KNAPWURST ACQUAINTS ME WITH THE GENEALOGY OF THE NIDECKS.
The dawn was beginning to turn gray the only window of the donjon-tower,
when I was awakened in my granite bed by the distant notes of a
hunting-horn. I know of no sound more sad and melancholy than the
vibrations of its tones, just at morning twilight, when all is still,
and no breath, no whisper comes to disturb the perfect quiet of
solitude; it is the final note, especially, that, spreading over the
immense plain and awaking the far-off echoes of the mountain, stirs us
to the heart with its pure, poetic quality.
Leaning with my elbow on the bearskin, I listened to this plaintive cry,
that seemed to be invoking memories of the Feudal Ages. The aspect of my
chamber, with its low, ragged arch, and, further on, the little window
with its panes set in lead, midway between the alcove and the corridor,
the ceiling more wide than high, and deeply hollowed in the wall,--in
short, every detail of this ancient den of the Wolf of Nideck served to
realize my fancy.
I rose quickly and threw the window wide open. There before me lay a
spectacle that no mere language can describe,--the scene that the Alpine
eagle surveys each morning, as the purple curtain of night lifts itself
from the horizon; range after range of mountains,--motionless billows
that stretch away and become lost in the distant mists of the Vosges and
the Jura,--immense forests, lakes, and towering peaks tracing their
sharp outlines upon the steel-blue of the snow-clad valleys; beyond
this, the infinite! What human skill could attain to the sublimity of
such a picture? I stood overwhelmed with wonder and delight. At each
glance some new detail was revealed to my eyes; hamlets, farms,
villages, seemed to rise from every fold of the landscape, and as I
gazed, these objects became more numerous.
I had been standing thus for more than a quarter of an hour, when a hand
was laid lightly upon my shoulder; I turned and met the calm face and
quiet smile of my friend Gideon, who greeted me with:
"Good morning, Gaston."
Then he rested his elbows on the window-sill beside me, puffing clouds
of smoke from his short pipe. Extending his arm towards the distant
mountains, he said at length:
"Look at that, Gaston; you should love it, for you are a son of the
Black Forest. Look down there, way down; that is the Roche Creuse. Do
you see it? You remember Gertrude? How far off those days seem!"
He stopped and cleared his throat; I was at a loss what to reply. We
stood for a long time in a contemplative mood, mute before the grandeur
of the scene that rolled away beneath us. From time to time, the old
steward, seeing my eyes rest on some point of the horizon, would
explain:
"That is the Wald Horn; this is the Tiefenthal. There you see the
cascade of the Steinbach; it has stopped running now, and hangs like an
ice cloak over the shoulder of the Harberg,--a cold garment for this
season of the year. Down there is the path that leads to Tuebingen; a
fortnight more and we shall have difficulty in tracing it."
An hour passed thus; I could not tear myself away from the scene.
A few birds of prey, with gracefully hollowed wings, were sailing about
the tower; a flock of herons flew above them, escaping their claws by
reason of their loftier flight. Not a cloud was visible in the sky; all
the snow had fallen to earth. The hunting-horn saluted the mountain for
the last time.
"That is my friend Sebalt mourning down there," said Sperver. "No one is
a better judge of horses and dogs than he, and when it comes to sounding
the horn, there is not his equal in all Germany. Just hear how mellow
those notes are, Gaston. Poor Sebalt! he is pining away since our master
became ill; he cannot hunt as he used to. His only consolation is to
climb the Altenberg every morning just at daybreak, and play the Count's
favorite airs. He thinks that may cure him."
Sperver, with the tact of a man who himself loves beautiful things, had
not interrupted my contemplation; but when, dazzled by the growing
light, I turned back into the chamber, he said:
"Gaston, things look more encouraging; the Count has had no return of
the convulsions."
These words brought me back to a more practical world.
"Ah, I am glad to hear it."
"And it is your doing, too."
"Mine? I haven't even prescribed anything yet."
"What of that? You are here."
"You're joking, Gideon; what could my mere presence accomplish?"
"You bring him good luck."
I looked at him closely; he was in earnest.
"Yes," he repeated seriously; "you are a bringer of good luck. In past
years, our master has had a second attack the day after the first, and
then a third, and fourth; but you have prevented this and arrested the
course of the malady. That is clear enough."
"Not to my mind, Sperver. On the contrary, I find it exceedingly
obscure."
"We are never too old to learn," continued the worthy fellow. "There are
forerunners of good fortune and harbingers of ill. Take that rascal
Knapwurst, for example; he is a sure sign of bad luck. If ever I happen
to run across him as I am going out hunting, I am sure to meet with some
accident; my gun misses fire, I sprain my ankle, or a dog gets ripped
open. Knowing this, I always take care to set off just at daybreak,
before the scamp, who sleeps like a dormouse, has got his eyes open; or
else I steal through the postern gate."
"A wise precaution; but your ideas seem odd to me, Gideon."
"But you, on the other hand," he continued without noticing my
interruption, "are an open-hearted, honest lad. Heaven has bestowed many
blessings upon you; just one glance at your good-natured face, your
frank gaze, and your kindly smile, is enough to make any one happy. And
you bring good luck; that is certain. Do you want a proof of what I
say?"
"Why, certainly. I am not sorry to discover that I possess so many
hitherto unknown virtues."
"Well," said he, seizing my wrist, "look down there!"
He pointed to a hillock a couple of gunshots distant from the Castle.
"Do you see that rock half buried in the snow, with a bush to the left
of it?"
"Distinctly."
"And you see nothing near it?"
"No."
"Well, that is easily accounted for; you have driven the Black Plague
away. Every year, on the second day of the Count's illness, she was to
be seen there, with her arms clasped around her skinny knees. At night,
she lighted a fire, warmed herself, and cooked the roots of trees. She
was a curse to every living thing. The first thing I did this morning
was to climb up to the signal-tower and look around me. The old hag was
nowhere to be seen. In vain did I shade my eyes with my hand and gaze to
right and left, up and down, across the plain and over the
mountain,--not a sign of her anywhere. She has scented you, sure
enough!"
Wringing my hand in his enthusiasm, the good fellow cried excitedly,
"Oh, Gaston, Gaston! How lucky it was that I brought you here! How angry
the old hag will be!"
I must confess to a feeling of embarrassment at discovering so much
merit in myself, which had hitherto escaped my observation.
"So the Count has passed a comfortable night, Sperver?" I continued.
"Very comfortable," he replied.
"That is welcome news. Let's go down-stairs."
We once more crossed the little courtyard, and I was able to obtain a
better view of our means of egress, whose ramparts attained to a
prodigious height,--continuing along the edge of the rock to the very
bottom of the valley. It was a flight of precipices, so to speak,
shelving one below another into the dizzy depths beneath. On looking
down, I became giddy, and recoiling to the middle of the landing, I
hastened down the passageway which led to the Castle.
Sperver and I had already traversed several broad corridors, when a
wide-open door blocked our passage. I glanced in and saw, at the top of
a double ladder, the little gnome Knapwurst, whose grotesque physiognomy
had struck me the night before. The hall itself attracted my attention
by its imposing aspect. It was a storehouse for the archives of Nideck,
a high, dark, dusty apartment, with long Gothic windows reaching from
the ceiling to within three feet of the floor.
There were to be found, ranged along the broad shelves by the careful
abbots of olden times, not only all the documents, title-deeds, and
genealogical trees of the families of Nideck, establishing their rights,
alliances, and relations with the most illustrious nobles of Germany,
but also the chronicles of the Black Forest, the collected remnants of
the old Minnesingers, and the great folios from the presses of Gutenberg
and Faust, no less venerable on account of their origin and the enduring
solidity of their binding. The deep shadows of the alcoves, draping the
cold walls with their grayish gloom, reminded you of the ancient
cloisters of the Middle Ages; and in the midst of it all sat the dwarf
at the top of his ladder, with a huge, red-edged volume lying open on
his bony knees, his head buried to the ears in a fur cap; gray-eyed,
flat-nosed, the corners of his mouth drawn down by long years of
thought, with stooping shoulders and wasted limbs; a fitting
_famulus_--the rat, as Sperver called him--to this last refuge of the
learning of Nideck.
That which gave to the place a unique interest, however, was the line of
family portraits that covered one whole side of the ancient library.
There they were, knights and ladies, from Hugh the Wolf down to Count
Hermann, the present owner; from the crude daubs of barbarous days to
the perfect work of the best painters of our own time. My attention was
naturally centred upon this part of the room. Hugh I., with a bald head,
seemed watching you from his frame as a wolf glares at the traveller
whom a sudden turn in the forest path discloses to view. His gray,
blood-shot eyes, bristling beard, and large, hairy ears, gave him an air
of singular ferocity.
Next to him, like the lamb next the savage beast, was a young woman,
with a gentle, sad expression, her hands clasped on her breast, her
long, silken tresses of fair hair parted over the forehead and falling
in thick waves about her face, which they encircled with a golden
aureole. I was struck with her resemblance to Odile of Nideck. Nothing
could have been more delicate and charming than this old painting on
wood, a little stiff in its outline, but charmingly simple and
ingenuous.
I had been studying this portrait for some minutes, when another,
hanging beside it, drew my attention in its turn. Here, too, was a
woman, but of the true Visigothic type, with a broad, low forehead,
yellow eyes, and prominent cheek-bones, red hair, and nose like an
eagle's beak. "That woman must have been to Hugh's liking," I said to
myself, and I began to study the costume, which was in perfect keeping
with the energy expressed in the face, for the right hand clasped a
sword, and the waist was encircled in a steel corselet.
I know not how to describe the thoughts that succeeded one another in my
mind as I gazed upon these three faces. My eye roamed from one to
another with singular curiosity, and I found it impossible to terminate
my study. Sperver, standing on the threshold of the library, gave a
sharp whistle, seemingly to attract Knapwurst's attention, who looked
down at him from the top of his ladder without stirring.
"Is it me you are whistling to like a dog?" said the dwarf.
"Aye, you imp! None else."
"Listen to me, Sperver," replied the gnome with supreme disdain; "you
cannot spit so high as my shoe; I defy you!" and he stuck out his foot.
"And if I should come up there?"
"I would squash you flat with this volume."
Gideon laughed, and replied:
"Come, come, Knapwurst! Don't get angry! I don't wish you any harm; on
the contrary I have the greatest respect for your learning; but what the
devil are you doing at this hour, seated over your lamp? Any one would
think you had spent the night here."
"So I have, reading!"
"Aren't the days long enough for you?"
"No! I am looking up an important question, and I shan't sleep till I
have settled it."
"Well, by Jove; what is this interesting question?"
"It is to find out under what circumstances Ludwig of Nideck discovered
my ancestor, Otto the Dwarf, in the forests of Thuringia. You should
know, Sperver, that my ancestor Otto was only an arm's length high;
that is, about two feet and a half. He delighted the world with his
wisdom, and figured honorably in the coronation of the Emperor Rodolph.
Count Ludwig had him enclosed in a cold roast peacock, served up with
all its plumage. During the feast, Otto spread out the peacock's tail,
and all the nobles, courtiers, and great ladies were astonished at this
ingenious piece of mechanism. At last Otto emerged, sword in hand, and
cried in a thundering voice, 'Long live the Emperor, Rodolph of
Hapsburg!' which was repeated on all sides with shouts and rejoicings.
Bernard Hertzog mentions this circumstance, but fails to inform us as to
the family origin of the dwarf, whether he was of noble descent, or of
base extraction; the latter hypothesis being highly improbable, as the
common herd are rarely possessed of so much wit."
I was amazed at the conceit of this little creature, my curiosity,
however, leading me to dissemble my feelings; for he alone could furnish
me with the facts concerning the two portraits that hung on the right of
Hugh the Wolf.
"Monsieur Knapwurst," I said, in a tone of profound respect, "would you
have the kindness to enlighten me upon a certain subject?"
Flattered by these words, the little fellow replied:
"Speak, monsieur; if it is a question of family history, I shall be glad
to inform you. In other subjects I take but little interest."
"It is precisely that. I should like to learn something about the noble
ladies whose pictures hang on the wall yonder."
"Aha!" cried Knapwurst, his face lighting up; "you mean Elfreda and
Huldine, the two wives of Hugh, the founder of Nideck."
Laying down his volume, he descended the ladder to talk more at his
ease. His eyes glistened, and an air of gratification at this
opportunity of displaying his learning shone out all over him.
Having reached my side, he saluted me with a grave bow. Sperver stood
behind us, seemingly well satisfied to see me admiring the dwarf of
Nideck. In spite of the ill luck which he averred attached to the
presence of the pigmy, he admired and boasted of his great learning.
[Illustration: "IN THE PORTRAIT GALLERY."]
"Monsieur," said Knapwurst, pointing with his long, yellow hand towards
the portraits, "Hugh of Nideck, the founder of his race, married in 832
Elfreda of Lutzelbourg, who brought to him as dowry the counties of
Giromani and Haut Barr, the Castles of Geroldsdeck and Teufelshorn, and
others. Hugh had no children by his first wife, who died young in the
year of our Lord 837. Thereupon, Hugh, now lord and master of the dowry,
refused to yield possession of it, and there followed terrible battles
between himself and his brothers-in-law. His second wife, Huldine, whom
you see in the steel breastplate, aided him by her wise counsels. She
was a woman of indomitable courage, but her origin remains a mystery.
One thing is certain, however: she rescued her husband, who had been
taken prisoner by Frantz of Lutzelbourg. He was to have been hanged that
very day, and the iron bar had already been stretched across the
battlements in preparation for the execution, when Huldine, at the head
of a band of the Count's vassals whom she had inspired by her brave
example, burst into the courtyard by a rear entrance, rescued Hugh, and
had Frantz hung in his place. Hugh the Wolf married his second wife in
842, and by her he had three children."
"So," I resumed meditatively, "the first of these wives was called
Elfreda, and the descendants of Nideck are not related to her?"
"No."
"Are you sure of this?"
"I can show you our genealogical tree. Elfreda had no children; Huldine,
the second wife, had three."
"That is very surprising!"
"Why so?"
"I thought I noticed a resemblance."
"Ha, ha! resemblances!" exclaimed the dwarf with a harsh laugh; "wait a
moment. Just look at this wooden snuff-box that lies beside the plaster
greyhound! It represents my ancestor, Hanswurst. He has a nose like an
extinguisher, and a sharp chin, while I have a flat nose and an
agreeable mouth; and yet this does not prevent my being his
great-great-grandson."
"No, certainly not."
"Well, it is the same with the Nidecks. They may have certain
characteristics in common with Elfreda, but Huldine is the head of the
line. Look at this genealogical tree, monsieur. Have I not informed you
correctly?"
Then we separated,--Knapwurst and I,--the best of friends.