bert, afterwards the celebrated Sylvester the Second, who lived in it as tutor to the young Emperor Otho III., previous to his election to the papal throne. Theophania was the Aspasia of this Academia, but with none of her prototype's laxity of morals; and Gerbert might have been the Socrates of her school, in all but the Athenian sage's superhuman wisdom. “When I remember,” says that famous pontiff, in after years,* “the bright and beautiful countenances which there beamed on me, and recall to mind the pleasant Socratic discourses in which we were wont to be ever engaged, I think how I forgot, for the moment, all my many sorrows; and how the bitter thought of my exiled condition, except at these times always present to my mind, tortured my soul no longer." Such was Theophania.

OTHO THE THIRD.

The object, however, of all Theophania's care and solicitude, her infant son, Otho the Third, spent the few short years of his life in any thing but happiness, and died a violent death, before he reached even the earliest period of manhood. But though his reign was brief, it did not in any wise disgrace his great descent, nor did his actions discredit the lessons of those excellent individuals to whom his education had been intrusted. Before he had attained his twentieth year, he had thrice crossed the Alps, and thrice entered Italy at the head of an irresistible army: twice, too, had he filled the papal throne with his own creatures-Gregory V., and his tutor, Sylvester II.:-and twice had he defeated and humbled the senator Crescentius and the turbulent populace of Rome, who, during his minority, had been omnipotent in that city. Well, therefore, did he deserve the popular titles of the Welt-wunder (wonder of the world), and the Wunder-kind (wondrous child), so liberally bestowed on him by his astonished contemporaries. His frequent absence from Germany, however, and the consequent apparent neglect which the great mass of his jealous subjects felt, or fancied to experience, from that cause, gave rise to very many reports derogatory at once to his virtue and his patriotism. Some among those who originated these rumours, or spread them

* Epistola.

abroad, have even gone so far as to glory in his premature death, and to exult that he was taken away from his country before he had time to accomplish the design with which they unanimously agree to charge him; namely, that of deserting Germany for Italy, and of fixing in "the seven-hilled city" the seat of the imperial power and government. The following passage from an ancient writer,* will be found to contain much of the scandal circulated respecting this hapless young prince, as well as a tolerably authentic account of what is almost universally admitted to be the cause and manner of his death.

"The Emperor Otho," pursues this quaint chronicler, "had to wife Maria of Arragon, a wanton, unclean, and lascivious woman, but she was altogether unfruitful, though mightily addicted to the male sex. This wicked wanton had ever along with her, disguised in woman's attire as one of her hand-maidens, a youth of tender years, who was her favourite lover. Daily was this youth to be found by her side-hourly was he to be discovered closeted with her; but no one believed him at the time to be otherwise than a girl, and it was not suspected by any that he was aught else than a most innocent maiden, such as beseemed a virtuous queen to keep in her service. However, it came at last to the ears of the emperor, that this minion was the means of his great dishonour, and he had him brought into the presence accordingly, without any apprisement of his purpose. There, in the face of some of his own dearest friends, the highest princes of the empire, he caused the clothes to be plucked off him; and then this false maiden stood forth revealed for what she really was—a lusty youth, the queen's paramour, and the instrument of his sovereign's disgrace. The emperor, by the advice of his court, sentenced him, without more ado, to be burned alive; which sentence was accordingly executed.

"But the tragical end of her favourite was not sufficient to quench the evil passions of the wicked empress, nor to appease the thirst of her unlawful longing; so she speedily cast about for another, to fill his vacant place. This is how she did.

"There was at that time living in Italy, near to the city of Modena, where the imperial court then abode, a nobleman of

Münster. Kosmograph.

the country, a count of ancient lineage, who was reckoned the handsomest man of his day, and who was also deemed to enjoy a very excellent character. With this nobleman the empress fell violently in love; and for a long time she sought, by every means in her power, to win his affection, and seduce him to her wicked purposes. But he cared nought for her; and, being the husband of a far more beautiful woman than she, he was not to be tempted from his troth by all her coaxing and all her cajoleries. This enraged her greatly; and her evil passion taking easily the form of bitter enmity, her desire of revenge soon came to know no bounds. She complained to the emperor, her spouse, that the count had made improper proposals to her, and stated that she had with difficulty saved herself from violation at his hands. The angry young prince, placing faith in her protestations, notwithstanding his bitter experience of her former treachery, condemned the hapless nobleman to immediate death. The sentence was executed without delay. But the innocent victim did not die wholly unavenged. Between the time of his arrest and his execution, he disclosed all the facts of the case to his sorrowing spouse; and he enjoined her, as she valued his eternal happiness and her own, to accuse the empress of his murder in plenar court, and to prove his guiltlessness of the crime for which he suffered, by herself undergoing the severest form of ordeal. She promised compliance with this his last injunction, and she kept her promise faithfully.

"The emperor was seated in the midst of his knights and his nobles, dispensing justice to all applicants for it, when the widowed lady of the murdered count stood suddenly before him.

"I demand justice, my liege!' she cried; 'I demand it by this token.'

"She held forth the gory head of her husband, as she spoke it had been hidden under her garment.

'I

"I demand justice on the empress,' she proceeded accuse her of treason to your bed, and of being forsworn to her marriage vow. She has murdered my husband: I demand blood for blood. If you be the vicegerent of God, you will not deny me justice. I am ready to prove my charge by the ordeal; I am prepared to die the death, if I fail to do so!'

"The emperor was sorely perplexed at this demand; but, piquing himself greatly on the severity and strictness with which he administered justice to all, he had no alternative but to grant it. He accordingly issued orders for the trial. During the period that intervened the accuser was unmoved; fully confident in the rectitude of her cause, she boldly abided the result, and only expressed impatience at the slowness of the preparations. It was far otherwise with the guilty accused; she was a prey to every conflicting passion that tears the human heart asunder. At the appointed time, in the presence of the entire court, the widowed countess held a glowing iron bar in her hands, and was unscathed;-the same hour she walked over burning ploughshares, and was uninjured;-that day she passed through every form of ordeal prescribed by the superstition of the period, and triumphed. The empress declined to undergo the trial, and appealed against the jurisdiction of the court. But this availed her not; she was deemed guilty; she was condemned to death ; and she suffered, by fire, the earthly penalty of her manifold crimes.

"To the widow of the murdered nobleman the emperor gave many rich gifts, and restored to her and her children all the large estates which had been confiscated on his attainder.

"Shortly after this Otho departed for Rome. In that immortal city he engaged him in an amour with the wife of Crescentius, the troublous senator, whom he had expelled from thence, for seditious practices, during his long minority. This lady was a noble dame, very lovely to look on, and possessed of great wit as well as great beauty; but she was unhappily of an evil temper, jealous to the last degree, like most of the women of her country, and extremely selfish in all her feelings. This young sovereign met his death at her hands; and she effected her fell purpose in the following manner. On his departure from Rome he left her behind him; whereupon she made a great outcry, as though he had wiled away her virtue by a promise of marriage, and then basely abandoned her. Bent upon obtaining revenge for his alleged perfidy, she despatched special messengers after him; which messengers were the bearers of a valedictory letter, and a richly wrought pair of gloves, her own handy-work. Her emissaries reached the camp and

executed their errand. The emperor read the letter; he smiled and sighed at the perusal of its contents, and then flung it into the fire: he drew the fatal gloves on his hands-alas! they were poisoned. Three days did he linger in unspeakable agony: no leech could cure him, such was the subtle nature of the venom; no medicine could give his dolorous sufferings the least alleviation. On the third day he died."

Thus perished this promising prince, by an untimely death, long ere he had attained his twenty-first year.

The direct succession of the Saxon line of emperors became extinct in his person.

DATTENBURG.

We recross the river to Dattenburg. This is the legend of that ruined edifice.

THE DEAD BRIDE.

It was a wild wintry night, in the latter part of the fifteenth century. Then, as now, the once impregnable castle of Dattenburg was a shattered ruin—the abode of evil spirits in the popular belief, and the terror of the surrounding country. On this night, while the wind roared like thunder, and the raging river answered it with a stormy diapason still louder, a young knight, Kurd von Stein, who pursued his road from Hammerstein to Unkel, was belated on the way, and wandering far out of the direct path along the river shore, went astray among the mountains. While struggling with the blinding rain, and bearing up bravely against the wild blast, which assailed him with a wondrous fury, he saw a faint light in the far distance. Towards this light he immediately directed his steps. After much labour and considerable difficulty, he succeeded in reaching the ruins of the castle of Dattenburg; but it was then all unknown to him that such was the spot in which he had sought a refuge. In an upper chamber of the great tower, burned the light which had guided him thither. He had some trouble to discover an