Originally published in Terrific Register (Sherwood, Jones, and Co.; 1825) vol.2.
Christian, fifth son of Ernest the Pious, obtained certain districts of Altenburg, and fixed his residence at Eisenberg. This prince was a man of a honourable and upright mind, and a tolerable proficient in languages and sciences. In the solitary leisure left him by the concerns of his little state, he fell, however, into the reveries of the alchymists, and fancied that he saw gold and spirits where neither was to be seen. At that time, and for some centuries before, it was a mania common among princes, to strive to increase their wealth and importance by the discovery of the art of making gold; and if they could produce medals of what was termed chemical gold, their happiness was complete.
Christian constructed a complete laboratory, for his favourite pursuit was in correspondence with the most eminent alchymists of his time; and was known to the adepts in England, as well as in Germany, by the name of Theophilus, Abbot of the Blessed Virgin of Lausnitz. The dupe of many a swindler, he at length contracted debts, which he was never able to discharge. He consoled himself with the notion, that spirits would infallibly relieve him from his embarrassments, even when he was necessitated to reduce his establishment, and had but few resources to supply the means of living like a prince. A journal, in the duke's hand-writing, relative to his intercourse with five supposed spirits, and the magnificent promises made by them, is a singular monument of human credulity. It embraces the period between April, 1696, and March, 1706. It appears that the sum promised him by the spirits during this time, if he would have patience, exceeded five millions of dollars in ready money, besides bullion and jewels to ten times that amount. The journal contains, moreover, a minute statement of the purposes to which the duke intended to apply these treasures; an estimate of the value of the diamonds and precious stones; and a "calculation of the prodigious power and energy both of the red and white multiplied and fermented tincture," reduced with incredible pains and patience into tables; an operation which alone might suffice to turn the brain of an ordinary person.
If the supposed appearances of the spirits which conversed with the duke, and made him such profuse promises, were mere allusions of the imagination, they must have been strange indeed; but the probability is, that they were comedies acted with the deluded alchymist. A Madame von Nnruhe, a confidante of the duke, who is frequently mentioned in his journal, had doubtless performed an important part in these transactions. To some such agency we may safely ascribe the following adventure.
In 1705, the duke was reclined on a couch in his cabinet, meditating on his mystical concerns, when he heard a knock at his door. He was at a loss to imagine how any person could have come thus far unobserved by the guard and attendants, and without being announced. He nevertheless cried, "Come in!" and a female in the old fashioned dress of a princess entered the apartment. A chill came over the duke; and having convinced himself that he was awake, he questioned the visitor as to her name and errand.
"Be not afraid," mildly replied the lady; "I am not an evil spirit. No harm shall befall you. I am Anne, a princess of your family, the unfortunate wife of Duke John Casimir. You know my history?"
"I do," answered the duke, "but what now disturbs your rest, and brings you back into the world?"
"I have something to request of you. I died without being reconciled to my husband. God in his justice has appointed a certain term for our reconciliation, and that term approaches. You are chosen to accomplish our re-union. Though I am happy, I am not yet admitted before the throne of God, but have hitherto resided in a retired place of agreeable repose; whereas my inexorable husband still hovers between time and eternity, in darkness and cold, but not without hopes of happiness."
"How is it possible that—"
"Believe my word. What I tell you is truth. How many things are there which the human understanding cannot comprehend, and which nevertheless exist! Experience will be your teacher yonder, where we all see, feel, and believe what here never entered our limited conceptions."
The duke was dumb, and the spirit thus proceeded: "We are rejoiced to find that you are chosen to be the instrument of our reconciliation. Thank God with us that he has pleased to appoint you such. I give you eight days to consider of the matter. I shall then return at this hour to learn your determination. God be with you!"
The spirit retired, leaving the duke absorbed in meditation on what he had seen and heard. He resolved to consult Christian Hofkunz, a celebrated divine of Torgau, afterwards confessor to the queen of Poland, how to proceed in this affair. Hofkunz, with all his casuistry, was not a little embarrassed. At length he wrote to the duke, "if there was nothing superstitious in the reconciliation, he might undertake it; but he ought first to examine whether he had courage sufficient, and duly prepare himself by prayer for the important duty."
The appointed time arrived, and the duchess again made her appearance. She saluted the duke, and asked if he were willing to comply with her request. He answered that he would, provided nothing superstitious, or contrary to the word of God were required of him.
"Nothing of the kind is required," said the duchess. "You are acquainted with my history."
"I am."
"My husband dealt hardly with me. In vain did I solicit his forgiveness on my death bed; he remained unmoved. In order, therefore, that we both become happy, and be admitted to the divine presence, we wish to be reconciled. I have already informed you where we are at present. These abodes we are now about to leave, with the permission of the Almighty, who has selected you to promote this good work."
"What am I to do; and how am I implicated in this matter?"
"Be ready to-morrow night to receive my husband; for I alone have power to come in the day-time, but not my husband. We will entreat you to be the umpire between us, and to join our hands in token of reconciliation, to pronounce upon us the blessing of the Lord, and then to praise him along with us."
The duke promised to comply, and the lady disappeared. His highness then prepared to give a fit reception to his expected guests. He ordered wax-candles to be lighted, and placed upon a table between the Bible and Prayer Book; doubled the guards at the door of his apartments; gave himself up to spiritual meditations; prayed and awaited the time with firmness, though not with perfect composure. Precisely at eleven the duchess entered, lively and friendly as ever, and stated her case to the duke. After her, came the husband, gloomy and pale, and delivered what he had to say in a harsh and unkind manner.
"Now decide," exclaimed the duchess, "thou, in whom we place our confidence, beloved descendant of our race!"
Cristian, influenced perhaps rather by gallantry, pity for the souls that had not yet attained repose, love of peace, and a desire to extricate himself from the affair, than by any other reasons, decided that Duke Casimir was in the wrong, and exhorted him to be reconciled with his beautiful consort.
"Thou hast spoken wisely and justly," said the spirit; "I am reconciled with my wife."
The duke then joined his ice-cold hand to the warm soft hand of the princess, and pronounced a benediction over them. Both said "Amen!" and the duchess kindly added, "Receive our thanks." Upon this the duke began to sing the Te Deum Laudamus, in which he was accompanied by his guests. When he had finished, the princess addressed him in these words: "Your reward for this, your love and goodness, you will receive from God, and soon be with us."
The spirits then disappeared, and left the duke overpowered by feelings of awe, which the promised reward could not fail to excite. The guards, according to their reports, heard no part of this conversation, except what was said by the duke; neither did they see the apparitions, Christian acquainted his adviser Hofkunz with all the circumstances, and began to prepare for his end, which happened about two years afterwards. His chemical operations in his laboratory, to which he almost entirely confined himself, had destroyed his health, and he expired at the age of fifty-seven, totally exhausted and worn down to a shadow.
Note: Text reformatted for legibility.