Else's Story.
WITTEMBERG, _June_, 1512.
Our Eva seems happy at the convent. She has taken the vows, and is now
finally Sister Ave. She has also sent us some eye-water for the father.
But in spite of all we can do his sight seems failing.
In some way or other I think my father's loss of sight has brought
blessing to the family.
Our grandmother, who is very feeble now, and seldom leaves her chair by
the stove, has become much more tolerant of his schemes since there is
no chance of their being carried out, and listens with remarkable
patience to his statements of the wonders he would have achieved had his
sight only been continued a few years.
Nor does the father himself seem as much dejected as one would have
expected.
When I was comforting him to-day by saying how much less anxious our
mother looks, he replied,--
"Yes, my child, the praeter pluperfect subjunctive is a more comfortable
tense to live in than the future subjunctive, for any length of time."
I looked perplexed, and he explained, "It is easier, when once one has
made up one's mind to it, to say, 'Had I had this I might have done
that,' than, 'If I can have this I shall do that,'--at least it is
easier to the anxious and excitable feminine mind."
"But to you, father?"
"To me it is a consolation at last to be appreciated. Even your
grandmother understands at length how great the results would have been
if I could only have had eye-sight to perfect that last invention for
using steam to draw water."
Our grandmother must certainly have put great restraint on her usually
frank expression of opinion, if she has led our father to believe she
had any confidence in that last scheme; for, I must confess, that of all
our father's inventions and discoveries, the whole family consider this
idea about the steam the wildest and most impracticable of all. The
secret of perpetual motion might, no doubt, be discovered, and a clock
be constructed which would never need winding up,--I see no great
difficulty in that. It might be quite possible to transmute lead into
gold, or iron into silver, if one could find exactly the right
proportions. My father has explained all that to me quite clearly. The
elixir which would prolong life indefinitely seems to me a little more
difficult; but this notion of pumping up water by means of the steam
which issues from boiling water and disperses in an instant, we all
agree in thinking quite visionary, and out of the question; so that it
is, perhaps, as well our poor father should not have thrown away any
more expense or time on it. Besides, we had already had two or three
explosions from his experiments; and some of the neighbours were
beginning to say very unpleasant things about the black art, and
witchcraft; so that on the whole, no doubt, it is all for the best.
I would not, however, for the world, have hinted this to him; therefore
I only replied, evasively,--
"Our grandmother has indeed been much gentler and more placid lately."
"It is not only that," he rejoined; "she has an intelligence far
superior to that of most women,--she comprehends. And then," he
continued, "I am not without hopes that that young nobleman, Ulrich von
Gersdorf, who comes here so frequently and asks about Eva, may one day
carry out my schemes. He and Chriemhild begin to enter into the idea
quite intelligently. Besides, there is Master Reichenbach, the rich
merchant to whom your Aunt Cotta introduced us; he has money enough to
carry things out in the best style. He certainly does not promise much,
but he is an intelligent listener, and that is a great step. Gottfried
Reichenbach is an enlightened man for a merchant, although he is,
perhaps, rather slow in comprehension, and a little over-cautious."
"He is not over-cautious in his alms, father," I said; "at least Dr.
Martin Luther says so."
"Perhaps not," he said. "On the whole, certainly, the citizens of
Wittemberg are very superior to those of Eisenach, who were incredulous
and dull to the last degree. It will be a great thing if Reichenbach and
Von Gersdorf take up this invention. Reichenbach can introduce it at
once among the patrician families of the great cities with whom he is
connected, and Von Gersdorf would promote it among his kindred knights.
It would not, indeed, be such an advantage to our family as if Pollux
and Christopher, or our poor Fritz, had carried it out. But never mind,
Else, my child, we were children of Adam before we were Cottas. We must
think not only of the family, but of the world."
Master Reichenbach, indeed, may take a genuine interest in my father's
plans, but I have suspicions of Ulrich von Gersdorf. He seems to me far
more interested in Chriemhild's embroidery than in our father's
steam-pump; and although he continues to talk of Eva as if he thought
her an angel, he certainly sometimes looks at Chriemhild as if he
thought her a creature as interesting.
I do not like such transitions; and, besides, his conversation is so
very different, in my opinion, from Master Reichenbach's. Ulrich von
Gersdorf has no experience of life beyond a boar-hunt, a combat with
some rival knights, or a foray on some defenceless merchants. His life
has been passed in the castle of an uncle of his in the Thuringian
forest; yet I cannot wonder that Chriemhild listens, with a glow of
interest on her face, as she sits with her eyes bent on her embroidery,
to his stories of ambushes and daring surprises. But to me this life
seems rude and lawless. Ulrich's uncle was unmarried; and they had no
ladies in the castle except a widowed aunt of Ulrich's, who seems to be
as proud as Lucifer, and especially to pride herself on being able to
wear pearls and velvet, which no burgher's wife may appear in.
Ulrich's mother died early. I fancy she was gentler and of a truer
nobleness. He says the only book they have in the castle is an old
illuminated Missal which belonged to her. He has another aunt, Beatrice,
who is in the convent at Nimptschen with our Eva. They sent her there to
prevent her marrying the son of a family with whom they had a hereditary
feud. I begin to feel, as Fritz used to say, that the life of these
petty nobles is not nearly so noble as that of the burghers. They seem
to know nothing of the world beyond the little district they rule by
terror. They have no honest way of maintaining themselves, but live by
the hard toil of their poor oppressed peasants, and by the plunder of
their enemies.
Herr Reichenbach, on the other hand, is connected with the patrician
families in the great city of Nuernberg; and although he does not talk
much, he has histories to tell of painters and poets, and great events
in the broad field of the world. Ah, I wish he had known Fritz! He likes
to hear me talk of him.
And then, moreover, Herr Reichenbach has much to tell me about Brother
Martin Luther, who is at the head of the Eremite or Augustine Convent
here, and seems to me to be the great man of Wittemberg; at least people
appear to like him or dislike him more than any one else here.
_October_ 19, 1512.
This has been a great day at Wittemberg. Friar Martin Luther has been
created Doctor of Divinity. Master Reichenbach procured us excellent
places, and we saw the degree conferred on him by Dr. Andrew Bodenstein
of Carlstadt.
The great bell of the city churches, which only sounds on great
occasions, pealed as if for a Church festival; all the university
authorities marched in procession through the streets; and after taking
the vow, Friar Martin was solemnly invested with the doctor's robes,
hat, and ring--a massive gold ring presented to him by the Elector.
But the part which impressed me most was the oath, which Dr. Luther
pronounced most solemnly, so that the words, in his fine clear voice,
rang through the silence. He repeated it after Dr. Bodenstein, who is
commonly called Carlstadt. The words in Latin, Herr Reichenbach says,
were these (he wrote them for me to send to Eva),--
"Juro me veritatem evangelicam viriliter defensurum;" which Herr
Reichenbach translated, "_I swear vigorously to defend evangelical
truth._"
This oath is only required at one other university beside
Wittemberg--that of Tuebingen. Dr. Luther swore it as if he were a knight
of olden times, vowing to risk life and limb in some sacred cause. To
me, who not could understand the words, his manner was more that of a
warrior swearing on his sword, than of a doctor of divinity.