» f -i s 'ae Rlly a 1 '3» f THE Gl V iLx^tui^ :: K ^1^16 (^JPrhA 4553 ±i ill. A .±AD, ' %f Josel)h \fmf Schettei 5 DOUBLk ^ tNJUMBeR.5 xumber contains a Complete Story, Unchanged and Umnbria S GEORGE MUNRO, B^UBLISIIEU, Nos. IT TO ST VAHDKWA-L'isR'STinucT, Nbw Yoiiji . A l^o'^aSlsJ ^0, 1075 The Seaside Library, Issued Dally.— Br ^itblieFiption, J^per annunS.* " ,'i »*.- "" "•' PTlii^ited 1881, by QBOitaB Mcirao.— Entered at the Fost OfBce at New York if. S^ecmd Class Bat^j^SeptSPOiber |S, 1681, EKKEHABD. eSOT! " :'!-> A Tale of the Tenth Ce I BY JOSEPH VICTOR SCHEFFEL. Translated tbom the Gekmak by Sofie Delffs. . ; 'f- TO BEBl^KiFBIEND MRS. EM|Lr CH^MIEli THE ENGLISH VERSION OF THIS BQOK IS EteDICATED BY *HE TRA|feLA¥pS. Wf'~ MATIY CECIL HAY^S WOEKS CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBEAKY : ssK" ¥ ^ » 8^HB Ak0W©el Motto ,- . • • P07 The Arundel Motto (in larger type) \ i Old MYDDtEfON's Money . • • jfe^^OLD M^ddleton's Money (m larger type) ■Mill HiDDEi? Perils , . • " . 434 Hidden JPsRiis (in larger type) ' ^S^ The Squire's Legacy . . • • l» Tip Squire's Legacy (in larger type)' . 27 Victor ASiJ VABTQCipiED 29 ^Voea's Love tiS3? ... vITora's Lo¥f ,1'SST (in larger type) ^ A Snf DOW Olt THE TKRESHOLD . 363 RffAPpfft THE WHiRLWIN^ . . • I 3M Back ift «he Old Home ... \^iU A Dark Ikh^bitakcb . . . • PRttiE, so lOc 440 . 20c lOc 686 . 20c 724 lOc 852 . 20c ^P . iOc 930 , 200 20c 935 . 10c 971 20c lOlXt 10c . 10c 1014 10c 1016 . 10c Th^ Sorrow of ' a Secret, a^d I^dy Oj^jki- chael'^S Will ...... *ij BBENDA^OflKE .IP Mq'R Her Dear SakS- . . ^ ' . . ii Missing . . . '«.;' . • • • • 1 Do£i''& Big Brother,. ... . „,. . .. , / In THE HoLiDAYS, and TiJB Name Cut oif a. K.^' '©'ate" ■'. '. . . T" . . -r. 1(*C ^ Under Life'^Key, an» Other Stories . jA 20c^^ Into the Shadej and Othe^'Stories . . 'w UOclT i.M;f First OFFEf; Hope Deferred^ and Other Stories. .. .ii .-. . . . 10° . 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PRICE 10 CENTS. < For sale by all newsdealers, or sent hy mail, poslik paid, on reoeiot of 12 cents. i OI<.OBaE: MUMBO, PUBUSBBB 9.Q. Box 3761. 17 to 27 Vandewater Street. ts, / m p « it »i; EKKEHARD. By Joseph Tictor Scheffel. This Num|j^. contains a Conrtplete Story,, Unchanged and Unabridged. Wi illlL: Vol. LIII. DOUBLE NUMBER. GEOUGE MUNllO, PUBLISHER, Nos. IT TO 27 Vandbwatkb Stiucbt, Nkw York, :& : ' 4 PRICE I ISO CENTS.5 The Seaside Library, Issued Daily. — By Subscription, $36 per annum. Copyi^hted.1881, by Georqe Mumio.— Entered at th'e Post Office at New Yorl( at Second Class Kates.- No.1075 • 13, 1881. EKKEHAR-D. A Tale of the Tenth Century. r BY JOSEPH VICTOR SCHEFFELf - w\ '; s-s? &^. \ Fbefacb of thb TbahslatOR. HaraB, that slittrp-witted and unspariiig critic •QceMltliat the relation of translator to aii|hor, weee^out the same as that of a monliey tS a human bei»i^»— while Goethe, a man of larger mfnd and iiiore harmonious nature, compiired the, translator to a prophet, quoting a verse trom tBtKoraffl which says: " God gives a prophet t??»6iy nation in its owa^gue." For six- teen years the following "»."- which si^e its first appearance has made and held Us plam, not only in the3S|leem. but in the'heaits of the German reading public, and wbich has already been translated into several Iang#ges — has waited in tain for an |f«f»;'pr«p^ to rea- der it into that -tongue, w^.being that most akin to the German language, is therefore, also tBone best fitted for this purpose. It If true ithit the oeculiarity of the style, which in tte S^iia?is^ so wonderfully adapted to the matter "tfeata, as well as the number of old German «*»ls, might have proved a not inconsiderable ^«Bbitv for any but a German translator, and therefore, it is to be hoped, that the venturesome ^temit «f a German girl to render the book Tntofigpi, may be elcused. It need hardly be sa^ that wijh r^a^ to expression she may often have need to appeal to the indulgence of ^reader, but iperhaps fttsBf defects may at least in some degree be compensated by lue strict, trwthful adherence to the original, and further it should be observed that grc^t care has been takea ^choosinglyords of :8axo,n deriva- tion whenever they were to be had. Her love for the book, slnd her admiration for the wiiter thereof, have made her spare no trouble m tins uadertteMa"'! '*^^f *'°"'^,J'« "•"''VnJlish some frfedBito " Ekkehftrd " *Fn an En|lish dress, she wMm&em herself amp y repaiij .foi the marf l^lrssspentover this work. May her c^^^ke all in all," and treat \iet fairly! The '^thob's Pbbface.^ M,^ This book was written with the fflw^ff thatfl«tlier history nor poetr/ w|ll loseany- tbing'by forming a clfSp. alhance, and un|ing vlheirstren^by working together. '= For the last thirty years or so, the bequest of our ancestors has bten the subject of unljflrsal investigation. A. swarm 6f busy ■limjies have undermined the ground of the midijleage's in all directions, and produced by their untiring Industry such a qu^nlJy of old material, as to surprise even the collectors themselves. A whole li|f|^ture, beautiful and ffrfect in itself; an abundance of monuments of the plastic art ; a well organized political and social life, lifjiextended before our eyes. And yet all the labor and gpo4 will Spent on this sijbject, has hardly; succeeded in spreading lo wider circles, pleasure and interest in this newly won historical knowledge; The numberless volumes stand quietly on the shelvesH our libraries. Here and Uiere, well todo spiders have begifu to spin thpr cobwebs, and the piti- less, all-coiiering dust has come too, so lliat the thought is hardly improbable, that all this old German splendor, but just conjured baCk into life, may one morning at cock-crow fade away and be buried in the duiE and moldering rub- bish of the Past,— like to that wBlp cloister by the lake, the existence of which is only be- trayed by the faint low tinkle of the bell, deep, deep under the waters. ' This is not the place to examin$' how far this result is attributable to the ways and methods of our scientific men. The accumulation of antiquarian lore, as well as the accumulatioti of gold, may become a passion, which collects ana scrapes together for the sake and pleasure of tcjriiping; quite forgetting "that the metal which has been won, needs to be purified; re melted, and put to use. For elSii, what do we attain by it? Mefilly -the being foi-ever confined within the narrowlimits of the rough material; an equal valuation of the unimportant and the impoftSnt; an un willingness ever to finish arlS ebnclUde any- thing, because here and there some scrap might still be added, which would lend a new signifl- miace to the silBec t ;— ahd ^nallS a literature of scholars jfiJr^H''"'®' which the majority of the nation passes by with fndiflfererice and «f bile looking up at tbeb'lue sky^eel intensely grateful to'thP: .Creator, that tkey- need read nothing The wrjter of this book,— 5|ft the sunny days of h^youth, — once took a .ramble ^ith some friends'th rough the Roman Campa..;na. There, they lit on the remains of kn old monument,/ qndl amongst other rubbish and fragments, Ihei^' lay, half hidden by dark green acanthus leaves,, a heap of mosaic stones, which united into a fine picture with graceful OrHailpnts, had for- merly adorned ^he floor of a grave. Then, there arose a lively discussion as to what all the dispersed square little stones might have repre- sented, when they were still ignited. One. a student of archaeology, took up some of-th*- pieces, to examine whether they were hlack-or white marble. A second who occupied himself with historical studies, talked verjr learnedly about ancient sepulchers; — nieanwhile a th|id had qi®lysat#0mn nn Ihe old wall, taken out his sketch-hook and drawn a tine chariot with four prancing steeds, and charioteers, and around jt some handsome Ionic ornamenls. He had discovered in a corner of the flpbr, some insigBl^^^i remains of the old picture; horses' feet and fragments of a chariot wheel, and at once tfie' who||j design stood clearly before his mind, and. he dashed it down with a few bold strokes, whilst the others dealt in words merely. « « , This little incident may serve to throw some light on the question, how one can work 4|ith success, at the historical resurrection of the Past. Surely, this can be done then only; when to a creative, reproducing ijpaginalion are given its full rights; wkisB;. he who digs out^^^the old bodies, breatfees upon them the bi^eath Of k liv- ing soul, so that they may rise and walk about, like Ihe resuscitated dead. .i In ttjiis sense, tlie historical ,novel may become what epic poelry was in the time of the bloom- ing youth of the nations, — a piece of national history, in the conception of the artist, who within a certaJftppace,"shows us a series of dis- tinctly drawn, clearly colored figure's^ in whose individual Hves, strivings and sufferings, the life and substance of 'the j|mifc in which they lived, is reflected as in a mirror. Erected on the iasis of, historical studies, and embracing the beautiful and important part of ^n epoch, the historical novel majf wSU claim to be the tw^brother of, history; and thoge who, sbruggiqgw^ir shouloers are iaclined to teject EKKEHAED. ^nd frfvint%t'nHr^,f L'JLf .„^!±^^!!:S- ^°"«?« and valo^ inspiring even monks in their and falsifying caprice, will please to remember that history as it is generally written, is also but a traditional conglomeration of the true and the false, which merely by its sreater clumsiness is prevented from filling up the occasional gaps j?s the more graceful poesy can do. Tji' all the signs are not deceiving us, our ■prcsetfi tiuy 's in a peculiar state of transition. In all branch^ of knowledge, the perception is gaining ground, how jntensely our thinking and feeling has been damaged by the supremacy >of Oibf Abstract and of ■PbraBeofogy. Here and ■^uere, efforts are being made, to fetufn from (dry, colorless, hyperbolical abstractions, to the tangible, living, glowing Concrete; from idle self-contemplation, into close relation with life and the present, and from hackneyed formulas and patterns, to an investigating analysis of nature, and a creative productivity, instead of mere barren criticism. "Who knows, but our grandchildren may yet live to see the day, when people will speak of inany a former colossus of science, with the same smiling veneration, as of the remains of a gigantic antediluvian animal; and when one may avow, without fear of being cried down as a barbarian, that in a jug of good old wine, there is as much wisdom, as in many a volumi- nous production of dry dialectics. To the restitution of a serene, unbiased view of things, adorned by poetry, the following work would wish to contribute; taking its ma- terials out of our German Past. Amongst the vast collection of valuable mat- ter, inclosed in the big folios of the " Monu- tnenia Oermaniae " by Pertz, are the tales of the monasteries in St. Gall, which monk Rat- pert began, and Ekkehard the younger (called also the fourth, to distinguish him from three other members of the cloister, bearing tlie same name), continued till the end of the lOlh century. Whoever has painfully tracked his weary road, through the many unsatisfactory dry-as- dust chronicles of other monasteries, will linger with real pleasure and inward delight, over these last named annal?. There, one finds, in spite of manifold prejudices and awkward- nesses, an abundance of graceful and interest- ing tales, taken from accounts of lye and car ■witnesses. Persons andcircumstancesaredrawn with rouirh, hut distinct lineaments, whilst a sort of uncnn.scioiis poetry, — a thoroughly honest and genuine view of life and the world, as well as a n:ilve freshness and originality, puts a stamp of truth and genuineness on everything that is told; even when persons and events are not strictly subjected to the laws of time; and when a very tangible anachronism, causes very slight uneasiness to the chronicler. Quite unintentionally, these sketches lead one far beyond the boundaries of the cloister-wall; painting the life and ways, the education and customs of the Alle.mannie country,* as it then was, with all the fidelity of a picture painted from nature. Times were pleasant then in the south western part of Germany, cells, to exchange the breviary for the sword in order to resiit the Hungarian invasion; and although there were many" elements opposed to science, serious study and much enthusiasm for the classics wei^ preserved. The highly frequented cloister-schools were full of zealous disciples, and the humane prin- ciples taught there, remind one of the best times in the 16th century. Besides this, the fine arts began to bijd, — some eminent miifds rising here and there above the multitude; a general cult- ure of national history, though mostly dressed up in outlandish garments. No wonder then, that the author of this book, when making some other researches concern- ing the first stages of the middle ages, chancing to meet with those chronicles, fell like a man, who after long wanderings through a barren unfertile land, comes suddenly upon a com- fortable wayside inn; which, with excellent kitchen and cellar, and a lovely view from the windows, offers all that heart could desire. So he began to settle down in that cozy nook, and by diligently exploring the surround- ing land, to gain the best possible knowledge of the country and people who lived in it. But the poet meets with a peculiar fate, when trying to acquaint himself with the old Past. Where others, into whose veins nature has in- stilled some " aqua fartis,"—a3 the result of their labors produce many an abstract theory, and a quantity of instructive deductions, — to him appear a host of fantastic figures, that, at first surrounded by floating mists, become al- ways clearer and clearer; and they look at him with pleading eyes, dance around his couch in midnight hours, and always whisper to him, "give us a living form." Thus it was here. Out of the old Latin clois- ter-tales there arose, like rocks out of the water, the towers and walls of the monastery of St. Gall. Scores of gray-headed, venerable friars wandered up and down In the Hucient cross- passages; behind the old manuscripts sat those who had once written them; the cloister pupils played merrily in the court-yard; from ihe choir rope the solemn chant of midnight, and from the tower the clear sound of the bugle an- nounced the approach of visitors. ButT)i'fore all other forms, there arose in dazzling beauty that noble, haughty Dame, who carried off the youthful master from the quiet and peace of the cloister of St. Gall to her rocky oastle high over the Bodensee, there to teach and propagate Ihe old classics. The simple account given by the chronicler of that quiet life, dedicated to the study of Virgil, is in itself a piece of poetry as beautiful and genuine as can be found any- where. He, however, who is beset by such appari- tions cannot exorcise them otherwise, but liy doing tlieir will; trying to condense and fix their fleeting shapes. And not having read in vain in the old stories, how " Notker the stut- terer," once treated similar visions, viz., by taking a strong hazel wand and therewith be- laboring the specters, until they revealed unto and every one who perfers a striving and healthy, though I iTimVheir fineTtTongs'.-ll also took to mv arms rough and imperfect strength to a certain var- 1 ,,i,e steel pen, and saving good-bye to the old Dished finish, will feel much sympathy with foijog ^jjich had been the sources of all tliese visionary fancies, I betook myself to the ground which had once been trodden by the Duchess Hadwig and her contemporaries. There I sat in the venerable library of St. Gallus; took long rows in little rocking boats over the Bodensee; found a nest for myself un- der the old lindun-tree at the foot of the Ho- hentwiel, where a worthy old Suablan bailiff has at present charge of the ruins of the ancient fortress, and finally climbed the airy Alpine heights of the Santis, where the " WiMkirch- lein " hangs like an eagle's nest over the green valley of Appenzell. There, in the wards of the " Suabian Sea," mind and soul filled with the life of by-gone generations, the heart re- freshed by warm sunshine and balmy mountain air, I first sketched and then completed the greater part of this story. That not much has been said therein, which is not founded on conscientious historical studies, can be boldly asserted; though persons and dates have sometimes been dealt with a lit- tle freely. The poet, in order to enhance the inward harmony of his work, may occasionally i take liberties which would be most blame- ; worthy, if indulged in by tlie strict historian. I And yet the great historian Macaulay himself * The Allemannic land or Allemannfa, a.s it was then says: " I shall cheerfully bear the reD"oach of ■called, consisted of part of tlie present Wflrtembere;, I i,„„i,-_ j„o„„_,i. a v,„i„,., ,i.„ ,m™„i . * i • . Baden and Lothringen; wl,e--» a dialect, called - Alle- I naming descended below the d1gnity,^')f history jnan»i«(!A," has Ijeenpresened to tne present day. , I if 1 can succeed in placing before the English them. The beginning of church and state, whilst a considerable roughness, tempered by much natural kindliness, still clung to the peo- ple in general; the feudal spirit, so pernicious to all later development, as yet harmless, in its first stage of existence; no supercilious, over- bearing knighthood, and wanton ignorant priest- hood as yet,— but rough, plain-spoken, honest fellows, whose social intercourse frequently consisted In an extended system of verbal and real injuries, but who, under their coarse husk, hid an excellent kernel; susceptible of all good and noble things. Scholars, who in the morn- ing translate Aristotle into German, and go wolf-hunting In the evening; noble ladles, full of enthusiasm for the old classics; peasants, in whose memory the old heathen beliefs of their forefai hers still exist, unimpaired and side by by side with the new christian creed, — in short, everywhere primitive but vigorous liie, and con- ditions under which one feels inclined without contempt or rational ire, to put up even with sprites and hobgoblins. In spite of political discord and a certain in- difference towards the empire, of which Saxony iiad become the central point, there was much of the 191 h century, a true picture of the life of their ancestors." Following the advice of miinie competent judges, I have given in an appendix some proofs and references to the sources out of which I have taken my materials, in order to satisfy those, who might otherwise be inclined to treat the subject as a mere fal)le or idle in- vention. Those, however, who do not require these same proofs to believe in the genuineness of the matter, are requested not to trouble themselves furyier with the notes, as they are otherwise of ""the little import, and would be qftite superfluous, if this book did not go out into the world in the garb of a novel, which is somewhat open to the suspicion of playing care- lessly with facts and trutlis.* The attacks of the critics will be received with great imperturbability. " A tale of the 10th century?" will they exclaim. " Who rideth so late, through night and wind?" And has it not been printed in the last manual of of our natural literature, in the chapter treating of the national novel: " If we ask which epoch in German history might be best suited to com- bine the local with the national interest, we must begin by excluding the middle ages. Even the times of the Hohenstaufen, can only be treated in u lyrical style, as all efforts in ether directions, are sure to turn out utter failures." All the scruples and objections of those who prefer an anatomizing criticism, to a harmless enjoyment, and who spend all their strength in trying to force the German spirit into an Alexandrine or Byzantine form, — these have al- ready been well answered by a literary lady of the tentli century, viz. the venerable nun Hros- witha of Gandersheim, who wrote in happy, self-conscious pleasure in her own work, in the preface to her graceful comedies: " If anybody Should derive pleasure, from these my modest productions, I shall be much pleased thereat; but if on the contrary, on accouut of the objec- tivity displayed therein, or of the roughness of an imperfect style, it should please no one, then at least I myself shall take pleasure in that whicu I have created." BeidMerg, February, 1868. J. V. SCHBPFKL. CHAPTER I. HADWIG, THE DUCHESS OP SUABIA. It was almost a thousand years ago. The world knew as yet nothing of gunpowder or the art of priming. . Over the Hegau there hung a gloomy leaden gray sky, corresponding to" the mental dark- ness, which according to general opinion, op- pressed Ihe whole time of the middle^asres. Prom Ihe lake of Constance white mists floated over the meads, covering up the whole country. Even the tower of the new church at Radolfszell was thickly enveloped, but the matin iiell had rung merrily through mist and fog like the words of a sensible man, which pierce the cloudy atmo.sphere, that f.iols create. It is a lovely part of Germany which lies th( re, between the Blackf»re.st and the Suabian lake. All those who are not too strict and par- ticular with poetical similes, may be reminded of the following words of the poet: ^ " Ah fair is the AUemannic land With its bi'ight transparent slcy; y And fair is its lake, so clear and blue . Likeabonny mUden's eye; ' Like yellow locks, the corn-clad fields Surround this picture fair: i And to a Pennine Qerman face This land one may compare." — though the continuation of this allegory might tempt one to celebrate either of the Hegau mountains, as the prominent feature on the face of this country. Sternly the summit of the Hohentwiel, with its craggy points and pinnacles rises into the air. Like monuments of the stormy stirring Past of our old mother Earth those steep picturesque mountain-pyramids rise from the plains wliich were once covered b|r undulating waves, as the bed of the present lake is now. For the fish and seagulls it must have been a memorable day, when the roaring and hissing began in the deptlis below, and the fiery basaltic masses, made their way, rising out of the very • These notes, for the greatest part, have been omit- ted, as being of no possible Interest to the English r6&Q6r. / EKIvEIIARD, bowels of etiilli, above the surface of the waters. But that was loug, long ago, aud the suSeriugs of those, who were pitilessly auaihiUited in that mighty revolutiou, have long been for- gotten. Only the bills are there still to tell the weird tale. There Ihey stand, unconnected with their neighbors, solitary and defiant; as those, who with flery glowing hearts break through the bars and fetters of existiug opioious, must always be. "Whether they in tbeir mmost heart have still a recollection of the glorious time of their youth, when they greeted this beautiful upper world, for the first - time with a jubilant cry, who knows? -At the time when our story begins, the Ho- hentwiel was crested already by stalely towers aud walls. This fortress had been held during his lifetime by Sir Burkhard, DuUe of Suabia. He had been a valiant kuight, and done many a good day's lighting in his time. The enemies of the Emperor, were also his, and so there was always work to do. If everythiug was quiet in Italy, then the Normans became troublesome, and when these were fairly subjugated, perhaps the Hungarians would make an invasion, or some bishop or mighty earl grew insolent and rebellious, and had to be put down. In this way Sir Buikhard had spent bis days more in the saddle than in the easy-chair, and it was not to be wondered at, that be had gained for himself the reputation of great valor and bravery. In Suabia it was said that he reigned like a true despot; and in far off Saxony the monks wrote down in their chronicles, that he bad been an almost " invincible warrior." Before Sir Burkliard was gathered to his fore- fathers, he had chosen a spouse for himself, in the person of the young Princess Hadwig, daughter of the Duke of Bavaria. Buflhe evening-glow of a declining life is but ill matched with the light of the morning-star. Such a union is against nature's laws andDame Hadwig had accepted the old Duke of Suabia, merely to please lier father. It is true that she .bad nursed and tended him well, and held his gray hairs in honor; but wheuithe old mau laid himself down to die; grief did not break her heart. When all was over, she buried him in the vault of his ancestors, erected a monumen,t of gray sandstone to his memory, placed an ever- burning lamp over his grave, and sometimes, not too often, came down there to pray. Thus Dame Hadwig lived now all alone in the castle of Hohentwiel. She remained in posses- sion of all the landed property of her husband, with the full rights to do with it what she pleased. Besides this she was lady patroness of the bishoprick of Constance and all the clois- ters near the lake, and the emperor had given a bill of feoHraent signed and staled by his own hand, by which the regency of Suabia remained her own, as long as she kept true lo her widowhood. The young widow possessed a very aristocratic mind and no ordinary amount of beauty. Her nose however was a trifle short, the lovely lips had a strong tendency to pout, and in her boldly projecting chin," the graceful dimple so becoming to women, was hot to be found. All those whose features are thus formed, unite to a clear intellect, a not over ten- der lieart, and their disposition is more severe than charitable. For this reason the Duchess, in spile of her soft beautiful complexion, in spired many of her subjects with a sort of trembling awe. — Oq that misty day mentioned before, the Duchess was standing at one of her chamber-windows, looking out into the dis tance. She wore a steel gray undergarment, which fell down in graceful folds on her em- broidered sandals; and over this a tis'ht-fil ting- black tunic, reaching to the knees. In the gir- dle, encircling her waist, there glittered a large precious beryl. Her chestnut brown hair was confined within a net of gold thread, but round her clear forehead some stray curls played un- restrainedly. On a small table of white, marble, stood a fantastically shaped vessel of dark green bronze, in which some foreign frankin- cense was burning, sending its fragrant white little claiidlets up to the ceiling. The walls were covered with many -colored finely woven tapestry. There are days when one is dissatisfied with everything and everybody, and if one were sud- denly transported into paradise itself, even par- adise would not give contentment. At such times, the thoughts wander gloomily from this to that subject, not knowing on what to fix themselves, — out of every corner a distorted face seems grinning at us, and he who is gifted with a very fine ear, may even Uear the derisive laughter of the goblins. It is a belief in those parts that the universal contrariety of such days, arises from people having stepped out of bed with their left foot foremost, which is held to be in direct opposition to nature. Under the spell of such a day, the Duchess was laboring just now. She wanted to look out of the window, and a subtlq wind blew the mist right into her face which annoyed her. She began to cougli hastily, but no doubt if the whole country had lain before her bathed in sunshine, she would have found fault with that also. Spazzo the chamberlain had come in mean- while and stood respectfully waiting near the entrance. He threw a smiling complacent look on his outward equipment, feeling sure to at- tract his mistress's eye to-(lay, for he had put on an embroidered shirt of finest linen and a splendid sapphire-colored upper-garment, with purple seams. Everything was made in the latest fashion; and the bishop's tailor at Con- stance had brought the articles over only the day before. The wolf-dog of the knight of Friedingen had killed two lambs of the ducal herd; therefore Master Spazzo intended to make bis dutiful re- port and obtain Dame Had wig's princely opin- ion, whether be should conclude a peaceful agreement witla the dog's master, or whetlier he were lo bring in a suit at the next session of the tribunal, to have him fined and sentenced to pay damages. So he began his well-prepared speech, but before he had got to the end, he saw the Duchess make a sign, the meaning of which could not reutain unintelligible to a sen- sible man. She put her forefinger first up to her forehead, and then pointed with it to the door. So the chamberlain perceived that it was left to his own wits, not only to find the best expedient with regard to the lambs, — but also to take himself oS as quickly as possible. With a profound bow he willidrew accordingly. In clear tones Dame Hadwig called out now: "Praxedis!" — and when the person thus named did not instantly make her appearance, she re- peated in sharper accents, "Praxedis!" It was not long before Praxedis with light, graceful steps eutered thecloset. Praxedis was waiting maid to the Duchess of Suabia. She was a Greek, and a living proof that the son of the Byzantine Emperor Basilius had once asked the fair Hadwig's hand in marriage. He had made a present of the clever child, well -in- structed in music and the art of Jhe needle, to- gether with many jewels and precious stones, to the German duke's daughter, ahd in return had received a refusal. Al that time one could give away human beings, as well as buy and sell them. Liberty was not everybody's birthright. But a slavery, such as the Greek child had to endure, in the ducal castle in Suabia, was not a very hard lot. Praxedis had a small head with pale delicate features; out of which a pair of large dark eyes looked into the world, unspeakably sad one mo- ment and in the next soarkling with merri- ment. Her hair was arranged over her fore- head in heavy braids, like a coronet. She was very beautiful. " Praxedis, where is the starling?" said Dame Hadwig. "I will bring it," replied the Greek maid; and she went and fetched the black limg fel- low, who sat in his cage, withan important im- pudent air, as if his existence were filling up a vast gap in the universe. The starling had made bis fortune at Hadwig's wedding feast. An old fiddler and juggler had taught him with infinite pains, to repeat a Latin wedding speech, and great was the merriment, when at the ban- quet the bird was put on the table, to say his lesson, "Anew star has risen on the Suabian firmament, its name is Hadwig. Hail all hail!" and so forth. But this was not all the knowledge which the starling possessed. Besides these rhymes, he could also recite the Lord's prayer. Now the bird was very obstinate, and had his caprices, as well as the Duchess of Suabia. On this particular day, the latter must have been thinking of old times, and the starling was to deliver the wedding speech. The star- ling, however, had one of his pious moods, and when Praxedis brought him into the cliamber he called out solemnly: "Amen!" and when Dame Hadwig gave him a piece of gingerbread, and asked him in coaxing tones: " what was the name of the star on the Suubian firmament, my pretty one?" — he slowly responded: " Lead us not into temptation." But when she whis- pered to him to brighten his memory: "The star's name is Hadwig, all hail!" — then the star- ling continuing in bis pious strain, said: " And deliver us from evil." • ' What, do birds even become insolent now ?" exclaimed Dame Hadwig angrily. " Pussy, where art thou?" and she enticed towards her tlie black cat, which had long had an evil eye upon the starling, and who crept near softly, but with glittering eyes. Dame Hadwig opened the cage, and left the bird to its mercy, but the starling, although the sharp claws had got hold of him already, ruf- fling and tearing his feathers, yet managed to escape, and flew out at the open window. , In a few moments he had become a mere black speck in the mist. "Well, now, really I might as well have kept him in the cage," said Dame Hadwig. " Praxe- dis, what dost thou think?" "My mistress is always right, whatever she does," replied the Greek maiden, " ]?raxedis," continued the Duchess, "go and fetch me my trinkets. I wish lo put on a brace- let." So Praxedis, the ever-willing, went away, and returned with the casket of jewels. This cas- ket was made of silver; on it a few figures had been embossed, representing the Saviour as the good Shepherd; St. Peter with the keys and St. Paul with the sword, and around these, manifold leaves and twisted ornaments. Prob- ably it had served for the keeping of relics formerly. Sir Burkhard had once brought it home, but he did not like to speak about it; for be returned at that time from a feud, in which he had vanquished and heavily thrown some bishop of Burgundy. When the Duciiess opened the casket, the rich jewels sparkled and glittered beautifully oa their red velvet lining. Looking at such tokens of remembrance, many old memories came floating up to the surface again. Amongst other things there lay also the miniature of the Greek prince Conslantine, smooth, pretty and spiritless. It had been painted by the Byzan- tine master on a background of gold. " Praxedis," said Dame Hadwig, "how would it have been, if I had given my hand to that yellow-cheeked peak-nosed prince of yours?" "My liege Lady," was the answer, "I am sure that it would have been well." "Well," continued Dame Hadwig, "tell me something about your own dull home. I should like to know what my entrance into Constanti- nople would have been like." " Oh, princess," said Praxedis, " my home is beautiful," aud with a melancholy look her dark eyes gazed into the ni'sty distance — "and such a dreary sky at least, would have beerj spared you on the Marmora sea. Even you would have uttered a cry of surprise, when carried along by the proud galley, past the seven towers, the glittering masses of palaces, cupolas, churches, everything of dazzling white marble from the quarries of Prokounesos, bad first burst on our siL'ht. From the blue waves the stately water-lily, proudly lifts her snowy petals, here a wood of dark cypress-trees, there the gigantic cupola of the Hagia Sophia; on one side the long-stretched cape of the Golden Horn, and opposite on the Asiatic shore, an- other magnificent city. And like a golden blue girdle, the sea, freighted with its innumerable ships,'encircles this magic sight, — oh, my mis- tress, even in my dreams far away here in the Suabian land, I cannot realize the splendor of that view. And then, when the sun has sunk . down, and the sable night steals over the glit- tering waves, then everything is bathed in blue Greek fire, in honor of the royal bride. Now i we enter the port. The big chain which usually bars it drops down before the bridal ship. Torches burn on the shore. There stand the emperor's body-guard, the Waragians, with their two edged battle-axes, and the blue-eyed Nor- mans; there the patriarch with innumerable priests; everywhere one hears music and shouts of joy, and the imperial prince in the bloom of youth, welcomes his betrothed, and the royal train direct their steps towards the palace of Blacharnae ..." " And all this splendor I have thrown away," sneered Dame Hadwig. " Praxedis, thy pict- ure is not complete, for on the following day comes the patriarch, to hold a sharp discourse with the western Christian, aud to instruct her in all the heresies, which flourish on the barren, arid soil of your religion, like deadly nightshade 6 EKKEHAED. and henbane. Then I am instructed what to believe of their monlcish pictures and tlie de- crees of the Councils of Chalcedon and I^icaea. After him comes the mistress of the ceremonies, to teach me the laws of etiquette and court- manners; what expression to wear on my face, and how to manage my train; when to prostrate jnyself before the emperor and when to embrace raj mother-in-law. Further, how to treat this favorite with courtesy, and to use this or that jnonstrous form of speech, in addressing some ■wonderful personage: 'If it please your Emi- nence, your Highness, your adorable Great- ness!' — Whatever can be called orisinalily and natural strength is nipped in the bud, and my Lord and Master turns out to be a painted doll like the rest. Then perhaps some fine morning the enemy appears before the gates, or the sue- 1 cesser is not to the liking of the blues and greens of the Circus; revolution rages through the streets, and the German duke's daughter is put into a convent bereft of her eyesight ... I what good does it do her then, that her chil- dren were addressed as their Highnesses when still in the cradle? Therefore, Praxedis, I did not go to Constantinople!" " The emperor is the Master of the universe, and his will is forever just," said the Greek, " so I have been taught to believe." " Hast thou ever reflected, that it is a very precious boon, for a man to be his own master?" " No," said Praxedis. The tone which the conversation had taken pleased the Duchess. "What account of me did your Byzantine painter, who was sent to take my likeness, carry home, I wonder?" The Greek maid seemed not to have heard the qutstion. She had risen from her seat aud gone to the window. " Praxedis," said the Duchess with asperity, " I want an answer." Thus questioned Praxedis turned round, and faintly smiling said: " tliat was a pretty long time ago, but Master Michael Tliallelaios did not speak over well of you. He told us that he had prepared his finest colors and gold- leaves, and that you had been a lovely cliild, and when brought before him to be painted, that he had felt as if he must do his very ut- most, and a thrill of awe had come over him, as when he painted God's lioly mother, fur the monastery of Athos. But Princess Hadwig had lieen pleased to distort her eyes; and when he liad ventured to raise a modest objection, her Grace put out her tongue, held two open- spread liands to her nose, and said in very graceful broken Greek, that tliis was the riglit position to be painted in. The imperial court- painter profited by the occasion to express his opiniou, about the want of manners and educa- tion in German lands, and has vowed never again to try and paint a German Fraiilein. And the emperor Basilius on hearing this ac- count growled oercely through his beard . . ." "Let his Majesty growl, as long as he chooses," said tlie Duchess, "and pray to Heaven that he may bestow the patience which 1 then lacked on others. I have not yet had an opportunity of seeing a monkey, but ac- cording to all that is told about them, by trust- worthy men, Master Michael's pedigree must extend to those members of creation." Meanwhile she had put on the bracelets. It represented two serpents twisted together and k'ssins each other. On the head of each rested a tiny^crown. From the mass of other trink- ets, a heavy silver arrow, had got into her hands and it also left its prison-house for a fairer abode. It was drawn through the meshes of the golden threaded net. As if to try the effect of the ornaments. Dame Hadwig now walked with stately steps through the chamber. Her attitude seemed to chal- lenge admiration, but the hall was empty; even the cat had slunk away. Mirrors there were none on the walls, and as for the furniture, its adaptation to comfort was but small, according to our present views. Praxedis' thoughts were still busy with the subject just discussed. ' ' My gracious Mistress," said she, " I nevertheless felt very sorry for him." " Sorry for whom?" " For the emperor's son. He said that you had appeared to him in a dream, and that all his happiness depended upon yon." " Let the dead rest," said Dame Hadwig testily. "I had rather that you took your guitar and sang me the Greek ditty: " Constantine thou foolish lad, ConstaDtine leave off thy weeping!" " The lute is broken, and all the strings torn, since my Lady Duchess pleased to " "To throw it at the head of Count Boso of Burgundy," said Dame Hadwig. " That was well done indeed, for who told him to come uninvited to Sir Burkhard's funeral, and to preach to me, as if he were a saint? — so we will have the lute mended, and meanwhile, my Greek treasure, eanst thou tell me, why I have donned these glittering ornaments to-day?" " God is all-knowing," said the Greek maid, " I cannot tell." After this she was silent. So was Dame Hadwig, and there ensued one of those long significant pauses generally preceding self- knowledge. At last the Duchess said: "Well, to say the truth, I don't know myself!" — and looking dismally at the floor, added: "I be- lieve I did it from ennui. But tlien the lop of tlie Hohentwiel is but a dreary nest, — especial- ly for a widow. Praxedis, dost thou know a remedy against dullness?" "I once heard from a very wise preacher," said Praxedis, "that there are several remedies. Sleeping, drinking, and traveling-j— but that the best is fasting and praying," Then Dame Hadwig rested her head on her lily-white hand, and looking sharply at the quick-witted Greek, she said: " To morrow we will go on a journey." CHAPTER II. THE DISCIPLES OE ST. GALLUS. The next day, tlie Duchess crossed the Bo- densee in the early glow of the morning sun,- accompanied by Praxedis and a numerous train. The hike was beautifully blue; the flags floated in the air, and much fun was going on, on board the ship. And who could be melancholy, when gliding over the clear, crystal waters; past the green shores with their many towers and cas- tles; snowy peaks rising in the distance; and the reflection of the white sails Iremhlitig and breaking in the playful waves? Nobody knew where the end of the journey was to be. But then tliey were accustomed to obey without que&tioniug. When they approached the bay of Rorschach, the Duchess commanded them to land there. So the iTow was turned to the shore, and soon after she crossed lightly over the rocking plank and stepped on land. Here the loll gatherer, who received the duty from all those who trav- eled to Italy, and the market master, as well as those who held any ofiicial position, came to meet their sovereign; and calling out lustily, "Hall Herro!" "Hail Liebo!"* waved big branches of mighty fir-trees over their heads. Graciously returning their salutations, the Duchess walked through the deferential crowd, which fell back on either side, and ordered her chamberlain to distribute some silver coins; — but there was not much time for tarrying. Al- ready the horses whicli had been secretly sent on before, in the night, stood ready wailing, and when all were in the saddle. Dame Hadwig gave the word of command: "To the holy Gal- lus." Then her servants looked at each other with wondering eyes, as if asking, " What busi- ness can we have there?" But there was not even time for an answer, as the cavalcade was already cantering over the hilly ground towards the monastery itself. St. Benedict and his disciples Icnew very well on what places to build their monasteries. Up- hill and down hill, wherever you find a large building, which, like a fortress, commands a whole tract of land, or blocks up the entrance to a valley, or forms the central point of cross- ing highways, or that lies buried amongst vine- yards, famous for their exquisite wines, — there the passing tourist, — until the contrary has been proved to him — may boldly advance the asser- tion, that the house in question belongs, or 1 rather belonged formerly to the order of St. Benedict, for in our days monasteries become scarcer and inns more plentiful, which phe- nomenon may be ascribed to the progress of civilization. The Irish saint Gallus, had also chosen a lovely .spot, when pining for forest-air he settled down in this Helvetian solitude: In a higli mountain glen, separated by steep hills from the milder shores of the Bodensee, through which many a wild torrent rushed in mad * Old German words. flight, whilst on the other side rose the gigantic rocks of the Alpsteic, whose snow- capped peaks disappear in the clouds, there, sheltered by the mountain, the monastery lay cradled at its foot. It was a strange thing" for those apos- tles of Albion and Erin, to extend their mis- sio'ns unto the German continent, but if one ex- amines the matter closely, their merit in doing so is not so great as it appears at first sight. "The taste for visiting foreign lands Is so deeply rooted in the minds of Britons, that it cannot be eradicated,"— thus wrote as early as in the times of Charlemagne, a simple trust- worthy historian. They were simply the pre- decessors and ancestors of the presenf'British tourists, and might be recognized even at a dis- tance by the foreign, curious shape of their knap-acks. Now and then one of tliem'would sett'.e down for good somewhere, although the honest natives of the soil did not always look with favorable eyes on the intruder. Still their greater pertinacity, the inheritance of all Brit- ons, tlie art of colonizing and the mystic ven- eration which all that is foreign, always inspires in the lower classes, made their missionary en- deavors rather successful. With other times we have other customs! In the present day the de- scendants of those saints are making railroads for the Swiss, for good Helvetian money. On the spot near the Steinach where once had stood the simple cell of the Hibernian her- mit, and where he had fought with bears, gob- lins, and water fairies, a spacious monastery had been built. Above the lower shingle-covered roofs of the dwelling and school-houses, the octagon church-tower rose in all its splendor; granaries, cellars, and sheds abounded also, and even the merry sound of a mill-wheel might be heard, for all the necessaries of life had to be prepared within the precincts of the cloister;- so tliat the monks need not go too far beyond the boundaries, thereby endangerlne their souls. A strong wall, with heavy, well-barred gates, surrounded the whole; less for ornament than for security, since there was many a powerful knight in those times who did not much heed the last commandment, "do not covet thy neighbor's goods." It was past the dinner hour, and a deep calm lay over the valley. The rules of St. Benedict prescribed that at that hour everybody should seek his couch; and, though on that side of the Alps, the terrible heat of an Italian sun which forces one into the arms of Morpheus is never felt, the pious monks nevertheless followed this rule to the letter. Only the guard on the watch tower stood upright and faithful as ever, near the little chamber-window, waging war with the innu- merable flies buzzing about him. His name was Romeias, and he was noted for keeping a sharp lookout. Suddenly he heard the tramp of horses' feet in the neighboring firwood, to which he listen- ed intently. "Eight or ten horsemen," mut- tered he, and upon this quickly dropped down the portcullis from the gate, drew up the little bridge leading over the moat, and then from a nail in the wall took his horn. Finding that some spiders had been weaving their cobwebs in it, he gave it a good rubbing. At that moment the out riders of the caval- cade became visible on the outskirts of the pine wood. When Romeias caught sight of them, he flrst gave a rut) to his forehead, and then eyed the approaching party with a very puzzled look. "Women-folk?" he exclaimed aloud, but in that exclamation there was neither pleasure nor edification. He seized his horn, and blew three times into it with all his might. Tliey were rough, un- couth notes that he produced, from which one might conclude that neither the muses nor the graces had kindly surrounded the cradle of •Romeias, when he first saw the light of this world at Villingen in the Blackforest. Any one who has often been in a wood must have observed the life in an ant hill. There everything is well organized; each ant attend- ing to its business and perfect harmony reign- ing in all the bustle and movement. Now you put your stick into it, frightening the foremost ants, and instantly all is wild confusion, and a disorderly running hither and thither ensues. And all this commotion has been brought about by one single movement of your slick. Now the sounds coming from the horn of Romeias, had just the same disturbing effect iu the mon- astery. The windows of the great hall in the school- house were filled with young inquisitive faces. EKKEHAED. •(hi: Many a lovely dream vanished out of the solitary cells, without ever coining to an end, and many a, profound meditation of half-awake thinkers as well. Till! wicked Sindolt who at this hour used to read the forbidden book of Ovid's "Art ■of Love," rolled up hastily the parchment leaves, and hid them carefully in his straw mattress. ' The Abbot Cralo jumped up from his chair; stretched his arms heavy with sleep, and then ■dipping his forefinger into a magniflcent silver washing- basin, standing before him on a stone table, wetted liis eyes to drive away tiie drowsi- Jiessthat was still lingering there.' After this ■he limped t» the open bow window, but when he belield who it was that had occasioned all this disturbance, he was as unpleasantly sur- iprised as if a walnut had dropped on his head, and exclaimed: "St. Benedict save us! my cousin the Duchess I" He then quickly adjusted his habit, gave a Ijrush tg the scanty tuft of hair which his liead still boasted of and that grew upwards like a pine-tree itta sandy desert; put on his golden ■chain with the cloister seal on it, took his ab- Ijot's staff made of the wood of an apple-tree adorned with a richly carved handle of ebony, and then descended into the court yard. "Can't you hasten?" called out one of the party outside. Then the abbot commanded the ■door-keeper to ask them what they demanded. Bomeias obeyed. A bugle now sounded and the chamberlain Spazzo in the capacity of herald, rode up close to the gate, and called out loudly: "The Duchess and reigning sovereign of Suabia sends her greeting to St. Gallus. Let he gates be opened to receive her." % The abbot heaved a deep sign, then climbed up to Koraeias' watch-tower, and leaning on his staff he gave his blessing to tuose standing outside, and spoke thus: "In the name of St. Giillus, the most un- worthy of his followers returns his thanks lor " e gracious greeting. But his monastery is no oah's ark into which every species of living hing, pure and impure, male and female, may — tjnter. Therefore, although my heart is filled with regret, to sanction your entrance is an impossibility. On the last day of judgment, the abbot is held responsible for the souls of those intrusted to him. The presence of a woman, although the nobiest in the land, and the frivolous speech of the children of this world, would be too great a temptation for those who are bound, to strive first after the ■kingdom of Heaven and its righteousness. Do mot trouble the conscience of the shepherd who .anxiously watches over his flock. The canon- ical laws bar the gate. The gracious Duchess "Will find at Trojen or Rorshacii a house belong- dn^to the monastery, at her entire disposal." Dame Had wig who had been sitting on horse- back impatiently enough hitherto, now struck ier white palfrey with her riding-whip, and Teining it so as to make it rear and step back- wards, called out laughingly: "Spare yourself all your flue words, Cousin •Cralo, for 1 will see the cloister." In doleful accents, the abbot began: "Woe unto him by whom offense cometh. It were better for him . . ." But his warning speech did not come to an ■end; for Dame Hadwig, entirely changing the tone of her voice, sharply said: " Sir Abbot, the Duchess of Suabia must see the monastery." Then the much afiBicted man perceivea that further contradiction could scarcely be offered without damaging the future prospects of the monastery. Yet his conscience still urged him to opposition. "Whenever a person is in a doubtful position, and is uncertain how to act, it is a great com- fort to the vacillating mind to ask the advice of •others; for that expedient lessens the responsi- bility, and is a solid support to fall back upon. Therefore Sir Cralo now called down: "As you insist so peremptorily, I must put the case flrst before the assembled bxoUierhoo'd. Until then, pray have patience." " He walked back through the courtyard, in- wardly wishing that a second great flood might come and destroy the highway, on which such unwelcome guests had come. His limping gait 'was liurried and excited, and it is not to be •wondered at, if the chronicler reports of him, that he had fluttered up and down the cloister- -walk at that critical moment like a swallow fcefore a thunder-storm. Five times tlie little bell of St. Othmar's chapel, near the great church, rang out dow, calling the brothers to the reading-room. The solitary cross-passages filled quickly with cowl- figures; all going towards the place of assembly, which, opposite the hexagonal chief-building, was a simple gray hall, under the peristyle of which a graceful fountain shed its waters into a metal basin. On a raised brick- floor stood the abbot's marble chair adorned with two rou»hly carved lions' heads. With a very pleasurable sensation the eye, from under these dark arches and pillars, looked out on the greenness of the little garden in the inner court. Roses and holly- hocks flourished and bloomed in it; for kind nature even smiles on those who have turned their backs on her. The white habits and dark-colored mantles, contrasted well with the stone-gray walls, aS one after the other noiselessly entered. A hasty bend of the head was the mutual greeting. Thus they stood in silent expectation, while the morning sun came slanting in through tlie narrow windows, lighting up their different faces. They were triedLmen; a holy senate, well pleasing in God's sight. He with the shrunk figure and sharp- featured pale face, bearing the traces of much fasting and many night-vigils, was Notker the stutterer. A melancholy smile played about his lips. The long practice of asceticism had removed his spirit fi-om the present. In former times he had composed very beautiful^melodies; but now he had taken a more gloomy tendency and at night was constantly challenging demons to fight with him. In the crypt of the holy Gallus he had lately encountered the devil him- seif, and beaten him so heartily that the latter hid himself in a corner, dismally howling. Envious tongues said, thatNother's melancholy song of "media vita" h&d also a dark origin; as the Evil One had revealed it to him in lieu of ransom, when he lay ignomiuiously con- quered, on the ground, under Notkers's strong foot. ClosQjto him, there smiled a right-honest, and good natu'red face, framed in by an iron- gray beard. That was the mighty Tutilo, who loved best to sit before the turning lathe, and carve exquisitely fine images of ivory. Some proofs of his skill even now exist, such as the diptychon v^h the virgin Mary's ascension, and the bear of St. Gallus. But when his back began to ache, humming an old song, he would leave his work, to go wolf hunting, or to engage in an honest boxing match, by way of recrea- tion; for he preferred fighting with wicked men, to wrestling with midnight ghosts, and often said to his friend Notker: "he who like myself, has imprinted his mark on many a Christian, as well as heathen back, can well afford to do without demons." Then came Rat pert, the long-tried teacher of the school, who left his historical books most unwillingly, whenever the little bel! called him to an assem- bly. He carried his head somewhat high, yet he and the others, though their characters differed so much, were one heart and one soul; a three-leaved cloister shamrock. Being one of the last who entered the hall, be had to stand near his old antagonist, the evil Sindolt, who pretending not to see him, whispered something to his neighbor, a little man with a face like a shrew-mouse, who, puckering up his lips, tried hard not to smile; for the whispered remark had been : that in the large dictionary by Bishop Salomon, beside the words "rahulista signifies some one, who cannot help disputing about everything in the world," some unknown hand had added, "like Ratpert our great thinker." Now in the background their towered above the rest, the tall figure of Sintfa'm the famous calligraphist; whose,lctters were then the won- der of the whole cisalpine world, but the great- est of St. Gallus's disciples, with regard to length of body, were the Scotchmen, who had taken their stand close to the entrance. Fortegian and Failan, Dubslan and Brendan and so on; inseparable compatriots; secretly grumbling over what they considered tlie neg- lect shown them. The sandy-haired Dubduin was also amongst them, who in spite of the heavy iron penitential chain whicli he wore, had not been elected prior. As a punishment for the biting satirical verses, which he had composed on his German brothers, he had been sentenced to water the dead peach-tree in the garden for three years. Notker, the physician, had also joined the assembly. He had but lately administered the wondrous remedy for the abbot's lame foot; an ointment made of fish brain, and wrapping it up, in the fresh skin of a wolf, the warmth of which was to stretch out the contracted sinews His nickname was peppercorn, on account of the strictness with which he maintained the monastic discipline;— and Wolo who could not bear to look at a woman or a ripe ajiple, and Engelbert the founder of the collection of wild beasts, and Gerhard the preacher, and Folkard the painter. Who could name them all, the excellent masters, whose names, when men- tioned called up in the next generation of Monks, feelings of melancholy and regret, as they confessed, that such men were becoming scarcer every day? When all were assembled, the abbot mounted his chair, and the consultation began forthwith. The case however proved to be a very difficult one. Ratpert spoke flrst,and demonstrated from his- tory, in what way the Emperor Charlemagne had once been enabled to enter the monastery. •' In that instance," he said, " it was presumed that he was a member of the order, as long as he was in our precincts, and all pretended not to know who he was. Not a word was' spoken of imperial dignity, or deeds of war, or humble homage. He walked about amongst us like any other monk, and that he was not offended thereby, the letter of protection, which hethrtiv over the wall, when departing well proved." But in this way, thegreat difficulty,— the per- son asking for admittance being a woman, — could not be got rid of. The stricter ones amongst the brotherhoood grumbled, and Not- ker, the pepparcorn, said : " She is the widow of that destroyer of countries, and ravagerof mon- asteries, who once carried off our most precious chalice as a war-contribution, saying the de- risive words: ' God neither eats nor drinks, so what can he do with golden vessels?' I warn you not to unbar the gale." The advice how- ever did not quite suit the abbot, as ije wished to find a compromise. The debate became very stormy, one saying this, the other that. Brother Wolo on hearing that the discussion was about a woman, softly slunk out, and locked himself up in his cell. At last one of the brothers rose and requested to be heard. "Speak, brother Ekkehard!" called out the abbot, and the noisy tumult was bushed, for all liked to hear Ekkehard speak. He was still young in years, of a very handsome figure, and he captivated everybody who looked at him, by his graceful mien and pleasing expression. Be- sides this he was both^ wise and eloquent, an excellent counselor and a most learned scholar. At the cloister-school he taught Virgil, and though the rule prescribed, that none but a wise and hoary man, whose age would guard him from the abuse of his office, and who by his experience would be a fit counselor for all,^- should be made custodian* yet the brothers had agreed that Ekkehard united in himself all the necessary requirements, and consequently had entrusted him with that office. A scarcely perceptible smile had played around his lips, whilst the others were disput- ing. He now raised his voice and spoke thus: " The Duchess of Suabia is the monastery's patron, and in such capacity is equal to a man, and as our monastic rules strictly forbid that a woman's foot shall touch the cloister-threshhold, she may easily be carried over." Upon this the faces of the old men bright- ened up, as if a great load had been taken oft their minds. A murmur of approbation raa through the assembly, and the abbot lilsewise was not insensible to the wise counsel. " Verily, the Lord often reveals himself, even unto a younger brother! Brother Ekkehard, you are guileless like the dove, and prudent like the serpent. So you shall cany out your own advice. I give you herewith tlie necessary dis- pensation." A deep blush overspread Ekke- hard's features, but he quietly bowed his head in sign of obedience. " And what about the female attendants of the Duchess?" asked the abbot. But here the assembly unaniniously decided that even the most liberal interpretation of the monastic laws could not grant them admittance. The evil Sin- dolt proposed that they should meanwhile pay a visit to the recluses of Erin hill, because when the monastery of St. Gallus was afflicted by a visitation, it was but fair that the pious Wibo- rad should bear her share of it. After having held a whispering consultation with Ceroid the steward about the supper, the abbot descended from bis high chair, and accompanied by the brotherhood, went out to meet his guests. 8 EKKEHARD. These had meanwhile ridden three times round the cloister-wnlls, hanishiag the eunui of wait- lug by merry jests and laughter. The air of "jwius germinavit," the monotous hymn in praise of St. Benedict, was struck up by the monks, who were now heard approaching. Tlie heavy gale opened creaking on its hinges, and out came the alibot at the head of the proces- sion of friars, who walking, two and two to gelher, chanted the hymn just mentioned. Then the abbot gave a sign to stop the sing- ing. "How do you do. Cousin Cralo?" flippantly cried the Duchess from her saddle. "1 have not seen you for an age! Are you still limp- ing?" Cralo however replied with dignity: " It is. better that tlie shepherd should limp than the flock. Be pleased to hear the monastery's de- cree." And forthwith he communicated the condition on which she was to enter. Then Dame Had wig replied smilingly: " Dur- ing all the time that 1 have wielded the scepter in Suiibia, such a proposition has never been made to me. But the laws of your order shall be respected. Which of the brothers have you chosen to carry the Sovereign over the thresh- old?" but on casting her sparkling eyes over the ranks of the spiritual champions and beholding the dark fanatical face of Notker the stutterer, she whispered to Praxedis: "May be we shall turn back at once." " There he stands," said the abbot. Dame Hadwig following with her eyes the direction which the forefinger indicated, then beheld Ekkehard, and it was a long gaze, which she cast on his tall handsome figure, and noble countenance, glowing with youth and intellect. " We shall not turn back, was implied by a significant nod lo Praxedis, and before the short-necked chamberlain, who in most cases was willing enough, but was generally too slow, had dismounted, and approached her palfrey, she had gracefully alighted and approaching the custdilian, .she said: "Now then, perform your office." Ekkehard had been trying meanwhile to com- pose an address, which in faultless Latin was intended to justify the strange liberty he was about to take, — but when she stood before him, proud and comm,anding, his voice failed him, and tie speech remained where it had been conceived, — in his thoughts. Otherwise, how- ever, he had not lost his courage, and so lie lifted up his fan- burden with his strong arms, who, puttins her right arm round his shoul- der, seemed not displeased with her novel po- sition. Cheerfully he thus stepped over the threshold which no woman's foot was allowed to touch; the abbot walking by his side, and the chamber- lain and vassals following. "The serving minis trants swung their censers gayly into the air, and the monks marching behind in a double file as before, sung the last verses of tne unfinished hymn. It was a wonderful spectacle, such as never occurred, either before or after in the monas- tery's history, and by those prone to useless moralizing many a wise observation might be made, in connection with the monk's carrying the Duchess;on the relation of church and state in those times, and the changes which have oc- curred since, — but these reflections we leave each one to make for himself. — Natural philos- ophers affirm, tliat at the meeting of animate objects, invisible powers begin to act, stream- ing forth, and passing from one to the other, thus creating strange affinities. This theory was proved true at least with regard to the Duchess and her bearer, for whilst she was being rocked in his arms, she thought inwardly; " Indeed, never the hood of St. Benedict has covered a more graceful head than this one;" and when Ekkehard put down his burden with shy deference in the cool cross-passage, he was struck by the thought, that the distance from the gate had never appeared so short to him before. " I suppose that you found me very heavy?" said the Duchess. " My liege lady, you may boldly say of your- self as it has been written, ' my yoke is easy and my burden is light,'" was the reply. " I should not have thought that you would turn th3 words of Scripture into a flattering speech. What is your name?" " They call me Ekkehard." "Ekkehard I thank you," said the Duchess with a graceful wave of her hand. He stepped back to an oriel window in the cross-passage, and looked out into the little gar- den. Was it mere chance that the image of St. Christopher now rose befme his inward eye? He also considered his burden a light one, when he began to carry the child-stranger through the water, on his strong shoulder; but heavier and heavier the burdeu weighed on his back, and pressing him downwards into the roaring flood, deep, and deeper still; so that his courage began to fail him, and was well-nigh turned into despair? . . . - The abbot had ordered a magnificent jug to be brought, and taking it in his hand, he went himself lo the well, filled it and presenting it to the Duchess said: " It is the duty of the abbot to bring water to strangeis for them to wash their hands, as well as their feet and . . ." " We thank you, bui we do not want it," said the Duchess, interrupting him, in her most decided accents. Meanwhile two of the brothers had carried down a box, which now stood open in the pas- sage. Out of this the abbot drew a monk's habit, quite ne*, and said: "Thus lordain our monastery's, mighty patron, a member of our brotherhood, ahd adorn him with the holy garb of our order." Dame Hadwig complied, lightly bending her knee, on receiving the cowl from his hands, and then she put on the gurment, which became her well, being ample and falling in rich folds; for the rule says: " The abbott is to keep a strict look-out that the garments shall not be too scanty, but well fitted lo their wearers." The beautiful rosy countenance looked lovely in the brown hood. " And you must likewise follow the example of your mistress," said the abbott to the follow- ers of the Duchess, upon which the evil Sindolt gleefully assisted Master Spazzo to don the garb. " Do you know," he whispered into his ear, " what this garment obliges you to? In putting it on, you swear lo renounce the evil lusts of this world, and to lead a sober, self-denying and chaste life in future." Master Spazzo, who had already put his right arm into the ample gown, pulled it back hastily and exclaimed with terror: "I protest against this," but when Sindolt struck up aloud guffaw, he perceived that things were not quite so seri- ous and said: "Brother, you arewi wag." In a few minutes the vassals were also adorned with the garb of the holy order, but the beards of some of the newly-created monks descended to the girdle, in opposition to the rules, and also they were not quite canonical as to the modest casting down of their eyes. The abbot led his guests into the church. CHAPTER III. WIBOUAD THE BECLUSK. The one wlio was least of all delighted by the arrival of the unexpected guests was Rome- las the gatekeeper. He had a presentiment what part of the trouble was likely lo fall to his share, but he did not yet know the whole of it. Whilst the abbot received the Duchess, Gerold the steward came up to him and said: " Romeias, prepare to go on an errand. You are to tell the people on thediffeidnt farms to send in the fowls that are due before evening, as they will be wanted at the feast, and besides you are to procure as much game as possible." This order pleased Romeias well. It was not the first time that he had been to ask for fowls, and yeomen and farmers held him in great re spect. as he had a commanding manner of speaking. Hunting was at all times the delight of his heart, and so Romeias took his spear, hung the cross bow over his shoulder, and was just going to call out a pack of hounds, when Gerold pulled his sleeve and said : " Romeias, one thing more! You are to accompany the duchess' waiting-women, who have been for- bidden to enter the monastery, to the Schwarza- Thal, and present them to the pious Wiborad, who is to entertain them as pleasantly as may he until the evening. And you are to be very civil, Romeias, and I tell you there is a Greek maid amongst them with the darkest eyes imaginable. . ." On hearing this, a deep frown of displeasure darkened Romeias's forehead, and vehemently thrusting his spear to the ground he cxclaimecl: " I am to accompany women folk? That is none of the business of the" gatekeeper of St. Gallns's monastery " but Gerold with a sig- nificant nod towards him, continued: "Well, Romeias, you must try to do your best; and have you never heard that watchmen, who have faithfully performed their missions, have j found an ample jug of wine in their room of an evening,— eh, Romeias?" The discontented face brightened up consid- erably, and so he went down to let out the hounds. The blood-hound "and the beagle •jumped up gayly, and the little beaVer-puppy also set up a joyous bark, hoping to be taken out likewise; but with a conteropluous kick it was sent back, for the hunter had nolhiugtb do with fishponds and their inhabitants. Sur- rounded bxbis noisy pack of hounds, Romeias strode out of the gate. f' Praxedis and the other waiting-women of the Duchess had dismounted from their hprses and seated themselves on a grassy slope, chatting away about monks and cowls and beards, as well as about the strange caprices of their mis- tress, when Romeias suddenly appeared before them and said : ' ' Come on !" Praxedis looked at tlie rough sportsm'^n, and not quite knowing what to make of him, pertly said: "Where to, my good friend?" • Romeias,however,"merely lifted hisspe^^ and pointing with it to a neighboring hill beHfld the woods, held his tongue. -, "«■ Then Praxedis called out: "Is speech such a rare article in St. Gall that you do not answer properly when questioned?" The other maids giggled, upon which Rome- ias said solemnly: " May you all be swallowed up by an earthquake, seven fathom deep." "We are very much obliged to you, good friend," was Praxedis's reply, and the necessary preliminaries for a conversation being thus- made, Romeias informed them of the commis- sion he had received, and the women followed! him willingly enough. After some lime the gatekeeper found out that it was not the hardest work to accompany such guests, and when the Greek maid desired to know something about his business and sport, his tongue got wonderfully loosened, and he even related his great adventure with the terri- ble boar, into whose side he had thrown hi, spear and yet had not been able to kill it, ft one of its feet would have loaded a cart, at its hair stood up as high as a pine-tree, and i' teeth were twelve feet long at the least. Aft« this he grew still more civil, for when the Greek once stopped to listen to the warbling of a . thrush, he waited also patiently enough, though a singing-bird was too miserable a piece of eame for him to give much heed to; and when Praxe- dis bent 'down for a pretty brass-beetle, crawl- ing about in the moss, Romeias politely tried to push it towards her with his heavy boot, and when in doing so he crushed it instead, this was cerlainly not his intention. They climbed' up a wild, steep woodpath, beside which the Schwarza-brook flowed over jagged rocks. On that slope the holy Gall us had once fallen into some thorny bushes, and had said to his companion, who wanted to lift him up: " Here let me lie, for here shall be my resting-place and my abode forever." They had walked far before they came to a clearing in the fir-wood, where, leaning against the sheltering rocks, stood a simple chapel in' the shape of a cross. Close to it a -square little stone-hut was built against the rock, in which but one tiny window, with a wooden shutter, was to be seen. Opposite there stood another hut exactly like it, having also but one little window. II was customary at that time for those whO' inclined to the monastic life, and who, as St. Benedict expressed himself, felt strong enough lo fight with Ihe Devil, without the assistance- of pious companions, to have themselves im- mured in that way. They were called " Re- clausi" that is Walled-in, and their usefulness and aim in life, may well be compared to that of the pillar-saints in Egypt. The sharp winds- of winter, and frequent fall of snow, rendered their exposure in the open'air somewhat impos- sible, but the longing for an anchorite's life, was nevertheless quite as strong. Within those four walls on Erin hill there lived the Sister Wiborad, a far-famed recluse of her lime. She came from Elingnau in Aargau,. and had been a proud and prudish virgin, learned in many an art; besides being able to- reciteall the Psalms in Ibe Latin tongue, which she had learnt from her brother Hit to. She- was not however quite opposed to the idea of sweetening the life of some man or other, but. the flower of the youth at Aargau did not find grace in her eyes; and one day she set out on a- pilgrimage to Rome. Tliere in the holy city her restless mind must have undergone some- great shock, but none of her contemporariet EKKEHARD. -w ■'<*li' ^ ever knew ^i* whaf way. WM Ibiet entire di^yg her btotltei' ipt(Q ran up and down the Forum tSiplI the ''p^le of the CoUBedm, and the ' ;|fflB|niphal arch of Constantine to the four-faced ^^us near the Tiber, seekiti^'for his sister and aqt finding) hei:, atid on the. morning of the fourth day 8he walked in-^ the Salarian px», •carrying her head vesy l^^hv and whilst her «yes gleamed strangely she said that things ^Quld n#'be riM^in the world until the due ttinount of veneration was shown unto St. Mar- sWn, '" ' . After returning to her home fehe. hequeathed all her wealth lo the bishop's church 9| Con- ■stance, o|L,