SCHARZFIELD CASTLE.

SCHARZFIELD CASTLE formerly stood among the Harz Mountains. In the eleventh century, under the reign of Henry IV., it was in the possession of a knight of the name of Helden, Count of Scharzfield. He was inspector of the mines in that neighbourhood; a post of considerable responsibility, as the produce of them formed the principal item of the king's revenue, and was more than equivalent to what is now called a Berghauptman, or captain of mines in the mining districts of Germany. Helden had a beautiful wife, who was devotedly attached to him; but she had the misfortune to please the Emperor, Henry IV., then in his youth-a wanton and seductive prince, from whose fangs no woman was safe that happened to attract his attention.

The emperor lived at Goslar (a few miles from Scharzfield), which at that period was the favourite residence of the kings of Germany-probably from being so near to the principal source of their revenue; and, as the count and his wife were constantly in the habit of visiting Goslar and the court, Henry became enamoured of her charms. His plans were soon formed for the possession of them. He despatched her husband on an important commission, which, whilst it would keep Helden away from home a considerable time, would enable him (the emperor) to bring his schemes to execution. Henry, like all his predecessors, was passionately fond of hunting; and, after the count's departure from Scharzfield, he daily indulged in that sport in the immediate vicinity of the castle, waiting for an opportunity which would give him a pretext for appearing before its lovely and lonely mistress. A tempest soon afforded the emperor this opportunity: wet and fatigued, he rode up late in the day to the castle-gates, and announcing himself, entreated the hostess to give him shelter till the storm was over. It may be easily supposed that the mistress of Scharzfield Castle was too humane to refuse, even to a beggar, what her husband's sovereign craved; and the cunning and seductive Henry was quickly ushered into the presence of the beautiful and unsuspecting countess. But, as the night advanced, the storm increased; and Henry feeling averse to depart, she saw herself compelled to offer an asylum for the night to her royal visitor; which, of course, was eagerly accepted. What followed—what arts Henry employed, what subterfuges he had recourse to, to triumph over the virtue of his hostess-the old chronicler of those times, Zeiler, leaves us to surmise :

Was nun die Liebenden, in jener Höhle, thaten,

Das lässt uns, Zeiler, nur errathen.

The morning disclosed how far the emperor had succeeded in his base designs; and that, amongst his other titles, he had claim to that of being Invincible, at least in the eyes of the frail and fallen countess. The emperor, however, had not acted alone: powerful as he was, he found himself compelled to employ a monk, of the neighbouring cloister of Pohlde, to appeal in his behalf to his fair object, who had religious as well as domestic scruples to overcome, and which this crafty priest alone

could remove, as he was her confessor, and a constant inmate of the house. But the infamous conduct of this accomplice to Henry's wicked plan is said, by the writers of the day, to have tended more to awaken the dormant spirit of the Ahnherr of the Castle of Scharzfield than the seduction committed by the king himself. This phantom, as is well known in Germany, only appears when danger is about to threaten any member of the family, or when the mischief is already done. The Ahnherr of the Scharzfield Castle had not been seen for many years, although it was believed he confined his wanderings to a remote part of the castle, called the Round Tower, which was isolated and removed from the rest of the buildings. Some nights after Henry's departure the roof of the Round Tower gave way, and fell with a dreadful crash. The Ahnherr rushed from his place of concealment, flew through the apartments of the castle, and arresting his steps beside the fatal couch where Henry had abused the hospitality of the countess, began to howl in a most terrific manner. The turrets of the castle reeled, the whole edifice was shaken to its foundation; and, in a peal of thunder, the Ahnherr took his flight, and never again appeared at the Burg. The wretched countess, stung with remorse, wandered in a frantic manner about the castle: the attendants, terrified, crossed themselves for protection against the wrath of the Evil One, and fearfully awaited the result.

At the end of a few weeks the injured count returned, and found his wife in an agony of despair, and inconsolable for the wrong she had done herself and husband. In the excess of his rage he went off to Goslar, with the intention of seeking personal revenge on the emperor himself, who had sullied his honour and destroyed his peace. But care was taken that he should not approach the person of his monarch; and, for his audacity in attempting it, he was removed from his situation as Berghauptman, and ordered to quit Goslar immediately. Insult being thus heaped on injury, he became more furious than ever, and, retiring to the seat of his power, summoned the miners before him, told them the tale of his wrongs, and so excited their indignation, that they all declared they would leave their occupation, and follow their chief to a distant part of Germany. Thus he avenged himself upon his sovereign; for the mines were neglected, and remained unworked for a considerable length of time, and Henry was deprived of their produce-an immense loss for an extravagant monarch like Henry IV. In return for the count's behaviour, he laid siege to the Burg, took it (for there was no one there to defend it—even the countess herself had taken flight), and gave it to Wittekind von Wolfenbüttel, one of his favourite captains. Scharzfield Castle is now a mass of untenanted and unfrequented ruins.

THE CONFEDERATES; OR, THE DAYS OF MARGARET OF

PARMA.

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

CHAPTER III.

THE 10th of September, 1549, the day on which Prince Philip and his imperial father were to make their entry into the city of Antwerp, dawned as brightly as its anxious population could have desired.

The emperor had preceded his son; and about twelve o'clock the latter arrived at Berchem, a small place at no great distance from the town. Here, on a plain extending towards the Leper House, were drawn up, in stately array, a chosen and well-appointed band of the Burgher guard in what was then termed a "battle." This consisted of 4000 men bearing upon their shoulders lances, which, owing to their extraordinary length, were generally known under the name of longbois. Formed into regular squares, and flanked by a line of haquebutiers three men deep, their colours floated with difficulty through the dense mass of poles which clustered thickly together; and their lances' heads, brought thus into close contact, gleamed like one sheet of steel. Fifers and drummers performed their duty in their front; whilst the leaders, selected from amongst the aristocracy of the town, and mounted on nobly-caparisoned steeds, rode forwards and backwards issuing their various commands.

The men, though not all habited alike, were most richly decked out; the prevailing costume consisting of white velvet doublets, and crimson cloth trunk-hose, slashed on the right thigh with yellow and on the left with red silk. Some wore crimson silk barrets; others, salads or steel caps, adorned all alike with parti-coloured feathers; whilst the numerous breastplates, cuissards, and brassards, many of pure silver, and others of highly-polished steel, receiving and reflecting in full the ardent rays of a mid-day sun, formed a sight so dazzling to the eye that it could scarcely rest upon it.

The Deputy Marquis of Antwerp advanced towards the prince with due reverence, and escorted him to the front of the "battle." Philip, however, perhaps for the reason we have mentioned, did not seem willing to indulge himself with too close a scrutiny of their braveries, but desired the marquis to proceed with the business of the day. This might be a natural, but certainly was not a very gracious proceeding, and caused no slight disappointment amongst the vain birds whose gay plumage was thus carelessly overlooked. The prince was next conducted through a large arch-which, owing to the brevity of the time for preparation, had not been quite completed-towards a small circular chapel erected close by the Leper House. Here he was met by all the patricians and officials of the town, and a great number of representatives of the different religious orders established therein, who did him homage with extreme pomp and ceremony.

The keys of the town, laid upon a purple velvet cushion, having been offered to him on bent knee, Philip of Spain, afterwards so justly denominated The Cruel, was solemnly invested with the marquisate of Antwerp and the jurisdiction of that fair and flourishing city, together with all its dependencies. Could those who so freely and joyously tendered him this power have read in his dark breast all the stores of evil

that lay there yet dormant, for lack of that very power whose foretaste could not even bring the warm blood of life to his pale cheek, how would their hearts have quailed, and all their bright hopes have been changed to agonising apprehensions! It is a wise dispensation that veils the future, with its many unavoidable sufferings, from the sight of men.

Prince Philip, although Spanish by birth, had inherited the fair hair and blue eyes of the houses of Austria and Burgundy, without, however, possessing the advantage of their fresh colour and open brows. There was no trace in his countenance of the frank audacity of his illustrious ancestor, Charles the Bold-of the calm wisdom that distinguished Maximilian of Austria -nor even of the haughty comeliness of his father. His eyes, his hair, and complexion, might each and all have been denominated pale. His forehead bulged out considerably; his chin and lips protruded in as marked a manner, and gave a peculiarly heavy, unintelligent, and at the same time ill-tempered expression to his countenance. It was impossible not to perceive at a glance that his was a saturnine, joyless temperament; that his smile was forced, and that his frown-when, in spite of all his efforts, habit, stronger than will, resumed its sway-was natural. His figure, though slight, was utterly devoid of grace and dignity; he seemed shy and embarrassed in every look and movement; not, however, with the amiable bashfulness of youth, whose blushes plead its most graceful excuse, but rather with that of one obliged to go through a part that fatigues and annoys him, and in which his inward man takes no share.

What might in some degree palliate these feelings-if, indeed, he entertained them to the extent that his countenance seemed to betraywas his miserable deficiency as a linguist. To come as a sovereign and receive homage from beings his eye never rested on before-to mingle in customs and pleasures most strange, and therefore distasteful-to wander amongst a variety of objects, not one of which was familiar, or rendered interesting by any connecting link with the past-a new world everywhere around him-how could his heart sympathise with those who shared no prejudice, no habit, no idea in common with him; with whom he could not interchange, except through the medium of a third party, the merest expressions of common courtesy? Brought up in the strict etiquette of a court more pompous and formal in outward bearing, less cheerful and communicative, than any other in Europe, he naturally felt shocked by the frank, easy deportment of the Flemish citizens; and, consequently, often took offence where none was meant.

Now that intervening centuries permit a calm and dispassionate investigation of that most extraordinary period, and the leading characters who prepared or caused its disasters, we cannot clearly understand what feeling or purpose could have influenced Charles V. in having kept his son so many years absent from the countries over which his birthright called him to rule, and in having permitted him to grow up to manhood in utter ignorance of their usages and tongues. It seems unworthy in so great a man, so successful in all he wished to accomplish, to have dreaded any rival, especially in a son, even had he been the most distinguished; and yet how can we otherwise account for the prince's education having been neglected on so important a point? Whatever was the motive which induced the emperor to adopt this plan-and that it was a deep-laid one must be evident to all who take for one moment into con

sideration the crafty policy that ruled every action of his life, his own natural taste for intellectual cultivation, and his often-repeated assertion that "so many languages as a man spoke, so many times was he a man," -by whatever motive, we repeat, influenced, he pursued in that respect a most unjustifiable and cruel measure, so far as it affected the interests of the country he professed to love, and one most unfavourable to his son's comfort and tranquillity.

The ceremonial of investiture being over, there poured from the city, in unceasing flow, a stream of nobles and gentles, authorities of the town, distinguished merchants, and foreigners of note, headed by their own consuls, each taking precedence according to the place assigned him. The procession passed slowly in front of the temple where the prince was seated. He coolly eyed the horsemen as they rode by, bending in humble obeisance before him; but, contrary to the expectation of those by whom he was surrounded, he made neither inquiry nor remark, and gave no other outward token of satisfaction or attention than an occasional grave inclination of his head. When the body of Spanish merchants met his gaze, for the first time his features relaxed into a smile. Perhaps those swarthy features appeared to him more kindly; but all eyes were upon him, and the Flemings were but little flattered by this solitary mark of approbation, bestowed in a quarter which they, unfortunately, regarded with the strongest sentiments of jealousy and distrust. Having defiled thus before the prince, the different companies returned in the same order towards the city, whither we shall take the liberty to precede them.

The people swarmed in the streets and squares, more especially in those through which the procession was expected to pass. Every window and doorway was filled with eager faces, and the crowd literally lined every accessible thoroughfare.

Above

From the gate of the Kaiser-poort, through which the prince was to enter, extended on either side the way an unbroken line of square pilasters, ten feet apart from each other, with horizontal shafts running across their capitals, between which hung festoons of leaves. each alternate column, fixed in a golden socket, flared a large lighted taper, whilst the intermediate ones bore above their summits portraits and escutcheons of various members of the Imperial family, encircled with wreaths of evergreen.

Paul van Meeren, who had decided to take no active part whatever in the proceedings of the day, clung obstinately to his predetermination. Cornelius had, on the contrary, solicited to make one of the procession, more as a matter of policy than taste; and left his wife to his brother's care, who, in spite of his prejudices, was too vivacious not to take some degree of interest in what was going forward. He had, consequently, set out at an early hour with his fair charge, to secure a convenient situation at one of the windows close by St. George's, from which advantageous position they would not only command a view of the procession as it passed the gate of the town, but also as it wound its way up the Dryhoeck, along which it was to proceed in the direction of the Meer-Brugge.

They had occupied their station somewhat above three hours, every minute of which had been counted by the impatient Mrs. Van Meeren, when the bells of our Lady's church warned her that the cavalcade had