Rambles and Researches in Thuringian Saxony/Letters from Thuringia/Letter IX
Dear L,
I returned yesterday from my excursion in the mountains, and again occupy my old quarters in the Mohr Hof, My room was tenanted by no less a personage than Napoleon for a couple of days in his flight after the battle of Leipsig, and from its windows he inspected the remnant of the old guard. During my absence, the news of an Englishman’s being engaged in writing a book on Saxe-Coburg Gotha had spread like wildfire, and on my return I found my table crowded with books, and numerous letters, containing offers of assistance. Amongst other things, an old manuscript attracted my notice, and, on inspection, I found it to contain the curious narrative of the Graf von Gleichen, which, though highly romantic, is founded on fact. It is impossible to send you a translation of the whole, as it occupies some sixty folio sides, and is by no means easy to read, having been written perhaps three centuries ago. I have made a hasty translation of some extracts, which will give you a tolerable idea of the story. I leave you to its perusal, wishing you viel Vergnügen.
Adieu.
Legendary Tale of the Graf von Gleichen.
“It is just three hundred years, come the day of the blessed Virgin, that the Nuncio of the Holy Father, Gregory IX., appeared at the court of the Emperor Frederic at Naples, urging him, by a new Crusade, to rescue the holy city from the infidels. Alarmed at the Pontiff’s threats, the Emperor summoned the Princes of the Empire, and assembled a numerous band of valiant warriors. In the imperial suite was the Landgrave of Thuringia, Lewis the Holy, with his knights and followers. Joyfully the warriors set out; one only was sad and mournful, the noble Count of Gleichen. Lewis inquiring the cause of his settled melancholy, the Count replied: ‘Doubt not my courage or devotion to the sacred cause! but I leave my dear Ottilia, with our infant children, perhaps for ever.’ ‘Console yourself,’ said the Landgrave, ‘I likewise parted with sorrow from my true and gracious Elizabeth, but I grieve no more, for, while we try the combat, our wives will pray to God that we return in safety,’ &c. &c.” *****
[It appears, however, from the MS., that the Landgrave died soon after at Otranto, naming the Count leader of his vassals. They arrived at Ptolemais, where the Count and his squire Kurt were taken prisoners by an ambuscade of Saracens, embarked in a vessel to Alexandria, and sent as slaves to Grand Cairo, where they were thrown into prison and loaded with chains.]
“The warriors had long returned, and brought the news of their leader’s sudden disappearance to his anxious consort. A thousand conjectures about his fate filled the mind of the wretched Ottilia, who mourned for her lord as one numbered with the dead. Still she fondly cherished the hope that he might survive, and sent many a trusty follower to the East to make research, but all returned without the slightest tidings. The seventh year still found the noble Count occupant of a gloomy dungeon, when, by a stratagem of the faithful Kurt, the closed doors were thrown open, and the Count was brought before the commander of the slaves, who addressed him thus:—‘Thy obstinacy is the cause of thy captivity, stubborn Frank; why didst thou conceal thy abilities? Thy fellow-prisoner hath reported thee to be skilled in the precious art of gardening. Execute the will of the most mighty Sultan; arrange a garden after the manner of the Franks, and spare no pains, for if thy garden delight the Sultan’s daughter, who is the flower of the world, and the brightest jewel of the East, thy fortune is secured,’ &c.”***
[Here the chronicler relates at length the astonishment of the Count at this address, knowing nothing of gardening, but how he concealed his surprise, and demanded fifty slaves to be placed at his disposal, and at their head the trusty Kurt, in order that he might execute the Sultan’s wishes, which, after considerable difficulty and many consultations with Kurt, were at length accomplished.]
“This garden was destined for Melechsala, the only child spared to the Sultan of a numerous progeny. She was beautiful as the morning, and was the idol of his soul. It was to surprise her on her natal day that the Frankish garden was prepared, for Melechsala had amongst her slaves a Christian girl, to whom she was much attached, and from whose descriptions she had imbibed a taste for foreign fashions. In this alone she was faithful to the customs of the East: she had loved flowers from earliest childhood, and twisted graceful garlands full of poetry and meaning. The birth-day of Melechsala approached, and the Sultan resolved to visit the garden. Full of anxiety, expecting to lose his head, or at least to resume bis chains, the Count awaited the mighty Sultan’s coming; but, thanks to the potent charm of novelty, the Sultan expressed his satisfaction, &c. &c.”**
[Here the MS. narrates a conversation between the Sultan and the Count, and how the latter was appointed Bostangi or chief gardener, with slaves and attendants, and became quite a favourite.]
“On a mild day of spring, Melechsala was first introduced into the Frankish garden, but a long time elapsed ere our Bostangi’s wish to see the flower of the world was gratified, as, in observance of the Eastern customs, the troublesome attendance of the eunuchs only was allowed, and all others carefully excluded. On one occasion, tempted by the fresh breezes of the morning, the fair Melechsala strolled forth alone from the sleepy Harem into her favourite grounds; the dew still decked with pearly drops the glistening plants, &c. &c. *****
[As might be expected, the noble gardener was engaged quite àpropos amongst the flowers. He sees Melechsala, who had laid aside her veil, and, when she addresses him, remains speechless with astonishment at her melodious voice and transcendent beauty.]
“‘Christian, fear not!’ said the Princess; ‘by my order thou art here, to nurse my darling plants, my cherished flowers.’ ‘Splendid flower of the world,’ replied the Count, ‘before whose wondrous beauty, the brightest gem is pale, a word from thee rejoices the soul of thy slave, who bears his captivity with gladuess if thou but esteem him worthy of thy commands.’ Melechaala, who awaited not an answer, was astonished to hear such flattering speech coming from a slave, and regarding closely the noble features of the still youthful Count, the veil alone concealed the blush which tinged her maiden cheek. She gave some trifling orders, and resumed her walk. The following day her visit was renewed. Insensibly the pure and innocent breast of the Eastern maid beat with undefined sentiments of tender admiration of the noble Frank. She foresaw not the danger of these oft-repeated visits, but without reserve she passed her morning hours in conversing with the Count, who, though bold and daring in the fight, before this artless girl was timid as the dove; nor had he the most remote idea of the feelings with which he had inspired her gentle bosom. Chance disclosed the secret. ’Twas a lovely evening. The rays of the setting sun illumined with purple splendour the mosques and cupolas of Grand Cairo. Melechsala conversed with the Count, twining in tasteful order a bunch of fresh gathered flowers, when, following the impulse of the moment, she gave it to the Count, who with tender gratitude placed it in his bosom, nescient of the secret meaning the chosen blooms concealed. The lovely girl supposed her floral speech was understood, and requested him to cull for her a ‘bouquet’ in return. Hastening to the choicest beds of just blooming flowers, he gathered a bud of the splendid Muschirumi, which he presented on his knees. How great was his surprise, when Melechsala drew back, and, with averted look, hesitated to accept the fragrant flower. Her mild serenity had quickly disappeared, and, drawing around her the screening veil, she hurried from the garden, &c. &c.”*****
[Now follows a long explanation of the cause. Those who have studied tbe manners of the East, or read Hasselquist’s Journey to Palestine, will know that the Count had unconsciously declared love to his mistress, and that in a way which had violated the virgin modesty, since the only rhyme to Muschirumi in the Arabian is Ydskerumi. Neither the Count, however, nor the trusty Kurt, to whom he related his adventure, could interpret Melechsala’s behaviour, which would have cost him his head, had not her softness and love towards the stranger suppressed the pride which arose in the bosom of the Sultan’s daughter.]
“The Count in vain awaited a solution of the mystery from Melechsala herself; many days elapsed ere she re-appeared. The Count then threw himself at her feet, to supplicate forgiveness for his unknown fault. Melechsala beckoned him to follow her. He obeyed in silence, and, after losing sight of the garden, they stopped before the door of a summer palace of the Sultan, which was quickly opened by a slave. Entering one of its rich saloons Melechsala thus spoke:—‘The will of the Prophet be done!’ she began; ‘three times I have invoked him to give me a sign, if I wander in the paths of folly and error. The Prophet has been silent. He approves of the dove’s resolve, to deliver the captive linnet from his fetters, and to live with him in the same nest. The Sultan’s daughter has not despised the Muschirumi. Tarry no longer; find the Iman, he will make thee a faithful believer in the Moschee, and not in vain; for then I shall request my father that he create thee a Bacha in his provinces. Proudly may’st thou then lift up thine eyes to the splendour of the throne!’ The Count, dumb with amazement, now first perceived the mistake he had committed. A struggle, fierce and long, of conflicting sentiments agitated his troubled heart. The tempter tried his most enticing wiles to vanquish the scruples of the Count, to persuade him to abjure his creed and become a faithless husband to his lone Ottilia. But after a lengthened silence, he answered thus:—‘Alas! fairest and best of maidens, for me there is no hope. Know, then, that a virtuous wife mourns my absence from my native land. How could I give that heart to thee, already sacred to another’s love?’ ‘Look,’ said Melechsala, ‘there are still blooming many other flowers besides her whom thou callest the flower of the world: they all refresh our eyes and sense with their varied hue and sweet perfume. Should not the constant sight of one and the same tire thy aching vision? Nor would I ask thee to nurse this one alone. The fortune I destine for thee thy wife may partake. She also shall live in thy serail, and shall be to me a dear companion, who will love me for thy sake. I will call her children mine.’ With eyes full of tender expression she looked upon the again undecided Count, who, wrapt in thought, scarcely conscious of what passed, was roused from his reverie by the friendly Kurt. Melechsala had vanished, &c., &c.” *****
[Now follows a description of Kurt’s arguments, who advises the Count to accept the brilliant offer. ‘For should the Countess Ottilia,’ said he, ‘still live, in your castle they believe you dead, and she most probably ere this is married to another. As to your belief, the man may show the way to heaven better than the wife. If the Princess love you, she will not mind to change her Paradise for Christendom.” The reasoning of Kurt, joined to a curious dream of Ottilia’s death, at length staggered the resolutions of the Count. At his next interview with Melechsala, he disclosed his real rank and high descent, and painting in glowing colours the pleasures and delight which would await them in his Thuringian home, proposes an instant flight.]
“Clothed in a caftan, and taking a casket of richest diamonds, Melechsala left the serail, and fled with her lover. They reached Alexandria in safety, and embarking here in a merchant vessel, soon gained the port of Venice, &c.” *****
[Here the Count meets one of his old retainers, who, with tears of joy, recognised his long-lost master. From him he learned that Ottilia still lived, and remained faithful to the nuptial vow. New perplexities embarrass now our hero, who, after much reflection, sends a long account of his adventures, of his captivity and flight with the Sultan’s daughter, who had left her native land, the splendour of the throne, and all her comforts, through love for him, and under the condition of becoming his wife, which, misled by a fatal dream, he had promised.]
“Ottilia wept with joy at the tidings of her beloved lord’s return, and often pressed the letter to her trembling lips. But on perusing its contents, the tears soon ceased to flow, and, with bitter exclamations, she execrated the Crusade as the source of all her woes, and ill brooked the thought of sharing with another her husband’s love, &c.” *****
[Here again, however, a nightly vision is described. Ottilia sees her husband returned: he embraced her and her children; while in the back ground stood a lovely female, of angelic countenance, who seemed to view with kind attention this loving scene. She began to reflect, that without the fair Saracen’s aid, she had perhaps never more seen her beloved, and changing her determination, sends a favourable reply to the Count’s wishes. This reaches him at Rome, where Melechsala had abjured her faith, and turned to the doctrines of the all-saving Church. She was baptized Angelica. The joy which the holy father felt was taken advantage of by Count Ernest to propose the double marriage; but in vain. That, however, which his solicitations failed to procure, the beauty of Angelica effected. She herself pleaded her cause, and after a convocation of the Vatican, a bull of dispensation was granted. The Count, now leaving Angelica to follow with the faithful Kurt, travelled day and night to reach Thuringia’s hills, and again embraced his fond Ottilia. Soon after came Angelica, whose approach was descried in the distance from the Gleichen Towers. Ottilia and her Ernest went forth to welcome the foreign maiden. Ottilia embraced her with warmest love, and the scene of the happy meeting to this day is called the Freudenthal, or Valley of Joy.
Soon the nuptials were celebrated; the knights and chieftains of Thuringia thronged the halls of the Castle of Gleichen, and joy and feasting proclaimed the absent lord’s return, &c.
The manuscript concludes by stating that Melechsala remained childless, but loved the children of Ottilia as her own. Death first snatched her away from this happy union, and somewhat later, Ottilia, who was shortly followed by the Count (1264). They were all three buried in the same grave. Their tombstone is before the altar of St. Peter’s Church, at Erfort. Ottilia is represented with a mirror in her hand, emblem of her prudence: on the right hand you see Angelica, with a coronet and symbols of her Eastern origin: between them is the Count. The nuptial couch is still shown to strangers, in the Junkern Kammer, as a precious relic. A splinter of it, worn instead of the busk, is said to destroy all jealousy in the female heart. Many relics still remain confirmatory of the tradition. At Tonna are preserved the turban and gold cross of the fair Saracen; and the Burgomaster of Kirschberg possesses, in the old Castle of Tannerode, near Eisenach, an old carpet, on which the whole history is embroidered.]