[Footnote B:  Caspar Hauser.  An Example of a Crime against the Life, of Man’s Soul.]

On the 26th of May, 1828, a citizen of Nuremberg, while loitering in front of his house in the outskirts of the town, saw, tottering towards him, a lad of sixteen or seventeen years, coarsely and poorly clad.  He held in his hand a letter, which he presented to the citizen; but to all questions as to who he was, whence he came, and what he wanted, he replied only in an unintelligible jargon.  The letter was addressed to the captain of a cavalry company then stationed at Nuremberg, to whom he was taken.  It stated substantially, that a boy had been left at the writer’s door on the 7th of October, 1812, that the writer was a poor laborer with a large family, but that he had nevertheless adopted the boy, and had reared him in such strict seclusion from the world that not even his existence was known.  The letter said further, that, so far from being able to answer, the lad could not even comprehend any questions put to him.  It therefore discouraged all attempts to obtain any information in that way, and ended with the advice, that, according to his desire, he should be made a dragoon, as his father had been before him.  Inclosed in this letter was a note, professedly by the mother, and pretending to have been left with him, when, as an infant, Caspar Hauser was first cast upon the world, but, in reality, as it was afterwards proved, written by the same person.  This note gave the date of his birth, pleaded the poverty of the mother as an excuse for thus abandoning her child, and contained the same request as to his joining a cavalry regiment when he should arrive at the age of seventeen.

The first impression produced by Caspar’s appearance and behavior was, that he was some idiot or lunatic escaped from confinement; it remained only to be shown whence he had escaped.  In the mean time he was placed under the protection of the police, who removed him to their guard-room.  There he showed no consciousness of what was going on around him; his look was a dull, brutish stare; nor did he give any indication of intelligence, until pen and paper were placed in his hand, when he wrote clearly and repeatedly, “Kaspar Hauser.”  Since then he has been known by that name.

When it became evident that the first conjectures concerning him were wrong, strenuous efforts were made by the police to sound the mystery, but without the slightest success.  He himself could give no clue; for he neither understood what others said nor could make himself understood.  With the exception of some six words, the sounds Caspar uttered were entirely meaningless.  He recognized none of the places where he had been, no trace could be obtained of him elsewhere, and the most vigilant search brought nothing to light.  The surprise which his first appearance produced increased as he became better known.  It then became more and more evident that he was neither an idiot nor a lunatic; at the same time his manners were so peculiar, and his ignorance of civilized life and his dislike for its customs so great, that all sorts of conjectures were resorted to in order to explain the mystery.