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VOL. I.
THE PATRICIANS.
_From the German of_
C. F. VAN DER VELDE.
SPECIMENS
OF
GERMAN ROMANCE.
SELECTED AND TRANSLATED FROM
VARIOUS AUTHORS.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR GEO. B. WHITTAKER,
AVE-MARIA-LANE.
MDCCCXXVI.
THE PATRICIANS.
It was in the year 1568, on the 17th of May, old style, that Althea,
the widow of Netz of Bogendorf, sate in her apartments at Schweidnitz.
The mourning veil still flowed about her pale beautiful face, while her
blue eyes gazed through their tears with melancholy tenderness on the
only pledge of a brief yet happy union, the four years' old Henry, who
sate upon her knees, and in childish sport was trying to pull the
golden locks of his mother from under her widows' cap. Before her stood
her old uncle, Seifried von Schindel, and, while he held the full
goblet in his hand, exhausted himself in consolations to lessen the
anguish of his beloved niece. With good-humoured rebuke he exclaimed,
"It is, no doubt, praise-worthy in your zeal to grieve for the loss of
your husband; I myself can't bear those widows, who, like green wood,
weep at one end, and burn at the other; but even good may be carried to
excess, and this utter surrender of yourself to grief is as contrary to
reason as it is to the word of God."
"How can I help it?" said Althea, with calm; and patient sorrow: "How
can I help it, when all that surrounds me is an inexhaustible source of
tears? Do I see my husband's sword hanging against the wall, I must
weep--do I hear his war-horse neighing in the stable, I must weep--does
my sight fall upon this fatherless child alas!"--tears stifled her
words.
"A child who will soon be motherless too," exclaimed her uncle, "if you
go on thus destroying your health by such unchristian want of
fortitude. Every thing has its season; your year of widowhood is past,
and as you are no longer entitled to wear black, so your mind too must
cast off the mourning in which it has been too closely enveloped, and
you must begin again to live for the world, to which, after all, you
belong. If you were a papist, you might bury your grief in a cloister,
for ought I should care; but that won't do now; and, besides, you have
important and sacred duties upon you. The property that you have to
preserve for the son of a beloved husband requires a stout protector in
these stormy times. A woman's bringing up, too, will not be sufficient
for him, and you'll not like to let him go from you so soon; therefore
you must give him a father who, with all love and earnestness, will
make an honourable knight out of him. In a word, you must marry again."
"Spare me such language, uncle," cried Althea, rising and putting down
the child.
But with gentle violence he forced her back into the chair again,
saying, "It becomes youth to listen to the well-meant admonitions of
age, even though it should not happen to relish them: I keep to my
position. You least of all have occasion to complain of the want of
wooers. There is Hans Hund of Ingersdorf, Adam von Schweinicher of
Wenigmoknau; then there is your own cousin: all of whom would with
pleasure break their necks for a kind look from you, and are besides
brave knights and in good circumstances."
"How can you, even in jest, propose to sacrifice me to these rude
companions, who have no enjoyment except in hunting, gambling,
drinking, and quarrelling; and who would only make me miss so much the
more painfully the mild pious disposition of my Henry?"
"Why to be sure our knights are somewhat tough and knotty, but so are
our oaks, and they afford a glorious wood for lasting. Mill-wheels are
not to be cut out of poplars. For the rest, a shrewd handsome woman
must know how to tame a rake, and every one will respect the female
slipper when it is wielded merely for a man's benefit."
"God deliver me from such a castigatory office; I should soon sink
under it."
--"Or if you long for a great fortune, you have but to give the sign: I
have observed how Christopher Friend, whom you have drawn hither,
circles about you at a distance. He is a brisk widower, who was rich
from the first, and to that has inherited much from his late wife, the
Lauterbachin from Jauer. You would be able to bury yourself under your
gold bags."
"Shame on me if that could ever determine my choice!"
"Nor has honour any thing to say against it. Christopher's father is
burgomaster of Schweidnitz, where he rules it bravely, almost like a
little king. The Friends belong to the Patricians of the city, and are
therefore nearly as good as half nobles; in Augsburg or Nuremberg they
would be reckoned nobles, and admissible to the tournay; moreover they
are already allied to the family of Schindel by marriage."
"If you love me, uncle; cease to speak for the sycophant. If, to save
my son's life, I were compelled to choose between this Christopher and
his brother the wild Francis, by heavens I would choose the latter! I
do indeed fear the bear that roars and rushes on me with uplifted paws,
but the gliding serpent is a horror to my inmost soul."
"Well, the comparison is not particularly flattering to either of the
brothers," exclaimed Schindel, laughing. But on the sudden he was
silent, for there was a knocking at the door, and the two Friends
entered the apartment.
"We come in our father's service, noble lady," said Christopher, with a
courteous inclination: "He gives a ball and banquet the day after
tomorrow, and most kindly requests you to grace the festival with your
presence."
"I have not yet put off the mourning weeds for my husband; at the same
time I set as much value by the intended honour as if it had been in my
power to accept it."
"Your year of widowhood is already over, and my father would deem it a
very worthy proof of his kinswoman's friendship, if out of regard to
him she were to lay aside her mourning. Much as it may become you, it
is still only a useless remembrance of a loss, the greatness of which
you feel but too deeply without that."
"My brother is in the right," roared Francis: "Throw the black rags
into the store-chest, and trim yourself up again in the colours that
suit you so well. You must not think of leaving life yet; 'twould be
pity of such a handsome thing. Nor would we Schweidnitzers allow it,
and you are within our walls now, and under our jurisdiction. Come
along, then, to the dance. We'll waltz it bravely with each other; and
if your cap should happen to get awry in it, and point to the widower,
there may be a remedy for that too. My house-plague, besides, is always
ill; and if she loves heaven better than I do, there may chance to be a
pair of you and me."
"Your mouth is a sluice," exclaimed the old Schindel, wrathfully,
"which, once opened, overwhelms every thing with its mire."
"Good God, Frank! how can you indulge in such unseemly language?" cried
Christopher; while Althea bent down to her child as if she had heard
nothing; Francis turned upon his brother.
"Don't you play the governor, Kit! In your heart you mean just as I do,
only you go winding about the porridge: but that's not my way, and
therefore I say plainly, Cousin Althea, I am horribly thirsty with
you."
"There stand the flask and goblet," replied Althea, shortly--"help
yourself;" and she turned away with her boy to the window.
"You don't stand on much ceremony with your kinsfolk," muttered
Francis, going to the table and filling up a bumper, while Christopher
went up to the widow.
"I hope you will not make me suffer for my brother's rashness, but will
give me a favourable answer."
"I have already told you the reason why I must decline the invitation."
"And you really, then, will put off my father with this poor excuse?"
"Agree to go," whispered the uncle: "It is a family festival, and all
the Schindels of the neighbourhood are invited. It is better not to be
singular and offend any one."
"I will come," said Althea, after a moment's hesitation.
"I have to thank you, Schindel, for this _yes_," returned Christopher,
mortified: "The former _no_ was intended for me alone; which cannot but
grieve me, however handsome the lips that pronounced it."
He went; and Francis, filling the goblet for the third time, cried out
after him, "The wine is good; I shall stop a little longer."
There was now a clattering on the stairs, as if a whole troop were
coming up, and in rushed Althea's brother-in-law, Anselm of Netz, with
his Pylades, Frederick of Reichenbach, surnamed Bieler.
"God be with you, fair sister-in-law," exclaimed the wild Netz, shaking
Althea's white hand with no very gentle cordiality.
"What brings you so soon again to the city?" returned Althea
displeasedly, and drew back her hand.
"Rasselwitz treats us to-day with a dozen flasks of old Hungary, at
Barthel Wallach's," replied Netz: "You know that when once I get into
the old den I can't set off again without having seen you. God forgive
you, lady, but you must have bewitched me; and I shall yet denounce you
to the council of Schweidnitz."
"How willingly would I undo the spell of which you complain! Truly, it
gives me no pleasure."
"Tush! you are not in earnest. We all know that women like to be
courted, that their value may be the greater."
Here he began to whistle and clatter up and down the room, when his
eyes suddenly fell upon Francis, who had not yet been able to separate
himself from the goblet.
"The devil! you too, Friend! What wind has blown you hither?"
"If any one should ask you," said Francis roughly, "tell him you don't
know."
"And how is it with your lucky horse-swop?" asked Netz, in a mocking
tone: "Have you settled with Rasselwitz?"
"Long ago," replied Francis, dryly, and poured out the drainings of the
flask.
"It must be allowed," exclaimed Netz, with a loud laugh--"you know how
to manage things admirably. He has got the bay, then?"
"If I were an ass! I was drunk at the time I made the bargain, and
therefore am bound to nothing."
"Rasselwitz will show you that, my fine fellow! You have had his horse,
and must keep your word."
"He may fetch his mare, then, from the hangman. The beast fell down
with me at the Bresslauer gate. I should deserve to be breeched if I
suffered myself to be cheated in this manner."
"You'll have a stout tussle of it with him. In such matters he does not
jest, and least of all with you."
"Let him come, then, and fight it out with me. I have already shown the
Turks in Hungary that I am not afraid. When I have got my cold iron at
my side, I am a match for a whole stable-full of such younkers."
And with this he emptied the last goblet and drained it, while Netz bit
his lips, and drawing Bieler aside, asked in a whisper, "If they should
not throw the braggart out of window?" To this the other replied by a
friendly nod of assent; but Althea, who had overheard the question,
exclaimed, "For God's sake do not trouble the quiet of this widowed
house!"
"And think, besides," said the old Schindel, warningly, "that you are
at Schweidnitz, in his father's jurisdiction." At the same time he went
up to Francis, and observed, "I have yet a visit to make to the old
doctor Heidenreich, who has removed, and I do not know his present
quarters. Will you have the kindness, cousin Friend, to show me the way
thither?"
"Why not?" said Francis, seizing his cap; "though I well know whence
the request comes. You want me away, that I may not get into a row with
these nobles here. Isn't it so? Ay, ay, Frank may be a wild companion,
but he is no fool. Well, you are a good old gentleman, and for this
time I'll comply with your wishes. Good morning, lady Althea."
He went with the old Schindel to the door, and then turned back
again--"What I have said of Rasselwitz you may boldly repeat to him; I
stand to my words."
The two went away together. Netz looked indignantly after Francis, and
exclaimed, "That such a fellow should give himself so many airs, merely
because he is rich and his father is a burgomaster!"
"You should not have irritated him," replied Althea, with mild rebuke:
"Why do you meddle with him, if he does not please you?"
"You do not understand it, cousin. 'Tis in the blood of me, I cannot
let him rest in quiet. Nothing is more delightful than jeering a cit,
who would fain play the noble, and has not the stuff for it in him."
"Then you ought not to complain if he pays you in your own coin. I
cannot comprehend, either, what satisfaction you men can find in
fleering and flouting at any one who, in your opinion, is beneath you.
If the person so mocked is patient enough to bear it, your victory is
easy and inglorious; if he parries the attack with similar weapons,
then there arise unnecessary quarrels: and in any case it shows an
unchristian want of charity, to hunt out the foibles of a neighbour
only to ridicule them for your amusement."
"The most lovely preacher that I ever heard," said Bieler, gallantly.
"You defend the rascal most nobly," muttered Netz. "If he were single I
should suspect something; but as it is, I believe you do it merely that
you may always contradict me."
"To what subterfuges will the consciousness of injustice turn itself
rather than confess to truth she is in the right!"
She was interrupted by a gentle knocking at the door, and went hastily
herself to open it, when there entered a tall stately man, about thirty
years of age, in a plain knightly costume, and decorated with the sable
scarf of Austria. Black locks hung about his clear forehead, while
power and gentleness spoke out from his large dark eyes, that sparkled
with friendly glances at the handsome widow.
"Am I so fortunate as to greet in you the wife of Henry von Netz?" he
asked, with a dignified inclination to all present, which forced a
similar courtesy from the two wild nobles.
"I was so," replied Althea; and a tear forced itself from her eye.
"Was!" said the stranger,--"and this habit! You are a widow, then?
Heavens! So early has my good Henry gone! and, as the appearance
teaches me, from the bosom of a most happy marriage. That does, indeed,
grieve me!"
"You knew my husband?" asked Althea, drying her eyes.
"Knew him?" rejoined the stranger, in the enthusiasm of
recollection--"We made our first essay in arms together. Has he never
talked to you of Caspar the Sparrenberger, surnamed Tausdorf?"
"Often, and with warm friendship. But he deemed you dead."
"I joined the campaign against the Turks, and lay dangerously wounded
in Transylvania.----That is your son?" he asked, in sudden emotion; and
lifting up the little Henry, he kissed him heartily--"His true eye
betrays the father--."
He set the boy down again, and paced hastily up and down the room to
collect himself.
"We are both too much agitated," he resumed, "to carry on this
conversation any longer. Permit me now to deliver a letter to you,
which your friend Sternberg, of Gitschin, requested me to take with me,
when she understood that I was going to Schweidnitz."
"You know my Thekla, then?"
"We are near neighbours and good friends. My father lives at
Tirschkokrig, not far from Gitschin, and I was frequently with the
Sternberg family. The lady Thekla has talked so much of you, and so
much in your praise, that I knew, before I saw, you."
"I doubt whether she has shown me truly, for friendship is a partial
painter."
"Forgive me if I contradict you. Such, as you now stand before me, has
your beautiful and friendly form long floated before my imagination."
Althea cast down her eyes in confusion; but the little Henry relieved
her from the answer to this embarrassing discourse. He had grown as
weary of the conversation as the two gaping nobles, and now began to
twitch his mother's gown, and teaze for his evening meal; upon which
she said, "Excuse me if I retire for a moment; I will but satisfy the
little tormentor here, and read through my Thekla's letter, while, in
the meantime, my brother-in-law, Netz, will be happy to grow more
intimately acquainted with you. Hereafter I will at leisure welcome you
to Schweidnitz, and you shall tell me all about our friends at
Gitschin."
She left the room with her son. Tausdorf looked after for awhile, and
then seemed lost in thought. After a short pause, Netz renewed the
conversation by saying, "You are a native of Bohemia, then?"
Tausdorf courteously replied, "My father settled some years ago in the
hereditary domains of Austria as an imperial feodatory. I have the
honour to be a native of Silesia."
"Does any business call you back to your native land?" asked Netz, with
increasing cordiality: "If I can serve you in any thing, you have only
to say so; I know from my brother's own mouth that you were his very
good friend."
"I thank you for your kind proffers. For the present I have only to
commend myself to your neighbourly good-will, for I think of settling
shortly in the vicinity of Schweidnitz."
"You will be heartily welcome to us, though you will find but sorry
comfort now in this country."
Tausdorf was astonished.--"How so?"
"Oh, the burghers have got the upper hand of us nobles. Their wealth,
their absurd privileges, have made them arrogant. A pitiful burgomaster
of Schweidnitz will think himself greater than the emperor; and as to
us, the whole mob of them look upon us with contempt. They need us not,
they fear us not, and where they can do us any annoyance, they do it
with delight."
"The purse-pride of the citizens is, no doubt, particularly disgusting;
but to be candid, we should not too severely judge the industrious
mechanic, the clever merchant, the dexterous artist, or the man of
learning, even though the consciousness and the satisfaction of their
hardly-earned property should lead them too far. Our pride of birth,
when carried to excess, is also a hateful vice; and we have much less
to advance in its defence, because that on which we pride ourselves is
only _inherited_, and not _earned_. For the rest, I have always thought
that in these eternal feuds between the nobles and the citizens, the
wrong was to be found on both sides; the right is always in the middle,
and both parties can attain it only by mutual forbearance."
"There you judge wrongly of these Silesian pedlers," exclaimed the wild
Bieler: "If a noble were only to yield a finger to them, they would
seize the whole man, and clap him into a pepper-bag. No, no, you must
keep a tight hand over the people, and hardly let them breathe, or
there will one day be an end of our old customs and sacred privileges."
"So thought the nobles before the unlucky war of the peasants," said
Tausdorf, "and Germany was turned into a desert by it."
"Don't take it ill, Tausdorf," returned Netz; "in other respects you
may be a brave knight; but if we were to follow your maxims, we should
all be forced to fly the cities."
Tausdorf shrugged up his shoulders at their incorrigible stubbornness,
when Rasselwitz burst into the room, his face glowing with rage, and
asked furiously, "Is not Francis Friend here?"
"He was here a quarter of an hour ago," replied Netz; "perhaps you may
yet find him at doctor Heidenreich's."
"I am in no humour to hunt after the rascal any longer," roared
Rasselwitz. "This is the day whereon he promised to give up the horse
to me. I have already beat up his quarters, but found him abroad, and
the stable locked."
"He does not intend to give up the horse to you. He has openly and
loudly declared as much here."
"We'll soon see that," cried Rasselwitz furiously. "I'll ask his wife
for the stable-key, and if she refuses it, I'll break the door open,
and fetch out the animal by force. Will you join me?"
"Of course," replied Netz and Bieler.
"And you, Herr von Tausdorf?" said Netz. "A brave companion like you,
will you not run the hazard with us?"
"I do not like such disputes," replied Tausdorf, gravely: "they too
often degenerate into frays, wherein more honour is to be lost than
gained. Besides, it seems to me that the right is not on your side. If
you really have any well-grounded pretensions to the horse, an appeal
to the courts would be a better way of proceeding than this forcible
violation of another's property, which sets you in the class of
feud-makers and agitators."
"To the courts?" shouted Rasselwitz, with a wild laugh--"And the
burgomaster is the father of the perjured rascal that I am to complain
of! He would do me admirable justice, no doubt! No! no! we shall get on
much better with our hands. Come, comrades; there's still enough of us
for these pedlers."
They rushed out; and Tausdorf, shaking his head, exclaimed, "It is an
evil spirit that is prevailing in this country."
After a short time Althea returned with her uncle, and presented the
two guests to each other, when the old man said, "I have already heard
so much worthy talk of you, Herr von Tausdorf, that I heartily rejoice
in your more intimate acquaintance. You are in the imperial service?"
"Captain in the emperor's life-guard," replied Tausdorf, with military
dignity.
"As the Frau von Sternberg informs my niece, you intend settling in our
good Silesia. I am glad to hear it, and whatever I can do for you,
either in act or counsel, I offer you with great sincerity; but it
surprises me that you should think of leaving Bohemia. I understand you
are in favour with the emperor, and, since the imperial diet at Prague
has given independence to the protestants, it must be comfortable
living for them in the Bohemian territory."
"This favour little profits us Utraquists. In reality the bull of Pius
the Fourth is already recalled. Strict catholics still hold us for
sectaries and half heretics: add to this, the new society of Jesuits
already lifts up its serpent-head, and hisses out its threats at us.
Our religious freedom has almost come to an end."
"Yes, the Jesuits! the Jesuits!" exclaimed Schindel, and for a while
was silent; then looking sadly at Tausdorf, he continued--"So, you are
no thorough-paced Lutheran, Herr von Tausdorf?--only a Utraquist?"
The latter bowed assentingly, and Schindel added, as if to soften his
first expression, "The Utraquists too are honourable people."
"I hope so," replied Tausdorf, smiling at the intolerance which lurked
in the well-intended affirmation.
"But keep that a secret here as long as it can be done; at least till
the people know you better. The town, as well as the whole country, is
zealously Lutheran."
"Pardon me; in the field I have learnt neither simulation nor
dissimulation, and I deem them besides contrary to my honour as a
knight. He who, on account of the Utraquist, overlooks the man in me,
is only an object of my pity, and I set little value on his opinion."
A tumult in the street interrupted this conversation.
"What is the matter below?" said Schindel to the servant, who just then
brought in a fresh flask of wine.
"A violent fray," he replied, "in the house of the widow Fox, in the
market-place. Francis Friend quarrelled with Rasselwitz about a bay
horse, and from words they drew their swords upon each other. The
police have already interfered to put an end to the tumult."
"Gracious heavens!" cried Schindel, clasping his hands, "will this
disorder never have an end?"
"The crime," returned Tausdorf, "was settled in this room by the
violent young nobles. I immediately suspected the evil that would come
of it, and warned them, but in vain."
"God reward you for the good intent," said Schindel, and he proffered
his hand to him with unfeigned cordiality: "There is, indeed, a
necessity for rational people interfering in these mad affairs, which
are now unceasing between the nobles and the citizens; one fray always
creates a multitude, and in the end both parties will be ruined by
them."
As he spoke the door was violently thrown open, and in rushed the
breathless Netz, sword in hand.
"For heaven's sake, what has happened?" cried Althea, anxiously.
"Under favour, sister," panted Netz, sheathing his sword: "Allow your
servant to fetch my horse directly. He will find it in the stable at
Barthel Wallach's. I must be off this hour from Schweidnitz, or I am
lost."
At a sign from his mistress the servant hurried out.
"But what is really the matter?" asked Schindel, pressingly: "You have
no doubt been again doing in your wrath what is not right before God."
"We went," said Netz, binding his pocket-handkerchief about his
bleeding arm, "to fetch the horse which Francis had promised
Rasselwitz. In the house we stumbled on him and some fellows of his own
stamp. From words it soon came to blows. The fray grew hot; my servant
was flung into the well: still, however, we stood our ground fairly;
but then came the police upon us with the whole tribe of city officers,
and we were overwhelmed by numbers; Bieler was killed; Rasselwitz
wounded and taken; I saw that standing out would lead to nothing but
death or a dungeon, laid about me like a boar at bay, and fortunately
cut my way through."
"Men, men!--how will you answer for that which you have done?"
exclaimed Schindel, sorrowfully.
"What! are we to take any thing and every thing of these citizens? It
may perhaps be Christian-like when one cheek is smitten to hold the
other; but to strike again is human, and I do not wish to be any thing
better than a man."
"The son of the worthy intendant killed!--and his murderer the son of
the all-powerful Erasmus!" exclaimed Schindel--"It will be a war of the
Guelphs and Ghibellines!"
"Your horse stands below," said the servant, returning: "Your lad saved
himself in good time from his cold bath, and brought it hither."
"My horse waits below too," cried Tausdorf, taking up his gloves and
hat: "With your permission, Herr von Netz, I will accompany you beyond
the boundaries. The irritated citizens may mean evil to you if they
find you yet within their jurisdiction."
"I accept your offer with thanks," replied Netz, hurrying out. Tausdorf
kissed Althea's hand and said--"I thank you heartily for your friendly
welcome; it seemed to me as if my dear native land greeted me with your
lips, and I only grieve that our first meeting should be so brief and
so unkindly interrupted; but I purpose repeating my visit, if the widow
of my deceased friend will allow it."
"You will always be welcome to me," replied the beautiful widow, in
embarrassment; and the hands, which had been joined seemed to grow
together, while her uncle called out from the window, "Haste! haste!
Netz is already mounted, and the police are coming up the streets from
the market with a whole rabble of armed citizens."
"Farewell!" said Tausdorf, hastily, and disappeared; and Althea,
darting to the window, cried out after him to be careful of himself.
The armed multitude approached; Netz, forgetting his companion, gave
his horse the spurs and galloped off. In the meantime Tausdorf came out
of the house, sprang lightly and nimbly into the saddle, and sent up a
last friendly greeting to the window. In the same moment he was
surrounded by the rabble. Several rough hands seized his horse's reins,
while about him crowded a threatening array of pikes, maces, and
firelocks; and a wild shout arose of--"Another of the murderers!--tear
the scoundrel from his horse!"
"What would you with me?" said Tausdorf, sternly:--"I have had no share
in this unhappy quarrel."
"Found together, bound together!" shouted the rough rabble: "You must
ornament the town-jail."
With this the boldest amongst them seized the knight's legs to pull him
from the saddle.
"Respect to the imperial colours, ye citizens of Schweidnitz!"
exclaimed Tausdorf, and gave his horse the spur and the curb at the
same time. The noble beast reared and struck about him with his
fore-hoofs, to the sore dismay of those who held the reins, and who
immediately let them go; and the knight, thundering out to the mob to
make way, now struck the rowels into his horse's flanks. In an instant
two powerful plunges freed him from his enemies. A loud cry of mingled
joy and terror echoed from Althea's window, while Tausdorf sprang over
the rabble that were rolling upon each other in confusion, and rushed
out of the gates at full speed.
"God be praised!" said Althea, as she left the window, exhausted by her
feelings: "I was in terror for the brave knight."
"In terror?--already in terror?" asked her uncle mockingly, and, going
up to her, he seized her hand--"Look me fairly in the face, niece."
For a moment she cast her eyes down, then raised them up to him with
difficulty; but the effort to keep a steady gaze on her uncle's brow
kindled a rosy glow upon her own. He went on, however, without mercy--
"And now, niece, as plain an answer: if this Bohemian should ever ask
you to become his wife, would you in that case declare yourself as
roughly as you have done this day to your other suitors?"
"You torment me," said Althea, with gentle reproach. Her hand slipped
from his, and she fled out of the room.
"'Tis a clear thing!" said the uncle to himself--"Well, I have nothing
to say against it; the man pleases me--I wish he were not a Utraquist!"
* * * * *
The lovely Agatha, the daughter of the city messenger, Onophrius
Goldmann, sat at the window in her humble chamber. The spindle rested
in her hand; on her lap lay an open volume of the songs and tales of
the master-bards, but her hazel eyes wandered from the book to the
darkening street, and her bosom heaved beneath its drapery. "Twilight,"
she exclaimed, "twilight is already coming on, and still my father does
not return. O that no accident has happened to Francis!" At this
moment, some one burst open the street door, and rushed into the
chamber;--it was Francis Friend.
"I have had a glorious row with the vagabond nobles," he cried,
embracing the maiden roughly, "and the mad Netz has flayed my arm, but
I think I have paid him for it, in a way that will make him remember
me. Bind up the wound, Agatha."
"Wicked man," replied Agatha chidingly, as she stripped off the sleeve
through which the blood was welling; "you are always running wantonly
into danger, and care not for the anxiety which I suffer on your
account."
"What, am I to let those vagabonds steal the horse from my stable? In
the end they'll quarter themselves upon me, and drive me out of house
and home."
"You hate the nobles so violently, and yet have married the daughter of
a noble!"
"Unfortunately! And I do believe it is on that very account she is such
an abomination to me; but I shan't be such a fool again. My wife won't
be much longer on her feet, and when she is unharnessed, my next choice
is soon settled; a girl of low rank, when she is as beautiful as my
Agatha, is dearer to me than a dozen countesses."
"Flatterer," murmured Agatha, winding her arms about his neck, while
her kisses burnt upon his lips.
"Gracious Heaven!" cried a deep-base voice, and the lovers started from
each other in terror.--Onophrius Goldmann stood at the open door, his
left hand hid in his doublet, and supporting himself with the right,
for he was exhausted almost to fainting; but his eyes shot lightning at
the delinquents. Francis in vain sought to recover from the shame of
surprise to his usual braving tone, and Agatha wrung her hands and
wept.
"So you have at last succeeded, master Friend, in seducing my child,"
said the wretched father. "May God reckon with you for it!--and you,
obstinate girl, have I not warned, prayed, threatened? Did you not
swear to me to shun the man who makes you thus unhappy? How have you
deceived me!--a long time deceived me, with your wicked artifices; for,
from what I now see, your sin is not of to-day. These are the
consequences of the infernal love-songs and romances, which ought to be
utterly forbidden to women; their place is at the hearth and the
spindle. The mad trash, invented by the dry brains of the poetasters to
tickle your nobles, is for them poison. There it is they learn to build
up air-castles in the midst of reality--there it is that they find
every passion painted in fine colours, and, before they dream of it,
their honour is gone, and--God deliver us!--their eternal salvation
also."
"I give you my word," at length stammered Francis, "that Agatha's
honour shall one day be redeemed before the world."
"You!" cried Onophrius,--"a husband! Heaven have mercy on us! Would you
send your wife after the murdered Netz, or, like count Gleichen, get a
dispensation at Rome for a double wedlock?"
"Not so rough, old man," exclaimed Francis in a tone of menace; "I
don't like to hear such language, nor does it become the servant
towards his master's son."
"That is the curse which rests upon the poor and lowly," exclaimed
Onophrius, crawling to the nearest chair, and sinking down upon it,
exhausted. "It is our curse that we are powerless, and weaponless, and
lawless, against the great who wrong us, while, over and above all, we
must spill our blood for our tyrants. Maimed in your defence, I return
to my hovel, find you in the arms of my seduced child, and when my just
anguish pours itself forth in words, you meanly appeal to your father's
rank, and close my mouth by despicable threats."
"Maimed!" cried Friend in alarm, and Agatha flew with loud lamentations
to her father, who, drawing his left arm from his doublet, showed the
stump, bound up in bloody cloths.
"Eternal mercy! your hand!" shrieked Agatha.
"It lies before the house of the widow Fox, in the market," said
Onophrius gloomily; "Netz hewed it from the arm just before you killed
him."
"It grieves me; but on my honour I will make all good again."
"That is more than you can do: though you were to empty out all your
gold-bags into this room, yet would no hand grow again upon this stump;
though you were to dress my child in brocade, and adorn her with pearls
and diamonds, still she would be your strumpet, over whom I must tear
the grey locks from this aged head. Gracious Heavens! how little must
you gentlemen think of us poor people, that you fancy all is to be
satisfied with gold,--all, life and limb, honour and conscience! Well;
God is just, and will one day weigh you in even scales, and find you
too light for his heaven."
"Only let two eyes be closed first," protested Francis, "and if I do
not then take home your Agatha as my wife, and make you a man of
consequence in the city, you may call me villain in the public
market-place."
"My good Francis," exclaimed Agatha, affectionately, and gave him her
hand, even before the eyes of her stern parent.
"If we both live," said Onophrius, with peculiar emphasis, "if we both
live, I will remind you of your promise; but I fear that we shall not
get so far; I fear that this day's tumult will have worse consequences
than you imagine. That Bieler has been killed is a sad misfortune. The
nobles will be mad, and I already begin to shudder at the idea of the
jail and the scaffold."
"Is Bieler, then, really dead?" asked Francis anxiously, after a long
silence.
"I saw him carried as a corpse to the Guildhall," replied Onophrius.
"The thing, too, happened naturally enough. As my left hand flew off, I
cut at his head with my right, and you soon after made an end of him."
"Upon all this we'll be silent to every one," said Francis, who had
again collected himself. "For the rest, the whole business is of no
great consequence. I was acting in self-defence; and you were only
doing your duty. If any ill have grown out of it, Rasselwitz, who began
the strife by breaking into my house, must be the sufferer."
"That won't satisfy the nobles," said Onophrius, shaking his head.
"Let them bite away their anger upon their nails," exclaimed Francis
boastfully. "My father is master here in Schweidnitz, and will not let
them hurt a hair upon my head."
"_You_ are safe,--but _I_!" replied Onophrius, thoughtfully.
"You stand and fall with me, old friend. If I ever forget you, or what
you have this day done and suffered for me, may God forget me in my
dying hour!"
"Amen!" murmured Onophrius with failing voice, and, swooning with the
loss of blood, he dropped from his seat.
"He is dying!" sobbed Agatha, as she caught her father in her arms.
"This is a day of evil," shouted Francis, gazing for a moment on the
mischief he had wrought, and striking his forehead wildly with his
clenched hands, he dashed away.
* * * * *
It was two days after this when the tumult of voices, the stamp of
steeds, and the clatter of iron, woke Althea from a morning sleep,
which had been troubled, yet beautified, by delightful visions. In her
thin night garments she hastened to the window, and saw the streets
full of horses, which were led by armed knights. The clang of harness,
in the meantime, resounded up the stairs, and a party of knights
entered the room in complete armour and closed vizors. The leader of
them threw up his beaver; it was the wild Netz.
"Under favour, sister, I bring you a whole bevy of cousins, nobles, and
good friends, who are all dying with desire to kiss your fair hand, and
would, moreover, beg a breakfast of you."
"What brings you, gentlemen, so early to Schweidnitz?" asked Althea in
alarm--"in such warlike guise too!"
"The lord bishop, Caspar, visits the city today," replied Netz, "to
speak a few serious words, as prince palatine[1], with our council
here, on the score of Bieler's murder. Now, as we know by experience
that the citizens have hard heads, and are easily excited to uproar and
all sorts of mischief, we have come to give the proper weight to the
bishop's words with our steel, if need should be. The strongest party
of us have quartered themselves at Barthel Wallach's, because we did
not wish to fill your house too full, and we have sent out a watch to
give us immediate notice of the bishop's coming, till when we would
rest with you, and enjoy ourselves."
At his signal every vizor rattled up, and from every helmet looked a
well-known face, that greeted Althea with respect, and amongst them she
recognised Tausdorf.
"How! you here, Tausdorf?" she cried, with a vivacity that confounded
her own self.
"That surprises you, does it not?" exclaimed Netz. "Troth, when he so
bluntly refused to join us in fetching the bay, I had no idea that he
would enter upon such an adventure as the present one. But he offered
himself of his own accord, which indeed has made me wonder not a
little."
"In that there is nothing for wonder," said Tausdorf, gravely. "I have
always remained the same. With justice I refused to take part in an
action which I deemed illegal; but I hold it for my knightly duty to be
in the saddle when it is to defend the authorities of the land, and
support them in their sacred office against factions and those who
would take the law into their own hands."
"Let that be, my worthy countryman," said Netz; "we'll not dispute
about our principles. It is enough for me that we have got you, that
you belong to us, and hold the pedlers in the wrong."
"Not so unconditionally as you imagine. The evil originated with the
nobles. Whether upon this the citizens too did not go beyond their
bounds, that must be inquired into by the palatine, and punished
accordingly. We nobles are a party in the matter, and have therefore no
voice in the decision."
"In the name of Heaven, Tausdorf, whence have you borrowed this
lamb-like patience? Did not the rascals wish to fling you into jail,
though you were more innocent of the whole transaction than a new-born
babe? Did they not seize your bridle, and try to pull you from your
horse?"
"That was long ago forgiven and forgotten."
"Eh! What! The hounds must not venture to fall upon a knight! The
bishop must obtain for you a brilliant satisfaction."
"Satisfaction to the law, not to me. The bishop has disputes of higher
import to settle, and I should be ashamed to trouble him with this
trifle."
"You are a brave knight!" exclaimed the old Schindel, who had been
sent to them by Althea, and, having entered unnoticed, had overheard
the conversation--"Happy were our principality if all these gentlemen
were like you! Then again might grow and flourish the tender olive-tree
of civil peace, which the hand of Maximilian so lovingly planted, but
at which both the nobles and citizens are pulling and dragging with
equal violence, so that in the end it is likely to perish, to the grief
of all those who mean it fairly with the land."
"The old man," cried Netz to his companions, "will often say things
that we do not like to hear; but one can't be angry with him, because
he means it so well with us."
"And because, alas! he is always right in his rebukes," added Schindel,
as two servants entered the room with flasks and goblets.
"God be thanked!" exclaimed Netz, and immediately filled himself a
goblet. "I was beginning to feel faint about the stomach, and then one
is in poor plight for a fray. Fall to, comrades."
The knights complied, and each stood with a goblet in his iron
hand:--"But, not to forget the main point," continued Netz; "we have
not yet talked of who is to be our leader in this business, which yet
is necessary in case it should come to blows. That must be settled
directly on the spot."
"Why, who but yourself, brother Netz?" exclaimed Hans Ecke of Viehau:
"You have been riding about, and sending round your messengers through
the whole principality, till you have whistled us all up to this
expedition."
"No, I am not fit for it," said Netz frankly; "I am a better hand at
blows than at leading. I should be for hammering away upon the mob at
once, and might do you a mischief.--What say you to it, old gentleman?"
he added, turning to Schindel.
"You must excuse me. I am about to settle in quiet at Schweidnitz, and
must not quarrel with the council and the citizens; but if my opinion
have any weight with you, elect Tausdorf. He has vigour and courage for
it, and moreover the requisite discretion, which you shatter-brains are
deficient in, one and all, and which will be most especially needed in
a matter that is intrinsically evil. Besides, he is an imperial
officer, whom you may all boldly follow without casting a blot upon
your nobility."
"The old one must always give us a rap on the knuckles," said Netz,
laughing; "he can't go less; but in the main he seems to me to be
right; therefore, whoever amongst you thinks the same, let him draw his
sword."
"Tausdorf shall be our leader!" shouted the whole band of knights, and
fifty swords glittered in the air. In the same moment Netz's squire
rushed in, exclaiming, "Two of the bishop's equerries have dismounted
before the Guildhall; he will be here himself in a quarter of an hour."
"Halloah! To horse! To horse!" cried Netz, rushing to the door with his
drawn sword. The rest were about to follow him with unsheathed weapons,
when Tausdorf thundered out, "Halt!" At the word the knights stood
still.
"Put up your swords before you mount," he said, in a tone of stern
command.
"Wherefore?" asked Netz, returning angrily.
"You have chosen me for your leader in this business," answered
Tausdorf, with all the dignity of command, "and it is your duty,
therefore, to obey me; but I am not bound to account to you for every
thing I may order. For this time, however, I am content to tell you my
motives. Should we ride with drawn swords, the citizens and magistrates
might take it for a hostile incursion, or, if they are evilly disposed,
might merely pretend to do so, and oppose us with arms, in which case,
when the bishop entered the city, he would find the civil war already
kindled, which it was the purpose of his coming to avert. Will you
answer for the bloodshed that may arise from such a trifle?"
Netz silently sheathed his sword; his brothers in arms followed his
example.
"And now, with God, to horse, gentlemen," added Tausdorf, kissed
Althea's hand in silent fervour, and strode out. The knights hastened
after him.
"What a man! exclaimed Althea, as in the overflow of feeling she sank
upon her uncle's breast.
"You are right, niece," replied Schindel, with emotion: "Let him be ten
times an Utraquist, yet he is a noble, strong-minded man, and with
pleasure should I one day lay your hand in his."
* * * * *
The old burgomaster, Erasmus Friend, paced up and down the large arched
chamber of his stately stone mansion, in his official insignia, his
hands behind his back, and gloom upon his wrinkled forehead. Just then
crept in the doctor of law, Esaias Heidenreich, a thin little man, with
a face of cunning.
"Well!" exclaimed the burgomaster, "have you found it out? What would
the bishop?"
"Just what I prophesied," replied the doctor, shrugging his shoulders;
"he would inquire into this bad business himself, and submit the
decision to the emperor."
"That is against our privileges," cried the burgomaster, indignantly.
"The penal jurisdiction belongs exclusively to our city in all cases."
"I would not affirm that so unconditionally. Besides, that is no longer
the question. His grace, the right reverend bishop, chooses to look at
the affair in his own way: the only point then is--_quaeritur_--whether
you will submit to the authority of the prince palatine, or not? And
upon this you must make up your mind speedily, for in a few minutes he
rides into our good city."
"The priest need not be always poking his nose into what is not his
business. I won't submit."
"Will you then entirely break with the noble old man, who entertains
such favourable and tolerant opinions towards all _Acatholicos_? And
if, after all, he should choose to maintain his authority by force?"
"Then I order our civil troops to mount, and the corporation to be
under arms. Within my walls I am master, and no other."
"But whether the common weal will gain any thing by the measure? I must
submit that to your wisdom. Think of the evils which the Smalcald
league brought on us eighteen years ago--of the shameful contribution
which the town was forced to pay--of the imprisonment which the _consul
dirigens_, Furstenhau, had to suffer in the White Tower, at Prague, and
here in the Hildebrand. This time, too, it may turn out still worse.
Your opposition may be construed into open rebellion: what the penalty
of that is, you know as well as I do, and also that Schweidnitz is
compassed about by enemies. The land-nobles hate us violently, and the
emperor's wrath would find a thousand willing and lusty hands."
"Should I now begin to be afraid of these lordlings, in good truth I
were neither worthy nor able to fill this my place of honour. Only let
them come. We will so receive them, that they shall think of the old
Erasmus all their life long."
"The lord bishop has just dismounted from his horse before the
Guildhall," announced the city servant, Rudolph, while his teeth
chattered. "The council is already assembled, and all wait for your
worship."
"Ring out the alarm-bell," shouted Francis Friend, following close upon
his heels. "The land-nobles have rode up to the market-place, in
complete armour, near five hundred strong."
"Have they committed any disturbance?" asked Erasmus, hastily.
"No," replied Francis, "nor have they even drawn a sword. They only
stand in the market-place, quite still and orderly, as is by no means
their way at other times; if you ask what they want, they give
themselves out for the retinue of the prince palatine."
"Who leads them?" inquired Erasmus with smothered wrath.
"That I know not," replied Francis; "they have all got their visors
down."
"I heard," said Heidenreich, "that their leader is a certain
Sparrenberger, surnamed Tausdorf. He has lately come hither from
Bohemia, and intends settling in this country."
"Sparrenberger, surnamed Tausdorf," repeated Erasmus bitterly, taking
out his memorandum-book and writing in it: "I shall recollect the name
again at a fitter season."
"Shall I have the alarm rung?" asked Francis urgently.
Again the old Erasmus began to pace up and down the chamber with long
strides. The passion for resistance struggled mightily with the sense
of its danger in the breast of the vigorous despot. This was perceived
by Heidenreich, who approached him and said with anxious warmth: "If
the advice of an old lawyer have yet any weight with you,--and one too
who means it fairly with you and the city,--submit yourself for this
once, master burgomaster. That, which Francis proposes to you, leads
directly to feud with the emperor and the empire, and ruins yourself,
and your family, and the town which is entrusted to your providence."
"You will keep yourself quiet, Francis," at length said the old man,
after a heavy sigh of self-control. He then turned to Heidenreich--"You
will accompany me to the sessions."