the troubles he had endured. 
 Then the sensations arising from re- 
 turning health are so exquisitely sweet, 
 the balmy air, the perfume of flowers, 
 the blue void of Heaven, strikes us 
 with a more awful harmony when the 
 chords of the soul are in unison to re- 
 ceive their impressions. A thousand 
 .nameless pleasures of existence, which 
 in liealth we possess but do not enjoy, 
 awake in the invalid all the organs of 
 returning life and vigour. The last 
 
 rays
 
 OF ULRICA. 17 
 
 rays of the departing sun were faintly 
 glimmering on the lake ; the air was 
 still ; there was no sound save the rip- 
 ples of the lake, which gently broke 
 on the shore, or the buzzing of the 
 gnats and other insects, which danced 
 on its surface. 
 
 The old peasant came now forth 
 from the cottage, and congratulated 
 Adolphus on his recovery. 
 
 Adolp. — ^My good friend, how shall I 
 repay you for your kindness ? but for 
 you I should be numbered with the dead! 
 
 Axel. — My own feelings, Count, 
 repay me already, for having perform- 
 ed my duty. 
 
 AuoLP. — -You possess a good heart, 
 my friend, such sentiments are not 
 common now-a-days (with a sigh J » 
 
 Axel. — I trust, Count', they will be 
 always found to exist in Sweden. 
 
 Adolf. — I hope, my friend, you 
 will not be offended, — but that cross 
 
 you 
 
 u^^ifc'
 
 IS THE CURSE 
 
 you wear suspended from your bosom 
 excites my curiosity. 
 
 Axel. — This cross (looking at it 
 *with emoilony) was the gift of the great 
 Gustavus to my father ; he did the 
 king a signal service ; be headed a band 
 of those brave mountaineers in Dale- 
 carlia, who assisted the king against 
 the Danes, and finally placed him on 
 the throne of Sweden. When the 
 king had vanquished all his enemies, 
 and wore his crown in security, he of- 
 fered him, as a recompence, money 
 and lands. — My father refused them ; 
 the king then hung this cross around 
 his neck, and he left it to his cliildren 
 —that they might emulate his good 
 deeds. 
 
 Adolp. — An action worthy of a 
 noble soul !— -My friend, I feel that I 
 shall be soon able to pursue my jour- 
 ney, thanks to your care. Having lost 
 
 VCVJ
 
 OF ULRICA. 19 
 
 my baggage and with it alljny resour- 
 ces, I fear I shall not be able to re- 
 ward you as I could wdsh— as you de- 
 serve — but take this ring, (laVing a 
 hrilliant off his finger and presenting it 
 to Aucel) ; take it to the neighbouring 
 town and dispose of it, you w^ill find 
 it, perhaps, of sufficient value to re- 
 pay you for some of the expenses you 
 have been obliged to undergo on my 
 account. 
 
 Axel. — (With indignant warmth). 
 Count ! you forget that I also am a 
 Dalecarlian ? 
 
 Adolp. — Worthy old man! I meant 
 not to offend you I 
 
 Laurentius now arrived and congra- 
 tulated Adolphus on tlie improvement 
 in his looks. The old Ulrica came 
 forth from the cottage, bearing in her 
 hands a bowl of milk with some wild 
 strawberries, which she declared were 
 quite fresl% from the woods ; to thii 
 
 she
 
 20 THE CURSE 
 
 she added some dried fish and flat 
 cakes of rye bread, coarse but sweet j 
 these she arranged on a table, white 
 as snow, before the cottage door. After 
 they had all partaken of the rural sup- 
 per Adolphus commenced the follow- 
 ing relation, and contitiued it, at in- 
 tervals, each evening, as his strength 
 permitted* 
 
 CHAP.
 
 OF ULRICA. 
 
 n 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 THE NARRATIVE OF ADOLPHUS. 
 
 Fato pro/ugus. Virgil. 
 
 Driven by fate ... 
 
 I am descended from one of the most 
 ancient and illustrious families of the 
 kingdom of France. My father, Jean- 
 Louis de Beaumarchais, was one of 
 the most accomplished noblemen who 
 graced the court of Francis I. The 
 prodigies of valour which he displayed 
 at the unfortunate battle of Pavia, 
 gained him the admiration of the 
 French nobility and the favour of his 
 sovereign. When Francis was releas- 
 ed
 
 i^ THE CURSE 
 
 ed from his imprisonment, in conse- 
 quence of the Treaty of Madrid, he 
 honourably performed those promises 
 which he had made on the field of 
 battle ; and my father, after having 
 spent the flower of his youth in his 
 service, retired at length from court, 
 laden with honours, and distinguished 
 by the approbation and gratitude of 
 his sovereign. He withdrew from the 
 cares and troubles of a public life to 
 tlie chateau of St. Blois, the seat of 
 his ancestors, which was situated amid 
 the green and fertile vallies of Lorraine. 
 His noble heart did not meet with a 
 recompense for its toils in the heaven 
 of domestic felicity. His return from 
 the perils of the war was not greeted 
 with smiles, nor blessed with the kiss 
 of love. 
 
 The Countess Marcellina was a 
 daughter of the ancient family of the 
 Counts D'Auvergne j her disposition . 
 
 was
 
 OF ULRICA, 23 
 
 was gloomy and bigotted, and she 
 was fervently attached to tlie religion 
 of the church of Rome, which was 
 then first assailed by the popular doc- 
 trines which Luther and the Calvinists 
 were spreading throughout Germany. 
 This new religion had found converts 
 even in the heart of France. My fa- 
 ther had mixed with the Calvinists in 
 the Low Countries and in Germany ^ 
 and after submitting their new doc- 
 trine to the tests of his reason and un- 
 derstanding, which was naturally very 
 acute, he adopted the principles of 
 this sect, and openly professed Iiimself 
 a Calvinist. 
 
 The old Count D'Auvergne was so 
 exasperated at hearing of this open 
 profession of a faith he abhorred, that, 
 on my father's absence at court, dur- 
 ing tlie coronation of Henry II, (who 
 about this time succeeded his father 
 Francis I,) he prevailed on the Coun- 
 tess
 
 24 THE CURSE 
 
 tess to separate from her husband, and 
 to seek the protection of her paternal 
 mansion. This advice of my grand- 
 father was warmly supported by the 
 arguments of an Italian Monk named 
 Rezzonico, who was Father Confessor 
 to the Countess, and constantly re- 
 sided in the castle. 
 
 I was too young, at that time, to 
 feel a mother's loss ; but I have a lively 
 recollection of the constant differences 
 of my parents, on my account ; and I 
 confess that my tears were soon dried, 
 when I found myself freed from the 
 sour looks, and rigid discipline, of the 
 Monk Rezzonico. My father was 
 more shocked than surprised on his 
 return. He caressed me with great 
 fondness, and told me with tears in 
 his eyes, that I was the only comfort 
 he had remaining ; for my sister, who 
 was then an infant, had been carried 
 off by my mother, and neither my fa- 
 ther's
 
 OF ULRICA, 25 
 
 ther's intreaties, nor his threats of ap- 
 peaHiig to the civil power, ^ould in- 
 duce my mother to give up the in- 
 fant. 
 
 My father at length desisted from 
 the attempt, for it would have been 
 fruitless for him to have appealed to 
 tlie tribunals of his country ; there was 
 then no law for a Calvinist in France, 
 and disgrace, fine, imprisonment, and 
 even death, might have been the result 
 of an attempt to force his rights from 
 the powerful family of D'Auvergne. 
 He resided now principally at St. 
 Blois. In this retreat he gathered 
 round him a circle of his friends, 
 among whom wxre some of the most 
 enlightened philosophers and cele- 
 brated scholars of the age. It was in 
 such society, that the early powders of 
 my mind developed themselves. My 
 father watched the dawning light, 
 which breaks upon the ignorance of 
 
 VOL. I. c cliilclliood,
 
 ^G THE CURSE 
 
 childhood, and he spared no cares, no 
 anxieties, to give a proper direction 
 to that restless spirit of curiosity, 
 which is so remarkably in early 
 youth. 
 
 I was confirmed in the principles of 
 the reformed religion, from the ex- 
 ample of the society in which I lived; 
 and was, perhaps, not a little swayed 
 by pride, in endeavouring to emulate 
 the conduct of my father, wlio was 
 reckoned one of the heroes of that 
 desperate cause. The tenderness of 
 this parent supplied me with masters 
 in every capacity ; at an early age, I 
 was instructed in some of the ancient, 
 and in most modern languages, and 
 excelled in all the accomplishments of 
 a youth of rank. But these peaceful 
 occupations I was about to leave too 
 soon, and perhaps for ever. 
 
 The calm which lulled us in se- 
 curity during these happy days, was 
 
 but
 
 OF ULRICA. 27 
 
 but the brooding stillness of a storm, 
 which was soon about to blacken the 
 land with horrors, and drench the 
 fields of France with native blood. 
 Various rumours had reached us of 
 the persecution which several Calvi- 
 nists had suffered. But on the death 
 of Henry, the feeble Francis resigned 
 himself to the government of the 
 Qu^en mother and her ministers; who 
 were warmly attached to the interests 
 of the church of Rome. The stan- 
 dard of intolerance was erected in the 
 land ; and my mind yet bleeds at the 
 recollection of those horrible torments, 
 which I have heard described by the 
 unfortunate protestants, who passed 
 through the ordeal of a, court then 
 erected, which on account of its seve- 
 rity, was justly denominated the court 
 of the burning chambers. 
 
 My father, whose disposition was na- 
 turally very lively, now became gloomy 
 
 c 2 and
 
 28 THE CURSE 
 
 and abstracted ; lie had frequent se* 
 cret conferences with his friends, to 
 which I was not admitted. He deemed 
 me too young perhaps, to be trusted 
 with secrets of impQitance : but my 
 soul burned with the desire of signa- 
 lising myself in some way, which might 
 prove to liim that I was no longer a 
 child. I was exercising a favourite 
 war-liorse (which he had presented to 
 me) on a fine evening in autumn ; 
 after training liim for some hours, and 
 accustoming him to the report and 
 fire of my carbine, the sky suddenly 
 became overcast, dark clouds swept 
 across the horizon, and I returned to- 
 wards the castle drenched with the 
 rain, which now fell in heavy showers. 
 I wished to prove myself worthy of 
 bearing a soldier's liardships, and I 
 proceeded slowly through the wood, 
 until the storm had spent its fury. On 
 arriving near the portal, I turned 
 
 round
 
 OF ULRICA. 29 
 
 round towards the declining sun, and 
 my attention was suddenly attracted** 
 by the remarkable colour of its disk, 
 which was of a deep and sanguine red; 
 I marvelled at this, for it yet rode 
 high in the heavens, and wanted some 
 hours of setting. 
 
 While my heart shrunk at this 
 omen of bloodshed, mv horse started 
 at a figure which stood under the 
 branches of a large plane tree. It was 
 a man, with his cloak folded round 
 hfln ; the big rain-drops wliich had 
 gathered on the leaves, fell thickly 
 around him, yet he stirred not and 
 appeared anxious to avoid my gaze. 
 I rode briskly up to him, and de- 
 manded w^ho he was; he muttered 
 something between his teeth, which I 
 could not hear. *' Come forth," said 
 I, ** from your hiding-place, none but 
 *' assassins or spies seek concealment, 
 " and avoid the light ; come forth, 
 
 c 3 V " or
 
 30 THE CURSE 
 
 ** or the arm of Adolpluis shall clias- 
 " tise thee!" 
 
 ** Ha! brave Adolphus," he ex- 
 claimed moving towards me, " I do 
 " not conceal myself from you ; look at 
 " me ; do you not know me ?" he 
 lifted up the leaf of his hat, which was 
 drawn over his eyes, and I recognised 
 a face which was familiar to me. I 
 had seen him many years before, among 
 my father's friends, but I could not recal 
 his name to my mind. " You hesi- 
 " tate," said he, " I am GaspardMont- 
 ** bazon and your father's friend — 
 ** hasten, brave youth, and whisper to 
 <* him, that I shall go round to the 
 " garden wicket, where I shall wait 
 ** until he admits me himself — be se- 
 " cret and cautious, for if my name 
 ** should escape your lips, you will 
 ** betray me unto death." 
 
 •* You shall find," replied I, drawing 
 
 myself
 
 01 ULRICA. 31 
 
 myself up with an air, ** that I am a 
 ** man." 
 
 I instantly rode off to the castle. 
 My father was surrounded by his 
 friends, but I managed to lead him to 
 his library, without letting, any suspici- 
 ous mystery of manner betray me to 
 the company, I closed the door care- 
 fully, and informed him of my errand. 
 He started up and embraced me, ** you 
 " are worthy," he exclaimed, " to be 
 " my son, return to the saloon and en- 
 ** tertain my guests, and observe you 
 " keep strictly the secret which Mont- 
 " bazon entrusted you with." 
 
 I was pleased at the increasing con- 
 fidence which my father now reposed 
 in me. He drew me aside in the 
 course of the evening, and informed 
 me, that affairs of the utmost impor- 
 tance would render it necessary for 
 him and his friends to leave St. Blois 
 for a few days : and that he trusted 
 
 ic 4 the 
 
 \:;^.
 
 32 THE CURSE 
 
 the affairs of the castle, during his ab- 
 Bence, entirely to me. I told him that 
 I already suspected what, this affair 
 was ; for I had observed the armourers 
 had lately been occupied in furbishing 
 lip the old cuirasses and helmets, 
 which were arranged in the gallery of 
 the castle. My father mused for some 
 time, and then told me I had guessed 
 right. I endeavoured to persuade him 
 to allow me to take the field with him; 
 but he replied, that 1 was yet too 
 young, to undergo the hardships they 
 -would be exposed to : yet he flattered 
 me, by giving me the task of putting 
 the castle in a state of defence, in case 
 it should be attacked. After explain- 
 ing to me, that it was the cause of his 
 religion he was about to defend, and 
 to save their lives and fortunes from 
 becoming the sport of the profligate 
 ministers of the court, he tenderly 
 embraced me, and enjoined me to be 
 
 fliithful
 
 OF ULRICA. 33 
 
 faithful to my King, my Country, and 
 my God. My tears flowed, when the 
 same evening, by the light of the 
 moon, I beheld, wheeling through the 
 portal, the train of my father's vassals, 
 mounted and armed ; headed by him- 
 self and Montbazon, clad in dazzling 
 armour. 
 
 The old vassals came within the 
 walls of the castle ; we exerted our- 
 selves to line the embrasures with can- 
 non, and in a few hours we were in 9- 
 J?ery respectable state of defence. Af- 
 ter dividing them into watches, I pa- 
 ced the ramparts. I beheld beacons on 
 the distant hills, flashing through the 
 dark air. I demanded of Bertrand, 
 my favourite servant, the meaning of 
 these fires. " They are, my lord," 
 replied Bertrand, *' signals of war and 
 " blood ; and the whole country is 
 ** risen in arms.'* 
 
 Exhausted with the fatigues I had 
 c 5 under-
 
 34 THE CURSE 
 
 undergone on that evening, I gave 
 strict injunctions to the midnight 
 watch, to call me from my couch, in 
 case of any alarm approaching the 
 castle. I laid down in my corslet. 
 The most frightful dreams disturbed 
 my sleep ; methought I waded through 
 rivers of blood and fields of fire 1 the 
 slaughtered bodies of our friends lay 
 scattered around me ; the steam of hu- 
 man sacrifice ascended to heaven and 
 bedimmned the sun! Hearing above 
 my head the clapping of many wings, I 
 looked up, and beheld myriads of the 
 bird that scents the dead, hovering 
 over the field of battle, and devouring 
 their victims. A black raven of mons- 
 trous size pounced down upon me, 
 stuck his talons into my flesh, and with 
 loud cries tore me to pieces. The 
 agony of acute pain broke my slum- 
 ber ; but still methought I dreamed, 
 when I beheld the glittering of steel 
 
 above
 
 OF ULRICA. 3i 
 
 above my head. I started on my feet, 
 andbelield the figure of a monk stand- 
 ing at the foot of my bed, with his 
 cowl drawn over his face ; " Who is 
 " it dares,'* I exclaimed, drawing my 
 sword, ** thus to intrude upon me, and 
 ** break my repose ?" 
 
 ** Be calm, my son," replied the 
 monk, " I am Rezzonico- — I come to 
 ** save you." 
 
 I now recollected him, and I eagerly 
 watched his hand, which was busied in 
 concealing something beneath his gar- 
 ment. I was convinced it was the 
 dagger, which a moment before had 
 threatened my life. " To save me, 
 ** reverend father?" I replied ironically. 
 
 ** Yes, my son," he replied, *♦ to 
 ** save your life, and your immortal 
 " soul from perdition." 
 
 " They are both, good father, in 
 ** God's holy keeping." 
 
 " There is no heaven," he continu- 
 c 6 ed.
 
 3(5 THE CUKSE 
 
 ed, " for heretics ; but if you do truly 
 •* repent of your errors, and forsake 
 ** this damnable heresy, I will give 
 ** you absolution — and having made 
 ** your peace with God, you may 
 •' make it with the world ; for on these 
 ** conditions, I may lead you to your 
 <* mother's feet.'* 
 
 I replied to this speech with the 
 contempt it deserved : and bidding 
 him quit my presence, added, that I 
 should issue orders to have him safe 
 conducted beyond the castle walls. 
 
 " Apostate !" he exclaimed ; " and 
 ** darest thou taunt me thus proudly? 
 •* but behold! vengeance is near at 
 " hand, and the hand of God will ac- 
 ** complish its work." 
 
 On this he approached the case- 
 ment. I followed him closely, with 
 my drawn &vvord pointed towards him. 
 He drew back the tapestry which hung 
 before the sash, and advanced towards, 
 
 the
 
 OF ULRICA. - 37 
 
 the balcony, which ran along the pro- 
 jecting casement. The faint beams of 
 the morning were already dawning ;, 
 but a pale and flickering flame was vi- 
 sible in the horizon, and was easily 
 distinguishable from the glowing lines, 
 which began to streak the eastern sky. 
 " Behold !" said Rezzonico, point- 
 ng with his finger towards the light, 
 ' the wrath of heaven has fallen on 
 
 * the dwelling of the guilty Saint Al- 
 
 * bin, who is, forsooth, one of the free- 
 
 * thinking Calvinists. Tremble for 
 the fate of De Beaumarchais ! for 
 on the castle of St. Blois the aveng- 
 ing fire falls next." 
 
 I gave a sigh to the fate of St. Al- 
 bin, and turned immediately to address 
 Rezzonico : but the monk was gone ! 
 Amazed at liis sudden escape, I search- 
 ed my apartment, then passed into the 
 anti-room, where my servant Bertrand 
 
 lay
 
 38 THE CURSE 
 
 lay fast asleep ; but I found the out- 
 side door double bolted as I left it. 
 I awakened Bertrand, and we spent a 
 considerable time in examining the 
 suite of chambers adjoining the room 
 in which I slept, without discovering 
 any passage through which the monk 
 could have made his escape ; and on 
 hailing the sentries on the battlements, 
 they replied, that they had not observ- 
 ed anything, resembling the figure we 
 described, pass by the limits of the 
 watch. My mind quickly shook off 
 the impression which this adventure 
 had made on it, when the news was 
 brought me, that a column of the ene- 
 my, headed by one of the most cele- 
 brated generals of the Catholic party, 
 was advancing to form the siege of 
 St. Blois. My soul mounted with ar- 
 dour at this intelligence ; I endeavour- 
 ed to animate the hearts of our vassals, 
 with the same heroism which burned 
 
 in
 
 OF ULRICA. 39 
 
 in mine. I pictured to them the fate 
 which awaited them, if the enemy 
 should conquer us. I pointed to the 
 flaming ruins of the castle of St. Al- 
 bin. They intermpted me with shouts, 
 which shewed their resolution taken 
 to conquer, or die in the breach. To 
 the insulting proposals of the enemy, 
 we answered with the thunder of our 
 artillery. 
 
 For many days the contest was con- 
 tinued with doubtful success ; but the 
 besiegers at last succeeded in opening 
 a breach, and filling it with assailants. 
 I was prepared to yield my life in de- 
 fending it, when suddenly the enemy 
 began to fall back, although they out- 
 numbered us by a prodigious differ- 
 ence. The standards of my father 
 and Montbazon appearing in their 
 rear, explained the cause of their re- 
 treat. Animated with the presence of 
 our friends, we quickly threw the ene- 
 my
 
 40 THE CURSE 
 
 my from our walls, and closed up the 
 breach. From the towers of the castle, 
 we looked down with anxiety on the 
 field of battle. The Count and Mont- 
 bazon performed prodigies of valour; 
 but my father received a wound, which 
 obliged him to quit the field. Despe- 
 rate at seeing the Count fall, where- 
 ever Montbazon moved, death ap- 
 peared to follow, and blood flowed 
 from his track. I instantly descended 
 from the castle, and made a sortie at 
 the head of a chosen troop ; the battle 
 .was now no longer doubtful, for just as 
 I rode up, the desperate Montbazon 
 thrust his poniard tlirough the vizor 
 of the enemy's general, with whom he 
 had engaged in close combat ; and 
 the moment he fell from his horse, 
 they fled panic-struck from the field. 
 
 My fiither's wound was but slight, 
 and a few days compleated his reco- 
 very. He overwhelmed me with ca- 
 resses
 
 OF ULRICA. 41 
 
 resses on hearing of my conduct, and 
 recommended, me, in case of any fa- 
 tality happening to himself, to the pro- 
 tection of the brave Montbazon ; who 
 elated with success, breathed nothing 
 but fire and slaughter against his op- ' 
 ponents. My father, on his recovery, 
 consented that I should accompany 
 him to the field ; and I had now the 
 opportunity of being a witness of al- 
 most all the principal battles of this 
 dreadful civil war. I shall pass over 
 this part of my life in silence. 
 
 For ten years I fought under the 
 various generals of the Hugonots, and 
 witnessed the grandest exploits of w^ar. 
 And yet what is the simple impression, 
 which the boasted deeds of an hero 
 have left on my mind? From the 
 pomp and glorious apparel of the san- 
 guinary monster I turn with disgust. 
 They are but the tinsel charms which 
 gloss the foul and loathsome carcase of 
 
 the
 
 42 THE CURSE 
 
 the many headed vampire, who battens 
 on the spoils of the dead. What is his 
 daily pastime, and the glorious cir- 
 cumstances of his occupation? The 
 shrieks of thousands who writhe under 
 the blade, the groans of the dying, 
 and the last convulsive pang of ex- 
 piring nature ; vor what is more hor- 
 rible still, the wailing cry of the new 
 made widow, who lives and suffers a 
 thousand deaths, sitting on an heap of 
 grizly dead -, and the imitative sobs of 
 her unconscious babe, who crawls on 
 the dead body of its sire, and weeps, 
 and yet has still to feel his loss ! I have 
 witnessed such things ; and in the pur- 
 suit of this vain bubble, I have en- 
 dured labours, which perhaps have 
 abridged the period of my existence. 
 I have suffered from the most ex- 
 cruciating diseases ; I have felt the 
 horrors of famine, and the keen ago- 
 nies of severe bodily pain. And yet 
 
 what
 
 OF tTLRICA. 43 
 
 what boots it to me now? The very 
 recollection of these scenes is painful 
 and mournful to the soul! 
 
 Both parties were exhausted by so 
 long a contest, and peace seemed at 
 length to smile on my bleeding coun- 
 try. For two years, the dissimulation 
 of a perfidious court, and the smiles of 
 a deceitful king, lulled the chiefs of 
 the Hugonots in a fatal security. Dis- 
 persed and unarmed, they placed their 
 safety alone in the honourable per- 
 formance of those conditions, which 
 had procured for them the terms of 
 an advantageous peace. But hu- 
 manity weeps at the crimes which were 
 meditated by this cruel king, and his 
 bigotted advisers. Oh ! surely the 
 hand of Providence will be lifted in 
 anger against the posterity of the regal 
 executioner, who presided at the mas- 
 sacre of St. Bartholomew! At this 
 memorable period, my father, who 
 
 from
 
 44 THE CURSE 
 
 from tlie receipt of various intelligence 
 had partly penetrated the designs of 
 the court, departed from St. Blois for 
 Paris, in order to warn the brave and 
 virtuous Coligni of their designs, and 
 to confer on the means of avoiding 
 the blow which was meditated against 
 them. 
 
 Early on the fatal morning of the 
 24th August, our gardener's son ap- 
 proached the saloon, bearing in liis 
 hand a basket of peaches for my break- 
 fast. After I had eaten some, I per- 
 ceived a slip of paper rolled round one of 
 them at the bottom of the basket. On 
 it were written these words in pencil. 
 — ** That God of justice, w^ho did not 
 think it meet to let your sister live 
 to be my consolation, will perhaps 
 stir up in your heart the spirit of the 
 true faith ; and by extinguishing 
 the seeds of heresy, which defile it, 
 save^ your body and soul from per- 
 
 *' dition.
 
 OF ULRICA. 45 
 
 ** dition. J£ thou wouldst preserve 
 ** both from Iiis unerring vengeance, 
 *' present thyself this evening, ere the 
 " bell rings for vespers, at the gate of 
 ** the Franciscan monastery ; where 
 " thou wilt be received by one, who 
 " will conduct thee to Marcellina.'* 
 
 The receipt of this note put my 
 mind into very great agitation. The 
 unhappy differences which had existed 
 for years between the Count and 
 Countess, had cut * me off from all 
 communication with her, and the re- 
 collection that I possessed a parent to 
 whom I was bound by such tender 
 ties, had scarcely ever presented itself 
 to my recollection, amid the busy and 
 eventful scenes in which I had passed 
 my youth. It now struck my mind 
 with double force. I had not the most 
 remote intention of making the sacri- 
 fice which she required of me ; but 
 fortified, as I felt myself, in the pro- 
 
 tcstant
 
 46 THE CURSE 
 
 testant faith, both by conviction and 
 argument, an irresistible desire pos- 
 sessed me of visiting the Countess at 
 the appointed time, in order to try the 
 effects of my reasoning on her mind. 
 The result of my success I contem- 
 plated with infinite delight ; for I felt 
 assured it would prove the means of 
 effecting a reconciliation between my 
 father and mother. 
 
 I ordered the gardener's son to be 
 brought before me, in order to ques- 
 tion him with respect to the means by 
 which he had become possessed of the 
 billet ; the youth, however, had fled, 
 and our search after him was vain. I 
 paced the saloon for many hours, ar- 
 ranging my arguments and classing in 
 my recollection the most formidable 
 weapons of controversial theology. 
 After a slight repast, I mounted my 
 steed and departed alone for the mo- 
 nastery of the Franciscans, which lay 
 
 at
 
 OF ULRICA. 47 
 
 at a considerable distance from St. 
 Blois. 
 
 The day was hot and sultry, not a 
 cloud interrupted the blue expanse of 
 heaven, and the scorching beams of a 
 powerful sun fell with direct influence 
 upon me. I gave way to the indo- 
 lence of my steed, and viewed at my 
 leisure the smiling landscape which 
 surrounded me. It was near the sea- 
 son of the vintage, and the vines bent 
 beneath their luscious burthen ; the 
 perfume of a thousand flowers of va- 
 rious hues, filled the air with sweets. 
 The road was bordered by a profusion 
 of orange and lemon trees, and the 
 wild peach blushed from beneath its 
 leafy bower^ whose leaves were not 
 stirred by the slightest zephyr. The 
 atmosphere lay still and heavy on the 
 earth, as though it were surfeited with 
 sweets. An indescribable feeling came 
 over me j an almost painful pleasure 
 
 shot
 
 48 THE CURSE 
 
 shot through my languid frame. My 
 heart was stirred by the most gladden- 
 ing emotions, and I revelled in the 
 dehghtful sensations which the charms 
 of my native country, of then happy 
 France, inspired me with. Alas ! 
 what a scene of bloodshed was about 
 to mar the beauties of this blessed 
 picture, which my imagination con- 
 templated with such delight. 
 
 After indulging in my reverie for 
 several hours, I was aroused from my 
 musing by the distant tolling of the 
 great bell of the Franciscan monas- 
 tery, which was situated on a small 
 eminence, and overlooked the wooded 
 vale and forest of Chatigny. I spur- 
 red on my steed, for the night began 
 to close in darkness around me, and 
 above the brown mass of woods the 
 gilded spires of the convent glowed 
 like a bale of fire. On approaching 
 the convent I beheld an armed band 
 
 issue
 
 OF ULRICA. 49 
 
 issue from its portal ; several monks 
 headed the procession, and I easily 
 distinguished the imposing figure of 
 Rezzonico, who appeared to be haran- 
 guing them in an impressive mariner, 
 and frequently appealed to a crucifix, 
 which he elevated above the heads of 
 the armed multitude. The moment I 
 appeared there arose a universal shout. 
 " It is he /" they exclaimed, " It is 
 ^* he /" I heard no more ; for that 
 moment several of them levelled their 
 pieces at me, and fired. The balls 
 whizzed close by me, but fortunately 
 without taking effect. I instantly fired 
 my pistols at the ruffians, faced about 
 my horse, and gallopped at full speed 
 towards the woods. The assassins pur- 
 sued me, and fired several shots after 
 me, but I luckily escaped any injury, 
 and the fleetness of my horse soon 
 carried me into the depth of the fo- 
 rest. This wood extended for several 
 VOL. I. D leagues
 
 50 THECURSE 
 
 leagues to the right, across a wild and 
 delvy country. I resolved to pursue 
 this course, and rode hard for several 
 hours, although, at times, the intri- 
 cacy of tlie paths,- and the opposing 
 branches, lessened my speed. My 
 horse was spent wuth fatigue, and I 
 was considering how I should pass the 
 night, when a man on horseback passed 
 me at full gallop, and rode into the 
 depth of the forest. Seeing that he 
 was alone, I resolved to follow him, 
 as my situation was so desperate, that 
 it induced me to run all risks. I shout- 
 ed after liim, but on this he doubled 
 his speed. After keeping him in sight 
 for some time, I lost him suddenly, 
 while he turned down a track in the 
 wood, and the sound of his horse's 
 lioofs ceasing instantly, it seemed as 
 tjiougli he had sunk into the earth. 
 
 At some distance from this place I 
 approached the borders of tlie forest. 
 
 I asceuded
 
 OF ULRICA. .51 
 
 I ivsceiuled the side of a hill, whose 
 craggy points were feathered with 
 evergreens and sweet flowering shrubs. 
 I alighted from my steed, and leading 
 him by the bridle, proceeded up this 
 ascent. The foliage of the plants was 
 bathed in dew, and glistened in the 
 beams of the moon, which shone 
 through fleecy clouds with a mild and 
 richly yellow light. Halfway up the 
 side of this picturesque ascent I per- 
 ceived a wreath of smoke, which seem- 
 ed to rise from an aperture in the 
 earth, curling among the trees. On 
 examining tlie spot, I saw it proceeded 
 from a rude chimney, which conducted 
 the smoke from under ground, and be- 
 low it, on the slope of the rock, there 
 was a rustic door, wliich led to this 
 subterraneous grotto. Green trailing 
 plants climbed up the shining surface 
 of the rock, and the jessamine was 
 taught to hang its wreaths over the 
 
 D 2 door- 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 52 THE CURSE 
 
 door-way and across a little window, 
 whose latticed casement was complete- 
 ly concealed by clusters of jonquils 
 and roses of province. I gazed with 
 admiration on this place. It looked 
 like a little temple, raliicd by sptus at 
 this witching hour of the night, and 
 dedicated to the genius who presided 
 over this wilderness of sweets. The 
 hand of cultivated taste was so appa- 
 rent on the outside of this enchanting 
 spot, that it raised within me the most 
 favourable ideas of the humanity of its 
 inhabitants. 
 
 Emboldened by this reflection, I 
 knocked against the door. In a few 
 moments, a female voice, of the most 
 enchanting sweet and silver tone, de- 
 manded if it was Gaspard ? and 'ere I 
 had time to answer, the door was 
 opened by a young female, whose light 
 and airy figure resembled the fabled 
 symmetry of a wood nymph's form. I 
 
 followed
 
 OFULRICA. 55 
 
 followed her across two small rooms, 
 which were excavated in the solid rock. 
 She shrieked, when the light of a small 
 wood fire gave to her view the coun- 
 tenance of a stranger. I felt so assur- 
 ed, by the mingled expression of ma- 
 jesty, innocence, and benevolence, 
 which beamed on her countenance, 
 that I related to her at once the simple 
 truth, which compelled me to fly from 
 the power of my enemies, and request- 
 ed the protection of her roof until 
 morning dawned. She replied, that I 
 might remain until the return of Gas- 
 pard, whom she expected every mi- 
 nute. I sat down in a corner of the 
 hearth, and gazed upon the maid. 
 Her dress was that of a simple cottager, 
 but so neat, so exquisitely well adjusted ! 
 Her eyes were of the deepest blue — 
 she was dazzlingly fair, and had a 
 complexion of roses. Her light glossy 
 auburn hair hung on her neck, and 
 
 D 3 halfway
 
 54 THECURSE 
 
 halfway down her waist, in loose thick 
 and irregular curls. 
 
 I could scarcely remove my eyes 
 from so fascinating an object. She 
 perceived that she attracted my atten- 
 tion, and her cheeks burned with a 
 deeper hue, and her bosom heaved and 
 fluttered with the alarm, w'hich I had 
 so lately occasioned her. We heard a 
 loud knock at the door, and she flew 
 to open it. Ah ! thought I, it is only 
 to a lover's embrace we fly so swift 
 afoot ! 
 
 I heard a man's voice exclaiming in 
 the outer apartment, the instant he 
 entered, *' I am pursued, I am be- 
 ** ti-ayed, Edda !" She closed the outer 
 door quickly, and endeavoured to stop 
 him 'ere he entered the room in which 
 I sat, but he rushed by her and stood 
 before me. 
 
 ** Ha !" he exclaimed, ** a stran- 
 ger !" 
 
 I stood
 
 OF ULRICA. 55 
 
 I stood up, and made the same re- 
 quest to this man, which I had to the 
 fair cottager, although not with the 
 same hopes ; for he looked sternly on 
 me, and his frowning eye gave no sign 
 of encouragement. He was equipped 
 in the labouring dress of a woodcut- 
 ter, which was rent in many places, a 
 hatchet was stuck in hi^ broad lea- 
 thern girdle, and his whole exterior 
 denoted a man, who had sunk to the 
 lowest extremity of desperate poverty. 
 
 " Surely," he exclaimed, ** in thee 
 ** I recognize a friend and fellow suf- 
 ** ferer! art thou not Adolphus de 
 ** Beaumarchais ?" 
 
 " The same," I cried. " And thou 
 ** art Monbtazon !". .He replied. 
 
 We embraced one another cordially. 
 He apologized for not having recog- 
 nized me at first ; but this was owing 
 to the cliauges which three years had 
 made in my %ure ; during whicli pe- 
 D 4* period
 
 S6 
 
 THE CURSE 
 
 riod I had not seen Montbazon. He 
 took of! his large rustic hat, and 
 removed a pair of false bushy eye- 
 brows, and i then instantly recognized 
 the brave Montbazon, whose despe- 
 rate exploits 1 had so often witnessed 
 ^vith admiration. He turned about to 
 the fair Edda, who had looked with 
 wonder on this scene, and presented 
 me : ** Your daughter ?" I interrogat- 
 ed. " As dear to me as such," he re- 
 plied, " an adopted one.*' 
 
 When I related to liim the particu- 
 lars of my escape, he uttered a thou- 
 sand imprecations against Rezzonico, 
 " I have been pursued in the forest 
 " by one of those assassins, who are 
 " now imbruing their hands in the 
 " blood of our friends ; but my horse 
 " was fleeter — he may still hover about 
 " my retreat, and I must be cau- 
 " tious.*' 
 
 O n his describing to me the part of 
 
 the
 
 OF ULRICA. 57 
 
 the forest through which he was pur- 
 sued, I reheved him from his fears, by 
 stating, that I was the person who 
 pursued him. When he felt convinced 
 of this, he appeared more at his ekse, 
 and informed me that he escaped by a 
 subterraneous passage, which opened 
 from the cave, at a considerable dis- 
 tance, into the forest. In this passage 
 he concealed his horse, and while Edda 
 prepared a frugal supper, he led my 
 horse, which was browzing outside 
 their dwelling, to the same place. He 
 tried to encourage us to eat, but his 
 countenance indicated the conflict of 
 agonising feelings. 
 
 After a pause of a few moments, 
 he suddenly started from his seat. 
 " Hark !" he exclaimed, ** do you not 
 ** hear ?" We scarcely drew our breath, 
 so^anxiously did we listen, but we 
 beard no sound. " It is, it is,'* he 
 D 5 ex»
 
 oS THE CURSE 
 
 exclaimed, " oh fatal niglit 1" He 
 cautiously unbarred the door, and we 
 stood on the threshold. " Hark ! 
 " there it is again ; do you not hear 
 ** that frightful bell ?'* We now dis- 
 tinctly heard at intervals, borne on the 
 wind, the sullen pealings of a mourn- 
 ful bell. ** That is the signal," said 
 Montbazon, strongly agitated, ** of 
 " death ! It is the requiem knell of 
 ** the Hugonots, which is at this hour 
 ** ringing fearfully from one side of 
 *' France to the other ! Thousands, 
 *' and tens of thousands of our bre- 
 " thren will never behold to-morrow's 
 ** sun ! This is the fatal event I fore- 
 " saw. I received intelligence on this 
 " subject by most marvellous means. 
 " I communicated my fears to your 
 " father; but, alas ! he placed too 
 ** much faith in the fair promise^of 
 " the court. He wished to advise, 
 
 " in
 
 OF ULRICA. 59 
 
 «« in Paris, with Coligny. Oh bhnd 
 <* and infatuate, to rush into the 
 •< snare !" 
 
 On beholding my emotion, he led 
 me within the grotto and sought to 
 console me. I had formed a resolu- 
 tion to depart at day-break for Paris, 
 in order to ascertain my father's fate ; 
 but he controled this resolution with 
 such convincing arguments, that I suf- 
 fered myself to be entirely guided by 
 his opinion. Edda had retired to her 
 little apartment, which was separated 
 by a passage from the body of the cell ; 
 and Montbazon now shewed me to a 
 little recess, which contained a bed: 
 but the anxiety of my mind banished 
 sleep from my eyes. 
 
 At an early hour he told mc to arise, 
 and bringing me a complete wood- 
 pan's dress, he informed me that my 
 only hope of escaping a dreadful fate^ 
 lay in my disguising myself, as he had 
 
 6 done^
 
 60 THE CURSE 
 
 done. I instantly equipped myself in 
 this dress, and joined them at break- 
 fast. 
 
 When our'repast was finished, Mont- 
 bazon prepared to go forth in quest of 
 intelligence, in spite of Edda's tears 
 and my intreaties. " I pass for a good 
 " catholic in these parts,'* said he, 
 " and in this disguise I fear no dis- 
 ** CO very.*' 
 
 I passed the day in conversing with 
 Edda, and assisting her to tend the 
 flowers which grew on the outside of 
 the grotto. Her conversation- was ir- - 
 resistibly fascinating. She possessed 
 a comprehensive mind, and the en- 
 thusiasm with which she spoke, threw 
 an indescribable charm over every sub- 
 ject on which she treated. I must 
 freely confess the powerful impression 
 which she made on my heart — ai^ 
 yet, the barbarous cruelties which 
 were now, perhaps, perpetrating around 
 
 me
 
 OF ULRICA. 61 
 
 me — the narrow escape which I so 
 lately had from a horrid death — my 
 anxiety for my father's fate, and that 
 of owf friends ; all seemed calculated 
 to form a shield, that would protect 
 me from the arrows of love. But there 
 is a waywardness in our nature, often- 
 times moved by contrariety and oppo- 
 sition. It was in vain that I strove to 
 quell this rising fancy, by arraying 
 against it those feelings of delicacy and 
 decorum, which seemed to be more 
 befitting my peculiar situation. This 
 endeavour to exclude from my mind 
 the impression which her image excit- 
 ed, I found, from the effort being al- 
 ways present to my imagination, only 
 imprinted it deeper and more inde- 
 libly : and then our feelings were so 
 exactly in unison. Her hopes were 
 drawn from the same sources as my 
 own — her grief was my grief — our joys 
 and our sorrows sprung from the same 
 
 cause
 
 >► 
 
 62 THE CURSE 
 
 cause — and my love was nourished and 
 fed in the very cradle of sympathy. 
 
 Montbazon returned late in the 
 evening. His looks were pale ami hag- 
 gard ; he spoke but little, and more 
 in anger against our enemies, and 
 muttering wild and incoherent sen- 
 tences to himself, than affording us 
 the intelligence which we desired, yet 
 dreaded to hear. Of my father he 
 had heard nothing. But he had heard 
 it reported that Coligny was assassin- 
 ated. He would not suffer me to think 
 of commencing my journey to Paris so 
 soon, and insisted on my still partak- 
 ing of the secure shelter of their cell. 
 
 I confess I now staid willingly, and 
 for several days we avoided any con- 
 versation which might lead to the re- 
 membrance of our misfortunes. Mont- 
 bazon related to me the manner in 
 which he discovered their present 
 place of refuge* 
 
 ** Returning
 
 OFULRICA. 63 
 
 "Returning one evening alone/' said 
 he, *' across the forest, I was overtaken 
 ** by a thunder-storm, and in seeking 
 ** for a place of shelter, found this 
 •' cell, which was then inhabited by an 
 " aged hermit, llie lioly man," con- 
 tinued Montbazon, ** died here ; he 
 " expired during my stay, and it is 
 " the superstitious belief of the coun- 
 ** try, that his spirit still haunts the 
 ** dwelHng which it loved, and is vi- 
 ** sible on certain evenings, when it 
 " may be seen poring over the holy 
 ** fathers at midnight. I am that spi- 
 ** rit," said he, *' Avhom some silly 
 ** clowns beheld reading in this cell, 
 ** and who fled in fear when I shouted 
 '* after them. The body of the her- 
 ** mit has never been found, and this 
 ** has tended to strengthen this opi- 
 ** nion in their minds. I have rather 
 ** encouraged than repressed this po- 
 ** pular belief J for it gives me undis- 
 
 " turbed
 
 64 THE CURSE 
 
 •* turbed possession of a retreat, which 
 " has proved my safety when I have 
 ** been obliged to fly from the power 
 •* of my enemies. In searching the 
 ** cell, I discovered a secret subter- 
 " raneous passage, which leads to a 
 " spot in the forest overgrown with 
 " weeds and brushwood ; it was there 
 " you saw me suddenly disappear. 
 " This passage, which I have con- 
 " verted into a stable, was, no doubt, 
 " the way by which our hermit was 
 " supplied with provisions from the 
 " monastery of St. Francis, whenever 
 " he wished to impose on the credu- 
 " lity of the peasantry, refusing the 
 ** provisions which they were accus- 
 " tomed to bring him, and affirming, 
 *« as I have heard related, that the 
 ** only food he tasted during his reli- 
 " gious fervors, was suppUed to him 
 " by the ra\ ens, whom the Almighty 
 " directed to feed him, as in old time, 
 
 " they
 
 or ULRICA. 65 
 
 ** they did Elijah ! I have excavated, 
 ** during my leisure hours, a great 
 ** part of the grotto, and here we 
 " might taste of happiness, could I 
 " forget the suiFerings of our bre- 
 <« thren." 
 
 Montbazon resisted all my impor- 
 tunities to be informed on the subject 
 of Edda*s parentage. I pciceived tliat 
 his attention was now often forcibly 
 directed towards us. He watched our 
 looks, and would at times stamp and 
 rave in anger, wilhout acquainting us 
 with the cause of this extraordinary 
 emotion. Edda played remarkably 
 well upon the harp. We often b* ought 
 it before the door of the cell, where 
 we generally sat in the evening. She 
 would throw her ivory arms across iti 
 and sing to its melody, verses whose 
 theme was love and constancy ; wlnlst 
 I hung with rapture over her. Mont- 
 bazon appeared to be displeased at 
 
 these
 
 66 THE CURSE 
 
 these scenes ; and lie would often ex- 
 claim that music was offensive to 
 him, and only called up horrible images 
 hi his mind. His looks were then 
 so sad and fraught with woe, tliat 
 Edda would cease to play, and I 
 would gaze upon him in doubt, think- 
 ing that he also loved her. But Mont- 
 bazon was old, and a life spent in 
 the toils and hardships of war, added 
 to his aged look, and then his manner 
 was so paternal when he addressed 
 Edda, that I would dismiss this belief 
 from my mind. 
 
 At length he became more reserv^ed 
 to me in his manner than at first. 
 He hid gloomy fits, during w^hich he 
 would sit for hours brooding over the 
 inward thoughts wliich troubled him. 
 He drew me aside one evening, and 
 told me, that on the next morning he 
 would accompany me to the high 
 road leading to Paris. " It was now 
 
 " time,*'
 
 OF ULRICA. 67 
 
 ^' time," he added, " to investigate 
 ** my father's ftite, and in the disguise 
 ** of a peasant, I might travel to the 
 '* gates of Paris in safety." — " And 
 ** Edda," replied I unconsciously. 
 " Edda," said he smihng, " will be 
 " very safe here during my absence." 
 On the next morning we arose at 
 the dawn of day. I took a tender 
 leave of Edda, who appeared affected, 
 even to tears, at my departure. Mont- 
 bazon, who was acquainted with all 
 the tracks of this wild wood, led me 
 across the hill which rose above the 
 cave. At the foot of it, a way lay 
 through the glen, which brought us, 
 after a walk of some hours, within 
 view of the road leading to the capi- 
 tal. Here he embraced me, and squeez- 
 ing my hand with affection, he gave 
 me a slip of paper containing some in- 
 telligence written in cypher, and the 
 direction of a friend who resided in 
 
 Paris,
 
 68 
 
 THE CURSE 
 
 Paris, in whom I might confide, and 
 who would give me all the assistance I 
 might require. 
 
 " Yet if all is lost ; if I have no 
 '* longer a parent living, may I hope 
 •* for protection, once more, at the 
 ** grotto in the valley of Chatigny ?** 
 
 " In the grotto, you will always 
 ** find a retreat," he replied 5 <* but it 
 ** is too probable that we shall never 
 ** meet again." 
 
 His manner in repeating these words 
 was troubled and mysterious, and I 
 perceived that he evidently avoided 
 any explanation. Our farewell was 
 gloomy. I quitted Montbazon with 
 my mind darkened with melancholy 
 forebodings. The whole energy of 
 my mind was now employed in con- 
 templating the dangers which lay be- 
 fore me, and in providing resources 
 for the casualties to which I might be 
 exposed on my route. I walked at a 
 
 main
 
 OF ULRICA. 69 
 
 main pace,—- the violence of the exer- 
 cise, and the observation of new ob- 
 jects imparted more serenity to my 
 mind. 
 
 I a\ oided the great towns, and took 
 my soHta-y meals beneath the shelter 
 of b'^iivhs, which stood remote from 
 public observauon. I obtained from 
 the humanity of a vine-dresser, a place 
 where I reposed myself at night ; it 
 was a little shed which stood in the 
 vineyard, and almost concealed by the 
 thick foliage of the vine and bunches 
 of grapes. My appearance, and my 
 request to lie apart from his cottage, 
 was sufficient to awaken his suspicion. 
 He looked at me with an air of com- 
 passion. " The times,'* he sighed, 
 ** are bad, and you seem to be un- 
 " fortunate, but God forbid that I 
 ** should add to your miseries by deny- 
 " ing you shelter." 
 
 I reposed that night in safety, and 
 
 Mi
 
 70 THE CURSE 
 
 Jeft the worthy vine-dresser's at sun- 
 rise. I pursued my journey with the 
 same precaution. At night-fall I was 
 disappointed in not finding a cottage, 
 where I could procure admittance. I 
 perceived that the peasants eyed me 
 with suspicion, and some of them fol- 
 lowed me at a distance, evidently 
 watching my steps, with the intention 
 of giving information against me; upon 
 this I took courage, and assuming a 
 careless manner, I entered a cabaret, 
 and demanded a bed. " A sheaf of 
 " straw," replied tlie host, " is good 
 ** enough for such a fellow as you ;" 
 he then added, " that if I paid him 
 " before hand, he had no objection 
 " to my lying in the barn." A casual 
 glance which a mirror at that moment 
 afforded of my figure, justified the con- 
 tempt of mine host, and relieved me 
 from my fears ; my face was covered 
 with dust, and bronzed by the heat of 
 
 tho
 
 OF ULRICA. 71 
 
 the sun ; my hair neglected and ui:- 
 combed, hung over my coarse and tat- 
 tered garments, and my whole appear- 
 ance denoted abject and squalid mi- 
 sery. I speedily swallowed some 
 homely provisions which tliey set be- 
 fore me, and hurried to my straw ; but 
 not before I was considerably alarmed 
 by the arrival of the peasants, who 
 had endeavoured to awaken the sus- 
 picions of the landlord, by exaggerat- 
 ing the circumstances of my demand- 
 ing of them a secluded apartment to 
 spend the night in. I had the satis- 
 flicticn to hear him dismiss them v/itli 
 a volley of oaths, and telling them it 
 Avas only a poor working lad travelling 
 in search of employment. I had strong 
 reasons for believing that this worthy 
 man knew me, or at least suspected 
 the truth ; for before I lay down, he 
 brought me a bottle of his best wine 
 and a cold fowl, and insisted on my 
 
 accepting
 
 72 THE CURSE 
 
 accepting of them, " as an encourage- 
 ** nient," he archly said, " towards 
 " prospering on my errand." 
 
 After this adventure, I travelled to- 
 wards the capital, devoid of appre- 
 hension. 
 
 On the last morning of my journey, 
 perceiving some travellers on horse- 
 back approaching, I bent my eyes on 
 the ground, to avoid exposing my fea- 
 tures to their observation. My dismay 
 cannot be expressed, when I heard 
 myself addressed by one of them, who 
 called out my name and title. I look- 
 ed up with fear, and beheld my ser- 
 vant Bertrand, who had accompanied 
 the Count to Paris ; he had recog- 
 nized me in my disguise, by my gait 
 and figure. I perceived a melancholy 
 in his eye, which presaged a great 
 misfortune. 
 
 Breathless and agitated, I could only 
 exclaim, <* my father !" 
 
 Bertrand
 
 OF ULRICA. 7^ 
 
 Bertrand in a few words informed 
 me, that almost all the leaders of the 
 Hugonots had perished on the fatal 
 night of St. Bartholomew. My father 
 attempted to escape with a few friends, 
 and fled on horseback, half naked, from 
 their assassins : but they were taken 
 after a pursuit of some hours, and now 
 lay in prison, under sentence of death. 
 Bertrand, the worthy Bertrand, when 
 he found that his services could no 
 longer be of use to the Count, had left 
 Paris, with the intention of seeking me, 
 add apprizing me of my father's unfor- 
 tunate fate. 
 
 " He lives ! he yet exists ! there is 
 ** no time to lose," I exclaimed. 
 
 Bertrand, who saw through my in- 
 tention, replied, ** that there was no 
 " hope of saving his life." He would 
 have dissuaded me from pursuing my 
 journey to Paris, and represented to 
 me all the dangers to which I slioul^. 
 
 VOL, I. £
 
 74« THE CURSE 
 
 be exposed ; but he could not shake 
 the resohition I Iiad taken. 
 
 I mounted Bertrand's horse, order- 
 ed him to pursue his way to a cottage- 
 which lay near St. Blois, where he 
 might expect to see me in a few days, 
 and where, at all events, he was to 
 wait, until he received some intelli- 
 gence from me. 
 
 ** You must ride swift,'' cried Ber- 
 trand, with a gloomy look, *« for the 
 " bell of execution was sounding since 
 " sun-rise ; he dies to-day at noon!" 
 
 I heard no more^ with a heart al- 
 most bursting with sorrow, I rode, 
 I flew towards Paris. These fatal 
 words rang in my ears, " he dies (o- 
 ^* dai/ at noon /" My mind, which 
 was solely occupied by this one image, 
 seemed to annihilate space. I beheld 
 in imagination, all the horrible suffer- 
 ings of the victims of cold-hearted bi- 
 gots — ** My father !" — I could scarcely 
 
 repeat
 
 OF ULRICA. 7'5 
 
 repeat that hallowed name in a mental 
 aspiration. I deemed it impossible, 
 that he, the warrior, the just, the sted- 
 fast of faith, the shrine of so many vir- 
 tues, could be polluted by a foul and 
 disgraceful death. Heavy rains had 
 fallen near Paris : the roads were flood- 
 ed, the rivers swollen. I urged my 
 horse in vain, the dreadful thought as- 
 sailed me ; ** he suffers ! I see him on 
 " the scaifold ! he dies ! and his child 
 " is deprived of his last blessing.*' 
 
 It now approached tlie fatal hour. 
 More dead than alive, I reached the 
 gates of Paris. They stopped me at 
 the barriers, and demanded my pass- 
 port; it was necessary, they said, to 
 have it countersigned, I must wait. 
 God of Heaven ! how my blood boiled 
 at the apathy of these wretches. 
 
 *' My father," I exclaimed wildly, 
 " is about to suffer! I must see him 'ere 
 « he dies !" 
 
 E 2 «< This
 
 76 THE CURSE 
 
 " This man must also be a Hugoiiot," 
 cried one of the guards. 
 
 " He must be brought before the 
 " tribunal," cried another. 
 
 I could hear no more ; the flames 
 which raged within me, spread through 
 me to my very marrow. While the 
 soldiers were intent in calling forth the 
 officer of the guard, I leaped from my 
 horse, which one of them held by the 
 bridle; I darted forward, and rushed 
 down a lane, which led to some bye 
 streets. The door of a mean look- 
 ing house stood ajar, I sli})ped in, and 
 closed the door, in the hope of con- 
 cealing myself for a few minutes, un- 
 til the heat of the pursuit was over. 
 I advanced on tiptoe through an ill- 
 furnished room. From an adjoining- 
 apartment, I heard the soft whispers 
 of a man and woman in earnest dis- 
 course. I paused for a moment — my 
 situation was critical. If I escaped 
 
 from
 
 OF ULRICA. 77 
 
 from my pursuers, I ran the evident 
 risk of being taken and committed as 
 a felon, by ranging through a house in 
 this suspicious manner. While I stood 
 hesitating, a cursed dog came howl- 
 ing at me through the passage. Alarm- 
 ed at the noise, a woman resembling a 
 fury bolted from the inner apartment, 
 ill evident confusion and fear. The 
 door was instantly closed and bolted 
 after her, by the person remaining in 
 the room she had quitted. On view- 
 ing my strange appearance, she began 
 to shriek aloud, and implored me by 
 the love of the Virgin, to spare her 
 life. I drew from my bosom a dag- 
 ger, and told her that another exclama- 
 tion in the same loud tone, would be 
 fatal to her ; she threw herself on her 
 knees, and besought me to spare her 
 life, and she would willingly give me 
 the little money she possessed. 
 
 '* You mistake me," I cried, " I am 
 E 3 ** neither
 
 78 THE CURSE 
 
 " neitlier a robber nor a murderer : 
 " particular circumstances demand 
 " tliat I should remain here for a few 
 *' moments, without being exposed to 
 " observation — who is your compani- 
 " on in the adjoining chamber ?'* 
 
 ** It is only father Jerome," she re- 
 plied, ** who w^as shriving me from 
 '* my sins." 
 
 *' And is it thus uncaparisoned," I 
 said, taking up at the same time the 
 monks hood and cowl, which lay on a 
 seat, *' that the holy father performs 
 '' his sacred functions ?" 
 
 A terrible crash in the adjoining 
 room, which was followed by a loud 
 groan, deprived her of the power of ut- 
 tering a reply, *' Ah Jesus!" she ex- 
 claimed, " the holy father is certainly 
 " killed"!" — I looked tlu-ough the key 
 hole, and was convinci^d that father Je- 
 rome had made his escape. Upon the 
 woman assuring me that her husband 
 
 was
 
 OF ULRICA. 79 
 
 was out, and nobody in the house but 
 ourselves, I permitted her to force 
 open the door^ The window had slap- 
 ped to, and on our appearing at the 
 casement, father Jerome, whc had 
 leaped from it, at a very dangerous 
 height, and had alighted in a slough, 
 now ran away as swift as the wind, 
 nearly half naked, and covered with 
 filth. The lamentations of the beldam, 
 'at the misfortune of the father con- 
 fessor, were extremely ludicrous. I 
 'instantly seized the advantage which 
 this adventure offered to me, and made 
 no scruple to attire myself in the gar- 
 ments of the monk ; at the same time 
 I threatened the old wretch with im; 
 mediate death, if she dared to make 
 the least outcry. Glad to escape so 
 easily, she promised a ready obedience 
 to whatsoever I might command. I 
 ordered her to remain quiet in her 
 apartment j and to secure her promise 
 E 4> more
 
 80 THE CURSE 
 
 more effectually, I locked her up in 
 the middle room, put the key in my 
 pocket, and stole quietly out of the 
 house. Exhausted with fatigue, I at 
 length reached the prison which con- 
 tained the unfortunate Hugonots. The 
 jailor admitted me with facility, deem- 
 ing me one of the holy men who give 
 the last consolation to the miserable. 
 The hour was now come, and the 
 jailor led me to the dungeon of the 
 Count. 
 
 My unhappy father lay extended on 
 a wretched pallet. I approached Iiim^ 
 and whispered to him in a low voice 
 who I was. He received me with a 
 solemn and impressive affection. 
 
 " For a few moments," said he to 
 the guards, " leave us alone, I would 
 " have some conversation with this 
 " holy father j leave us for a mo- 
 " ment." 
 
 ** Be
 
 OF ULRICA. 81 
 
 •* Be it no longer tlien," cried they, 
 ** for, recollect your hour is come." 
 
 ** Is there no way left," said I, ** to 
 " save your life ? does justice no lon- 
 " ger reign in France ?... Curses on 
 " their perfidy — but vengeance " 
 
 " Adolphus," interrupted he, ** be 
 ** silent. These walls have ears, which 
 " would greedily drink up thy rash 
 ** expressions. I shall take vengeance, 
 ** saith the Lord ; but thou, Adol- 
 *' plus, shall not revenge." 
 
 Here the guards summoned him. 
 He prayed for a few moments longer, 
 which, with difficulty, they granted." 
 
 ** Adolphus," he cried, " we have 
 " not an instant to lose ; I would im- 
 ** part to you a secret of the utmost; 
 ** importance 'ere I die. Listen to 
 ** the words which issue from the 
 " grave, soon about to close on me ! . 
 " Let them create on thy soul a deep 
 <^ and lasting impression!" 
 
 E 5 ** Your
 
 82 T H E C U R S e' 
 
 ** Your blessing, my father, — I hear 
 " them coming." 
 
 " May the Allpowerful watch 
 ** over thee ! and lead thee in peace 
 " through the remainder of thy life ! — 
 ** May a pure conscience comfort you 
 " in your latter end, and a sweet sleep 
 " steal between you and your pangs^ 
 " on the bed of death ! May Christ 
 " wash away your sins, and may you 
 " wake to a joyful resurrection 1" 
 
 " Hark ! they are drawing the 
 " bolts!" 
 
 The door flew open ; it was Rez- 
 zonico. He entered with a smile of 
 triumph playing on his dark and sal- 
 1g^ visage. I hastily drew the cowl 
 over my face, bent my eyes upon the 
 ground, and retired within the shade 
 of the Count's pallet, Rezzonico ad- 
 dressed the Count with affected hu- 
 mility — 
 
 " I come, my lord, actuated by the 
 
 " love
 
 
 OF ULRICA. 83 
 
 " love I bear your noble house, to con- 
 " sole you in your last moments ; and 
 ** although I have never kept any 
 " communication with heretics, yet ' 
 ** fi'om the love I bear you, I am in- 
 " duced to make you an exception.'* 
 If arguments and piovis wishes to 
 give me what you would call a con- 
 viction of my errors, would console 
 me in this solemn hour, you may 
 " perceive, holy father, your presence 
 " is not necessary ; you see I am al- 
 " ready provided with a confessor." 
 
 ** A strapger 1" exclaimed Kez- 
 zonico, turning towards, and now first 
 observing me. 
 
 " A charitable Benedictine, at least, 
 " you will confess,*' said the Count, 
 *« since he was actuated in his visit 
 ** neither by interest, pretended af- 
 " fection, nor hypocrisy /" 
 
 Rezzonico turned haughtily from 
 
 the Count, and addressing me in a 
 
 E 6 tone
 
 S4 THECURSE 
 
 tone of affected meekness : " Assist 
 " me," said he, " holy brother, in 
 ** saving this chief of an iUustrious 
 ** house from a disgraceful death in 
 " this world, and from perdition in 
 " the world to come." 
 
 The terrible and piercing eyes of 
 Hezzonico were fixed on me during 
 this speech. It was a dreadful mo- 
 ment. A word, a gesture, would have 
 been sufficient to betray me. I re- 
 mained silent, and clasped my hands 
 in agony. 
 
 Rezzonico, who mistook it for an 
 attitude of prayer, exclaimed in a loud 
 voice, *' let us pray." He knelt 
 down ! and threw up his eyes in a ' 
 seeming extacy of devotion towards 
 Heaven. " Let us pray, that it may 
 ** please Heaven to touch our lips with 
 ** the hallowed fire of celestial truth, 
 " in order that we may bring back 
 *' this lost one to the ways of God. 
 
 «« In
 
 OFULRICA. S5 
 
 <* In me, noble Count, behold the 
 *' willing arm of thy deliverance, 
 " which shall free you from captivity, 
 " and bring you out of the house of 
 " bondage. Let thine eyes, but even 
 " now, behold the light of life. Re- 
 " nounce the errors of your past life^ 
 ** and return to the true faith, to that 
 ** religion you have deserted. Set 
 *' but this seal upon the consummation 
 " of your virtues — let the sign of the 
 " holy cross speak your consent — I 
 
 will then fly to my royal master, 
 
 and obtain the promise of your 
 
 safety." 
 
 " The promises of your royal mas- 
 " ter," replied the Count with sar- 
 castic expression, " might have been 
 " binding and sacred 'ere the massacre 
 " of St. Bartholomew. The flattery 
 " of monks always teaches me to ex- 
 " pect a concealed dagger — I expect 
 
 « this
 
 86 THE CURSE 
 
 " this from you ; for, believe me, Rez- 
 " zonico, / Jiuoxv you /" 
 
 Rezzonico on this started up. His 
 countenance changed into a livid and 
 ghastly expression ; his lips grew pale, 
 and quivered with smothered anger, 
 while he exclaimed witli energy, " Mi- 
 ** serable apostate ! there is no sharper 
 ** torture for thee than the dagger 
 " which sin has planted in thy heart !" 
 
 He now turned towards me, and ad- 
 dressed me with solemnity. *' Hear 
 " me, brother ! the prophecies of old 
 " time are fulfilling — The wicked one 
 " has burst his chains, and roams the 
 *« earth like a roaring lion ! False 
 " prophets arise — some in the east, 
 ♦* others in the west, and say. Here is 
 " Christ ! there he is ! The darkness 
 ** of heresy is overcasting the vail of 
 •* the temple — the foundation pillars 
 *• of religion totter on every side. In 
 
 ^* vain
 
 OP ULRICA* 87 
 
 *' vain has the sword of the holy church 
 ** been drawn against the heretic 
 " Albigenses, against the Hussites, 
 ** and the Tisseranians. In our days 
 " especially, this hydra of hell has 
 ** raised its dragon head, and the 
 " world is overrun with sects, who re- 
 ** ceive not their religion from God, 
 ** or his vicegerent, but take their 
 " creeds from men ; weak men, who 
 ** have erected themselves into the 
 ** heads of these several churches> 
 These crying judgments, which I 
 now relate unto you, may I at the 
 day of judgment find written by the 
 " hand of the recording Angel in the 
 *< book of the crimes of mankind, and 
 " they will not bear witness against 
 «< me." 
 
 The Count replied with dignity, " I 
 " do not deny, and I have never de- 
 ** nied our true religion. I am a 
 " Christian, and I hope always shall 
 
 " be
 
 88 THECURSE 
 
 be found a steady one. You say 
 I am a deserter from the mother 
 church. No ! 1 only revolt ag'unst 
 monkish and popish bigotry, and 
 not against the religion which Christ 
 gave the world. I have carefully 
 perused God*s word, but have not 
 found what ye so often preached 
 unto us. Believe me, I am a Chris- 
 tian, although no papist. I confess- 
 willingly and openly these truths to 
 you, as the holy martyrs in our 
 Lord's time have openly confessed 
 them." 
 
 " Ha! enthusiast 1" exclaimed Rez- 
 zonico, ** do you mean that you per- 
 ** form a meritorious deed, when you 
 " obstinately give up your life in the- 
 " cause of error ? Do you pretend to 
 " the holy crown of martyrdom ? Yes, 
 " a crown you shnll obtain, not in 
 *' heaven, but in hell, whose powers 
 *< you are in league with. . Be it my> 
 
 " pride,.
 
 OF U L RICA. S9 
 
 ** pride, my duty, my peculiar vo- 
 ** cation henceforward to pursue thy 
 " hated sect with fire and sword in 
 " this world, and with my accusing 
 " voice in the world to come. Be it 
 " my triumph to root from off the 
 " earth thy cursed race. Be it thy 
 punishment to know, that, even 
 now, thy Adolphus is in my power, 
 I quit you now for ever. Prepare 
 " and tremble, for thine hour is 
 " come !" 
 
 Rezzonico, whose countenance in- 
 dicated the deadly malice which filled 
 his heart, now abruptly quitted the 
 dungeon. I threw myself into my fa- 
 ther's arms, and gave full vent to my 
 tears. Although the menaces of Rez- 
 zonico had visibly affected him, yet 
 he remained unshaken in the resolu- 
 tion to yield up his life sooner than the 
 principles of his faith. 
 
 Observing my anguish, he tenderly 
 
 pressed
 
 90 THE CURSE 
 
 pressed my hand between Ills, and 
 said, " Remember, my Ad*olj)luis, those 
 «* principles which I have endeavoured 
 ** to imprint on your mind from your 
 " earliest vears. What ! would Adol- 
 ** phus counsel dishonour to his pa- 
 *' rent and his friend ? To exchange 
 ** the few short years, or perhaps days, 
 ** of an inglorious old age, for my ho- 
 <* nour ; an unstained name, for pre- 
 " ^ent approbation and for future fame! 
 " Oh no ! Adolphus surely cannot 
 ** advise me to commit an action sa 
 " base, so cowardly. Recollect the 
 " motto of the friend of my youth. 
 ** I have often repeated It to you j let 
 " it console you now. I do not wish 
 *' to have a more glorious epitaph 
 " than this simple inscription on my 
 ** tomb : — He tvas the friend of the 
 " Knight mthout fear and reproach.^ ^ 
 
 A noise now on the outside of the 
 dungeon smote me with horror; my 
 
 father
 
 OF ULRICA. 91 
 
 father collected himself for a moment 
 and then continued, " I must be brief 
 " — you will be soon friendless ! fa- 
 *' therless ! — but there is a friend, a 
 " father. I have written to him, fly 
 " to him, he will protect you; bear 
 ** to him this letter, it will explain 
 " all." 
 
 While my father was searching for 
 the letter, which he had concealed in 
 his bosom, the guards, provoked at our 
 delay, and instigated by Rezzonico, 
 rushed in, rudely seized him, and bore 
 him off by force in their arms — fran- 
 tic, I rushed after him ; ** the letter, 
 *' the letter," I exclaimed, while I 
 pursued them down one of the gloomy 
 passages of the prison. *' They have 
 '' bound me," cried my father in a 
 faint voice. " His name then ?"— 
 alas, he was out of hearing. . 
 
 I minffled with the crowd who had 
 assembled outside of the prison, in 
 
 order
 
 1)2 THE CURSE 
 
 order to witness the procession of those 
 condemned to suffer on that day — for 
 alas! scarcely a day passed that fresh 
 victims of both sexes were not immo- 
 lated at the bloody shrine of relentless 
 bigotry. The procession advanced ; 
 I easily distinguished the car on which 
 my father stood. His noble air, the 
 command which sat on his brow, gave 
 to him the appearance of the hero of 
 a Roman triumph, rather than that of 
 a victim condemned to an ignominious 
 death. I made my way through the 
 crowd ; pale and silent, like a ghost, 
 I followed the car. The pangs of 
 those who suffered yet vibrate within: 
 me; the still more dismal cries of 
 those about to suffer, ring in my ears 
 — the rich fountain of hfe gushing 
 from the wound, and reddening the 
 ground on which I stood — the quiver-* 
 ing of the limbs from the afler pang 
 of convulsion — the marble figures of 
 
 de])arted
 
 OF ULRICA. 93 
 
 departed beauty, pale, but retaining a 
 sweet expression of resignation even 
 in death, and their lips vibrating with 
 the last aspirated prayer of a soul fly- 
 ing to its Creator! The recollection 
 of such liorrors now rises vividly within 
 me, and agitates my soul ! 
 
 It now came to my father's turn 
 to suffer ; he looked about him on the 
 faces of the crowd below him, with a 
 searching eye. On perceiving me, his 
 eye gave token of pleasure, and he 
 smiled. When they unbound his arms, 
 he caught the letter, which he had 
 concealed under his inner vestments ; 
 and approaching the edge of the scaf- 
 fold, ** now, now," he cried, and 
 threw the letter towards me. I sprang 
 forward, I caught it. I drew the 
 cowl still closer over my face. There 
 w^as a silence still as death ! a mist 
 fell on my eyes, my ears rang with 
 hollow murmurs. The rustling of the 
 
 multitude—
 
 91* THE CURSE 
 
 multitude — the faint murmur which 
 succeeded that effort, when each held 
 his breath in expectation — the hollow 
 sound returned from the cart of death 
 on receiving its victim — the beating 
 of drums, the flourish of trumpets ; 
 all told me that my father was no 
 more. The strength and fortitude 
 which had supported me through this 
 terrible scene, now deserted me ; J 
 fainted and fell. 
 
 On recovering my senses, I found 
 myself supported in the arms of a 
 stranger. He was an aged man, whose 
 countenance was impressed with the 
 traits of kindness and benevolence. 
 " Fear not," he exclaimed, " you 
 y* are with a friend; I caught you 
 ** when you fell, and bore you to 
 " this private way, in order to avoid 
 " the observation of the multitude.'* 
 I felt grateful to him for this kind- 
 ness. I attempted to rise; my limbs 
 
 tottered
 
 OF ULRICA. 95 
 
 tottered under me. I felt inconceiv- 
 ably stupid and heavy ; the street ap- 
 peared to whirl round me, and my 
 brain felt as if it was pressed with con- 
 suming fire. I looked around me; 
 there was not a soul in the street, nor 
 within view. A faint idea of some 
 great misfortune which had befallen 
 me now presented itself, and I recol- 
 lected that the multitude which 
 thronged the busy streets of the me- 
 tropolis were gathered into one fatal 
 spot. I determined to throw myself 
 upon the kindness of this man. 
 
 I sought in my pocket for the direc- 
 tion to Montbazon's friend, Pierre 
 Andelet. ** Perhaps, my friend," said 
 I, presenting to him the paper, " you 
 •* can direct me." Joy sparkled in 
 his eyes when he beheld the hand- 
 writing, and he exclaimed, J* I am the 
 <« man!" 
 
 I threw myself into his arms. ** I 
 
 ** suspected
 
 96 THE CURSE 
 
 " suspected tlie truth/* said Pierre, 
 <« from the moment I observed you 
 ** in the crowd —we must away this 
 " instant, there is danger even here." 
 He carried me rather than led me 
 along. There was a confused hum at 
 the bottom of the street, and presently 
 the gleaming of steel, and the spark- 
 ling of many colours, shewed the 
 lengthened line of a distant cavalcade. 
 Pierre faced me abruptly about. 
 " We cannot," exclaimed he, drop- 
 ping his eyes on the ground, " pro- 
 ** ceed that way." 1 understood liis 
 meaning, and we proceeded in silence. 
 After assisting me through many streets, 
 for I still continued very weak and 
 faint, he suddenly stopped before the 
 court of a large and magnificent hotel ; 
 the walls were higli and massy, and 
 the embrasures were filled with cannon. 
 My mind instantly misgave me. Was 
 I deceived in attributing a friendly 
 
 disposition
 
 O* ULRICA. 97 
 
 disposition to this man ? Could he' 
 havis meditated so black a piece of 
 treachery, as to betray me into the 
 power of the court? Did not his joy 
 on perusing the billet of Montbazon 
 arise from the certainty of his pos- 
 sessing his victim in his power ? Pierre 
 knocked at the gate. " We are arriv- 
 ** ed," exclaimed he, in a surly tone. 
 — Overcome by my fears, I threw my- 
 self at his feet and bedewed them with 
 my tears — I besought him to recollect 
 his promise, to save and protect me. ^ 
 1 begged for mercy. •* Rise," cried he. 
 A wicket door of the court was now 
 thrown open. ** Enter," cried Pierre, 
 with a spiteful look, while he thrust 
 me forward with a violent push. The 
 door was immediately closed and bar- 
 red, and Pierre and. I stood alone in 
 the interior of a spacious court. He 
 instantly recovered the amenity and 
 benevolence of his first looks. I looked 
 VOL.' I. F on
 
 OS THE CURSE 
 
 on him with surprize and astonish- 
 ment. I knew not what to think, but 
 a fear of this strange man still predo- 
 minated in my mind. — " You are 
 " now," said Pierre, with a satisfied 
 air, " past all danger, — give God 
 " thanks ! and not that abominable 
 " habit w^hich you wear." 
 
 I instantly disengaged myself from 
 the monks vestments, — *' It is well 
 done," said Pierre, *' our steps 
 were watched to the very portal, by 
 two cursed spies, and no doubt it 
 was cause enough of suspicion, to 
 see Pierre Andelet and a Father 
 Confessor linked arm and arm toge- 
 ther ; for it is well known that I am 
 a Hugonot, and I should have suf- 
 fered for my faith long since, only 
 that I serve a virtuous and powerful 
 master who protects me. Many of 
 our brethren have fled for refuge 
 here, and my master, the Count de 
 
 Sully.
 
 OF ULRICA. 99 
 
 *" Sully, has received them and lined 
 ** his walls with cannon to protect 
 them. — Forgive me for using you 
 thus harshly, but it was necessary 
 that I should do so to save your 
 life, for if your rank should be dis- 
 covered it might not be in the power 
 of even the Count, my master, to 
 " protect you." 
 
 I felt convinced of the justness of 
 Pierre's remarks, and v/as satisfied with 
 his apology. He led me round the 
 court, avoiding the grand front, to a 
 small summer pavilion which stood in 
 the garden. ** This is my dwelling,'' 
 said Pierre, " here you may rest con- 
 " cealed. You may pass for a labour- 
 ** ing youth of w^hom I stood in need, 
 " to help me in the work of the gar- 
 " den. Be careful not to discover 
 ** yourself; let your words and deport^ 
 ** ment be suitable to your dress and 
 " occupation." 
 
 f2 I
 
 100 THE CURSE 
 
 I readily promised obedience, and 
 Pierre shewed me my apartment and 
 acquainted me with the duties of my 
 office. Observing that I looked ill 
 and fatigued, he made me take some 
 refreshment, and then assisted in put- 
 ting me to bed. A fit of illness, which 
 was the consequence of my fatigue 
 and grief, confined me for several days 
 to my bed, during which time the 
 worthy Pierre attended me with all the 
 tenderness of a parent. 
 
 The first effort of my returning rea- 
 son was to examine tlie letter, which 
 I still retained in my possession by a 
 wonderful chance. — 1 hastily tore open 
 the envelope which contained it : it 
 was addressed simply to " Count 
 <« Magnus Morner" 
 
 Laurentius and Axel, (as if stun- 
 ned xvith surprize J. Count Magnus 
 Morner ? 
 
 Ulrica, Carl, and Christina, (re- 
 
 peating
 
 OF ULRICA. 101 
 
 peating "with horror and amazementj, 
 Morner ! 
 
 Adolphus. Yes, my friends, Count 
 
 Morner. There was no direction to his 
 
 residence, my father in his haste had 
 
 omitted it. I felt therefore totally at 
 
 a loss to discover the abode of my 
 
 father's tried friend, and this reflection 
 
 filled me with deep sorrow. When I 
 
 was able to go out I worked with Pierre 
 
 in the garden ; for he would allow of 
 
 no excuse for idleness. He would oftea 
 
 drive me with downright force from 
 
 those reveries in which I was prone to 
 
 indulge. He would exclaim, *' where 
 
 " is the good that will arise from all 
 
 " this thinking ? shew me the fruit of 
 
 ** it. Will it feed you, or clothe you, 
 
 " or give you better health ? Can a 
 
 " fruitless and unavailing yielding up 
 
 *^ of the soul to sorrow benefit the 
 
 " living ? Can it give repose to thp 
 
 *' dead ? Work, young man ; hard 
 
 F 3 *' and
 
 102 THE CURSE 
 
 " and personal labour, is a specific 
 " against soitow, sickness, and want. 
 " Perhaps your heart is inflated with 
 " pride — perhaps you are ashamed to 
 •* w^ork, because, forsooth, you are 
 " of noble race ! What avails your 
 " nobility to you in your need ? Has 
 *' it protected you from the shame of 
 " owing your existence and support, 
 *' even to such a one as me ?" 
 
 In this manner would he reprove 
 me, when I gave way to my grief. 
 There was a hardihood in Picrre^s 
 ideas, and a strait forward manner of 
 arguing, which struck with infinite 
 force when it did not entirely con- 
 vince. I murmured inwardly at what 
 I thought was the arbitrary conduct of 
 a vulgar tyrant, but I was neverthe- 
 less forced to yield to him, even in 
 my most irksome moods. From sun- 
 rise to sun-set tlie spade was constantly 
 in my hands. This incessant occupa- 
 tion
 
 OF ULRICA. IDS 
 
 tioii, with which at first I was dis- 
 gusted, had charms for me in a few 
 days. I found that it completely ba- 
 nished thought and retrospection ; and 
 when I remained sufficiently long at 
 any species of work to beget reflection, 
 there was Pierre shouting at me, and 
 directing me to new labours in every 
 corner of the garden. It now appear- 
 ed to me that kindness and compas- 
 sion were at the bottom of this plan. 
 My health gradually amended. When 
 I retired to rest, a sweet and sound 
 sleep, the rew^ard of labour and of 
 light simple nourishment, gave all my 
 sorrows and cares to obliVion. 
 
 One evening Pierre's affairs obliged 
 him to be absent for several hours. I 
 threw myself under the shade of a 
 tree, which spread its rude branches 
 across the course of a little rivulet 
 which ran through the garden, and 
 supplied it with water 5 I gave free 
 
 F 4 vent
 
 10 Jt THE CURSE 
 
 .vent to my sorrow, and took a melan- 
 choly pleasure in seeing my tears dim- 
 .pling the surface of the stream. '* Ahl*' 
 I exclaimed, ♦* when shall happiness 
 ** again be the lot of the offspring of 
 " the unfortunate De Beaumarchais?" 
 ** De Beaumarchais !'* repeated a 
 voice behind me. I started up in 
 consternation. I beheld a gentleman 
 whose physiognomy impressed me with 
 a singular feeling of awe and admira* 
 tion. He advanced courteously to* 
 wards me. ** The name which I have 
 ** just heard you pronounce," said he, 
 has excited my curiosity. Observe, 
 I do not wish to be gratified at the 
 expense of your safety ; but allow 
 me to demand, who and what yoa 
 are ? and whether you are employed 
 by any of my people ?*' 
 I felt quite confused at this unex- 
 pected address ; I stammered out the 
 jiame and designation which Pierre 
 
 had
 
 OF ULRICA. 105 
 
 had desired me to assume j, but I so 
 totally forgot his cautions, that. I re- 
 plied to the Count's salute with the 
 most polite air in the world, and he 
 departed from me with an incredulous 
 and thoughtful mien, without putting 
 to me any more questions. 
 
 I imparted every thing to Pierre on 
 his return ; he grew outrageous on 
 hearing this intelligence. It was im- 
 possible to confide in the Count, as 
 there had been a proclamation issued 
 by the court tor my apprehension. 
 It was even reported that I was con- 
 cealed in the Hotel de Sully, and the 
 good intentions of the Count might be 
 of no avail against the powerful threats 
 or persuasions of the court. *' The 
 " Count has seen through your dis- 
 ", guise,*',, said Pierre, " and is well 
 assured that you are the person de- 
 scribed in the proclamation. Her^ 
 " you have no longer any conceal- 
 F 5 " ment, 

 
 106 THE CURSE 
 
 " ment, and therefore I cannot an- 
 " swer for your safety.'* He appeared 
 to reflect for a few minutes, and I felt 
 a secret joy at an idea which presented 
 itself: it was the thought of once 
 more rejoining Montbazon aud the 
 fair Edda, and sharing again the pro- 
 tection of the grotto of the valley of 
 Chatigny. '* I have it/' said Pierre; 
 ** by to-morrow's dawn, you can pass 
 " the barriers of Paris in safety." 
 
 Pierre now explained his plan. He 
 was in the habit of sending vegetables 
 to an aged woman, a relation of his, 
 who lived at a short distance from Pa- 
 ris ; he gave orders that the cart should 
 be in readiness on the next morning, 
 earlier than usual, and he proposed 
 that I should conceal myself in the 
 hamper in which they were packed. 
 I was delighted with this plan, which 
 seemed to give every security tcrmy 
 escape. 
 
 Early
 
 OF ULRICA. 107 
 
 Early in the morning I took leave 
 of Pierre Andelet, and after a drive of 
 some hours, we arrived at the good 
 old woman's cottage, who was appris- 
 ed by a billet from Pierre of the cir- 
 cumstances which obliged me to con- 
 ceal myself, and she afforded ^me an 
 hospitable reception. After refresh- 
 ing myself and resting some hours, I 
 set out once more for the valley of 
 Chatigny. My journey was marked 
 by no events of importance. I turned 
 out of my road to visit St. Blois. 
 Alas ! a heap of ruins, blackened by- 
 smoke, and disfigured by the ravages 
 of fire, now stood in the place of the 
 castle of my ancestors, and I shed 
 many tears over all that remained of 
 the once magnificent St. Blois. 
 
 I strayed for hours through these 
 
 deserted walls, when I was startled on 
 
 seeing a figure moving at a distance, 
 
 and seemingly rising from the founda- 
 
 F 6 tions r
 
 108 THE CURS* 
 
 tions. He was ap])roaching the place 
 Avhere I stood, and I concealed myself 
 behind the fragments of a broken arch, 
 that I might observe him unperceived. 
 It was a Franciscan Monk, and from 
 the tallness of his figure, and the mea- 
 j^ured solemnity of his step, I felt as- 
 sured that it was Rezzonico; but I 
 found it impossible to catch a glimpse 
 of his features, so carefully were they 
 concealed by his hood. He carried a 
 small iron box under his arm, the 
 weight of which seemed to discom- 
 pose him. He looked about him^ se- 
 veral times cautiously to discover if he 
 was observed 5 and at length I lost 
 sight of him, in one of the turns of the 
 ruined corridore along which he had 
 passed. The thought occurred to me 
 for a moment of pursuing this villain, 
 and immolating him to the manes of 
 my father ; but reflection taught me 
 to recoil from the injustice of the un- 
 equal
 
 df ULRICA. Id^ 
 
 equal struggle between his grey hairs^ 
 and the greenness of my youth ; and 
 the recollection of my father's exhor- 
 tations to me 'ere he suffered, induced 
 me to leave vengeance in the hands of 
 Providence. 
 
 On the sarrte evening I joined my 
 servant Bertrand at the cottage I had 
 appointed. I wished now to part with 
 this faithful domestic ; it was impo's* 
 sible for me to keep him with my di- 
 minished resources, and about to be- 
 come an exile from my native coun- 
 ty. He insisted, however, 6n ac-' 
 companying me, and declared thiat go 
 where I would he would follow me, if 
 it was even on foot. I yielded to his' 
 intreaties, and he has unfortunately 
 exchanged the pleasant residence of 
 his native country, only to beconde a 
 Witness of my calamities, distresses, and 
 disappointments, and to meet with a 
 premature death in a foreign land ! 
 
 We
 
 110 THE CURSE 
 
 We now proceeded to the valley ox'* 
 Chatigny. I had marked the path 
 wliich led to the cave by many obser- 
 vations, which still remained impressed 
 on my memory. On arriving at the 
 grotto, to my utter disappointment I 
 found that Montbazon and Edda had 
 quitted it, and from the appearance of 
 the interior, I judged that they had 
 left it a considerable time. I remained 
 here for several days reflecting on the 
 means of escaping from France. 
 
 During this interval, I had visited 
 the steward of St. Blois, who willingly 
 gave into my hands the money he had 
 received ; but he communicated to me 
 at the same time the intelligence, tliat 
 a process had commenced, and in con- 
 sequence of the attainder of my father, 
 he was directed to pay the proceeds m 
 future to the Count d'Auvergne, who 
 was appointed to receive ihtin on be- 
 half of the Countess Marcellina. This 
 
 intelligence
 
 OF ULRICA. Ill 
 
 intelligence fortified me in the resolu- 
 tion I had taken, to quit France for 
 ever. 
 
 We left the grotto, and assuming 
 the disguise of peasants, we arrived in 
 safety on the banks of the Rhine. I 
 kissed with fervour the German shore, 
 which gave me once more the prospect 
 of a life of freedom, and liberty of 
 conscience. I stood for some minutes 
 at the door of the post-house, in a 
 stupor of solitary abstraction. Ber- 
 trand approached me and demanded 
 whither I would proceed ? The world 
 now lay before me. I had only to 
 choose ; but all places seemed alike, 
 all equally desirable, after being under 
 the necessity of flying from my un- 
 happy country. I ahnost mechanically 
 answered Bertrand, " to Leipzig'* 
 
 It was near the commencement of 
 winter, when we arrived at the cele- 
 brated Fontaine d'Or, in that city. 
 
 The
 
 *ik THE CURSE 
 
 The season was sad and cheerless ; 
 tliere was a struggle- between , the 
 sickly sun-beams of departing autumn, 
 imd heavy clouds borne along by mer 
 lancholy gusts of wind, which presaged 
 the severity of a winter unknown to 
 {he milder climates of the south. The 
 aspect of nature, so sad in the forms 
 which then met my eye, gave a darker 
 Jiue to my thoughts ; and the heavy 
 figures of the Germans in their dismal 
 winter clothing, appeared to move 
 around me in a state of torpid exist- 
 ence, and resembled the gloomy and 
 indistinct forms, which may be discern- 
 ed in the still shadows of a dark and 
 dreary landscape 
 
 The inns of Leipzig were crowded 
 With strangers, in consequence of the 
 celebration of a solemn festival. I 
 was shewn into a room where there 
 were several travellers assembled ; 
 there were officers and merchants of 
 
 different
 
 OF ULRICA. 113 
 
 ^iiiferent countries, and I could dis- 
 tinguish by their dress, Poles,' Rus- 
 sians, Italians, Hungarians, and Bo- 
 hemians. The glass was briskly cir- 
 culated early in the evening, while 
 the wind sighed through the crevices, 
 and the heavy antique casements 
 creaked and rattled with tlie violence 
 of the storm. But, with the high 
 piled blazing fire on the hearth, and 
 the full goblets of old Rhenish, we 
 fared right well. 
 
 The laugh, the song, the jest, lent 
 -wings to the evening. But. . .there sat 
 at the festive board, a stranger, who 
 neither laughed, sung nor joked. He 
 was clad in the coarse, dark and flow- 
 ing robe of the Hungarian Jev/s, who 
 carry on traffic between that country 
 and the provinces undor the dominion 
 of Turliey ; but beyond this, he had 
 nothing in common with the stock of 
 Israel. His hair was white as snow, 
 
 aad
 
 114 THE CURSE 
 
 and his countenance, in form and co 
 lonr, ^vas Italian. He seldom spoke, 
 and when he did, his voice had in its 
 tones sojnething so sepulchral, and so 
 chearless, as to petrify the youngest 
 and the merriest of the company into 
 silence. He had evaded with singular 
 adroitness every attempt which was 
 made to satisfy our curiosity, with 
 respect to his name, occupation and 
 country. Several of the company had 
 privately enquired of our host, whether 
 he was informed of these particulars ? 
 to which he' had answered in the nega- 
 tive, adding, that he had never seen 
 him before, and that he had arrived at 
 Leipzig without either baggage or at- 
 tendants. 
 
 The strangers now separated into 
 different parties; games of chance 
 were introduced, and the attention of 
 every one seemed absorbed in their 
 game. The play soon ran high, and 
 
 large
 
 OF ULRICA. 115 
 
 large sums were won and lost in a mo- 
 ment. I had declined play, and walk- 
 ed from table to table, looking over 
 the players, and watching the interest 
 of the game. The stranger sat alone 
 on the hearth : he took out a long 
 Turkish pipe, and prepared to smoke, 
 appearing regardless of what was going 
 forward. I had hitherto avoided ad- 
 dressing this singular being ; I now ad^ 
 vanced towards him, and endeavoured 
 to commence a conversation, to which 
 he answered only by monosyllables. 
 I demanded if he had ever visited Pa« 
 ris ? he replied in the affirmative. On 
 inyenquiringhowlongsince;"perhaps>'* 
 answered he, fixing his eyes upon me, 
 " at the hour when the bell tolled for 
 "the execution of the Count de 
 ** Beaumarchais." 
 
 I stood aghast : ** this is extraordi- 
 ** nary," I repeated mentally. 
 
 " No," said the stranger calmly, 
 
 « it
 
 116 THE CURSE 
 
 ** it is in no way extraordinary, that 1 
 " should have witnessed, and recollect- 
 " ed so remarkable an event." 
 
 I was about to reply, he caught my 
 arm, and pointed my attention to one 
 of the card tables ; " do you mark ?" 
 exclaimed he. An officer in the uni- 
 form of a colonel of hulans sat with 
 his back towards us, and at that mo- 
 ment, with great dexterity, had slip- 
 ped a card behind him. ** Do you 
 " observe?*' reiterated the stranger. 
 "We remained silent for some minutes, 
 iawaiting the result. 
 
 The officer drew towards him the 
 stake, which w^s a very large sum, 
 Und instantly a confusion arose at the 
 liable ; the players who were opposed 
 id him arising, and exclaiming, ** foul 
 " play." After a long and violent alter- 
 cation, the whole party agreed to allow 
 the point in dispute to be determined 
 by me. I affected to judge simply of 
 
 the
 
 OF ULRICA. ll^f 
 
 tlie point which was referred to me, 
 without making the least use of the . 
 deception I had witnessed. The offii^.^ 
 <;er was young and handsome ; therfe , 
 was a certain air of fashion and gallan- , 
 try in his manners, which distinguish- 
 ed him from those wretches who pur- 
 sue gambHng, and those base arts , 
 which deceive the un weary dupe, as a 
 means of gaining a miserable hveli'? > 
 hood. I determined therefore not ta > 
 compromise the honour of this unfor- ^ 
 tunate young man, and yet to do am- ^ 
 pie justice between the parties. I de- 
 cided against the officer, and decreed -^ 
 that the stake should be returned- ' 
 His eyes sparkled witli rage and indig. ' 
 nation the moment he heard my de- 
 cision. He eyed me from head to ) 
 foot with a look of contempt, and up- 
 braided me as an accomplice of 
 sharpers, who had laid a plan to ruin 
 him. Ail the strangers at this moment 
 
 rose
 
 118 THE CURSE 
 
 rose from their games, and approached 
 the scene of our dispute. I waited 
 patiently until the officer had exhaust- 
 ed the violence of his abuse, and was 
 about to reply, when the Hungarian 
 stranger walked over from the fire- 
 place, interruped me, and addressed 
 the company. 
 
 There was a general silence, and 
 even the officer seemed to expect his 
 opinion with some degree of anxiety. 
 •* There is one witness, gentlemen," 
 exclaimed the stranger, " which I shall 
 " have the honour of introducing to 
 " you, which must set this matter en- 
 " tirely at rest, and now I beg leave to 
 ** produce him in open court.** 
 
 So saying, the stranger with great 
 dexterity drew forth from the colo- 
 nel's pocket the fatal card, and threw 
 it on the table, before he was aware of 
 the stranger's intention. 
 
 There arose now a scene of unparal- 
 leled
 
 OF ULRICA. 119 
 
 leled confusion ; the losers threw them- 
 selves on the colonel, in order to repo- 
 sess themselves of their money ; he 
 drew his sword, to defend himself; the 
 tables were overturned, the candles 
 thrown down and extinguished. 
 
 I hastily quitted the room, and while 
 groping along a dark corridore, which 
 led to the bed rooms, I encountered a 
 hand of prodigious force, which grasp- 
 ed me by the breast, and held me 
 completely at bay. I endeavoured to 
 disengage myself, but in vain ; the let- 
 ter which was addressed to Count 
 Morner by my father was fastened 
 within my bosom, and I observed that 
 the object of the unknown was to ob- 
 tain possession of it. The noise occa- 
 sioned by our struggling and by the 
 riot which had taken place in the room 
 I had quitted, brought up the land- 
 lord and his attendants with lights, 
 when I found myself released from the 
 
 grasp
 
 120 TH£ CURSE 
 
 grasp of my unknown persecutor ; but 
 after the most accurate search, I found 
 it impossible to ascertain the person 
 who attacked me. My bedroom was. 
 litei:ally situated in the roof of the inn. 
 The great concourse . of strangers had 
 deprived me of a choice of apartments. 
 I quickly undressed, and threw myself 
 on a wretched bed, where I slept for 
 some hours, until I was awakened by 
 some noise in the chamber. I was im- 
 pressed immediately with the idea that 
 day was breaking, from the light 
 which streamed into my chamber from 
 a grated window, which wiis situated 
 in the roof, directly over my bed. The 
 shifting of the clouds gave to my view 
 the moon, which was now at the full ; 
 it illuminated every object in my room 
 immediately under the casement ; but . 
 at the remote end of \he chamber it 
 was more difficult to distinguish ob- 
 jects j. I could, however, plainly dis- 
 cern
 
 or ULRICA. 211 
 
 cern a tall figure in the gloom, which 
 resembled the mysterious Hungarian. 
 I raised myself up in the bed, and ad- 
 dressed it,, but received no answer. 
 After a moment's silence, the figure 
 exclaimed, in a solemn tone of voice, 
 ** Once more we shall meet in Bo- 
 " hemia, at the castle of Glatz." I 
 was about to question the figure fur- 
 ther, when it vanished, leaving me in 
 doubt whether it was not a mere illu- 
 sion of the brain, raised from the va- 
 pours of the wine 1 had been drinking 
 during the evening, or the Hungarian 
 himself, who had penetrated by some 
 means into my chamber. I searched 
 the apartment carefully, without find- 
 ing any communication with an ad- 
 joining one. 
 
 I lay awake until it was time to rise, 
 
 pondering on these strange events ; 
 
 and the result of my determination 
 
 was to fulfil the prophecy of the Hun- 
 
 voL. I. G garian.
 
 122 THE CURSE 
 
 garian, by shaping my course toward^) 
 the castle of Glatz in Bohemia, if in 
 truth such a place existed in nature, 
 and was not the yild coinage of the 
 old man's brain. The faces which 
 were familiar to me on the preceding 
 evening had now disappeared ; other 
 travellers, equally ardent in the pur- 
 suit of pleasure or of business, had oc- 
 cupied their places. I found on in- 
 quiry, they had no knowledge of the 
 remarkable stranger, who had given 
 rise to so much observation on the pre- 
 ceding evening. The Hungarian had 
 disappeared with the earliest dawn of 
 day, and we were foiled in our at- 
 tempts to discover his route. 
 
 I left the Fontaine d'Or early in the 
 day, and travelled with expedition to- 
 wards Bohemia. I was informed at 
 Dresden, that the castle of Glatz was 
 the residence of the aged Prince de 
 Zarembergj but I could obtain no 
 
 inforp
 
 OF ULRICA. 123 
 
 information respecting the Hungarian, 
 nor concerning Montbazon and Edda, 
 for whom I made the most anxious in- 
 quiries at each town I passed in my 
 route. In the course of a few days, I 
 approaclicd the residence of the Prince. 
 The castle of Glatz lay in a desolate 
 and gloomy tract of country, which was 
 covered with forests to the extent of ma- 
 ny miles round ; mountains of a dark and 
 ferruginous tint reared their heads in 
 the distance, on which a covering of 
 thick clouds almost constantly rested. 
 I resolved to proceed thither that very 
 evening, although the weather was se-» 
 vere, the air piercing cold, and the snow 
 lay on the ground. It was late when 
 we arrived. I looked up, and beheld 
 the lights passing to and fro in the 
 windows of the castle. I examined 
 eagerly the countenances of the do- 
 mestics as they passed, and would 
 have persuaded myself t])at they were 
 G ^2 familiar
 
 124 THE CURSE 
 
 familinr to me. I looked round, and 
 expected c\'ery moment to see the 
 Hungarian emerge from the surround- 
 ing, gloom ; and I became impressed 
 with a strong and preternatural warn- 
 ing, that the hour was approaching 
 speedily and terribly, whose influence 
 was to predominate, and give a co- 
 louring to the remaining span of my 
 existence. The grating of the castle 
 door on its heavy hinges awoke me 
 from my reverie. I enquired for the 
 Prince de Zaremberg. " He is at 
 home," replied tli€ porter. 
 
 They shewed me into an anti-room, 
 and requested me to say whom they 
 should announce to their master. " It- 
 " is no matter," I replied, " a stranger 
 *' wishes a few moments audience." 
 The man desired me to follow him ; 
 he threw open the folding doors of an 
 apartment magnificently furnished; 
 *' this," said he, ** is the Prince de 
 
 ' *' Zaremberg."
 
 OF ULRICA. 125 
 
 ** Zaremberg.'* I beheld a grey- 
 headed old man, who received me ra- 
 ther coldly, but with the manners of 
 high birth. I mentioned to the Prince 
 my name and title, and demanded his 
 permission to remain that night at the 
 castle ; as the severity of the weather 
 and the lateness of the hour would 
 not allow me to pursue my journey in 
 safety. He granted my request in 
 terms of great kindness ; and after 
 putting to me various questions res- 
 pecting the internal state of France, 
 he added, that I must surely stand in 
 need of some refreshment, and re- 
 quested I w^ould allow him to intro- 
 duce me to his family circle, who were 
 assembled at supper. 
 
 The Prince led the way, and I fol- 
 lowed him into a superb saloon, which 
 was brilliantly illuminated. Several 
 ladies and gentlemen were seated at 
 the supper table. A loud shriek on my 
 
 G 3 entrance
 
 liiO THE CURSE 
 
 entrance directed my attention to the 
 upper end of the table, where I be- 
 held Edda — and opposite to her sat 
 Montbazon ! Thus then, I mentally 
 ejaculated, the Hungarian has directed 
 me to the friends who are dearest to 
 rny heart ! Montbazon did not receive 
 me with the warmth which I might 
 have expected ; the blushes which 
 mantled on Edda's cheek, taught me 
 to believe, that my presence was not 
 displeasing to her. The Prince ex- 
 pressed his satisfaction at my having 
 met with friends under his roof; and 
 on presenting me to the gentlemen of 
 his suite, he expressed his wish, that 
 they might by their attentions induce 
 me to prolong my stay at Glatz. I 
 felt delighted to accept this invitation 
 of the Prince. 
 
 The evening passed in conversation 
 with Montbazon and Edda. He was 
 acquainted with the melancholy catas^ 
 
 trophe
 
 OF ULRICA. 127 
 
 troplie of my father, and expressed his 
 surprise at my being able to escape 
 from so many dangers. I demanded 
 of him if he was acquainted with the 
 residence of Count Morner, to whom 
 my father's letter was directed ? He 
 started and turned pale at this ques- 
 tion, but recovered himself in a few 
 minutes, and directed me to seek him 
 in Sweden. I perceived from his 
 manner that he did not wish to dilate 
 on this subject ; but he seemed pleased 
 when I expressed my intention of set- 
 ting out in a few days, in pursuit of 
 my father's friend. Montbazon then 
 turned the conversation on the Prince ; 
 and after a long eulogium on his cha- 
 racter, he summed up all his excel- 
 lencies in these words, " that he was 
 ** an honest man, and a good Luthe- 
 ** ran. He has never, however," con- 
 tinued Montbazon, ** recovered from 
 ** the shock he received in the loss of 
 
 a 4 " his
 
 128 THE CURSE 
 
 " his eldest son, who disappeared in 
 *>.a most extraordinary maniier about 
 *♦ twenty years ago in the north of Eu- 
 ** rope *y his only remaining hope, on 
 " whom all the family honours will de- 
 H sccnd, is a young debauchee, wlio 
 ^* will inevitably soon bring his father's 
 *• grey hairs in sorrow and disgrace to 
 *' the grave." 
 
 Two months passed at the castle of 
 Glatz, in a succession of amusements 
 and dissipation ; which completely 
 tlrove from my recollection the last 
 injunction of my dying father, and my 
 proposed visit to the north of Europe. 
 It was now about to be recalled to my 
 mind in a very remarkable manner, 
 and I was about to suffer the punish- 
 ment which was due to my disobedi- 
 ance. 
 
 A considerable bustle which pre- 
 vailed in the castle one morning, an- 
 nounced the arrival of the son of the 
 
 Prince*
 
 OF ULRICA. 129 
 
 Prince. On assembling at dinner, 
 Colonel Wildebrand de Zaremberg 
 was presented to me in form ; but 
 judge of my astonishment, when I 
 beheld the young Colonel against 
 whom I gave the decision at the Fon- 
 taine d'Or at Leipzig. The e in options 
 which I experienced on being intro- 
 duced to him, were painful in the ex- 
 treme. He recognized me at the first 
 glance ; and from the effrontery with 
 which he conducted himself, and the 
 nonchalence of his manner, I conclud- 
 ed that his character was effectually 
 depraved. He seated himself beside 
 Edda during dinner ; his attentions to 
 her were very marked, but I could 
 perceive from the glances which she 
 directed towards me, that she received 
 his civilities with a considerable degree 
 of repugnance. From the marked 
 preference which Edda shewed me 
 when I approached them, Wildebrand 
 
 G 5 became
 
 130 THE CURSF 
 
 became furiously jealous. His manner 
 towards her was that of a declared 
 lover ; and I saw with considerable 
 dismay, that the Prince favoured the 
 intentions of his son. I endured this 
 state of torture for more than a week^ 
 when I applied to Montbazon to in- 
 form me, if it was true that Edda was 
 about to become the wife of Wilde- 
 brand* Montbazon affected not ta 
 perceive the agitation of my manner, 
 nor the hopes and fears which were 
 painted in my countenance ; and re- 
 plied coldly, that Edda had dismissed 
 Wildebrand with a decisive refusaL 
 And he added drily, that the sooner 
 I dismissed her from my thoughts, 
 and myself from Glatz, the more con- 
 ducive it would prove to the repose of 
 all parties. 
 
 This intelligence gave me consider- 
 able pleasure. My first impulse was to 
 throw myself at the feet of Edda, and 
 
 implore
 
 OF ULRICA. 13^1 
 
 implore her to make a declaration in 
 my favour ; but, on reflection, I could 
 not endure the thought of degrading 
 the object of my love, by making her 
 the associate of my toils, and perhaps 
 of my poverty. I felt too proud as the 
 descendant of an illustrious house, to 
 accept the means of subsistence in any 
 shape, but that of honourable employ- 
 ment : and I could not conceal from 
 myself that the pains and humiliation 
 of poverty were real evils, which how- 
 ever endurable by myself, would be- 
 come miseries too weighty to bear, if 
 I beheld them embittering the lot of the 
 woman I adored. 
 
 My mind was calmed by these re- 
 flections, and I carried myself suflici- 
 ently reasonable for a lover, who has 
 just gained a victory over a formidable 
 rival. However, my triumph was too 
 visible in the eyes of Wildebrand. 
 From that day he seemed to have vow- 
 G 6 ed
 
 1S2 THE CURSE 
 
 ed my destruction, without in the least 
 degree relaxing in those attentions he 
 usually paid to Edda. At times the 
 brutality of his nature would break 
 through that polish, which chivalry 
 bestows on those who are dedicated to 
 arms, and to honour ; she has then felt 
 herself insulted by his insolence, and 
 my blood has boiled wdthin me, atjwit- 
 nessing the impertinence of this cox- 
 comb, which I could not presume to 
 take notice of in the presence of Mont- 
 bazon and the Prince, who, from their 
 age and situation, ought to be her natu- 
 ral protectors. 
 
 My situation at Glatz became every 
 day more unpleasant. The Prince's 
 wishes for the marriage of Wildebrand, 
 were founded on the hopes he enter- 
 tained of its proving the means of his 
 reformation. He now saw very clearly 
 tlie ascendancy I had gained over his 
 son in Edda's mind, and he began to 
 
 treat
 
 OF ULRICA. 133 
 
 treat me with an unusual degree of 
 coldness. It was natural for him to 
 imagine that I was the only obstacle 
 to his son's happiness. Instigated by 
 these reasons, and by the arguments 
 of Montbazon, who endeavoured to 
 dispel everyillusionof hope, I determin- 
 ed to quit the castle of Glatz^ and 
 made preparations to leave it in a few 
 days. Passing along one of the long 
 galleries of this ancient castle, which 
 led to my chamber, while Bertrand 
 walked before me with a lani^, in order 
 to hght me to bed, a sudden gust of 
 wind, which, rushed from one of the 
 loopholes of the passage (for the castle 
 had been lately strongly fortified) ex-^ 
 tinguished the light. I directed him 
 to descend into the great hall, which 
 lay at some distance, in order to light 
 it;- While I, buried ih reverie, slowly 
 paced the passage, which had no light, 
 save the twinkling pf the stars, which 
 
 were
 
 134} THE CURSE 
 
 were visible through the loopholes in 
 the upper part of the walls. I heard 
 the sound of feet in one of the adjoin- 
 ing chambers, and as I had been in- 
 formed that these apartments were not 
 inhabited, I listened attentively, ima- 
 gining that banditti might have broken 
 into the castle. While I stood, the 
 door of the chamber was suddenly 
 thrown open ; I instinctively threw my 
 hand on my sword, and drew it, 'ere 
 I perceived the Hungarian, in the 
 same dress he wore at the Fontaine 
 d'Or. My tongue was tied with asto- 
 nishment. Sacred Gotl! was I the 
 dupe of enchantment, or the malice of 
 demons ? or was it one of those saint- 
 ed shades, who are permitted to walk 
 their earthly rounds, and give betimes 
 to the innocent, a warning of the evil 
 to come ? The Hungarian ended my 
 reflections by exclaiming, ** There is 
 •• a plot against your life— fly from 
 
 «* Glatz,
 
 OF ULRICA. 135 
 
 " Glatz, if you would preserve exis- 
 " tehee, — fly to-morrow, before the 
 " hour of midnight." On saying this, 
 the door was clapped to suddenly in 
 my face. I was on the point of rush- 
 ing on the hoary cheat, for such I 
 thought him, when he frustrated my 
 intention by effectually securing the 
 entrance of the chamber. Bertrand 
 at this moment appeared with the 
 light. I determined to rouse the cas- 
 tle. I held it not safe, nor just, to 
 retire to my bed without awakening 
 the Prince and his people. 
 
 I hastened down the staircase and 
 tolled the great alarm bell. In a few 
 minutes the Prince, in his robe-de- 
 chambre, and his people, who had 
 but lately retired to rest, appeared 
 with lights, approaching the gallery, 
 whither my shouts and Bertrand's cries 
 had attracted them. The Prince was 
 astonished at my relation, but I con* 
 
 cealed
 
 1S6 THE CURSE 
 
 cealed the prediction of my life being 
 in danger. He denied all knowledge 
 of the Hungarian, and the seneschal 
 appearing then with the keys of the 
 castle, he testified, agreeable to what 
 the Prince had also mentioned, that 
 the room which I had pointed out to 
 him as the one from which the Hun- 
 garian had issued, w^as used for many 
 years as a magazine for decayed stores*" 
 f was confident that it was the very 
 room ; the rooms which led into the. 
 cqrridore were distinguished from it 
 by their distance and the different ap- 
 pearance of their respective doors, so 
 that it was impossible to make any mis- 
 take. The seneschal unlocked the 
 door and led the way, every thing was 
 in its usual place, piles of iron balls, 
 bombs, gun-carriages, torches of Greek 
 fire, rusty blades, helmets, and car- 
 bines ; such were the contents of the 
 room. The fire-place had been built up 
 
 half
 
 OF ULRICA. 137 
 
 half a century before; the windows 
 were at an immense distance from the 
 floor, and tliey ran up to the roof in 
 compartments which were too narrow 
 to ^admit the body of a man. There 
 was not another door in the room, but 
 that by which we had entered. 
 
 After searcliing- most carefully, we 
 found nothing which could give us the 
 slightest cause of suspicion. I con- 
 fess I never felt so astounded. I felt 
 a degree of shame and humiliation 
 such as I have never experienced. There 
 seemed an utter impossibility of any 
 deception, after the careful iniijpection 
 •we had taken of the apartment ; this 
 offered every excuse for their increduli- 
 ty, and afforded but too strong a proof 
 that I must have been imposed on by 
 some w^andering of the imagination. 
 I retired to rest in a state of mind not 
 to be described. I felt that I Wdd be* 
 come the sport of some unknown 
 
 being,
 
 138 THE CURSE 
 
 being, who held in his hands the thread 
 of my destiny, who appeared to dis- 
 pose of me at will, — who haunted my 
 footsteps, — who seemed acquainted 
 with the events of my life, — who pene- 
 trated my most secret thoughts, and 
 who appeared to lift the veil which 
 covered futurity. At times I shudder- 
 ed to think that he might be my evil 
 genius whose design was to tempt me 
 with vice, and leading me step by step, 
 plunge me into an abyss of crime > 
 and again, I flattered myself with be- 
 lieving that he was commissioned to 
 guard the path of life in which I was 
 doomed to move, and to point out to 
 me the dangers with which it was be- 
 set. Wearied with conjecture I could 
 draw no conclusion which did not 
 become the mockery of my under-^ 
 standing and more sober reason. 
 
 I determined, at all events, to fol- 
 low the advice of the unknown, and 
 
 as
 
 OF ULRICA. 139 
 
 as he had not as yet deceived me, I 
 was bound to give some faith to his 
 words. I announced this resolution 
 on the following morning ; the Prince 
 was surprised but did not seem dis- 
 pleased at my quitting Glatz in this 
 abrupt manner. Wildebrand, whom 
 on all occasions I delighted to avoid, 
 had joined some friends on a hunting 
 party the day before. I shall pass over 
 my separation with Edda ; those who 
 have loved will do me justice for con- 
 cealing those feelings it has ever been 
 impossible to describe, and I wish to 
 confine myself to the description of 
 those extraordinary events which seem 
 to constitute the inexplicable mystery 
 of my fate. 
 
 It was late when we left the castle ; 
 mounted on a pair of the Prince's swift- 
 est horses. I took the direct road lead- 
 ing to Dresden, meaning to direct my 
 course from thence down the Elbe to 
 
 Hamburgh,
 
 140 THE CURSE 
 
 Hamburgh, from whence I intended 
 to take my passage to the north of 
 Europe. We had not proceeded above 
 a league when we entered the forests 
 .whicli surrounded the castle of Glatz. 
 We continued for many miles to pass 
 through the depths of these woods. 
 The wind, mixed with sleet and rain, 
 blew in our faces, — we quickened our 
 speed, in the hope of reaching some 
 hamlet before night fall, where we 
 .might obtain shelter fronj the incle- 
 mency of the weather. The snow had 
 fallen pretty deep the night before, 
 and unfortunately my horse made a 
 false step and fell under me ; I escap- 
 ed with a slight contusion, but on ex- 
 amining the horse I found he was com- 
 pleatly lame. This was an unpleasant 
 occurrence, for according to my com- 
 putation, we were yet many miles dis- 
 tant from any dwelling. I mounted 
 Bertrand's horse and desired him to 
 
 lead
 
 OF ULRICA. 141 
 
 lead mine as well as he could after 
 me. 
 
 We crept on in this manner for some 
 time. The howling of the wolves in the 
 forest at times frightened our horses so 
 much that we found it difficult to hold 
 them, and they often refused to pro- 
 ceed ; while the creaking of the bran- 
 ches of the old and blighted pines 
 filled us with a thousand vain alarms. 
 The moon which had been obscured 
 by heavy clouds, now threw her full 
 splendour around us. My horse sud- 
 denly started. I looked forward to dis- 
 cover the object which alarmed him. 
 I perceived something dark and re- 
 sembling the imperfect figure of a 
 man, lying across the road on the 
 frozen snow, while a large animal lay 
 howling on his prosti'ate body. I im- 
 mediately suspected that it was one of 
 the ravenous wolves which infested the 
 forest, who was preying on the remains 
 
 of
 
 14;2 THE CURSE 
 
 of some unhappy traveller. I drew 
 out one of my pistols and cocking it, 
 desired Bertrand to be prepared with 
 another, and not to discharge his pis- 
 tol until we approached a little nearer. 
 On our moving forward, the barking 
 of a large dog dispelled our fears. The 
 animal approached us wagging his tail, 
 and by dismal moans seemed to im- 
 plore our assistance. — I dismounted 
 and examined the body. I found it was 
 a peasant, who lay quite stiffened with 
 cold. The poor creature could hardly 
 articulate his thanks for the assistance 
 rendered to him. I poured some cor- 
 dial down his throat, which so far re- 
 vived him that he found himself in a 
 few minutes able to rise with our assis- 
 tance. His poor dog, delighted to see 
 his master recalled to life, frisked 
 around us, bounding w^th joy, and 
 Jicked our hands in expression of his 
 mute gratitude. I enquired from the 
 
 peasant
 
 OF ULRICA. 143 
 
 l^easant how far we had to proceed to 
 the next village, and described to him 
 the misfortune which had happened to 
 my horse. 
 
 " You are six hours journey," he 
 replied, " from the nearest hamlet, — 
 " the ways are bad, and this forest none 
 <« of the safest. My cot is only an 
 " hour's walk to the left — there, where 
 *' yonder swamp delves through the 
 " forest; come and fix yourselves there 
 " for the night. I can promise you 
 ** nothing but a fire, a tight roof, and 
 " a welcome ; as for food I can't pre- 
 ** mise you much. Besides, you wiii 
 " never make your way to the town 
 ** to-night. I am myself a better tra- 
 ** veller, and used to all weathers here 
 " — I expected to make a good long 
 ** journey, 'ere night fall, when all of 
 •* a sudden, the frost seized me with 
 " a cramp in the leg. — To be sure, it 
 •* was'nt the devil, but my good an- 
 
 " gel,
 
 144 THE CURSE 
 
 ** ffel. — I never set out with so heavy 
 " a heart in my Hfe. — Ah 1 a bad con- 
 ** science is but a poor travelling com- 
 " panion." 
 
 I looked on the man as the moon 
 lit up his face. His countenance was 
 squalid, and his beard was overgrown 
 and bushy ^ his whole appearance sa- 
 vage and ferocious: yet there was a 
 truth and artlessness in his manner 
 which singularly excited my confi- 
 dence in his professions. The horse 
 which Bertrand led was so completely 
 disabled that it was impossible to think 
 of proceeding much further. If I 
 sought the next village alone, I left 
 Bertrand to the mercy of this man; 
 To remain together in the forest much 
 longer was to run the risk of perisliing 
 with cold. I desermined therefore on 
 braving the event and accompanying 
 our ill-looking companion to his cot- 
 tage. 
 
 After
 
 OF OLUICA* 145 
 
 / After pursuing the open road for 
 about a mile, our guide stopped sud* 
 denly before a little path, tangled with 
 branches and wild plants, which led 
 down through a dark vista of the 
 wood. — " This is the w^ay, gentlemen, 
 " to my cottage ; if you please you 
 ** will lead your horses, as this path 
 ** is none of the straightest." 
 
 On saying this, he moyed onwards 
 to remove a swing bar which was fas- 
 tened between two pines, to which 
 was attached a noose and trap for 
 catching game ; in doing which, his 
 long black cloak was loosened, and I 
 discovered that he w^as armed with a 
 cutlass and two large hoi^e pistols, 
 w^hich \vere thrust into his belt. I 
 must own, when I accepted of his in- 
 vitation, I imagined that h^ was a 
 mere peasant, — his arms seemed to 
 belie this conjecture. — We had now, 
 however, advanced too far to recede* — 
 
 VOL. I, H
 
 146 T«E CURSt 
 
 I hinted to Bertrand my apprelieii- 
 sions, and desired him to have his 
 pistols in readiness. I now followed 
 the stranger, relying for my protection 
 on the service which I had rendered 
 to him. 
 
 In a few minutes we arrived at a 
 miserable hut, built of wooden shin- 
 gles. On his rapping at the door, a 
 female voice cried out, " Who knocks?" 
 *' 'Tis Conrad," answ^ered our guide, 
 " quick, open the door." The bolt 
 was withdrawn, we fastened our horses 
 on the outside of the door, and entered 
 the hut. A lire blazed in the hearth, 
 and by it sat a miserable woman ; a 
 sickly child, pale as ashes, lay on her 
 lap, and while she rubbed the child by 
 the fire, to give it warmth, its cries, 
 'which sounded like the wailings of 
 some departing spirit, penetrated to 
 the recesses of the heart. Another 
 child lay on a wretched bed, while a 
 
 .boy
 
 OF UHllCA. 147 
 
 boy of eleven years old stood by the 
 door, which he had opened, shivering 
 in his ragged shirt* ** Returned so 
 *' soon!" said the woman in a sulky 
 tone to Conrad j ** have you brought 
 " your children bread?'' " Bread! 
 " Bread !" echoed the children in pi- 
 teous voices. Conrad, without speak- 
 ing to his wretched family, brought 
 over stools for us, and placed them 
 near the fire. I sat down, anS con- 
 templated this scene of misery in si- 
 lence. The two elder children now 
 surrounded tlieir father, and searched 
 the hunting bag, which hung from his 
 waist, for provisions 5 they began to 
 cry bitterly at their disappointment. 
 *< Where is the remainder of yes- 
 terday's loaf?" demanded Conrad 
 ruffly. 
 
 " Wretched man ! do you forget 
 you shared it w4th the starving beg- 
 gar who applied to you yesterday 
 H 2 " for 
 
 ((
 
 14S THE CURSE 
 
 " for charity. — Charity from us I — 
 *^ God of justice, where is thine? — 
 " Out, out, and seek provisions *ere 
 ** they starve !" 
 
 " It snows and storms without at 
 *^ such a rate," repHed Conrad, ** one 
 <* would hardly drive out a dog in 
 " such weather." 
 
 ** Look at thy infant," said his 
 wife, ** the Hfe*s blood no more comes 
 " from its heart — how it pants, and 
 " gasps for breath ! — and look, its eyes 
 " how fixed and glassy ; it can no 
 ** longer behold us ; it is looking at 
 ** death ! What a cold sweat stands 
 «* on its forehead, as if something im- 
 " mortal had breathed on it ! Out, 
 " Conrad — out, and prepare its coffin !" 
 
 Here the woman, whose intellects 
 grief seemed to have disordered, began 
 to sing a wild and melancholy ditty 
 over her dying infant. 
 
 " My good people," I exclaimed, 
 
 " I shall
 
 OF ULRICA. 149 
 
 '' I shall feel happy to share with you 
 ** the little store I possess. Go, Ber- 
 " trail d, bring in your haversack, and 
 " share its contents with this good 
 " w^oman." 
 
 On this the children crowded round 
 me, delighted to hear they were about 
 to obtain food. In a few minutes 
 Bertrand returned with, a countenance 
 pale with terror. " Gh ! my dear 
 " master, it is gone, it is lost !*' 
 
 " Lost, lost /" repeated the chil-^ 
 dren. 
 
 ** The haversack/* continued Ber* 
 trand, " in which I had tied up an 
 ** ample store of cold provisions, and 
 <* not forgetting plenty of cordials; I 
 " fastened, as I thought, secure enough 
 ** on the outside of the portmanteau. 
 ** It is no where to be found. On the 
 " white snow, one could discern now 
 "the track of a hare. I should cer-. 
 " tainly have found it, if it had only 
 H 3 ** dropt
 
 150 THE CURSE 
 
 ^* dropt from the saddle. I should 
 ^* have found it in our track. It is 
 ** that cursed dog who has run away 
 ** with it." 
 
 In this supposition, as a natural one, 
 I joined, when Conrad said, he could 
 answer for the fidelity of his dog. 
 
 ** Beliold these poor children," ex- 
 claimed he, ** when yesterday they of- 
 *> fered food to Wolf^ and would have 
 ** shared their morsel with him, the 
 '* poor creature refused to deprive 
 ** them of a part of their poor pittance, 
 f* and lay down, as if he was sick, all 
 ** the day under the bed." 
 
 We all now made a search after 
 IVolfi and his name was repeated until 
 the forest rung again — he was no where 
 to be found. " He is not idle, I war- 
 '* rant," muttered Conrad. 
 
 Conrad now took our horses, and 
 placed them in a little shed at the 
 hack of the cottage. On his return, 
 
 he
 
 OF ULRICA. 151 
 
 he prepared a little bed for me. Ber- 
 traiid was to sit up all night, in order 
 to keep watch, according to the secret 
 directions I had given him. I only lay 
 down upon the bed— I could not close 
 my eyes. Sundry circumstances had 
 strengthened the suspicions which I 
 entertained of Conrad, and I was ap- 
 prehensive that more of his gang would 
 join him in the night. I suspected 
 that he had deferred his plan of rob- 
 bery, and perhaps murder, until lie 
 should be strengthened by an acces- 
 sion of numbers. I even attributed 
 the absence of his dog to this eausei 
 The sagacity of these animals is so in^ 
 credible, that I entertained no doubt 
 of the possibility of his being dispatch- 
 ed to their place of meeting by his 
 master, as a signal ; — besides, Conrad's 
 expression on our missing the dog, 
 " he is not idle /" struck me very for- 
 cibly. 
 
 H 4 I was
 
 15*2 THE CURSE 
 
 I was interrupted in these reflections 
 by liearing some one tap gently at the 
 door of the cottage. I turned my 
 eyes on Bertrand, but without moving 
 my head ; he was fast asleep; fatigue 
 had completely overpowered him. The 
 knocking ^t the door w^as repeated, and 
 a louder tap at the window, close to 
 which Conrad lay asleep, aroused him* 
 Conrad raised himself gently from the 
 place where he lay, and looked round 
 while he sofitly approached the door. 
 At that moment, the sensations I ex* 
 perienced are not to be described ;'— » 
 to dart from my bed, grapple with 
 Conrad before he reached the door> 
 and tax him with bis premeditated 
 treachery — or coolly to take the pistol 
 from under my pillowy and shoot him 
 before he carried his villainous scheme 
 into execution. These ideas n^pidly 
 crossed my mind. I lay still and mo« 
 tionless. I lost the power of volition, 
 
 ' A. 
 
 Disgust
 
 OF ULRICA, 153 
 
 Disgust of the past, despa'ir of the fu- 
 ture — a cahn and settled hatred of ex- 
 istence, which then unaccountably 
 possessed me — the horrible scene of 
 human misery which surrounded me — 
 all gave me a loathsome feeling of in- 
 describable apathy, which oppressed 
 me. His hand was on the bolt, about 
 to undraw it. This was the decisive 
 moment. — I resolved to await the event. 
 
 Conrad opened the door, when in 
 sprang — it was Wolf! The noise oc- 
 casioned Bertrand to start from his 
 sleep. " Who goes there ?'' cried he,. 
 ** you are a dead man !" 
 
 ** It is Wolf! it is Wolf!" cried the 
 children, rising themselves up in their 
 beds with joy. 
 
 Wolf now marched over to his mas-- 
 ter, and laid at his feet a large bun- 
 dle, which he carried in his mouth. 
 " It is my portmanteau and haver- 
 ** sack/' cried Bertrand, frantic with . 
 u 5 joy,.
 
 154 THE CURSE 
 
 joy. " Hurrah 1 Hurrah ! — get up, 
 " my little ones — now ye shall eat as 
 " much as ye list, if Wolf has left U8 
 ** any supper/' 
 
 The dog, it seems, had seen the 
 portmanteau and haversack drop in the 
 forest ; the carriage of such a bundle 
 in his mouth, sufficiently accounted 
 for the time he took in following us. 
 
 Our fears were now converted into 
 merriment. Bertrand did the honours, 
 and in a few moments we had the con- 
 tents of the haversack spread on the 
 table, and found that honest Wolf had 
 brought it untouched. A little warm 
 wine poured into the mouth of the in- 
 fant, restored it once moie to exist- 
 ence — its eyes opened ; its little hands 
 expanded ; its joints were loosened 
 from the convulsive grasp of death ; — 
 the smile of returning life once n)ore 
 played round its month. The mother 
 threv/ herself on her knees, and with 
 
 uplifted
 
 OF ULRICA. - 155 
 
 nplifted hands exclaimed, " Eternal 
 ** and allpowerful God 1 receive my 
 ** thanks ! You have heard a mother's 
 ** prayer — you have not deserted our 
 ** humble roof in the day of our trou- 
 ble. Strangers, may that Provi- 
 dence who guided you here to save 
 us, never desert you. May he walk 
 with you through the thorny paths of 
 " this life, and receive you into his 
 ** protection when you die the death 
 " of the just!" 
 
 ** Pray for me," said Conrad, " and 
 ** give thanks, that I have been saved 
 ** from the commission of a great 
 ** crime !*' 
 
 I beheld a tear roll down the scarred 
 and rugged cheek of Conrad, while 
 he beheld his little ones eating their 
 supper. The moment they had allay- 
 ed the pangs of hunger, they retired 
 to rest. 
 
 *< You know not, Sir," exclaimed 
 H 6 Conrad,
 
 156 THE CURSE 
 
 Conrad, turning towards me, " the 
 
 " beneftts you have conferred upon 
 
 ** me ; but for you, I should be this 
 
 ** night a guilty wretch — a murderer !" 
 
 I started. — ** Yes^" continued he, 
 
 " want and actual famine have brought 
 
 " me to this. ... I was a private in 
 
 the regiment of Kozinsky. These 
 
 v/ounds you behold, I received in- 
 
 the service of my country. I mar- 
 
 " ried a young woman of Franconia, 
 
 " who in her youth possessed charms, 
 
 " which hardships and grief have ef- 
 
 " faced. When we retired at the end 
 
 ** of a severe campaign into a garri- 
 
 " son, my wife informed me that she 
 
 " had been frequently insulted by our 
 
 ** commanding officer, who took ad- 
 
 " vantage of my occasional absences 
 
 ** on duty, to make to her proposals. 
 
 ^* of the basest nature." 
 
 " * I have kept this a secret from 
 ^ you,* said she, * as long as I pos- 
 
 *' sibly
 
 OF ULRICA. 157 
 
 *^ sibly could endure it ; but I fear his 
 " revenge will soon burst on either 
 your head or mine, on account of 
 the contempt which I do not hesitate 
 to express for him.' 
 " This account rendered me very 
 " miserable. It was my turn to go 
 " on duty that night ; I was not long 
 " on guard, before one of my com- 
 ** rades, who suspected the designs 
 " of the Colonel, came to me and in- 
 ** formed me that he saw the Colonel 
 entering my lodgings, and heard him 
 bursting open with his foot the door 
 of my wife's apartment, which dur- 
 ing my absence she carefully locked. 
 " * For one moment, comrade,' said I, 
 ** ' take my post.' I delivered to 
 ** him my musket, and ran frantic 
 " with rage to my lodging. I found 
 " the Colonel on the point of using 
 " force to my wife. When he heard 
 " me, he turned towards me with a 
 
 " face
 
 \5R THE ClTRsr 
 
 face pale as ashes. I attempted to 
 expostulate — he rushed by me, and 
 in a few minutes, a file of men 
 came in and put me under arrest. 
 I was tried and found guilty on the 
 charge of deserting my post. I at- 
 tempted to defend myself, by re- 
 lating the base designs of the Co- 
 lonel ; they would not hear me — 
 they gagged mfe and bound me. I 
 was thrown into a dungeon, where 
 I lay for some wxeks ; at the end of 
 which time, they informed me that 
 the Colonel had interfered to save 
 my life. I was severely flogged, 
 and dismissed the regiment. It is 
 needless to relate. Sir, how long J. 
 wandered with my wife and chil- 
 dren, from place to place, without 
 employment, destitute of food, and 
 with no other shelter than the open 
 canopy of heaven. After years of 
 suffering, chance conducted us here. 
 
 " In
 
 OF ULRICA. 159 
 
 ** In these wilds, the savage wolf seem- 
 " ed the only inhabitant and master. 
 " I built this cottage ; and with the 
 " aid of my dog and a gun, I pro- 
 cured in the forest enough of game 
 to support my family ; and where- 
 withal to sell in the neighbouring 
 town, what purchased for them 
 ** bread and necessaries. I had not 
 " been many months leading this kind 
 " of life, when the steward of the 
 " lord of the manor discovered me 
 ** one morning coming forth from my 
 ** hut. * So,* said he, * this is the 
 ** way then that my Lord's property 
 *• is w^asted, by such intruders as you 
 ** are.' I pleaded my utter ignorance 
 " of being an intruder on the rights 
 '* of others. I was about to relate to 
 '* him my distress ; cold-hearted man,' 
 ** he turned from me without hearing 
 ** the sad tale of our woes. Winter 
 *' now set in. The source of our 
 
 ** wretched
 
 IGO TUE CURSE 
 
 ** wretched existence began to fail us;. 
 " the severity of the weather has 
 " driven from these woods, the ani- 
 " mals which used to contribute to 
 " our support; they .have sought a 
 " milder climate, and their suste- 
 " nance in those plains, from whence 
 " man has banished us. For behold 1 
 " said Conrad (lifting up the large 
 " hairy cap which covered his brow, 
 ** I beheld with horror, the word 
 ** death in large letters, burned on his 
 " forehead), who will receive under 
 " his roof, the branded villain, the 
 ** guilty one, the condemned? Yes, 
 ** this eternal brand, this living monu- 
 " ment of my disgrace, teaches the 
 ** innocent to hate the crime-polluted. 
 '* wretch, and tells man to fly from 
 " me. With the beasts I have made 
 " my habitation ; it is they alone who 
 " dare to approach my lonely dwell- 
 •* ingj and whilst with dismal yells 
 
 " they
 
 OF ULRICA* l6l 
 
 ** they bay the moon, I walk forth and 
 '* rejoice. I rail Hke them at nature 
 ** and nature's works 'j with them I 
 •* prowl, and my heart has become al- 
 " / most as ferocious and savage as 
 ** themselves. I was revolving within 
 ** myself to what new wilderness I 
 " should fly to hide my woe ;. when a 
 " few mornings ago, the lord of the 
 ** manor announced himself at our 
 door. I looked up, and beheld the 
 fatal author of all my misfortunes, 
 yes, it was Colonel Wildebrand, the 
 son of Prince de Zaremberg. Sor- 
 row and fatigue had so altered me, 
 <* he knew me not. He asked my 
 ** name, I gave him the first that oc- 
 ** curred to my recollection. He then 
 " drew me aside, using great pre^ 
 " caution to prevent our being over- 
 *' heard. * You have,' said he, * for 
 ** some time trespassed on this pro- 
 " perty ; liave you a grant, a vassal's 
 
 « right?'
 
 ]f>2 THE CURSE 
 
 '* riglit?' — * Neitlicr one nor the other,' 
 " replied I fiercely.— * The law con- 
 *< demns yon to punishment for this,' 
 ** observed he. — * Granted.' — Heseem- 
 " ed pleased at my ferocity. — * 'I^licre 
 ** is a way by which you may con- 
 ** tinue your possession here, or even 
 ** do better.'—* Name it,* said I.— 
 ** * To one,' said he, « of your manner 
 »* of thinking (nodding significantly) 
 " few words are best. There is a ha- 
 «< ted rival who now sleeps beneath 
 « our roof; I would have him sleep 
 " no more, do you understand me?' 
 " < Most undoubtedly.'—* Dispatch 
 <^ him, andarich reward shall be your's.' 
 «« I counted the money already 
 <* in my pocket. He gave me my 
 <* directions, this very night I was 
 «< to have reached the castle of Glatz. 
 « I looked with a heavy heart on 
 «* my wife and children 'ere I left 
 •* them, I read t)ie truth too plain 1>
 
 (< 
 
 (< 
 tr 
 
 OF ULRICA. 163 
 
 ** in their hollow eyes ; they were dy- 
 ** ing of famine. For some days 
 '* back, a. few crusts of bread have 
 been their only support, — * Father, 
 father, give us bread,' they cried, 
 I rushed out, exclaiming, * Yes, 
 my children, you shall have bread 1* 
 Here is the key which opens the 
 door of a private passage, that tra- 
 verses the towers of the castle j here 
 is the dagger, which 'ere the clock 
 ♦* struck one, would have been buried 
 ** in the he^t of the Count de Beau- 
 *' marchais !" 
 
 ** He stands before you," cried I ; 
 ** now, Conrad, strike 1" 
 
 '' Allpowerful Providence," exclaim- 
 ed Conrad throwing himself on his 
 knees, " preserver of my life — my fa- 
 ** mily — my children also, — yes, yes, 
 " there is a God in heaven !" 
 
 The violence of Conrad's emotions 
 at tl'Js discovery demonstrated th^ 
 
 sinceriiy
 
 l64« THE CURSE 
 
 sincerity of his repentance. I could 
 not avoid shuddering at my mar- 
 vellous escape, and I felt equally sur- 
 prized and grateful for this wonderful 
 proof of the supernatural power of my 
 mysterious preserver. I endeavoured 
 to relieve Conrad's mind from the 
 weight of premeditated guilt, by de- 
 monstrating to him the wonderful ways 
 of Providence, which ofttimes interpos- 
 ing between the virtuous mind and 
 inevitable ruin, snatches it from guilt, 
 and having passed it throug^h the ordeal 
 of temptation, renders it ever after 
 able to withstand the powers of evil, 
 stedfast in virtue, and worthy of its 
 God. I succeeded at length in soften- 
 ing his misanthropic heart. I request- 
 ed his assistance in procuring a con- 
 veyance from the neighbouring town, 
 in case we found the horses incapable 
 of proceeding in the morning. To 
 this he readily acceded.
 
 OF ULRICA. 165 
 
 We all retired to Qur beds once 
 more, and endeavoured to pass in re- 
 pose the few remaining hours of the 
 night. 'Ere the dawning of morning 
 Com'ad had risen : and on our awak- 
 ing, we found the remains of the last 
 night's supper furnished us with a com- 
 fortable breakfast. The children with 
 animated looks approached the table, 
 and poor Wolf, to whom we were in- 
 debted for it, was not fogotten. — Con- 
 rad reported that the lameness of my 
 horse was occasioned by a stone he 
 had picked up, which was now remov- 
 ed, and they were both sufficiently able 
 to pursue their journey. 
 
 Conrad now declared his intention to 
 remove with his wife and children that, 
 morning from the forest. " The-Colo- 
 " nel, Sir," said he, "will set no bounds 
 " to his vengeance, when he learns 
 ** that his scheme of villainy has been 
 " frustrated. It is possible, also, that 
 
 ** he
 
 IGG THE CURSE 
 
 ** lie may be informed, that you, 8ir, 
 *' slept beneath this roof, and that 1 
 ** neglected this opportunity. In fine, 
 ^* he may acquire a knowledge of who 
 <* I really am ; I then can expect no 
 " mercy." 
 
 These considerations had struck me. 
 very forcibly before: and I had sketch- 
 ed a plan in my mind, for extricating 
 Conrad from his unpleasant situation. 
 I informed him, that if he felt desirous 
 of trying his fortune in a foreign land, 
 I had no objection to his accompany, 
 ing me to the North of Europe, provide 
 ed that he could establish his wife and 
 children in some of the neighbouring 
 towns, until he succeeded in obtaining 
 employment. But I warned him not 
 to imagine I could do more than re- 
 commend him, for I was a stranger my- 
 self: and like him, was about to seek 
 the protection of a foreign land. 
 
 Conrad's gratitude was unbounded 
 
 for
 
 OF ULRICA, 167 
 
 for this offer. He informed me that 
 ill the neighbouring town of B. . . , , 
 lived a rich widow, to whom he al- 
 ways sold his wild fowlj she was a 
 very liberal woman, and had been for 
 some time looking out for a person 
 to assist her in the care of her esta- 
 blishment. He intended to propose 
 his w/fe for that situation, as she was 
 a capital accountant, and had received 
 a tolerable education. The only fa- 
 vour he demanded of me, was to stop 
 for four hours in this town, which lay 
 in our way to Dresden ; and in the 
 mean time, he would remove his family, 
 and prepare himself to accompany me. 
 I ffave him the direction to the inn 
 where I intended to lodge ; and I 
 promised him that I should wait for 
 him the time he requested. Before I de- 
 parted, 1 called his wife aside, gave her 
 some money, and informed her, if it 
 ever lay in my power to do her a 
 
 greater
 
 168 THE CURSE 
 
 greater service, that she might rely On 
 my assistance. 
 
 The sun had now risen, but its beams 
 shone dimly through the thick fog 
 which concealed the heavens from our 
 view. We mounted our horses, and 
 left this poor family, with whom joy 
 was now an inmate, where despair had 
 been so long a tardy and unbidden 
 guest. The children knelt with up- 
 lifted hands on the fresh fallen snow, 
 while tears of gratitude rolled down 
 their cheeks. Tjie mother murmured 
 her blessings in broken ejaculations, 
 and the last sound we heard borne on 
 the soft breeze of morning, '* Blessings 
 *' on the head of him who gives help to 
 •< the afflicted I" 
 
 We arrived early in the morning at 
 
 the town of B From this place I 
 
 sent back the horses with a polite note 
 to the Prince de Zaremberg, preserv- 
 ing a complete silence on the base and 
 
 cowardly
 
 OF ULRICA. 169 
 
 cowardly plot of his son, as I did not 
 wish to add to the weighty griefs which 
 ah'eady afflicted him. 
 
 Conrad appeared before the appoint- 
 ed time, in high spirits. On intro- 
 ducing his wife to the widow, as a per- 
 son whom he had procured to fill the 
 situation, which fortunately still re- 
 mained vacant, they flew into one 
 another's arms, with every token of 
 mutual affection, and Conrad's sur- 
 prise was not diminished when he was 
 informed that each had found a sister. 
 The widow had married and lost her 
 husband long after Conrad's misfor- 
 tunes commenced. She had never 
 seen Conrad as her sister's husband, 
 and her change of name had frustrated 
 every attempt made by Conrad's wife 
 to discover her. Conrad was delight- 
 ed to leave his wife and family with 
 this good woman. I was pleased to 
 see that he had taken the precaution 
 
 vol. I. I
 
 170 THE CURSE 
 
 to change his dress ; as his former un- 
 couth habihments must have created 
 some unpleasant suspicions in the inns 
 we should be obliged- to stop at on our 
 route. With part of the money I had 
 presented to his wife, he had purcha- 
 sed a decent dress. He still wore his 
 formidable fur cap, but underneath it 
 a black band tied round his forehead 
 concealed the fatal inscription. He 
 still retained his arms, as a safeguard 
 on our journey, and no intreaties nor 
 threats could separate the faithful Wolf 
 from his master. 
 
 I now made preparations for pursu- 
 ing our journey. . On reaching the 
 Elbe we were fortunate in immediately 
 procuring a barge for performing our 
 voyage down that river. The severity 
 of the winter had abated, and Spring 
 had already with light footsteps visited 
 its banks, and scattered many an early 
 blossom. Wliile the snowy hills around, 
 
 swelled
 
 OF ULRICA. 171 
 
 swelled its waters with a thousand tri- 
 butary streams. 
 
 While I prosecuted my journey to- 
 wards Hamburgh, I met with many of 
 my former friends, as unhappy as my- 
 self, among the French Hugonots, at 
 that time wretched exiles from their 
 country. They had performed a joy- 
 less pilgrimage from their once loved 
 France ; but, alas ! without meeting 
 with that sainted shrine where pity be- 
 stows an hallowed sanctuary. Stran- 
 gers in these inhospitable climes, their 
 misery had seldom been alleviated by 
 the commiseration of the humane. 
 Their me£ had found no solace in the 
 sympathy of a friend. The wreck of 
 our native country, of that vessel of 
 the state, once so gallant and trim, 
 had covered with its wretched remains 
 tlie shores of Europe. Humanity had 
 heard, it is true, the cries of many un- 
 happy sufferers, and the hand of com- 
 
 1 2 passion
 
 17^ THE CURSE 
 
 passion had been stretched forth to save 
 them. But many of noble rank yet 
 wandered miserable outcasts in a fo- 
 reign land ; and by a noble resigna- 
 tion to their fate, and a cheerful obe- 
 dience to the will of heaven, sought 
 for that refuge in God which man 
 denied ! 
 
 On arriving at Hamburgh, I found 
 there was no vessel ready to sail for 
 the Baltic. I judged it prudent to 
 take a retired lodging in one of the 
 suburbs ; my landlord was a German 
 Jew, and like all those of his faith, 
 made me pay exorbitantly dear for 
 the scanty accommodation his house 
 afforded. 
 
 I had not many days acquired pos- 
 session of my lodging, when my no- 
 tice was attracted by a stranger who 
 had taken possession of the house op- 
 posite to which I lodged, a few days 
 after my arrival. His dress denoted a 
 
 foreigner,
 
 OF ULRICA. 17s 
 
 foreigner ; his mien was mysterious *, he 
 watched all our actions, and whitherso- 
 ever I went, he was sure to follow my 
 footsteps. His figure was concealed 
 by a large pelisse, which he folded 
 round him, and his countenance was 
 effectually shaded from oui* view by a 
 large hat flapped over it. The blinds 
 of his windows were constantly let 
 down, while from behind them he 
 seemed to scrutinize the interior of my 
 apartment. The suspicions of Conrad 
 were awakened, but to all the ques- 
 tions which he put he received none 
 but mysterious answers. On relating 
 to me his apprehensions, Conrad swore 
 he would never desist, until he had 
 developed the designs of the myste- 
 rious stranger. I felt a considerable 
 degree of alarm respecting this man, 
 for his figure, although evidently dis- 
 guised, exactly resembled that of Rez- 
 zonico. I pressed Conrad to make en- 
 
 I 3 quiries
 
 J71 THE CURSE 
 
 quirlcs on that evening for a vessel 
 bound to Sweden. He saw the .pro- 
 priety of hastening our departure, and 
 instantly went to the quay of Ham- 
 burgh to try and procure our passage. 
 The evening had nearly passed 
 away, and (Conrad had not returned ; 
 I became so uneasy at his absence, 
 that I ordered Bertrand to arm himself 
 and follow me. We soon reached the 
 quay ; on enquiring among the cap- 
 tains of the different vessels, I w^as in- 
 formed that a person answering the 
 description of Conrad had been there ; 
 but that on his return, they had heard 
 a scuffle on the quays, between hira 
 and some strangers, with whom they 
 had not interfered, as they imagined 
 it to be some drunken quarrel. This 
 account alarmed me. We proceeded 
 along the water's edge ; the moon was 
 up ; Bertrand perceived something 
 dark floating on the surface of the ri- 
 ver.
 
 OF ULRICA. 175 
 
 ver. It was approaching the shore on 
 which we stood. The moonhght, and 
 the reflection of the lights in the river, 
 enabled us to examine it. It was the 
 body of a man. <* It is certainly poor 
 *' Conrad," exclaimed Bertrand, trem- 
 bling with fear. " Examine it then,'' 
 said I, " and endeavour to distinguish 
 " its garments and features." As the 
 swelling of the wave threw it nearer 
 shore, we discovered with horror, that 
 it was a headless corpse, and barbar- 
 ously mangled I 
 
 We hastened from this dreadful 
 scene, and with faultering steps ap- 
 proached our lodging. As I ascended 
 the wretched staircase which led to 
 our apartment. Wolf met me, and 
 looked wistfully up in my face, as if to 
 inquire whether I hadTound his master. 
 Alas ! I , feared that Bertrand's sur- 
 mise was too true, and that Conrad 
 was, no more. The disappearance of 
 I 4 this
 
 176 THE CURSE 
 
 thi? man not only caused me consb- 
 derable regret on his own account, 
 but it also excited very great appre- 
 hensions in my mind, regarding my 
 personal safety. The relentless cru- 
 elty of this fell destroyer, who armed 
 with the crucifix and the poignard, 
 appealed to his meek Saviour, while 
 he lapped up human blood, had been 
 exhibited but too recently and clearly 
 in the prison of my father, not to af- 
 fect my feelings very powerfully. I 
 was aware of the inexhaustible activity 
 of Rezzonico's mind, and of his abi- 
 lity to surmount every obstacle which 
 might oppose him in a favourite pwr- 
 suit. I was convinced that Conrad 
 was too prudent to become the part- 
 ner or sufferer in a drunken quarrel. 
 It was not unlikely that he bad been 
 waylaid by some of the emissaries of 
 Rezzonico, or perhaps of Wildebrand, 
 and as his enemy was mine also, it 
 
 was
 
 OF ULRICA. 177 
 
 was requisite that I should guard my 
 safety by every precaution. I dis- 
 patched Bertrand to make further in- 
 quiries after Conrad, and to secure, if 
 possible, a passage in the first vessel 
 which sailed from Hamburgh. It was 
 now very late ; I rang the l)ell for 
 supper. Bertrand had not returned, 
 and the Jew came in with what had 
 been prepared. I observed this man, 
 while he spread my supper on the ta- 
 ble, and poured out some Rhenish 
 wine ; his hand shook, and his frame 
 was visibly agitated, while now and 
 then I perceived a malignant smil^ 
 cross his sallow features. I was ex- 
 tremely thirsty. I took up the gob- 
 let to drink ; at that moment the door 
 of the apartment shook, and a foot was 
 heard on the stairs. Wolf, who lay on 
 the hearth expecting his master, sprang 
 apross me, and shook the goblet from 
 my hand. I had scarcely sipped the 
 I 6 wine ;
 
 178 THE CURSE 
 
 wine. Bertrand entered, and the Jew 
 disappeared. A momentary faintness 
 came over me ; my tongue felt dry 
 and parched, and a flood of fire seem- 
 ed to roll through my Veins, and burn 
 in my heart. I attempted to walk, my 
 limbs tottered, a cold dew overspread 
 me, my brain grew dizzy, and the 
 room, the lights, and Bertrand, seem- 
 ed to whirl round me. A horrid thought 
 assailed me. ** I am poisoned ! the 
 ** wine ! the wine !" I exclaimed, 
 ** help ! help !" 
 
 Bertrand assisted me to a bed, and 
 instantly flew for a physician, who ad- 
 ministered the usual remedies. He 
 was of opinion that I had swallowed a 
 small quantity of a very subtle poi- 
 son. After I had explained to him 
 my suspicions of mine host, he ex- 
 amined the wine, and was convinced, 
 on analyzing it, that it contained poi- 
 son of a most potent nature. The 
 
 shock
 
 OF ULRICA. 179 
 
 shock which my constitution received 
 from the Jew's deadly potion, was too 
 violent to be rapidly repaired. I lay 
 for twenty weeks in a state of inde- 
 scribable torture ; my mind at times 
 touched the extremes of utter darkness 
 and oblivion, and of the wildest im- 
 pulses of the most ungovernable in- 
 sanity. 
 
 The humane physician had reported 
 the affair to the council, and when I 
 was sufficiently recovered, I delivered 
 to the public authorities, a statement 
 on oath of these facts. Orders had 
 been issued to their emissaries to ap- 
 prehend the Jew, and a reward was of- 
 fered for the discovery of Conrad, 
 who, on account of his sudden dis- 
 appearance on the critical night, had 
 become an object of suspicion to the 
 council. Yet I cannot suspect such 
 depravity to exist in the human heart, 
 as to suppose him capable of attempt- 
 
 I 6 ing
 
 180 THE CURSE 
 
 ing tlie life of one, who saved him 
 and his family from all the horrors of 
 famine. However, from that time, I 
 never could unravel the mystery of 
 Conrad's fate. The Jew, no doubt, had 
 fled, and received the reward of his 
 villainy, for all the attempts made by 
 tlie authorities of Hamburgh to dis- 
 cover him proved ineffectual. 
 
 On my recovery I found a vessel 
 ready to sail to Sweden. We hastened 
 to embark, and the winds of autumn 
 blew propitious for our voyage. We 
 landed in this country, after a quick 
 and favourable passage, and I made 
 immediate preparations for my journey 
 to the capital. Nothing worthy of re- 
 lation occurred on our way to Hafna ; 
 at that place, the horses which were 
 procured for us by the postmaster 
 were so high in mettle, as to prove 
 yearly ungovernable. Towards the 
 conclusion of oiu' journey I was obliged 
 
 to
 
 OF ULRICA. 181 
 
 to take the reins. We travelled with- 
 out any accident until we arrived at 
 the top of one of the precipices which 
 hangs over the lake before us. The 
 road, as you know, winds close to its 
 edge on one side, while an impenetra-» 
 ble forest skirts it on the other. We 
 had nearly passed half way, when we 
 heard the clattering of horses' hoofs 
 behind the carriage. Some fire-arms 
 were discharged, and several men 
 suddenly emerged from the forest, 
 crossed the road in front, and present- 
 ed their harquebuses. The moon 
 gleamed on their bright armour, and 
 by its light I perceived that a large 
 white cross was represented on their 
 mantles. 
 
 " Ha!" cried Ulrica, ** the IVhite 
 " Cross Knights P^ 
 
 The horses, continued Adolphus, 
 at that moment took fright, and drag- 
 ged the carriage towards the pi'ecipice. 
 
 The
 
 S2 THECIJRSE 
 
 The sight fled from my eyes — I lost 
 the power of sense or motion — until 
 Providence directed your son to the 
 spot, and your humanity and attention 
 awakened me here to new life and 
 eternal gratitude ! 
 
 A long pause ensued when the 
 Count had ^nded his narration. Dif- 
 ferent emotions seemed pictured on 
 the countenances of his auditors. Ax- 
 el OloPs brow was bent in horror and 
 amazement, and he reflected with 
 terror, that Adolphus was persecuted 
 by the White Cross Knights! Lau- 
 rentius felt the sincerest pity and com- 
 passion for Adolphus ; and his soul 
 was so void of bigotry, and so filled 
 with benevolence, that his looks ex- 
 pressed his horror at those excesses 
 which Adolphus had attributed to his 
 brethren. The old Ulrica's eyes were 
 suffused with tears, and Christina, fas- 
 cinated
 
 OF ULRICA. 183 
 
 ciliated with his marvellous story, gaz- 
 ed like an enthusiastic recluse, with 
 fear and with love, on the image of her 
 idolatry. The exclamation of Ulrica 
 conveyed to Adolphus the idea, that 
 from these peasants he might acquire 
 some information concerning those 
 White Cross Knights, who appeared 
 to be his terrible enemies ; but on this 
 subject they did not dare to talk. An 
 emotion of dread and terror seemed 
 connected with it, and visibly operat- 
 ed on the minds of all, when Adol- 
 phus alluded to it. He could gather 
 no information from their obscure 
 hints, — but that they were terrible be- 
 ings — mysterious and all powerful — 
 who formed an extended, but invisible 
 brotherhood — which had shook the 
 kingdom from one extremity to the 
 other, filled all men's minds with fear, 
 and caused the monarch to tremble 
 
 on
 
 184 THE CURSE 
 
 on his throne — who were subject nei- 
 ther to defeat nor disaster — who were 
 expected and dreaded in all times and 
 seasons — and yet of their abode no 
 man could tell-— they were nowhere to 
 be found 1
 
 or ULRICA. 185 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 -For he, 
 
 With many fair and princely qualities 
 That in his clear morn no attetition drew, 
 Now, on the brow of dark advereity, 
 Hhusm liku a raitibow on a surly cluud, 
 And till men louk at him. 
 
 Miss Baillie's Const ant ine Pakoh^uSt, 
 
 Ctaspard de Montbazon was descend- 
 ed from one of the most ancient fa- 
 milies in the north of Europe ; a family 
 which was distinguished among that 
 illustrious order of nobles, the Counts 
 of Sweden. The name of this family, 
 however, whether it arose from fear 
 or shame, Montbazon was never heard 
 to repeat. Entitled by his birth to 
 the splendid estate and dignified title
 
 186 THE CURSE 
 
 I 
 
 of his ancestors, a concurrence of un- 
 heard of circumstances had deprived 
 him, shortly after the age of maturity, 
 of all the j)rivileges of his birth-righr, 
 and forced him even to fly from his 
 native land covered with disgrace, and 
 with all the hopes and expectations of 
 sanguine youth blighted in ^he very 
 bud of promise. A period of several 
 years now elapsed ; during which 
 Montbazon had eluded all the in- 
 quiries of his friends, and the rigorous 
 search of his enemies. Thrown at 
 length, in times of trouble and blood- 
 shed, upon the theatre of affairs in 
 Europe; he appeared under the name 
 of Gaspard de Montbazon, in the 
 humble capacity of a lieutenant in the 
 army of Francis the 1st, King of 
 France. This lieutenant, however, 
 soon caused the eyes of his gallant 
 companions in arms to be fixed upon 
 him in wonder and admiration. A
 
 OF ULRICA. 187 
 
 gigantic stature, together with an air 
 and movement almost supernatural, 
 and a courage and resolution carried 
 to the utmost pitch of human daring, 
 were qualities which -rendered him 
 soon distinguished in those fields, 
 which in that age were often w^on, by 
 the spmted example and personal 
 prowess of an individual alone. 
 
 Promotions, distinction, and ho- 
 nourable rewards, now attended the 
 career of Montbazon : but it appear- 
 ed like a caprice of fortune in raising 
 him thus high ; for his elevation ren- 
 dered his fall more desperate, and his 
 ruin more inevitable and compleat. 
 He had now touched one of the en- 
 viable goals of human felicity. His 
 rank in the army was elevated, his 
 courage and integrity indisputable, 
 his friends numerous. A favourite of 
 the King, and adored by the country 
 he had adopted, there seemed to be 
 
 nothing
 
 188 THE CURSK 
 
 nothing wanting to his happiness but 
 to secure its stability. A remarkable 
 eveirt threw him at once from the 
 height to which he had been elevated, 
 and it proved that misfortune was not 
 yet weary of pursuing him. 
 
 Neither defeat, captivity, nor the 
 number of his enemies werift^ capable 
 of daunting the brave heart of Fran- 
 cis 5 he, at this time, had taken the 
 field against the Emperor, who had 
 passed the Var with his forces and ra- 
 vaged Provence. Francis, who had 
 learned prudence from defeat, was sa- 
 tisfied with intercepting their supplies 
 of provisions and forage ; and he en- 
 camped with the flower of his nobili- 
 ty, and attended by the whole splen- 
 dour of the Court of France, at Va- 
 lence, where he determined to hazard 
 a general engagement, in case the 
 enemy, by tlie defeat of Montmoren- 
 cy, who lay nearer the frontiers, 
 
 should
 
 OF ULRICA. 189 
 
 should be enabled to penetrate into the 
 heart of the kingdom. 
 
 Montbazon had been promoted to 
 the rank of aide-de-camp to the King, 
 and he now attended on the royal per- 
 son. The army having taken their 
 position at Valence, the royal tents 
 were stretched along the banks of the 
 Rhone. ' It came to Montbazon's 
 turn one evening to keep watch in the 
 royal tent ; the King, who had under- 
 gone a great deal of fatigue in the 
 early part of the day, had retired for 
 some hours into the inner apartment 
 of the tent, which a shght curtain 
 divided from that in which Mountba- 
 2on kept watch. Four of the King's 
 guards walked their rounds at the en- 
 trance, while Montbazon paced the 
 interior of the tent impatiently and 
 anxiously ; for it was long since past 
 the hour at which the King usually 
 went forth. At length, fearing that 
 
 the
 
 190 THE CURSE 
 
 the King might have become suddenly 
 indisposed, he drew aside the hang- 
 ings gently, and beheld the King re- 
 clining backwards on the couch on 
 which he had been sitting, while his 
 feet rested on the rail of a table, which 
 stood before him. The King was, to 
 all appearance, in a sound sleep. The 
 evening was hot and sultiy, 'and part 
 of the outside hangings of the tent had 
 been opened near the couch where he 
 sat, in order to admit light and air. 
 The table before the King was covered 
 with rouleaus of gold coin, which he 
 had been counting before fatigue and 
 the heat overcame him. Montbazon 
 advanced on tiptoe ; he feared to make 
 the least noise, dreading lest the King 
 should awake. Montbazon was in the 
 act of drawing the crimson hangings 
 of the aperture, in order that the King 
 might not be suddenly chilled by the 
 damp evening air, w^hen the King sud- 
 denly
 
 OF ULRICA. 191 
 
 denly awoke. Montbazon, whose eye 
 at that moment was attracted for the 
 first time by the gold which ghttered 
 on the table, felt confused when he 
 perceived that the King watched this 
 involuntary motion of his eyes. Mont- 
 bazon now collected his presence of 
 mind, apologized to the king for his 
 intrusion,' and was about to withdraw, 
 when the King stopped him, and in a' 
 cold manner desiring him to inform 
 him when the chiefs, who were about 
 to deliberate in council concerning a 
 movement of the enemy, had assem- 
 bled in the royal tent, dismissed him, 
 and proceeded with gre'at earnestness 
 of manner to count his rouleaus. 
 
 When the commanders, who began 
 to arrive shortly after, were assembled, 
 Montbazon proceeded to inform his 
 Majesty. The King looked at him 
 sharply, and demanded in a severe 
 tone of voice, if he had permitted any 
 
 one
 
 192 THE CURSE 
 
 one to pass into the royal tent, or 
 whether he had been a moment absent 
 from his duty. Montbazon rephed to 
 these questions in the negative. " Look 
 " to yourself," then replied the King 
 sharply in passing him, ** for I have 
 " missed one of my rouleaus \" 
 
 Before Montbazon had time to an- 
 swer his majesty, the King passed on, 
 and laid the whole affair before the 
 chief nobles of his kingdom and the 
 commanders of his army, who were 
 waiting for his majesty to commence 
 the dehberations of the council. The 
 King did not attempt to throw his sus- 
 picions on any particular person, or 
 seem to intimate so serious a charge 
 against the honour of Montbazon's 
 character ; but he jocularly observed, 
 that every one, from his royal person 
 down to the meanest sentinel of tlie 
 watch, must submit to be searched, 
 or suffer the imputation of having 
 
 committed
 
 OF ULRICA. 193 
 
 committed the theft. In spite of the 
 expressions of his majesty, the eyes of 
 the whole assembly were directed on 
 Montbazon, who suffered the severest 
 torments of mind ; while the varying 
 emotions of wounded honour, pride, 
 resentment, shame, and scorn, dila- 
 ted his majestic form with an extraor- 
 dinary expression, and shewed the in- 
 ward swellings of a lofty soul. The 
 sentinels were now called in, and his 
 majesty very condescendingly w^as the 
 first to exhibit the inside of the poc- 
 kets of his doublet. The assembly 
 had now all submitted to the search, 
 including Montbazon, and the rouleau 
 was not discovered. 
 
 Some one cried out, *' there is a 
 *' helmet*, in the corner of the tent 
 " which has not been searched." The 
 helmet was brought forward, and to 
 their great astonishment, the rouleau 
 was discovered enveloped in the li- 
 
 voL. I. K iiing*
 
 IS^ THE CURSE 
 
 ning. Every one now demanded the 
 owner of the hehnet with the white 
 plumes ; and covered with shame, 
 despair, and confusion, the owner 
 stood forth in the midst of them. It 
 was the unfortunate Montbazon ! 
 
 The King, at this moment of the 
 discovery of the supposed guilt of 
 Montbazon, observed a very old cour- 
 tier fixing his eyes on the deh'nquent, 
 and then smiHng with a very remark- 
 able expression. The smile did not 
 escape the quick observation of the 
 monarch, and he resolved to inquire 
 the meaning of it the moment he had 
 an opportunity of speaking alone with 
 the courtier. 
 
 " May it please your majesty," 
 cried Montbazon, advancing to the 
 King and kneeling at his feet, while 
 he drew his sword from his scabbard 
 and presented it to him, " to do an 
 " act of speedy justice, — pierce my 
 
 <« faithful
 
 OF ULRICA. 195 
 
 " faithful heart, (which has never 
 ** swerved from the duty it owes to your 
 " majesty and to the laws of honour,) 
 " with this sword, which in the hour 
 " of my glory you presented to me 
 ** on the field of battle. If I have 
 ** committed this base deed, I deserve 
 death, — yet innocent as I am, to be 
 suspected of it and yet live, is pu- 
 nishment too great for one who has 
 acquired fame in arms and ho- 
 nourable applause in the paths of 
 glory." 
 
 The King was affected at this ap- 
 peal, but displeasure appeared again 
 to predominate in his countenance* 
 He was grieved to think that the 
 brightest ornament of chivalry, the 
 bravest of his warriors, should thus 
 have sullied his spotless fame. He 
 ordered Montbazon to rise, and after 
 denouncing the severest punishment 
 on the criminal, he commanded him 
 
 K 2 t# 
 
 4i
 
 196 THE CURSE 
 
 to 'be conveyed forthwith to the dun- 
 geons of a round tower, which de- 
 fended one of the approaches of Va- 
 lence. 
 
 Montbazon was led by his guard 
 through the various divisions of the 
 camp, despoiled of his military garni- 
 ture, and with his arms tied behind 
 him like a common felon. At first the 
 soldiers murmured, and a tumult ran 
 through their ranks. Their compas- 
 sion was excited at witnessing the dis- 
 grace of a commander who had so 
 often led them on to victory ; but their 
 ranks became still, and the murmur 
 died away when they perceived the 
 downcast mien of Montbazon, whose 
 eyes were bent upon the earth, and 
 whose dejected visage flushed with 
 iihamc, seemed to avoid and to fear 
 the bold scrutiny of his fellow sol- 
 diers. 
 
 Montbazon was thrown into one of 
 
 the
 
 OF ULRICA. 197 
 
 the darkest dungeons of the tower. ; 
 his limbs were loaded with chains, and 
 lome sorry food was left for his subsis- 
 tence. On his remonstrating wdth the 
 officer who commanded in the fortress 
 on his harsh treatment, he was inform- 
 ed that such were the orders of the 
 King. Montbazon sunk into a fit of 
 gloomy abstraction. He attempted to 
 review the events of the evening and 
 to discover the author of the infamous 
 conspiracy, of which he had faller> 
 the victim, but his mind was incapa* 
 ble of this effort. The entire force of 
 his understanding seemed to be filled 
 and occupied by one dark and sombre 
 image. It was the moment of his dis- 
 grace, that unfortunate crisis, when 
 in the presence of the most brilliant 
 court in the world, he had been pro- 
 claimed by his sovereign a ba{?e felon, 
 a wretch who, abusing the trust and 
 honour of his office, takes advantage 
 
 k3 of
 
 198 THE CURSK 
 
 of his situation, to purloin the treasure 
 of his liege lord and master. A tap 
 at the door of his dungeon roused 
 Montbazon from his reverie ; he ga- 
 thered up his chains and advanced 
 with an undaunted air, to meet the 
 messenger of justice. The door flew 
 open, and a dark figure muffled up in 
 the folds of a watch cloak advanced 
 towards him. When Montbazon ob- 
 served the light of the moon (which 
 gleamed mistily athwart the bars of his 
 dungeon) fall on the face of the stran- 
 ger, he started back with surprise, for 
 he beheld the King ! In accents of the 
 deepest sorrow and compassion the 
 King lamented the fall of his favourite. 
 As soon as Montbazon had recover- 
 ed from the surprise which the sudden 
 appearance of the King had thrown 
 him into; he asserted his innocence to 
 his majesty in the strongest terms, not- 
 withstanding the unfortunate appear* 
 
 ances
 
 OF ULRICA. 199 
 
 ances against him, which seemed to 
 favour so strongly the presumption of 
 his guilt. 
 
 « Who and what are you?'* de- 
 manded the King, " can you call 
 ** forth the testimony of friends, rela- 
 •« tions, or country, in your favour ?'* 
 
 Montbazon remained silent. ** Can 
 " you explain," said the King, in a 
 jseverer tone, " what were those cir- 
 " curastances which caused you to 
 " assume a mean disguise, five years 
 " ago, in the city of Dantzig ?'* 
 
 The old courtier whose smile testi- 
 fied that he felt no great surprise at 
 witnessing the supposed fraud of Mont- 
 bazon, had imparted to his majesty the 
 very equivocal circumstances under 
 which he had seen him in the north of 
 Europe, when Montbazon was forced 
 to fly from his country. 
 
 Montbazon uttered no reply to this^ 
 question, but still asserted that some 
 
 K 4 enemy
 
 •200 THE CURSE 
 
 enemy, who liad conspired for lils de- 
 struction, must liave taken tliis me- 
 thod to destroy his fair fame for ever. 
 If the King had only entertained 
 doubts before, he was now firmly im- 
 ]>ressed with the guilt of Montbazon. 
 His refusal to give any clue to his fa-' 
 mily, or to throw any light on the 
 mystery of his past life, were presump- 
 tions so strong, that they amounted' 
 to proofs of bad conduct in the mind 
 of the King. 
 
 - " I come not here," exclaimed the 
 King with severity, " to parley with 
 the guilty — nor yet to visit you with 
 that punishment which the atrocity 
 of your crime deserves, and which 
 its publicity demands as an exam- 
 ple. The rigid observance of our 
 law, which the severe discipline of 
 a camp requires, rendered it impos- 
 " sible for me to express, or to exer- 
 " cise those feelings of compassion, 
 
 " which
 
 OF ULRICA. 2Q1 
 
 which were overflowing in my heart 
 at the moment of your disgrace. I 
 free you from your chains. Throw 
 •* off your garments ; take this ck)ak, 
 ** it will completely envelope your 
 " person, and give you safe conduct 
 " through the camp ; for you observe," 
 said the King, shewing a lily which 
 was embroidered in diamonds on the 
 front of his cloak, ** at this sign 
 " they will imagine they recognize 
 " the King. Take this purse of gold; 
 ** nay," added the King, on observ- 
 ing the resistance which Montbazon 
 meditated — " if you disobey me, even 
 in the least of these particulars, your 
 head shall be visited with the ut* 
 most severity of the law. Observe 
 my directions : you will turn to the 
 right on leaving the tower ; you 
 will there be questioned only by 
 one sentinel. Leave the neighbour- 
 hood oi' Valence quickly — for if you 
 K 5 «* approach
 
 202 THE CURSE 
 
 ** approach within ^ve leagues of my 
 ** person, I will have you hanged 
 " on the nearest tree. Pass into other 
 ** kingdoms, seek other climes. Let 
 ** me never see your face again. Re- 
 " member the pass of the night j the 
 " word is St. Francis." 
 
 Montbazon, who would have endur- 
 ed a thousand deaths, rather than be 
 indebted for his safety to a sovereign, 
 who held him in so contemptible a 
 light as thus to degrade him with the 
 most infamous of mankind, was forced 
 to desist from an unavailing resistance. 
 He was aware, from his knowledge of 
 the King's temper, that all remon- 
 strance would be unavailing ; and he 
 thus avoided the dishonour of a dis- 
 graceful death — the death of a felon, 
 by yielding obedience to the commands 
 of the King. Francis instantly freed 
 him from his chains, and Montbazon 
 wrapped round him the King's mantle 
 
 and
 
 OF ULRICA. 205 
 
 and was about to leave the prison, when 
 Francis called him back. 
 
 ** There remains one thing more to 
 " be performed *ere we part/' said 
 the King ; "the lieutenant of the tow- 
 " er and the sentinels of the watch 
 " will come to visit you at the ap- 
 " pointed hour, and bring you food, 
 " according to my orders ; they will 
 ** find me here, armed and yet a pri- 
 " soner. I would not that they should 
 ** suspect me of this weakness of 
 ** heart, or accuse me of contaminat- 
 " ing myself with guilt. This must 
 " appear your act. Here is my sword ;. 
 " take up the chains from which I 
 " freed you, and fasten them on this. 
 ** arm, which I have placed against 
 " the staple." 
 
 «* Pardon me, my liege^" cried 
 ♦* Montbazon, kneeling, ** and do not 
 " force me to commit this act of sui- 
 *♦ cide against mine own honour. If 
 
 K 6 "I rob.
 
 (( 
 
 t( 
 
 ii 
 
 204' THE CURSE 
 
 " I rob my Sovereign of his valuable 
 " cloak, his sword, and chain him to 
 the walls of my dungeon, tlie world 
 will have scope to tax me with more 
 than imaginary crime. My honour, 
 my character". . . . 
 
 Is wounded already to tlie quick," 
 replied the King promptly, ** 'tis lost 
 past redemption. I will hear no 
 more — obey me quickly, or trem- 
 ** ble." 
 
 Montbazon w^as obliged to perform 
 this hard task ; he fastened the King's 
 arm to the staple, and girt the Mo- 
 narch's sword round his waist. When 
 he beheld his defenceless Monarch in 
 his power, and glanced his eye upon 
 that sword, with which he might in- 
 stantly dispatch him, and thus revenge 
 his wrongs, his breast swelled with 
 the noble reflection, that the King, in 
 thus magnanimously exposing himself, 
 could not have believed his soul so 
 
 steeped
 
 OF ULRICA. 205 
 
 steeped in crime, as not to hold in- 
 violate the sacred laws of honour. 
 Consoled with this tribute paid to his 
 past glory, and penetrated to the heart, 
 he threw himself before the King, 
 and kissed his feet ; but the King 
 spurned him from him, and with a 
 haughty look, bade him begone. 
 
 Montbazon instantly rose and left 
 the prison in gloomy silence, while the 
 King remained in his place for three 
 hours, at which time he was released 
 by the watch who came to visit Mont- 
 bazon. Francis, who deemed that 
 this time was sufficient to allow his for- 
 mer favourite to escape from the vi- 
 cinity of the camp, gave strict orders 
 that he should be pursued by divisions 
 of his troops in every direction, as far 
 as thfey could emerge with safety from 
 under the walls of Valence. Among 
 the numerous friends which Mont- 
 bazon posaessed in the army of Francis 
 
 at
 
 ^06 THE CURSE 
 
 at that juncture, there was none who 
 regretted his fate with greater sincerity 
 than the Count de Beaumarchais. He 
 was even possessed with a strong be- 
 lief of his innocence of so many base 
 crimes at the time ; and long after the 
 death of Francis, and at a period when 
 most of the actors in that brilliant 
 scene had sunk unheeded to the grave, 
 and when the events which gave rise 
 to so momentous a change in the des- 
 tiny of Montbazon had passed away, 
 and were swept into oblivion, he be- 
 came possessed of the very proof 
 which would have estabhshed his in- 
 nocence, in a very remarkable manner. 
 In one of the battles between the 
 Catholics and the Hugonots, a soldier 
 belonging to the former had been 
 taken prisoner by the division under 
 the command of the Count de Beau- 
 marchais. He was wounded in so very 
 severe a manner, that the surgeon, 
 
 before
 
 OF ULRICA. 207 
 
 before he performed the operation of 
 amputation, reconimended him to send 
 for a confessor, and prepare himself 
 for the very worst that might happen, 
 as it was very unlikely that he would 
 be able to survive the operation. The 
 soldier, who exhibited strong signs of 
 mental distress, implored the surgeon 
 in the most urgent terms to be per- 
 mitted an interview with the Count 
 de Beaumarchais, to whom he had an 
 important communication to make. 
 The Count readily attended the sum- 
 mons of the dying soldier, who pene- 
 trated wdth grief and remorse, con- 
 fessed to him, (after having called to 
 his recollection the disgrace of Mont- 
 bazon) that he was the man w^ho stole 
 the rouleau of gold from the King's 
 table. He was one of the four guards 
 of the royal tent : in passing the side 
 where the King lay exposed, he be- 
 held
 
 208 THE CURSE 
 
 held his Majesty fast asleep, and the 
 gold spread upon the table. He could 
 not resist the temptation. On being 
 summoned into the King's presence, 
 his mind misgave him, and he pulled 
 the rouleau privately from his bosom, 
 and threw it into the helmet which lay 
 in the corner of the tent. He declared 
 that he had no enmity against Mont- 
 bazon ; it was chance directed his 
 hand, and he was perfectly ignorant 
 who was the owner of the helmet in 
 which he had deposited the rouleau. 
 After making this confession, the ope- 
 ration was performed, and the soldier 
 died immediately after in great tor- 
 ments. The Count de Beaumarchais 
 made a deposition of this transaction, 
 but it came too late — it could not re- 
 verse the sentence and opinion of the 
 dead : and among the living, the 
 prowess of Montbazou's all-powerful 
 
 arm
 
 OF ULRICA. 201) 
 
 arm had exacted a respect, which the 
 shade thrown on the early part of his 
 life scarcely tarnished. 
 
 But to return from this digression. 
 On emerging from the dungeon, Mont- 
 bazon passed the skirts of the camp in 
 safety. He took a road which led him 
 to a distant part of France. He lived 
 for many years in obscurity and obli- 
 vion ; and repaid the neglect and 
 contempt of the world with the bitter 
 scorn of a rejected, yet innocent man* 
 He flew to the only consolation which 
 remained for a wounded spirit — the 
 study of literature and philosophy. 
 
 The philosophy of that age was 
 strongly tinctured with the belief of 
 the marvellous doctrine of the Cabala ; 
 and the pursuit of that ignis fatuus of 
 the mind, the philosopher's stone, was 
 an object of invaluable attraction in 
 the opinion of some of the most en- 
 lightened philosophers of the day. The 
 
 puerile
 
 210 THE CURSE . 
 
 puerile vSuperstition \vhich characteriz- 
 ed the Roman people in the most im- 
 portant affairs of state, descended to 
 their posterity ; but it was modified 
 and changed in the course of ages, 
 according with and accompanying the 
 progress of the human mind. It was 
 now tranferred from the observation of 
 the objects of earth to those of heaven, 
 and the study of mystic astrology be- 
 came an object of impoitance, not 
 only to those who would wish to tread 
 the path of riches, prosperity, and 
 glory, but also to the statesman who 
 was desirous of wielding the energies 
 of a kingdom with vigour and effect. 
 
 In the pursuit of the elimr vHce and 
 inexhaustible riches, Montbazon had 
 made many important chemical dis- 
 coveries, which although they did not 
 absolutely yield to him the fruit of 
 the land of promise, yet they gratified 
 his taste for the marvellous, and ex- 
 cited
 
 OF ULRICA. 211 
 
 cited his mind to fresh and more vi- 
 gorous exertions in these visionary 
 studies. 
 
 In that part of France which he 
 had chosen for his retirement, he Hved 
 unnoticed and unhonoured for his 
 scientific attainments ; few were wil- 
 ling to make advances of friendship 
 towards a stranger, who appeared to 
 court the depths of privacy and ob- 
 scure poverty; and Montbazon des- 
 pised the friendship of a world that 
 would hold him cheap in its estima- 
 tion, if acquainted with that which the 
 malignity of his fate had doomed him 
 to suffer. His sedentary avocations 
 were pursued with an intenseness, 
 which admitted of no relaxation, ex- 
 cept in the occasional visits which he 
 secretly paid to his friend the Count 
 de Beaumarchais. 
 
 The gloomy aspect with which the 
 government of France, about this 
 
 time
 
 Q12 THE CURSE 
 
 time regarded its subjects who were of 
 the reformed rehgion, induced Mont- 
 bazon, who was a Lutheran, to think of 
 changing the place of his retirement. 
 He was surrounded by Monks, who 
 watched Hke spies his movements, and 
 held all his actions in suspicion ; they 
 even stirred up the villagers to hold 
 his person in abhorrence ; and their 
 fears of his having a communication 
 witJi the devil, were considerably ex- 
 cited by the saJlowness of his visage, 
 and the superior lengtli and blackness 
 of his beard. 
 
 Ti»e piotestant leaders at length 
 conferred together on the measures 
 it became them to adopt. Montbazon 
 was returning late in the evening from 
 one of then' secret councils, which was 
 held at the castle of St. Blois, the seat 
 of the Count de Beaumarchais ; wliile 
 he rode quietly through the silent 
 vale of Chatigny, absorbed in deep 
 
 musings,
 
 OF UtRICA. 213 
 
 musings, he perceived suddenly dark 
 thunder clouds beginning to gather 
 around him ; he spurred on his steed, 
 and gallopped in quest of shelter. 
 While he rode through the wood, his 
 ear was pierced by a shriek so clear 
 and shrill, as to convince him it pro- 
 ceeded from some one in the last ex- 
 tremity of distress, and that the suf- 
 ferer was a female. He instantly rode 
 to that part of the wood from whence 
 the sound proceeded; after straying 
 for some minutes through its dark 
 glens, liis eye was attracted by a light 
 which twinkled from an excavation 
 made in the side of one of the hills, 
 which rose above the wooded vale ; 
 he dismounted from his steed, tied it 
 to a tree, and instantly approached the 
 cave from whence the shrieks issued 
 more fearfully than ever. The door 
 of the cave was closed, but through an 
 aperture Montbazon beheld an old 
 
 Anchorite
 
 Ql4f THE CURSE 
 
 Anchorite attempting to force into a 
 compliance with his wishes, a young 
 girl, whose beauty, extreme youth, in- 
 nocence and tears, interested him in- 
 stantly and powerfully in her favour. 
 The Hermit desisted for a few mo- 
 ments from his attempt, and while she 
 knelt on the bare earth wiping away 
 her tears with her long tresses, which 
 hung dishevelled on her bosom, he 
 seemed to hesitate, and at length ex- 
 claimed, " Obstinate wretch ! why 
 ** should you hesitate to obey me, 
 ** who saved your life at the risk of my 
 " own !" The stifled sighs, and scarcely 
 repressed shrieks of Edda, which was 
 the name of this young creature, now 
 excited his rage. " Why should I 
 " hesitate to execute this rebel to my 
 ** will ? Prepare !" cried he, in a ter- 
 rible voice, ** Prepare ! for this instant 
 ** thou shalt surely die !'* 
 
 The Hermit drew forth a long 
 
 clasp-knife
 
 OF ULRICA. 215 
 
 clasp-knife from his under garment, 
 and was about to execute his purpose j 
 when Montbazon, who saw that no 
 time was to be lost, instantly dashed 
 the bolted door into pieces, and seized 
 the arm of the decrepid Hermit. 
 
 Edda flew on the appearance of a 
 stranger to a remote corner of the 
 cell, iind offered up prayers for the 
 success of her preserver. 
 
 The Hermit struggled violently 
 with Montbazon, and wounded him 
 with the knife which he still held. 
 Montbazon, who scorned to draw his 
 sword on his feeble adversary, felled 
 him with a blow to the earth, placed 
 his knee on his bosom, and held him 
 by the throat to prevent him crying 
 for assistance ; while he besought Edda 
 to hand him the rope with which the 
 Monk tied* his garments, in order to 
 secure his arms. While Edda obeyed 
 him with fear and apprehension, Mont- 
 bazon
 
 21G THE CURSE 
 
 bazon seized the rope, and relaxed his 
 grasp of the Monk. The whiteness 
 of the Hermit's countenance now vied 
 with the silver hair on his forehead. 
 Montbazon hastily lowered the chain 
 of the dim watch-light, and when the 
 lamp shone on the Monk's pallid vi- 
 sage, he felt convinced that the Her- 
 mit w^as dead. Tlie miserable and 
 infirm old Anchorite was strangled 
 in the pressure of Montbazon's fingers. 
 
 Montbazon buried his body on the 
 same night, outside the cave ; he next 
 demanded of Edda who she was, and 
 how she had fallen into the power of 
 the monster he had destroyed. 
 
 Edda was too young to be able to 
 give him much information. She had 
 been brought to the Hermit about five 
 years before, by another Hermit, who 
 was a great deal more wicked than the 
 last. He gave her sweetmeats to in- 
 duce her to go along with him j but 
 
 she
 
 OF ULRICA. 217 
 
 she had crie4 all the way, for she was 
 sorry to leave her mother. This bad 
 hermit ordered the hermit Paul to 
 kill her, which Paul promised to do ; 
 but when the bad hermit went his 
 way, Paul took compassion on her, and 
 promised to let her live, provided she 
 would not run away. She promised to 
 obey Paul ; for of what use would it 
 have been forher to* haverun a way 
 into the wild wood, where she must 
 have perished with hunger, or have 
 been devoured by wild beasts? On 
 every seventh day, when the country- 
 people came with their offerings, Paul 
 locked her up in a remote part of the 
 cell under-ground ; from whence she 
 could not make herself heard by the 
 peasants, if she wished. Paul had, al- ' 
 ways behaved kindly to her until that 
 evening, when he had become wicked 
 like the bad hermit, and would no 
 VOL. I. L doubt
 
 213 TH£ CURSE 
 
 doubt have destroyed her ; only that 
 she was saved by her good hermit, for 
 so she called Moiitbazon. 
 
 In this childish account, which Edda 
 gave him, Montbazon could discern 
 the outline of a horrid plan of monkish 
 cruelty. That this child was intended 
 as a sacrifice, on account of her reli- 
 gion, or her wealth, he had not a 
 doubt ; and he determined to save her 
 from her persecutors, let the risk be 
 what it might. Montbazon, on being 
 informed that the peasants were not 
 expected to visit the cave for some 
 days, remained there, and deliberated 
 what he should do with the child. He 
 inspected the cave, and accurately 
 examined the manuscripts of the de- 
 ceased ; which chiefly consisted of ex- 
 tracts from the pious mummeries of 
 Jacobus de Voragine, as exhibited in 
 his Legenda Aiirea, He shook the 
 leaves of his books, illuminated mis- 
 sals,
 
 OF ULRICA. 219 
 
 sals, and lives of saints without end ; 
 but without being able to find the ob- 
 ject of his search, — some document 
 of the birth and parentage of the child, 
 for whom he felt himself so highly in- 
 terested. 
 
 Montbazon finally resolved on con- 
 ducting Edda as his own child, to his 
 obscure residence. He engaged mas- 
 ters to attend her in all the branches 
 of a polished education ; and in the 
 intervals of his severer studies and 
 employments, he inducted her into a 
 knowledge of the learned languages. 
 
 Montbazon's attention to his studies, 
 and to his fair pupil, was interrupted 
 for several years during the first wars 
 of the Hugonots. His restless spirit 
 had foreseen and prepared a resistance 
 to the intolerable persecutions of the 
 court. Acute in the council; irre- 
 sistible in the field j his was the form 
 of fire, which moved before them in 
 L 2 their
 
 220 THE CURSE 
 
 their niglit of peril, and which pointed 
 to that land of promise, that would 
 eventually reward, their exertions. 
 During the various fortunes of the 
 war, Edda remained in one of those 
 towns which espoused the cause of 
 the Hugonots ; and while her prayers 
 and intercessions were sent forth for 
 him, whom she regarded as her more 
 than father, the deepness of her 
 solitude was adorned and enhghtened 
 by those various studies and ac- 
 complishments, in which she so emi- 
 nently excelled. 
 
 It is not deemed necessary to des- 
 cribe here those various periods of 
 suffering, which fell to the lot of either 
 party in this sanguinary and unnatural 
 contest. The pe^ce, whkh seemed to 
 put an end to the calamities of this 
 civil war, did not give confidence or 
 repose to the mind of Montbazon. 
 He remonstrated with his friends, and 
 
 endeavoured
 
 OFULRICA. 221^ 
 
 endeavoured to save them from the 
 perils which lay in wait for them ; but 
 the fate of Cassandra was his, and la- 
 menting their obduracy, and denounc- 
 ing their fate, he disappeared sud- 
 denly from the midst of them, ; while 
 accompanied by Edda, he sought for 
 safety and concealment in the cave of 
 the vale of Chatigny. His retreat 
 was unknown to all, except the Count ' 
 de Beaumarchais : who unfortunately 
 perished, owing to the incredulity 
 with which he received the warn- 
 ings of Montbazon. The cave proved 
 a secure retreat after the death of the 
 Hermit, as superstitious fear kept the 
 peasants from approaching it. 
 
 While Montbazon remained here, 
 he accidentally discovered in one of 
 the subterraneous apartments of the 
 cave, an iron box, containing some 
 papers. On perusing them, he found 
 them to consist chiefly of directions to 
 L 5 the
 
 / 
 222 THE CURSE 
 
 the hermit Paul, for practising the 
 pious frauds which drew crowds from 
 the neighhouring villages, to behold 
 the miracles of the hermit, wliose re» 
 putation for sanctity was so great, as 
 to prove a source of revenue, which 
 was not despised by the poor brothers 
 of the neighbouring monastery of St. 
 Francis. Several of these letters were 
 signed by a name which arrested the 
 attention of Montbazon. He had 
 known this person for many years to 
 be one of those deep-designing vision- 
 aries, who were capable of prostituting 
 even the name of the Holy One, in 
 the accomplishment of the basest pur- 
 poses. Rezzonico was an Italian by 
 birth, and to the natural talent which 
 the Italians in general possess for in- 
 trigue, he added the deepest hypo- 
 crisy of which a human being is ca- 
 pable. Montbazon was long acquaint- 
 ed with the irreconcilable enmity he 
 
 vowed
 
 OF ULRICA. 223^ 
 
 vowed to their sect ; and he felt no 
 additional surprise, when, through 
 these papers, he became acquainted 
 with the various plans for exterminat- 
 ing the heretics en masse, ov en detail^ 
 which were in progress, preparing, or 
 impending on the heads of his friends, 
 through the ministry of this arch poli- 
 tical and sanguinary hypocrite. In 
 one of these letters there was a refer- 
 ence made to the child which had 
 been sent to Paul. The words were 
 dark and mysterious, and Montbazon 
 could gather very little meaning from 
 them. This sentence, " the child is 
 " 710W some years dead, and yet the mo- 
 ** nastery has not benefited by that event ; 
 " however, wait a few years, and then,^* 
 seemed very obscure to him, and yet 
 it almost proved his suspicions to be 
 just. Another passage caught his at- 
 tention. ** One blow has already fallen 
 " on De Beaumarchais — let him trem* 
 
 L 4 •* ble^
 
 224 THE CURSE 
 
 " ble^ for another evil day approach- 
 " ethr' Montbazon foaud it ex- 
 tremely difficult to reconcile this pas- 
 sage with what he knew of the life of 
 the Count. At the period when this 
 letter was written, the Count had suf- 
 fered no misfortune, unless his sepa- 
 ration from the Countess might be 
 considered one ; that, however, to 
 Montbazon's mind, did not appear to 
 be an evil hour, which separated him 
 from a cold, heartless, and supersti- 
 tious woman. A thought suddenly 
 struck him, which promised to de- 
 velop the mystery. From the cir- 
 cumstance of the child and the Count 
 de Beaumarchais being mentioned in 
 ihQ same letter, he drew this infer- 
 ence, that the sentences were neces- 
 sarily connected together in their 
 meaning : it seemed then to follow ' 
 that Edda, his protege, was a daughter, 
 or some very near relation of the 
 
 Count's.
 
 OF ULRICA. ^25 
 
 Count's. She might be a natural child 
 of the Count ; but on these points ' 
 Montbazon could not decide, as since 
 his friend's separation from the Coun- 
 tess, he had been extremely rc.s?rved 
 on the subject of his family. JMont- 
 bazon instantly flew to the cliateau of 
 St. Blois, to obtain an explanation on 
 this subject from the Count. The 
 Count had unfortunately, about this 
 time, quitted St. Blois for Paris ; an 
 event which led to his melancholy ca- 
 tastrophe, and Montbazon never be- 
 held him more. From all the inqui- 
 ries which he deemed it compatible 
 with his safety to make in the neigh- 
 bourhood, he derived but little infor- 
 mation ; and the Countess was too 
 closely surrounded with her friends of 
 the catholic party, and too carefully 
 watched by the fraternity of St. Fran- 
 cis, to admit of his applying to her. 
 Upon these slight grounds, Montbazon 
 L 5 con-
 
 226 THE CURSE 
 
 concluded that Adolphus and Edda 
 were brother and sister ; and yet when 
 he carefully examined their features, 
 he could not trace the slightest resem- 
 blance between them. They were 
 both beautiful ; but so totally dissi- 
 milar were they in the expression of 
 countenance, that a contradiction to 
 the theory of Montbazon seemed to be 
 written on the forehead of each. He 
 could not, -however, resolve to give up 
 an opinion which brought with it the 
 consolation of his having saved the 
 life and proved the guardian of the 
 daughter of his best beloved friend. 
 This was the cause of the extraordinary 
 conduct he shewed towards Adolphus 
 from the moment that he dreaded the 
 consequences of their mutual attach- 
 ment*: and yet he felt so warm and so 
 paternal an attachment for Edda, that 
 he could not bring himself to commu- 
 nicate his suspicions to Adolphus 5 for 
 
 he
 
 OP ULRICA. 2^7 
 
 he dreaded his asserting the right, 
 which in that case he would undoubt- 
 edly possess, of declaring himself her 
 natural protector. 
 
 After the destruction or dispersion 
 of the Hugonots, in consequence of 
 the massacre of St. Bartholomew, 
 Montbazon resolved on quitting France 
 for ever : and he fortunately made 
 good his escape into Germany, with 
 Edda, only a short time before Adol- 
 phus took the same route. He ac- 
 cepted of an invitation which was 
 given him by the Prince de Zarem« 
 berg, who had been an active friend 
 to the Hugonot cause, and who felt 
 delighted at having an opportunity of 
 demonstrating his attachment to their 
 intrepid leader. The splendid alli- 
 ance which was here rejected by Edda, 
 proved at first a matter of regret to 
 Monibazon : but consequent events 
 proved how much she had to congra- 
 ' L 6 tulate
 
 228 THE CURSE 
 
 tulate herself in forming so just an 
 estimate of the diai'acter of Wilde- 
 brand. 
 
 To him who has been tossed about 
 on the tide of fortune, amid the vicis- 
 situdes of defeat and victory, and 
 whose serener hours have been passed 
 in the struggles of a mind, which has 
 become darkened and soured by ca- 
 lumny, a state of complete and un- 
 disturbed repose is irksome and fa- 
 tiguing to the soul. It w^as thus with 
 Montbazon; and, although his veins 
 were no longer filled with the fire of 
 youth, yet he panted after new toils, 
 was desirous of fresh laurels, and roam- 
 ed on the wings of imagination round 
 all the corners of the earth in search 
 of deeds of daring : an exercise, which 
 inflamed but could not^satiate the ar- 
 dour of his mind. To succour the 
 distrest, to defend the innocent, to 
 set free the captive, to oppose the 
 
 arm
 
 OF ULRICA. Q29 
 
 arm of tyranny, to stem the tide of 
 religious persecution ; such were the 
 subjects of his daily meditations ; and 
 he even dreamed of securing the 
 repose of the world by his gigantic 
 schemes, and of giving the boon of 
 perfect freedom to all mankind. 
 
 Montbazon w^as awakened from his 
 vision of Utopian happiness, by the 
 arrival of one of his countrymen at the 
 castle of Glatz. He was deputed to 
 engage the co-operation of Montbazon 
 in the execution of a most extraor- 
 dinary project ; which about that time 
 engaged the attention of some of the 
 subjects of the Swedish crown, not 
 more distinguished for their noble 
 birth, than for their extraordinary ta- 
 lents and penetration. The name by 
 which the Swede chose to announce 
 himself, was Baron Brunof. Close 
 and reserved in thought, while his 
 manner and action seemed the result 
 
 of
 
 230 THE CURSE 
 
 of the warm enthusiasm, or unguarded 
 impetuosity of the moment ; he _was 
 eminently calculated to succeed in the 
 task he had undertaken to perfo<*m. 
 It was an object of considerable im- 
 portance, for Brunof and his coadju- 
 tors to obtain the aid of a man, whose 
 fame and prowess had been reported, 
 and perhaps exaggerated in its passage 
 to their frozen clime. He explained 
 himself with the utmost caution to 
 Montbazon, who, however, instantly 
 accepted the proposal with the utmost 
 ardour ; and with the more willingness, 
 as it promised him an opportunity of 
 signal retaliation against the author 
 of his earliest misfortunes. Brunof, 
 who had been invested by his asso- 
 ciates with full powers, gave him the 
 necessary information for recognizing 
 their friends in Sweden ; and having 
 now executed his commission, he 
 
 prepared
 
 OF ULRICA. 231 
 
 prepared to return to the north of 
 Europe. 
 
 Wildebrand had been deprived of 
 his regiment for a misdemeanor, and 
 he proposed accompanying Brunof, 
 who did not hesitate in accepting him 
 as a companion j and in the course of 
 their journey, made him a confident 
 in the arduous plan they had in con- 
 templation. Shortly after their de- 
 parture, Montbazon and Edda took 
 leave of the aged Prince de Zarem- 
 berg, and quitted the castle of Glatz, 
 During the entire course of their long 
 journey, Montbazon's mind was pur- 
 suing a train of thought, which was 
 seldom disturbed by any impressions ex- 
 cited by surrounding objects. Edda 
 regarded him with an affection so filial, 
 that she was disposed to acquiesce wil- 
 lingly in whatever plan he proposed. 
 The inquiries she had made concern- 
 ing their ultimate destination, Mont- 
 bazon
 
 232 THE CURSE 
 
 bazon had either evaded, or answered 
 with unusual mystery of manner ; and 
 it was not until after their arrival in 
 Sweden that he became more commu- 
 nicative. 
 
 Edda had now an opportunity of 
 enjoying all the romantic beauties of 
 the Swedish landscape. The road 
 hung over the bed of a river, whose 
 sea-green waters foamed against the 
 rocky sides of the cliffs, which im- 
 peded their course ; or thundered 
 down the precipitous falls, in one sea 
 of foam. Their w^ay now grew more 
 rugged and steep ; in some places 
 the soil liad been entirely worn away, 
 and the road was formed of the face of 
 the naked rock, whose polish ren- 
 dered it at times difficult for the 
 horses to keep their feet. Edda was 
 absorbed in the contemplation of such 
 a stupendous combination of the works 
 of nature, as then presented them- 
 selves
 
 OF ULRICA. 238 
 
 selves to her view. Yet it was a 
 pleasure not unmixed with pain, for 
 she shrunk w^hen the wheels of the 
 carriage seemed to touch the edge 
 of the precipice, which nodded from 
 its base, and almost approached the 
 cHfFs which leaned with a similar inch- 
 nation from the other side. - 
 
 Montbazon was intent in the dis- 
 covery of some object, for which he 
 anxiously watched for some time, 
 looking earnestly in one direction. 
 
 Edda gazed with unmixed delight 
 at the immense column of spray, 
 which hung like a< dense cloud over 
 the cataracts. The sun, which was 
 then dipping into the waters of a 
 distant lake, darted his rays athwart 
 this mass of vapour, tinged it with 
 innumerable prismatic colours, and 
 gave to it the appearance of a daz- 
 zling meteor, descending on the sur-> 
 face of the earth. The stillness of 
 
 the
 
 234' THE CURSE 
 
 the evening was scarcely broken by 
 the plaintive wailing of the sea-bird, 
 as it ascends with circling motion, to 
 discover the haunts of its absent mate, 
 or the dull, and never-varying hum- 
 mings of the falls which murmured 
 at a distance. There was a feeling 
 which spoke awfully to the heart in 
 this dismal and eternal sound, which 
 had rung in the ears of what was 
 young and beautiful centuries ago, 
 and rolled still its awful and resist- 
 less course, as regardless of the feeble 
 race of human kind, as of the green 
 insect of an hour, which unfolds its 
 wings of gold to the summer sun, 
 hums over the lucid surface of the 
 flood, then dips into the blue wave, and 
 is seen no more. 
 
 The reverie of Edda was broken by 
 the sudden exclamation of Montbazoil, 
 « there it is /'* 
 
 He now pointed out to her notice 
 
 the
 
 or ULRICA. 235 
 
 the distant spires of a castle, which 
 seemed of immense extent, rising 
 above the dark blue tints of a forest 
 of pines, which enclosed it on every 
 side. 
 
 " I congratulate you," said Mont- 
 bazon, " on arriving at the conclusion 
 ** of your tedious journey ; for, yon- 
 " der is our destination, the castle of 
 « Riddarholmen !" 
 
 In a few hours their guide stopped 
 the horses before what had formerly 
 been the grand entrance of the de- 
 mesne. The pillars of the once splen- 
 did portico remained, but they bore 
 the marks of evident decay, and some 
 of them had fallen from their bases. 
 One of the gates had been torn down, 
 and the fragments of the other blocked 
 up the way. The guide attempted in 
 vain to remove it, and Montbazon 
 was obliged to yield him his assistance 
 'ere they could proceed. While the 
 
 guide
 
 Q36 THE CURSE 
 
 guide prepared to drive the carriage 
 underneath the arch of the portico, 
 he looked round him with an evident 
 expression of strong superstitious fear. 
 When the carriage moved, one of the 
 massive marble pillars fell with an 
 immense crash ; and the guide, whose 
 terror seemed to increase with every 
 circumstance, was obliged again to 
 alight and remove the fragments 
 which opposed the entrance of fheir 
 vehicle. While he was effecting this, 
 Montbazon walked to and fro in evi- 
 dent discomposure, and his counte- 
 nance shewed that he regarded the 
 circumstance which had just happened, 
 as an omen of evil import. The 
 difficulty being at length removed, 
 they once more set forward. From 
 the portico they entered a long ave- 
 nue of trees, which led them towards 
 the castle. The walks of this demesne, 
 and the road leading through it were 
 
 thickly
 
 OF ULRICA. , ^37 
 
 thickly covered with grass and weeds; 
 tlie branches of the tall and ancient 
 trees twisted into fantastic and knot- 
 ted forms, stretching towards one ano- 
 ther's unwieldy embrace, seemed to 
 forbid the approach of aught that 
 might disturb their solitary reign. 
 There was no track of living thing to 
 be seen — no sound of life — no ves- 
 tige of animated existence. 
 
 Edda for the first time felt her heart 
 chilled with unknown fear ; and Mont- 
 bazon examined the dark recesses of 
 the forest they were passing with the 
 *deep scrutiny of well-founded appre- 
 hension ; or he threw his eyes, which 
 were filled with a gloomy forecast, 
 upon the brighter planets of the night, 
 which now began faintly to appear, as 
 though he would read the stars. The 
 guide stopped before the portal and 
 Montbazon alighted and knocked upon 
 the iron gate ; the heavy sounds of 
 
 which
 
 ^38 THE CURSS 
 
 which were repeated for some mo- 
 ments by the dismal echoes of the fo- 
 rest. While Montbazon waited for the 
 portal to be opened, Edda explored 
 the exterior of the building, 'ere it 
 was entirely wrapped in gloom, with 
 minute anxiety. 
 
 The castle was the venerable remains 
 of a stately pile. It was surrounded 
 by a moat and wide fosse, which was 
 full of stagnant water, and covered 
 with green slime and weeds. Above 
 the moat, a quadrangular wall, flanked 
 at each corner with round towers, sur- 
 rounded the body of the castle, which 
 stood nearly in the centre of the sur- 
 rounding fortification. The form of 
 the castle was irregular. Its roof was 
 partly flat, and in part covered by a 
 dome, which rose rather pointed in its 
 centre, and was surmounted by a spire 
 in the Asiatic style. Several square 
 towers joined the main building, and 
 
 rose
 
 OF ULRICA. 239 
 
 rose above its roof, in long and graceful 
 gothic spires. The compartments of 
 these spires and the front of the roof, 
 were filled with little images carved in 
 wood, representing the apostles and 
 saints in the attitude of adoration be- 
 fore the crucifix. The windows in 
 many places were beaten in by the vio- 
 lence of rain and storms ; and a few 
 boards nailed tegether supplied their 
 place. Several of the chimneys had 
 been blown down and there was no 
 smoke arising from their ruins, or 
 aught that denoted it to be the habita- 
 tion of human beings. Every thing 
 bore the appearance of long neglect 
 and undisturbed decay. The door 
 was at length opened, and Montbazon 
 crossed the drawbridge, and retired 
 within the portal along with the per- 
 son who had opened it. 
 
 Edda, who had obtained from ^Tont- 
 bazon no information concerning this 
 
 place,
 
 240 THE CURSE 
 
 place, demanded of their guide if he 
 could inform her , who inhabited this 
 dreary castle. 
 
 ** Holy powers and sweet Christ 
 ** preserve us !" exclaimed the guide, 
 ** from aught that can harm ! But 
 " 'tis said, my lady^ this place is a 
 *' haunt of demons and bad spirits ; 
 ** who, as a punishment for the hor- 
 " rid crimes committed by Sigismund 
 " the Cruel, one of the lords of the 
 " castle in old time, are permitted to 
 " revel here undisturbed ; and they 
 ** say, that at such an hour as this, 
 •* the wicked one has power from the 
 *• Almighty to injure the innocent 
 " and benighted traveller, whom cu- 
 " riosity or chance has brought near 
 " these walls. — Lord preserve us, lady, 
 " and holy St. Bridget ! do you ob- 
 ** serve that strange shape gliding 
 ** from under yonder trees ?" 
 Edda now attempted to reason 
 
 the
 
 OF ULRICA. 241 
 
 the guide out of his fears ; but his 
 teeth yet chattered, and his limbs 
 shook. Ahhough the strange account 
 he had given her amused her rather 
 than satisfied her on those points she 
 was anxious to be informed of, yet 
 she felt a sensation of awe, an in- 
 describable and undefined fear stealing 
 over her, which caused her anxiously 
 to wish for the return of Montbazon, 
 whose protracted stay within the 
 castle alarmed her. From the guide 
 she at last obtained the information, 
 given with extreme reluctance and 
 fear, that the -only inhabitant of the 
 castle, to his knowledge, was the old 
 Warder, Olaus Renhorn, who it Was 
 firmly believed in the neighbourhood, 
 was a magician and lived here in de- 
 fiance of the evil spirits, whom he 
 kept in subordination by the power of 
 his enchantments ; and the whole 
 fief and castle belonged to tlie family 
 vol.. I. M o^
 
 ^42 THE CURSE 
 
 of the Couats of Morner, who had 
 for many years ceased to reside in it. 
 
 The thread of liis narration was 
 abruptly terminated by the appear- 
 ance of Montbazon, accompanied by 
 the old Warder ; a reverend figure, 
 whose silver beard swept his breast, 
 and whose long staff with difficulty 
 supported a frame trembling with age. 
 Edda was no longer surprised, that 
 the ignorant peasants ascribed to 
 Olaus a knowledge of the powers of 
 magic. There was a wild expression 
 in his venerable countenance, which 
 denoted an acquaintance with strange 
 sights and forms unholy. His dress 
 appeared singular to Edda; — he wore 
 on the crown of his head a small black 
 cap, which was seamed with gold and 
 trimmed with the skin of a black mar-, 
 tin; his pelisse was made of wolf skin, 
 and round his waist he wore a girdle 
 and pouch, which was ornamented 
 
 witli
 
 OF ULRTCA. 245 
 
 with knotted bitiids and tassels of silk 
 of various gay colours. 
 
 Edda bowed on his approach, and 
 paid him the involuntary respect which 
 hh venerable years excited ; while the 
 guide, affected violently with his fears 
 of the magician, knelt upon the 
 ground, and made the sign of the cross 
 incessantly. Olaus doffed his cap to 
 Edda, with the air of one who has 
 seen better days ; he then turned to 
 Montbazon to attend some orders he 
 "Was giving him. The presence of 
 Montbazon seemed to inspire the 
 warder with additional emotion, and 
 while he appeared to gaze upon him 
 with looks of admiration, there was 
 yet an expression of awe and fear 
 mingled with this feeling, which re- 
 sembled the homage paid to a su- 
 perior being, rather than the devoted- 
 ness arising between the two greatest 
 extremes of human distinction. 
 
 M .^ Montbazon
 
 ^4f4f THE CURSE 
 
 Montbazon now dismissed the guide; 
 and while he led Edda towards the 
 portal, the merry chimes sounded at 
 a distance, and a chorus of voices 
 chaunting the vesper service, was 
 heard stealing on the silence of night. 
 The guide, in order to keep up his 
 courage and banish the evil spirits, 
 began to join lustily in the Ave Maria, 
 while he spurred on his horses, and 
 put them to their speed. 
 
 Montbazon looked towards the 
 place from whence the sounds pro- 
 ceeded, with marked displeasure. 
 Olaus, watching the motion of Mont- 
 bazon's lips, anticipated the rising 
 question. *' 'Tis from the Francis- 
 " cans, who have lately occupied 
 *• the fane of St. Bridget." " And 
 ** by whose orders ?" exclaimed Mont- 
 bazon angrily. " They took posses- 
 ' " sion," replied Olaus, ** in the name 
 « of the King!'* 
 
 Montbazon
 
 OF ULRICA. 245 
 
 Montbazon proceeded gloomily with- 
 out further question towards the grand 
 entrance ; and Edda sighed involun- 
 tarily, when she entered with faltering 
 steps the castle of Riddarholmen. 
 
 M 3 CHAP,
 
 S4<5 
 
 THE ClTRg^ 
 
 CHAR IV. 
 
 Vengeance is still alive; from her dark covert, 
 With all her snakes erect upon ker crest, 
 She stalks in view. 
 
 Yofxc. 
 
 Lach day passed at the cottage on 
 the lake, increased the tranquillity of 
 Adolphus, and added fresh vigour to 
 his health. The environs of the lake 
 were uncommonly beautiful ; and 
 Adolphus now felt himself sufficiently 
 strong to wander along its shores, or 
 chmb the chfFs which surrounded it. 
 At times, recollections would arise, 
 which rendered him incapable of tast- 
 ing these innocent enjoyments; but 
 he endeavoured to acquire the re- 
 sources of that mental courage which 
 
 tends
 
 or ULRKJA. ^47 
 
 tends to the govermnent of mind, and 
 the wielding of its energies with 
 potency and effect. The fineness 
 of the weather still induced them to 
 take their evening repast in the open 
 air. 
 
 A few evenings after Adolphus had 
 finished his narration, they were seated 
 before the door of the cottage, when 
 they beheld two strangers approaching 
 from the wood, which skirted the little 
 cultivated ground which surrounded 
 the cottage. Their travelling cloaks 
 partly concealed their figures ; but 
 when they approached the table they 
 all rose from their seats, for they per- 
 ceived that the stranger who addressed 
 them was o£ noble rank. He was a 
 nobleman, about fifty years of age. 
 His figure was tall and gaunt — his 
 face had a sallow cadaverous hue, 
 which the hectic of a moment scarcely 
 M ^ tinged
 
 24t8 THE CURSE 
 
 tinged with a bloom. Tlie cares of 
 many years had left on it their vi- 
 sible traces. The uncertain move- 
 ment of his dark eyes was accom- 
 panied by a quick motion of his head, 
 as if continually searching for some 
 object, and yet fearing to rest his 
 vision on it. His profile was of the 
 finest line of aquiline beauty, and liis 
 entire appearance shewed the traces of 
 an exquisite form, which had withered, 
 and became decayed 'ere it reached its 
 prime. The stranger (on whom the 
 other seemed dependent, for he stood 
 at a distance muffled in his cloak) 
 addressed Axel, and informed him in 
 few words, that his carriage had broke 
 down in the neighbouring forest ; he 
 had left his servants to guard it and 
 procure some one to repair it, w^hile 
 he had wandered with his friend in 
 quest of some cottage, where he might 
 obtain shelter for. the night. 
 
 Axel^
 
 OF ULRICA. 249 
 
 Axel, with his usual hospitaHty, 
 offered all the accommodation his rude 
 cottage afforded ; and requested the 
 strangers to sit down, and partake of 
 the remains of their supper. Carl was 
 absent on this occasion, as he hacj 
 been dispatched on an errand to the 
 neighbouring town, and was not ex- 
 pected home until the following morn* 
 ing; Ulrica, therefore, entered the 
 cottage, and made ready his room for 
 the reception of one of the strangers. 
 The strangers approached the table, 
 and seated themselves ; but how great 
 was the astonishment of Adolphus, 
 when the stranger who had kept aloof 
 now placed himself opposite to him, 
 and uncovering his visage, shewed the 
 countenance of Rezzonico ! Adolphus 
 felt himself overcome by the conster- 
 nation of the moment ; but he re- 
 covered himself in a few minutes, and 
 M 5 imitated
 
 ^50 THE CUR«E 
 
 imitated tlie fbrgetfulness of the Monk, 
 who did not let it appear tliat he had 
 ever beheld Adolphns before. Axel 
 had risen from the table out of respect 
 to his guests, and attended on them, 
 some few paces behind. Adolphtis 
 now followed his example, and as he 
 wore on that evening one of the coarse 
 winter garments of the peasants, he 
 wished to be confounded with them. 
 The stranger ate and drank sparingly ; 
 and now and then threw a glance sud- 
 denly around him, as if be expected 
 the apprpach, and wished to parry the 
 blow of a treacherous enemy. Rez- 
 2ouico, who had supped, now drew 
 near the noble stranger ; and for a 
 time they held their heads close to- 
 gether, as if in deep consultation. 
 
 The table was at length removed ; 
 and for a few minutes, the stranger 
 who was apparently much agitated, 
 
 and
 
 OF tlLRICA. 251 
 
 and Rezzonico who appeared endea- 
 vouring to tranquillize him, walked 
 to and fro on the sandy beach, which 
 stretched down towards the lake in 
 front of the cottage. The descending 
 sun had now stretched out the dark 
 brown shadows of the surrounding 
 cliffs, and the lake glowed with rich 
 yellow and crimson huesf but the 
 chilling breeze of evening began to 
 ruffle its surface, and to sigh among 
 the top branches of the tall pines 
 which surrounded the cottage. The 
 dark figures of the Monk and the 
 noble stranger, stalking along the fore- 
 ground, formed a gloomy outline 
 against the vivid glories of the western 
 sky. Their hasty strides, the tossing 
 of tlieir anns, and their robes stream- 
 ing in the breeze, denoted the conflict 
 of no ordinary feelings ; whik their 
 lordly port, and the obscurity which 
 seemed to dwell around them, im- 
 M_6. pressed:
 
 ^52 THE CURSE 
 
 pressed the mind with the terrors of 
 some wild vision, where shapes of 
 fear, rising for some bloody and fear- 
 ful end, pass horrible and dark before 
 it! 
 
 Axel now came forth, and invited 
 . them to retire within the cottage ; 
 when Rezzonico threw off* his pelisse, 
 and displayed the garments of a monk. 
 Axel did not suffer the dislike he felt 
 for the Catholic religion to inspire him 
 with a thought incompatible with the 
 ^ exercise of hospitality. Although some 
 of the peasantry were not exactly of his 
 way of thinking, but still felt a lurk- 
 ing veneration for the religion of their 
 ancestors, yet Axel, although a firm 
 believer in the doctrines of the re- 
 formed religion introduced by the 
 great Gustavus Vasa, and an enemy 
 from principle to those who would 
 again change the religion of the state, 
 felt so perfect a charity towards all 
 
 mankind,
 
 OF ULRICA. 255 
 
 mankind, that he rather increased than 
 abated his attentions to Rezzonico, in 
 order to avoid the imputation of in- 
 tolerance. Adolphus drew back into 
 a distant corner of the room, from 
 whence he contemplated the group 
 which sat before the open hearth. Ul- 
 rica had set some pine logs a blazing, 
 and the red gleams of the fire illumin- 
 ated the countenances of the stranger 
 and Rezzonico, while the faces of the 
 rest were gradually lost in shade. 
 
 After a considerable pause, the 
 stranger turned round, as if from a 
 sudden impulse of thought, and de- 
 manded of Axel, to whom he was in- 
 debted for so much kindness and hos- 
 pitahty ? Axel, in reply to the stran^ 
 ger's compliment, mentioned his name, 
 which had no sooner escaped his lips, 
 than the stranger gave a frightful ex- 
 clamation of surprise, and it was vi- 
 sible that his whole frame shook with 
 
 an
 
 Q54f THE CURSE 
 
 an extraordinary convulsive emotion. 
 Rezzonico had the address to change 
 the conversation instantly ; but Adol- 
 phus, althoug'h he had watched the 
 singular expression of the stranger, 
 could not perceive what effect it had 
 on Axel, whose countenance was to- 
 tally obscured in shade. The stranger 
 soon recovered himself, and faintly 
 smiled ; but his smile had a ten*ible ex- 
 pression, and Adolphus shrunk invo- 
 luntarily when he beheld it. 
 
 It now grew late, and the stranger 
 -expressing his wish to retire, lights were 
 prejmred by Ulrica. 'Ere he retired, 
 however, he tunied round to Axel, and 
 endeavoured to repeat his thanks for 
 the attention he had shewn to him 5 
 but the word thanks stuck in his throat, 
 and the whole sentence was uttered in 
 a manner scarcely intelligible. 
 
 Christina, Ulrica and Axel slept in 
 beds which were placed against the 
 
 wall.
 
 or uLUicAi ^5S 
 
 ^vall adjoining the stove in the kitchen, 
 according to the fashion of their coun- 
 try. Two small rooms, separated by 
 a little passage from this apartment, 
 arid generally occupied by Adolphus 
 and Carl, were appropriated to the ac- 
 commodation of tlie traveHei's ; and 
 Adolphus mounted a ladder, which 
 -was placed in the passage of commu- 
 nication, which led to a small loft in 
 the roof which partly covered the 
 kitchen, and being quite open on one 
 side commanded a view of it. In 
 this ioft, a ^nall and decayed bedstead 
 had been fitted up for Adolphus, who 
 was desirous to avoid any communica- 
 tion with the travellers. Adolptius 
 had no opportunity of informing Axel 
 of his recognition of Rezzonico, and, 
 on reflection, he considered that it 
 would be in the highest degree base 
 and inhuman, to allow a vague suspi- 
 cion of his criminahty to impel him to 
 
 open
 
 256 tHE CURSE 
 
 open hostility against him ; and he 
 was not sorry that he had not said any 
 thing to induce Axel to close the doors 
 of hospitality against him, and to ex- 
 pose a fellow creature to all the seve- 
 rities of the night. He mused for 
 some time on the extraordinary stran- 
 ger whom Rezzonico accompanied. 
 He was unknown to Axel ; at least, he 
 had not answered very satisfactorily to 
 the questions which Adolphus had put 
 concerning him, and appeared rather 
 desirous of concealing any informa- 
 tion he might have gained upon the 
 subject. 
 
 Adolphus did not feel inclined to 
 sleep 5 he paced, with folded arms, 
 the circuit of his little apartment, and 
 gave full scope to reflections on his 
 melancholy situation. More than once 
 he imagined he heard the noise of 
 voices in angry dispute, and he started 
 when the crazy timbers of the cottage 
 
 groaned
 
 OF ULRICA. 257 
 
 groaned beneath his pressure. Alarm- 
 ed once more by a return of the same 
 sounds, and ashamed of the unmanly 
 thoughts which thronged his fancy and 
 peopled his imagination with strange 
 shapes, he threw a glance upon the 
 apartment below him. By the faint 
 gleam which the red and expiring em- 
 bers emitted, Adolphus could discera 
 no one in the room, except the inha- 
 bitants of the cottage, who occupied 
 the stove beds, and who were now 
 buried in sleep ; yet he imagined that 
 he beheld, at times, a dark shade 
 crossing the red light, and stirring the 
 dying embers. He chid himself for 
 indulging this vain fancy ; and again 
 certain that he heard approaching 
 voices, he opened a little casement in 
 the roof, which looked towards the 
 lake. The night was very dark — the 
 ripples of the lake might be heard to 
 break at measured intervals along the 
 
 shore j
 
 S58 THE CURSB 
 
 shore, but its surface was dark and 
 stilJ. Adolphus at length iraagmed 
 that he perceived glowwonr. lights 
 dancing upon the black and lucid mir- 
 ror — the lights disappeared at inter- 
 vals, and then appeared approaching 
 the cottage. After a considerable 
 time spent in watching the progress of 
 this light, Adolphus discovered that 
 it proceeded from a boat which was 
 rowing by torch-light. He could now 
 plainly discover the figures' in the boat, 
 and he heard the dashing of their oars. 
 Instead of approaching the landing 
 place, which was in the front of the 
 coltagr% the boat glided into a littk 
 bay at some distance, which was con- 
 cealed by a little wooded promontory 
 that jutted into the lake. Adolphus 
 watched for some time, in vain, for 
 its reappearance, and at length grow- 
 ing weaiT, he closed the casement, and 
 retired to his bed. He had scarcely 
 
 fallen
 
 OF VLIIICA* Q59 
 
 fallen asleep, when he was awakened 
 by a floise, resembling the cracking 
 aqd crushing of dry timber. He lis- 
 tened attentively, and heard again tlie 
 whispers of distant voices and the 
 ;Sound pf an approaching step ; but at 
 length it sounded dully to his ear, for 
 rilje torpor of sleep was yet upon him— 
 Jie once more dismissed his fears, and 
 .settled himself to sleep. 
 
 T!ie narrow door leading into th^ 
 ioft was cautiously opened and shut 
 again,; but Adolphus heard it not, so 
 foeavy was his slumber. A face now 
 -appeared at the tq) of the ladder, so 
 pale a^d wan, that midnight murder 
 seemed to be written on the guilty 
 ,brow. It was the noble stranger, Ax- 
 el's guest! He ascended the ladder 
 jcautiously and silently. He stopped 
 at the door, and appeared to make an 
 eiibrt to retaia liis breath, lest his 
 breathings fihouid alarm those who 
 
 slept.
 
 260 THE CURSE 
 
 slept. His eyes wandered wildly round 
 the chamber. With a step slow and 
 unsteady, and a motion checked by 
 fear, he approached the bed where 
 Adolphus lay. He bowed his ear to 
 listen, and started ; but the hard 
 breathings of Adolphus reassured him, 
 and convinced him that he slept. The 
 red fire light now gleamed on his wa- 
 vering figure, and he appeared to mut- 
 ter some reflection to himself. With 
 great emotion he drew forth from his 
 bosom a dagger — while his tremulous 
 eye rested on its point, the motion of 
 the glittering steel betrayed the un- 
 steadiness of his hand. The stranger 
 now bent himself over the bed ; but 
 he could not bear to view the coun- 
 tenance of Adolphus so placid in sleep. 
 The agitation of his frame shewed that 
 he had worked up his soul to its guilty 
 purpose. He averted his head, and 
 prepared to strike at random. 
 
 The
 
 OF ULRICA. 261 
 
 The voice of Christina, agitated by 
 some fearful dream, murmured in 
 sleep, " Tlie Lord Jesus Christ! have 
 " mercy r^ 
 
 The stranger started back with pre- 
 cipitation, and concealed the dagger 
 in his bosom for a moment. " 'Tis 
 " but a dream — the fear prompted 
 ** cry of those who suffer in their 
 " sleep," muttered the stranger ; " this 
 ** shall not scare* me from my pur- 
 ** pose. Now then, to send these 
 ** sleepers to their graves 1" 
 
 The stranger once more drew forth 
 the dagger, and approached the bed ; 
 but when he was about to strike, a 
 violent noise in the adjoining cham- 
 ber, and the sound of feet ascending 
 the ladder, alarmed him. At the same 
 moment, the gable end of the roof 
 fell in with a terrible crash, and dis- 
 covered the apartments which had 
 been appropriated to Rezzonico and 
 
 the
 
 36^ THE CURSE 
 
 the stranger filled with flames of fire. 
 Flakes of burning matter now fell 
 tliick around him, and volumes of 
 smoke rolled towards him, filling the 
 apartment in such a manner as to I'^n- 
 der it ahnost impossible for the stran- 
 ger to distinguish his way. After at- 
 tempting to find the entrance for a 
 considerable time, he at length totally 
 disappeared in the smoke. The cry 
 of **j^r^," made Adolphus start from 
 his bed, and he rushed towards the 
 ladder ; but this had been removed, 
 and Adolphus had no means of escap- 
 ing, but by descending into the ground 
 floor of the cottage. Here the alarmed 
 cottagers were endeavouring to grope 
 their way through the smoke and burn- 
 ing fragments, and they attempted to 
 sav(J themselves by the doors and w^in- 
 dows. The surprise and consternation 
 of Axel was gi^eat when he discovered 
 that they were fastened on the out- 
 side ;
 
 OF ULRICA. 263 
 
 side ; and as the flames wei'e now 
 spreading in every direction, the eflTorts 
 made by Adolphus and Axel to break 
 open the door were prodigious, and 
 were actuated by the last resources of 
 a hopeless despair. They at length 
 succeeded, and their lives were savedi 
 by a miracle. Axel, assisted by Adol- 
 phus, lost not a moment in bringing 
 water from the lake, and they fortu- 
 nately succeeded in saving a great 
 part of the cottage. The stranger and 
 Rezzonico had disappeared ; and it 
 was not until after making an accurate 
 examination of their apartments, that 
 the alarm of Axel, and his dread that 
 they had perished in the flames, was 
 dissipated. 
 
 Adolphus did not hesitate to ex- 
 press to Axel his suspicions of Rez- 
 zonico being the incendiary ; and the 
 circumstance of all the outlets of the 
 
 ^cottage
 
 264 THE CURSE 
 
 cottage being secured, and the escape 
 of their guests, added to his well 
 known enmity to Adolphus, seemed to 
 give a considerable degree of proba- 
 bility to this opinion. Yet it appeared 
 the contrivance of diabolical malig- 
 nity, to involve the hospitable family, 
 who sheltered them, along with Adol- 
 phus, in one common ruin : and by 
 sending their unfortunate victim, to- 
 gether with those witnesses who might 
 give evidence of the transaction, to 
 the same grave, they appeared to wish 
 to extinguish all record of their crime, 
 and every possibility of their being 
 brought to punishment hereafter. 
 
 Carl appeared at the dawning of 
 day, and his efforts were added to 
 those of his father and Adolphus, in 
 cutting down timber and rebuilding 
 that part of the cottage which suffer- 
 ed ; and in a very few days, the rude 
 
 ma-
 
 OF ULRICA. 265 
 
 materials of which it was composed 
 were put together, and the cottage was 
 restored to its original state. 
 
 Among the peculiarities which Adol- 
 phus had observed in the inhabitants 
 of the cottage, the remarkable excla- 
 mation which his mention of the name 
 of Mcirner had drawn from them, had 
 not escaped his notice. Although ab- 
 sorbed in the agony of his own feelings 
 at the time, yet his attention was ex- 
 cited and his penetration was baffled, 
 in endeavouring to account for the ex- 
 traordinary sensation which a name so 
 high had created among his humble 
 auditors. After the relation of his 
 story, he observed a visible change in 
 their manner towards him. Their at- 
 tention, when he stood in need of it, 
 was the same ; but he observed, they 
 no longer delighted to seek his pre- 
 sence, and a sense of the mere duties 
 of hospitality only, seemed to influence 
 
 VOL. I. N them
 
 ^G6 THE CURSE 
 
 them ; that sympathy of feeling wliich 
 springs from the heart had flown, 
 and with it he had lost the great charm 
 which attached him to the cottage. 
 With all the ardour of youth, he would 
 sometimes draw on the treasures of 
 his imagination, and would picture to 
 them the bright futurity which his 
 day-dreams presented to him, or ex- 
 patiate with delight on the richness of 
 those pleasing prospects which hope 
 unfolded to his view. But these sallies 
 drew from them only forced smiles, 
 and their good wishes for his future 
 fate were offered so fervently and so 
 frequently, that he began himself to 
 doubt of the future, and lie caught 
 from them the infection of fear. 
 
 Adolphus had observed during his 
 stay at the cottage, that on certain 
 days of the week, Christina was absent 
 from sun-rise, and did not return until 
 the following morning. He had ven- 
 tured
 
 OF U LRIC A. 267 
 
 tured to ask the objects of these regu- 
 lar visits, and had received an answer 
 so mysterious and unsatisfactory, that 
 he avoided mentioning the subject 
 again. This melancholy girl had often 
 been to Adolphus a subject of asto- 
 nishment. The beauty and symmetry 
 of her figure at first interested him j 
 but her mind exhibited such striking 
 ti'ansitions of feeling, sensibility, and 
 incoherence, that he felt himself at 
 times shuddering with the apprehension 
 of her insanity, or captivated with the 
 pathos of her expression. She harl 
 absented herself latterly almost en- 
 tirely from the cottage ; and when she 
 partook of their frugal meals, she look- 
 ed like one absorbed in thought, and 
 unconscious of existence. Adolphus 
 perceived that these reveries were 
 deeper and of longer duration, when- 
 ever she returned from her usual ex- 
 cursions. He concluded that there 
 N 2 was
 
 tGS THE CURSE 
 
 was but one cause to produce such ex- 
 traordinary conduct in a female — an 
 unfortunate passion. " But where is 
 '* the man," exclaimed he, with sur- 
 prise, " who would not feel proud to 
 '* possess so tender and affectionate 
 " a heart ?" What strengthened 
 Adolphus in his conjecture, was her 
 retired and secluded habits. When 
 the interior of the cottage was arrang- 
 ed for the day, she would dive into 
 the neighbouring forests, and the flcet- 
 nees of her footsteps would defy tlie 
 activity of Adolphus to follow her•^ 
 While he straved along; the shores of 
 the lake, her liglit form might be dis- 
 cerned moving on the pinnacle of the 
 hi^^h and pine-dark cliffs, which hung 
 over it like the skirt of a soft and silver 
 cloud floating on its sharp and rugged 
 summit ; and the melancholy tones of 
 her voice, as she sang some romantic 
 ditty, would roll along the hills, and 
 
 wjre
 
 OF ULRICA. 269 
 
 \v€re repeated in many a plaintive echo 
 from the bosom of the lake.. It was^ 
 evident that she did not love Adol- 
 phus ; for the common place gallantry 
 of the age she resisted, and repelled 
 those attentions which gratitude and 
 pity would often induce him to dis- 
 play towards her, yet at the same time 
 she would demonstrate feelings of the 
 strongest sympathy and concern for his 
 future welfare. 
 
 In Sweden, the seasons succeed one 
 another with the g\ eatest rapidity : 
 the summer is short, but intensely 
 hot; autumn lasts a few weeks, and 
 then winter extends his icy sceptic, 
 and throws his snowy mantle over the 
 smiling face of nature. His reign is 
 long, but not tedious ; for then the 
 hardy sons of the North exult in the 
 pleasures it brings them. The facility 
 it affords them of quick trav( Ih'ng in 
 their sledges, is one of the greatest of 
 N 3 its
 
 tJO THE CURSE 
 
 its blessings. Absent friends meet, 
 tisits are paid or returned, and thr 
 heaviest commodities are transportetl 
 from the inland parts to the sea, ready 
 for exportation, perhaps througli a 
 space of hundreds of miles, without 
 feeling distance an obstacle. So quick, 
 however, is the transition, that in a 
 few days the snow disappears, and the 
 icicles of winter are succeeded by the 
 roses of spring ! In the short interval 
 between these seasons, bordering on 
 winter, travelling is often rendered 
 extremely perilous, and very often im- 
 practicable, owing to the melting of 
 the snows, or the rain, w^hich ren- 
 ders a carriage or a sledge equally use- 
 less. 
 
 Adolphus was apprised of these cir- 
 cumstances, and lie intended to pro- 
 ceed to Stockholm, in quest of Count 
 Morner, before these obstacles w^ould 
 occur to impede liis progress. A cir- 
 cumstance
 
 OF ULRICA. 271 
 
 ciimstance happened, however, which, 
 for a time, prevented his putting his 
 intention into execution. A remark* 
 able fine morning induced him to aq- 
 cept an invitation, which Axel had 
 given him, to beat the neighbouring 
 woods for game. They pursued their 
 amusement for several hours in the 
 dark fir woods w Inch covered the moun- 
 tains that surrounded the lake. An 
 abundance of pheasants and the black 
 cock of the wood rewarded their la- 
 bour; and Adolphus pursued the squir- 
 rels, as they leaped from branch to 
 branch, and from tree to tree, admir- 
 ing the velocity with which these wary 
 animals flew with amazing springs from 
 the gun which was presented for their 
 destruction. Fatigued with their ex- 
 cursion, they seated themselves on a 
 rock to refresh themselves : when 
 Adolphus intreated Axel, in very pres- 
 sing terms, to give him all the infor- 
 N 4 mat ion
 
 273 THE CURSE 
 
 mation he possessed respecting the fa- 
 mily of Count Monier. Axel threw a 
 look of hesitation on Adolphus, while 
 Ills features discovered the emotions of 
 a soul harrowed up by some strong and 
 disturbing recollections. 
 
 Axel instantly rose from the rock, 
 and with a marked emphasis of sor- 
 row, exclaimed, " I fear, young man, 
 *' that one day you will be too. well 
 " informed of the cause which makes 
 *' me shudder at the name of Morner ! 
 " Be it, however, not on my head, 
 " the sufferings which that name may 
 *' bring down on you. If your cu- 
 ** riosity, however, is so strong and 
 ** so much excited, it may be grati- 
 ** fied — but not by me. Follow me." 
 
 Axel, with an activity incredible at 
 his age, now scaled one of the tallest 
 cliffs above them ; Adolphus followed 
 his footsteps with wonder and amaze- 
 ment. In some places, where the im- 
 pending
 
 OF ULRICA. 273 
 
 pending rocks had loosened from their 
 bed, and threatened, on the shghtest 
 motion of the air, or the yielding of a 
 pebble from beneath, to dash them 
 into atoms in the dark glens which 
 yawned beneath their feet, the way 
 was perilous and difficult. By grasp- 
 ing the long branches of the under- 
 wood and the long suckers which grew 
 in the interstices of the rocks, they 
 gained a passage, where their footing 
 was insecure. On looking on the lake 
 and woods below, the head grew dizzy, 
 and the sight ached with pain. Adol- 
 phus now perceived that Axd, hav- 
 ing gained nearly the highest eleva- 
 tion, stood patiently waiting his ap- 
 proach on the edge of the cliff. After. 
 a few struggles, he joined him, and 
 the beauty of the prospect fully recom- 
 pensed him for the dangers of the way 
 which led to it. The lake which, 
 viewed from the cottage, seemed of 
 N 5 ' small 
 
 /^
 
 271* THE CURSE 
 
 small extent, and hemmed in by the 
 neighbouring hills, now shewed the 
 diversities of its form, and the rich 
 and variegated outline of its bold and 
 bending shores — numbers of islands, 
 tufted with wood, were sprinkled on 
 its surface, and many of the cliffs 
 which surrounded it, jutted boldly into 
 the centre of the lake. It was on one 
 of these they stood. 
 
 ** Behold !" said Axel, pointing with 
 his staff to the opposite shore, " can 
 " you discern that bright spot amid 
 " the dark foliage which the sun now 
 " reddens with his beams ?" Adol- 
 phus rivetted his eyes on the spot. 
 " It is the castle of that Count 
 f* Morner whom you seek." 
 
 Although the distance was consider- 
 able between the opposite shores, yet 
 Adolphus perceived that the building 
 he viewed was of considerable extent, 
 and stood a little elevated above the 
 
 lake.
 
 OF ULRICA. 9iri5 
 
 The bliiG smoke rising from some pea* 
 sanls' fires in tlie distance, gradually 
 obscured it from the view. The mists 
 of the lake began to ascend, and the 
 declining sun warned them to depart. 
 Axel led Adolphus homewards, by 
 a longer but safer path than that by 
 which they had ascended. They pro- 
 ceeded to the cottage in silence. Axel's 
 mind was filled with many melancholy 
 subjects, and Adolphus was meditat- 
 ing on the extraordinary replies of 
 Axel, and planning an excursion on 
 the following morning to the castle of 
 Count Morner. On his arrival at the 
 cottage, Adolphus communicated his 
 intention to the family when they as- 
 sembled at supper. It was determined 
 that Carl should attend the Count. 
 To cross the lake was the shortest way, 
 and much preferable to going round 
 by the woods at that season of the 
 year. It fortunately happened that 
 N 6 some
 
 276 THE CURSE 
 
 some young peasants of the neigh- 
 hood were going to attend a market 
 at the town of Nerlunda, which lay 
 near the castle ; they had called at 
 Axel's cottage on their way, and it was 
 agreed that the Count and Carl should 
 accompany them in their boat. 
 
 Early the following iporning they 
 embarked, and Carl took care to bring 
 an ample store of cold provisions and 
 brandy. As the boat receded from 
 the shore, the cottage vanished from 
 the view, and was at length completely 
 concealed by a skreen of pines, which 
 threw their dark impenetrable shade 
 around it. The only memorial which 
 marked the spot, was a wrej>th of thin 
 blue smoke, which ciuled throuj^h the 
 surrounding trees. There hiid been a 
 slight frost ; but the sun shone bright, 
 and was chasing away the hazy morn- 
 ing vapour; the trees waved their 
 jjaudy red and yellow foilage in the 
 
 breeze.
 
 OF ULRICA. 277 
 
 breeze, and the birds sung merrily. 
 AdolpliLis, who felt all the energy of 
 renewed existence, gazed with plea- 
 sure on the chearful scene around liim. 
 His heart expanded with gratitude to- 
 wards the author of his being, who 
 had extended his protecting arm over 
 him, and guided him in safety through 
 the perils he had passed. The heart 
 which throbbed with this feeling 
 worshipped its Creator in silence. It 
 was the secret and spontaneous ho- 
 mage of the soul, and not the mockery 
 of deceitful lips, profaning the temple 
 with hypocritical offerings. Yet, as 
 he gazed on the receding shore, a 
 sensation of sorrow^ smote him. The 
 happiest days since his father's death 
 he had spent in that cottage, which he 
 left with regret, and might never be- 
 hold again. Tiie simple, yet strikingly 
 honourable character of its inhabitants, 
 had made a deep impression on his 
 
 heart.
 
 S78 THE CURSE 
 
 heart. He felt convniced that no 
 lapse of time, no change of circum- 
 stance, could erase ihis impression from 
 his heart. He was now aware, that 
 there was some mysterious cause of 
 enmity, between the family of Count 
 Morner and the cottagers. But he felt 
 that he could not be implicated in this 
 dislike, and he formed a resolution not 
 to be prejudiced against either, by any 
 explanation which might be given on 
 this subject. 
 
 As the boat glided past a little 
 rocky promontory, the sound of music 
 reached his ear. The tune was fa- 
 miliar to hirn ; he now recollected it 
 was one of Christaia's songs ; and in a 
 few minutes, her light form was seen ap- 
 pearing and vanishing among the rocks. 
 There was scarcely a ripple on the 
 lake. Having overcome the greater 
 part of their voyage, their way now lay 
 through a cluster of islands, which 
 
 seemed
 
 OF ULRICA. 279 
 
 seemed to vie with one another in 
 romantic beauty. A surface of green 
 turf, shaded by groves of fir and pine, 
 through whose long dark vistas a 
 beam of light would sometimes break, 
 and the sunny rays might be seen 
 dancing on the distant waters. Round 
 their sides, the birch and the alder 
 grew in graceful groups down to the 
 water's edge ; while rocks of the most 
 picturesque forms were scattered 
 about among the aquatic plants, 
 whose surfaces were umbered by the 
 dark and mellow tints of the different 
 species of heath, or relieved and sil- 
 vered by masses of grey and amber 
 coloured moss. 
 
 The boat now approached the shore; 
 and with considerable difficulty they 
 steered it through a narrow pass, 
 "which seemed to be formed by some 
 great convulsion of nature. Fragments 
 of dark ferruginous coloured rock, 
 
 like
 
 280 THE CURSE 
 
 like towers and spires, rent from the 
 adjoining cliffs, rendered the passage 
 throLigli them extremely dangerous ; 
 while the lake rushing with rapidity 
 through them, seeking to discharge 
 itself in the river of Nerlunda, which 
 took its rise from this part of it, tossed 
 the boat in a whirlpool of foam, and 
 threatened to crush its feeble sides 
 against thq rocks. After passing these 
 rocks in safety, they kept close to land, 
 where the current rolled with less 
 violence ; and soon after, the shore 
 declining gently, they landed, as the 
 boat was too heavily laden, to permit 
 them to pass the falls of the river. 
 
 The spot where they landed was at 
 a, short distance from the town and 
 river of Nerlunda, where Adolphus 
 intended passing the night. Adolpiius 
 and Carl, fatigued with ascending the 
 steep road which wound among the 
 cliffs, as soon as they arrived at the 
 
 summit
 
 OF ULRICA. ^81 
 
 summit sat down, and refreshed them- 
 selves with the cold provisions which 
 Carl had provided. While they rested, 
 they heard the eheiirful song of the 
 peasants, and the dashing of their 
 oars, as they proceeded along the shore 
 to the river ; the falls of which they 
 were accustomed to pass at all hours, 
 without any apprehension of danger. 
 
 As soon as Adolphus and Carl had 
 ended tlieir repast, they proceeded tp 
 the river which separated them from 
 Nerlunda. It was dark wh^ they ar- 
 rived at a few cottages, which were 
 situated on its banks. The river ap- 
 peared divided into many channels, 
 owing to the numerous fissures, which 
 the lake had worn through the rocky 
 shore. Farther down it is impossible 
 to construct a bridge, owung to the 
 dangerous cataracts formed by the 
 river, as it rolls through the frowning 
 cliffs, which seem to contend with it 
 
 in
 
 ^82 THE CURSE 
 
 ill its passage ; and which, according 
 to the popular superstition of the coun- 
 try, were riven and thrown into ap- 
 palHng forms by tlie power of a miglity 
 sorcerer ; and are still the favonrite 
 haunt of his demons, who exult with 
 savage delight in marring the beautiful 
 harmony of nature.* The eagerness of 
 Adolphus w^ould not permit him to 
 Avait for the morning's dawn ; guided 
 by a rushing noise, which sounded 
 like distant thunder, they proceeded 
 towards the slender bridges, which 
 spanned the stream above the cata- 
 racts. They had to scramble over 
 many obstacles, fragments of rock, 
 and immense piles of timber, which 
 were ready to be precipitated down 
 the cataracts. They crossed several 
 floorings, which hung over the river ; 
 these were in many parts decayed, and 
 they found themselves in danger every 
 
 moment 
 
 * Vide note at the end of the vohimc.
 
 OF ULRICA. 283 
 
 moment of slipping through the inter- 
 stices of the planks, beneath which 
 they heard the water, which poured 
 itself down the falls, murmuring with 
 a gloomy sound. Adolphus suc- 
 ceeded in getting over the most 
 dangerous pass in safety ; at the same 
 moment, the moon which before was 
 obscured, now shed her magic light 
 upon the scene, which he gazed on 
 with heartfelt awe and admiration. 
 The rock on which he stood was 
 every moment drenched with spray. 
 The falls were like the billows of an 
 immense sea, agitated by a storm ; 
 dashing its waters in unwieldy masses, 
 to a depth, which it required no effort 
 of the imagination to suppose infinite. 
 The deep and muttering thunder of 
 their course, as they bounded on the 
 rocks and fell into the abyss, was 
 gloomily sublime. The appearance of 
 all nature, at this moment, accorded 
 
 with
 
 5284 TlfE CURSE 
 
 with the wild character of its scenery. 
 The cold light of the moon shone on 
 the water, and feebly gleamed on the 
 distant rocks, dark firs, and pines, 
 whose forms, indistinct and undefined, 
 hung over the milk white flood which 
 rushed between them. The ceaseless 
 shower of spray, which the wind waft- 
 ed towards the rock on which they 
 stood, forced them to pursue their 
 passage to the opposite shore. On 
 looking up the river, the silence of 
 its streams, the lake, and the smooth 
 convexity of its form, before it burst 
 over its rocky boundary, in which the 
 red gleams of the peasants' fires chec- 
 quered with the moon-light, were re- 
 flected as in a convex mu'ror ; formed 
 a striking contrast to the terrific and 
 almost supernatural $ublimity of that 
 awftd wreck of nature, which they had 
 just witnessed. 
 
 After crossing the bridges, they 
 
 pursued
 
 OF ULRICA. 285 
 
 pursued their way along a road which 
 was hewn out of the soHd rock. They 
 met a boy who was carrying some bil- 
 lets of wood for firing, to the little 
 hamlet of Nerlunda. " How far is it, 
 ** my little friend, to the castle of 
 " Count Mcirner ?" demanded Adol- 
 phus. 
 
 " It is no great way to Rlddarhol- 
 ** men," replied the boy, " but the 
 ** road is none of the best, and at this 
 *' hour the spirits are all abroad." 
 The boy now looked behind him wuth 
 fear, and quickened his pace, while 
 Adolphus encouraged him to continue. 
 " Besides, the only mortal inliabitant 
 ** of the castle, old Olaus llcnhorn, 
 " goes to bed they say at sunset." 
 
 " And who is Olaus Renliorn ?" de- 
 manded Adolphus. 
 
 ** Wliy, in good sooth now, you 
 •* must have heard of Olaus ; he is 
 
 *« the
 
 ^SC) THECIJRSE 
 
 " the warder of the castle, and a great 
 ** magician." 
 
 " A magician," rephed Adolphus, 
 " I wish then he had exerted some of 
 " his magic art upon the approach to 
 " his castle ; for this is a vile and 
 ** rugged waj." 
 
 " Hush !" said the boy, ** take not 
 " his name in vain ; for if you mock 
 " him, some of his demons who are 
 •* abroad will hear you, and pinch us 
 ** rarely. But now that the road has 
 " wound to the left, if you look be- 
 •* hind you, you may see the castle." 
 
 Adolphus turned, and beheld the 
 slender spires of the castle, which rose 
 above the wood in which the body of 
 the building seemed buried. Beyond 
 it the falls might be discerned, and 
 the foam which rose in a mist above 
 it, the distant lake, and the majestic 
 shapes of the hills which surrounded 
 it, all strongly lighted up j while 
 
 the
 
 OF ULRICA. 287 
 
 the castle, its gloomy forest, and the 
 bleak and rocky fore-ground on which 
 they stood, all was black and darkly 
 tenific. Adolphus admired that strong 
 light, which became more dazzling 
 wlien crossed by the deep and sombre 
 shadow ; although there was sometliing 
 appaling in the savage wildness of the 
 scene. 
 
 Adolphus and Carl followed the 
 boy to the hamlet, and they found no 
 difficulty in procuring accommodation 
 among the simple and honest inhabi- 
 tants. On the following morning 
 Adolphus took leave of Carl, and it 
 was not without strong emotions of 
 grief on both sides, that they separated. 
 Adolphus took a guide from Nerlunda, 
 and as the morning was keen and 
 frosty, he preferred walking to the 
 castle, to any other mode of convey- 
 ance. The road skilled the cliffs 
 which hung over the falls, and ex- 
 hibited
 
 $288 THE CURSE 
 
 hibitcd all the grandeur and sublimity 
 of alpine scenery. But the frost ren- 
 dered their journey slow and difficult. 
 The guide quitted Adolphus at the 
 portico of the avenue which led to the 
 castle, and no intreaties could persuade 
 him to proceed further. Adolphus 
 mused upon the extraordinary super- 
 stitious feeling which seemed to pre- 
 vail among the peasantry, respecting 
 Riddarholmen and its lord. 
 
 After several times losing his way in 
 the thickly tangled passages of the 
 wood, he at length reached the ex- 
 tremity of the avejiue. He felt a me- 
 lancholy pervade his heart, when he 
 contemplated the castle. Appaled by 
 the appearance of so venerable a build- 
 ing lapbiOg into ruin, he was struck 
 with two very remarkable objects, 
 which seemed to claim pre-eminence in 
 this universal scene of desolation. 
 Apart from the surrounding wood, 
 
 and
 
 OF ULRICA. 289 
 
 and opposite to one of the fronts of 
 the castle, stood the lofty trunks 
 of two ancient pine trees. There 
 was no bud, no blossom of that eternal 
 green which nature clothes them with : 
 their silver bark was disfigured by a foul 
 and murky stain ; they were sapless, wi- 
 thered and decayed; yet they stood 
 erect, a«d overtopped the neighbouring 
 W'ood : there was not left a branch 
 or shoot to grace their spiry stem ! Was 
 it the lightening of heaven which had 
 blasted them? w^ere they tlie victims 
 of heaven's wrath, and had they saved 
 the house of Morner from its aveng- 
 ing judgments? or did the same bolt, 
 ^n its awful course, strike against the 
 foundations of both ? Such were the 
 thoughts of Adolphns when he lifted 
 the knocker of the drawbridge gate. 
 The courts of the castle repeated the 
 dismal sound. 
 
 In a few moments the heavy iron 
 VOL. I. o bolts
 
 290 THE CURSE 
 
 bolts were withdrawn, and Olaus stood 
 • before Adolphus and demanded his 
 pleasure. The appearance of this ex- 
 traordinary old warder suspended for 
 a few moments Adolphus 's further 
 question. " Are you Olaus Renhorn?" 
 At the sound of that voice the old 
 man started, and looked like one over 
 whom there steals some sad yet sooth- 
 ing recollection of his distant youth. 
 He replied in the affirmative, and 
 bowed lowly before Adolphus. 
 
 " Dwells Count Morner in these 
 " ruins?" demanded Adolphus, look- 
 ing round him sarcastically. 
 
 " Ah 1 no ; it is many a winter's 
 " storm has shaken these towers, since 
 ** the Count slept beneath the roof of 
 *' Riddarholmen." 
 
 *^ I seek him, for he was my father's 
 " friend ; who, at his dying hour, left 
 ** me to Count Morner's protection. I 
 ** come from France." 
 
 ** From
 
 OF ULRICA. 291 
 
 " From France ? Christ protect us !" - 
 exclaimed Olaus. 
 
 The old \Varder nov/ led Adolphus 
 across the courts to the castle : they 
 were overgrown with moss and weeds, 
 and filled in parts by heaps of massy 
 fragments, which had fallen from the 
 walls of the castle. 
 
 ** Why, what a goodly pile is here 
 '* falling to decay !" exclaimed Adol- 
 phus. 
 
 Olaus sighed heavily, but made no 
 reply. He led Adolphus away from 
 the grand entrance, and opened the 
 door of one of the turrets, which lay 
 at the back of the great building. 
 Adolphus willingly accepted of the in- 
 vitation of the old warder, and fol- 
 lowed him up a small winding decayed 
 staircase, which led to the few rooms 
 in the turret which Olaus inhabited. 
 A few chairs and a table of rude and 
 (incicnt workmanship, an old cross^ 
 2 bow,
 
 29^ THE CURSE 
 
 bow, a warder's horn and liclmet, a 
 small bed which was covered with the 
 skin of a white bear, were the only fur- 
 niture they boasted. 
 
 ** Come to the hearth," said the old 
 'warder, as he threw some fresh billets 
 on the embers ; " this day, as I reckon 
 " it, is the first of our winter, and 
 " these clouds, which are rolling yon- 
 ** der along the hills, portend a snow 
 •* storm." 
 
 Adolphus felt himself chilled with 
 the cold. After he had warmed him» 
 self at the fire, he approached the case- 
 ment, and saw that Olaus had prog- 
 nosticated justly. The snow in thick 
 showers flew far over the pine-clad 
 landscape, and silvered the woods and 
 mountains : the wind sighed, as it 
 swept through the distant passages of 
 the castle, and the hundred spires of 
 old Riddarholmen's towers shook and 
 trembled in the storm. Olaus closed 
 
 to
 
 OF ULRICA. 293 
 
 to the casement, trimmed their fire, 
 and placed some provisions on the 
 table. 
 
 The morning's walk had excited the 
 appetite of Adolphus, and old Olaus, 
 who could scarcely keep his eyes from 
 him, was delighted to see him eat 
 so heartily. Olaus brought forth some 
 brandy, and filled a bumper, which he 
 drank to the health of Adolphus. 
 After Adolphus had filled, pledged his 
 host, and di'ank off the brimming horn, 
 he drew his chair over towards him, 
 and requested him to explain the 
 causes which led the family of Count 
 Morner to abandon so fine a building 
 to the rage of the elements : he added, 
 that " the trees in the front of the 
 " castle seemed to him not to have 
 ^' escaped the general destruction/* 
 
 " Ah 1 those trees relate to a very 
 
 '* melancholy story," replied Olaus, 
 
 ** and at this hour of the night it 
 
 3 " makes
 
 ^94" THE* CURSE 
 
 " makes one's blood freeze to talk 
 " of the unblessed dead ! Besides we 
 " are near the dreadful anniversary ; 
 ** and at that time strange shapes are 
 ** seen to Malk their rounds in the 
 " night season : voices are heard to 
 " issue from the murky clouds, and 
 " dismal wailings echo through the 
 ** long passages of the castle, portend- 
 ** ing fresh .... 
 
 " Hark ! " interrupted Adolphus, 
 " some one knocks ! 'tis at the win- 
 « dow!" 
 
 " Shield us, cross of Christ!" ex- 
 claimed Olaus, approaching the case- 
 ment. ** Ah !" continued he, " 'tis 
 ^* only the flapping of an owlet's wing, 
 *« which the lights have attracted from 
 *^ the mouldering spires of the castle. 
 ** List ! how dismally he hoots, as he 
 '* beats against the storm! — I was 
 " about to add," continued Olaus^ 
 ** that those supernatural warnings 
 
 « portend-
 
 OF ULRICA. 295 
 
 " portend fresh calamities to the house 
 " of Morner." 
 
 Olaus now drew his chair closer to 
 the fire, and after throwing a look of 
 anxiety and fear round the walls of 
 his apartment, he commenced the fol- 
 lowing relation.
 
 296 THE CURSE. 
 
 NOTE, 
 
 Page 282, line 8 — *' the favourite haunts of 
 his demons, who still exult with savage 
 delight in marring the lieautiful harmony 
 of nature." 
 
 A principal feature in the Swedish land- 
 scape, is the variety arising from its nu-^ 
 merous extensive lakes and rapid rivers, 
 and the romantic beauties of their abrupt 
 and precipitous falls. The Cataract of Elf- 
 carleby on the river Dahl, is eminently 
 grand ; but it yields in sublime and terrific 
 effect to the Falls of Trollhatta on the GotH' 
 elf, which are the most celebrated in Scan- 
 dinavia, and have perhaps no equal on the 
 Continent of Europe. They have been 
 compared with the Fall of the Rhine at 
 Schaffhausen, and some travellers do not 
 hesitate to ascribe the superiority to the for- 
 mer. Although the fall of Schaffhausen may 
 possibly excel in grandeur any of the Falls 
 of Trollhatta, viewed separately, yet I do 
 not hesitate to aflirni that there is no natural 
 curiosity in the world capable of impressing 
 the mind of the spectator with more sublime 
 emotion, than that produced by witnessing 
 
 the
 
 OF ULRICA. S97 
 
 the succession of grand Falls at Trollhatta. 
 I am happy to illustrate this note by the 
 following; extracts from the Guide to the 
 Falls, written by Colonel (now General) 
 Skjoldebrand, who acted a conspicuous part 
 in the perilous campaign of 1808, in which 
 Finland was lost to Sweden; who has won 
 later laurels in the memorable triumphs of 
 1814 ; and who has always adorned that 
 country by his arts, which he defended with 
 his arms. 
 
 " L« nom de Trollhatta aignifie en Su^dois 
 " Chapeau ou Bonnet de D^mon, et c'est ainsi 
 '' que I'explique Olaus Magnu8, L 2. ch. 20 j 
 " mais Verelius, commentateur de Sturleson^ ct 
 '* de I'Hervarar Saga, nous donne dans ses notes 
 " sur ce dernier onvrage line explication qui 
 ** paroit plus plausible. Halt'd, dit-il, siguifie 
 '• dans I'ancienne langue Gothique, danger, ou 
 " entrepiise p^rilleuse j le sens du nom de Troll' 
 *' h'dtta peut done aroir ^t^ que le passage de 
 " ces cataiactes seroit dangereux m^me aux d^- 
 " mons. Verelius ajoute, que Troll ne signifioit 
 *' pas seulcment d^raon, mais aussi g^ant, demi* 
 *' g^ant, bomme d'une taille au-dessus de Tor* 
 '^ dinaire ; et comme une troupe de brigaudg 
 
 *' (dont
 
 ^9S THE CURSE 
 
 ^* (dont nous parlerons dans la suite) s'^toit ^(n- 
 '' blie dans une cavcrnc sur les bords des cata- 
 " ractes, il suppose que ce mot pent avoir eu 
 '* rapport a. ces brigands et a I'acc^s dangcreux 
 " de leur repaire. On pourroit ajoutcr encore 
 '^ une explication, c'est que I'approcbe de ces 
 " lieux etoit dangereuse, a cause de ces mciues 
 " brigands j et comme il est plus ciiiicux qu'il 
 *' n'est utile de savoir positivement quel est le 
 *' vrai sens, nous nous contenterons d'avoir in- 
 " diqu^ les difFerens avis, et nous laisserons au 
 " lecteur le soin ou le plaisir de prononcer." 
 
 " Chute de Tropjjo. Ce fleuve partag^ en deux 
 *' par un rocher sterile et caverneux, s'^lance 
 ** avec furie et torabe dans un precipice afFreux. 
 ".En decja du rocber, les eaux ^troitement res* 
 " serr^es s'el^vent des deux cot^s, et baissentau 
 "■ milieu, o^ tiles scmblcnt se disputer le pas- 
 '* sage. Ne trouvant encore aucun obstacle, la 
 '*" surface en est presque unie et d'un verd trans- 
 " parent, mt\^ de filets d'^cume ; mais bientot, 
 " touchant a des rocbers in^gaux, toute leur 
 *' masse parait un ^norme amas de ncige, ou, 
 *' dans un mouvement continuel, des formes ra- 
 " vissantes se succedent et disparoissent en un 
 «' clin d'oeil. L'immense qnantite dc Tcau qui 
 ** se pr<:cipite par un passage si etroit avec une 
 *' rapidit^ inconccvable, la hauteur des rocbers, 
 / ** qui
 
 ©F ULRICA. 299 
 
 " qui torment le boid oppos^ du fleuve et qui 
 '' menacent de s'^crouler par la force terrible 
 *' qui secoue leurs fondemens, an bruit compa« 
 '^ rable si celui de cent tonnerres r^unis ; voili cc 
 '* qui rend ce Spectacle si frappant et si digne 
 " d'attention." &c. &c. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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