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THE YOUNG CARPENTERS OF FREIBERG.
A Tale of the Thirty Years' War.
Translated from the German by
J. Latchmore, Jun.
[Frontispiece: 'She seized the robber unexpectedly by the legs, and
tipped him head first into the mighty chest.']
Edinburgh:
William Oliphant & Co.
1880.
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. THE MILLER'S WIFE OF ERBISDORF
II. THE FAMILY AT HOME
III. PRIVATE RIGHTS MUST GIVE PLACE TO PUBLIC NECESSITIES
IV. THE ENEMY BEFORE THE TOWN
V. THE SOWER OF TARES
VI. THE SECOND ASSAULT
VII. CONRAD UNDER THE WINDOW-SEAT
VIII. ORDINARY INCIDENTS OF A SIEGE
IX. DIVERSE HUMAN HEARTS
X. WAR OFTEN OPPOSES THE TEACHINGS OF CHRISTIANITY
XI. HISTORICAL
XII. TREACHERY AND DELIVERANCE
ILLUSTRATIONS
'She seized the robber unexpectedly by the legs, and tipped him head
first into the mighty chest.' . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
Conrad recognized an old comrade, John Hillner.
Promise me that I shall have an honourable burial; and let the lads
say, "A good journey to thee, old comrade!"
Nothing but the moustache on the pale face indicated the warlike
calling of the man who now addressed Conrad.
THE YOUNG CARPENTERS OF FREIBERG.
CHAPTER I.
THE MILLER'S WIFE OF ERBISDORF.
The ancient and free mountain city of Freiberg lies only about
five-and-twenty miles south-west of Dresden, yet has a far more severe
climate than the Saxon capital--a fact that may be understood if we
remember that the road which leads from Dresden to Freiberg is up hill
almost all the way. The Saxon Erzgebirge must not be pictured as a
chain of separate mountains, with peaks rising one behind the other and
closing in the horizon. Hills and valleys lie mingled, assuming such
long, wave-like forms that in some parts of the district it is
difficult to fancy oneself in a mountain-land at all. Immediately
around Freiberg the landscape takes the form of a wide table-land,
which has an upward slope only on the south-west of the city, so that
from a short distance but little is seen of the town save the tops of
its towers and a confused glimpse of house-roofs. In former days it
was the residence of the Duke of Saxony, and before the Thirty Years'
War contained 32,000 inhabitants, a number which has now dwindled to
19,000. Its ancient fortifications, which of late years have been
rapidly giving place to modern improvements, consisted of a double line
of walls, guarded by towers, pierced by strongly-fortified gates, and
surrounded by a deep and wide moat. The ramparts were built of
quarried stone, which, though much harder than sandstone, was far more
difficult to bind together with mortar. In view of this fact, we may
well be surprised that a place so weakly fortified was able for two
long months to withstand the vehement siege operations of the whole
Swedish army--an army so brave and so highly trained in the art of war,
that it had subdued many far stronger fortresses. Yet so it was: how
the thing came about, and what an important part young Conrad, the
carpenter's apprentice, played in these great events, will be found
narrated in the following pages.
* * * * * *
On the 1st of November in the year 1642, a carpenter's apprentice,
Conrad Schmidt by name, passed out at the Erbis Gate of Freiberg,
pushing before him a covered hand-truck. This contained a piece of
carpenter's work that always tells its own sad story--a little child's
coffin. As the truck with its sorrowful burden jolted along over the
rough pavement, the sentry stepped forward from the gate, and asked
inquisitively, 'What have you there, youngster, and where are you off
to?'
'Only a child's coffin for the mill at Erbisdorf.'
'What! has the plague been gleaning among the little brood down there?'
'The plague!' repeated Conrad, bringing his truck to a stand. 'Well,
yes, something like it. Now-a-days the soldiers are the worst plague,
and it was one of them that put an end to the miller's little son.'
'What do you mean by that, boy?'
'Why, Master Prieme,' replied the youth, 'are you the only man in
Freiberg who has not heard the cruel story?'
'How should I know anything about it?' answered the citizen. 'I only
came home from Dresden late last night, and I had to mount guard early
this morning. What has happened to the miller's son?'
'The day before yesterday, in the afternoon,' said the lad, 'a soldier
came to the mill at Erbisdorf and demanded quarters for himself and a
woman that he said was his wife. With the soldiers it is always a word
and a blow, so the miller yielded, and by way of putting his guest into
a good humour, took him straight down to the cellar and gave him a
draught of strong beer. Meantime the miller's wife stayed with the
woman, who, as soon as the coast was clear, declared herself to be a
soldier in disguise, and threatened her hostess with instant death
unless she fetched out all her jewels and valuables on the spot. The
poor woman accordingly had to open her great linen chest, in the bottom
of which her little store of silver was hidden, and in this the ruffian
began to rummage. Just when he had almost emptied it, and was stooping
to reach the last articles from the bottom, a happy thought came into
the brave woman's mind. She seized the robber unexpectedly by the legs
and tipped him head first into the mighty chest; then she slammed down
the lid and had the hasp fastened in a second.'
''Pon my word,' laughed the sentry, 'that was a smart stroke of
business. How the two-legged mouse must have kicked about inside his
trap! And how did things go on after that, my lad?'
'The miller's little son stood by, and his mother, as the quickest way
out of the difficulty, told him to run down to the cellar and whisper
to his father to come and bind the robber. On his way the poor little
fellow met the other villain, who had got rid of his host by some
excuse, and was now coming up-stairs to help his comrade. Well, the
sight of the boy running towards him made him suspicious, so he stopped
him and took him back with him into the mill. When the soldier reached
the room where he had left his comrade, he found that the miller's wife
had bolted the door, and refused to open it; so he threatened to kill
her child, and when the frightened woman persisted in keeping him out,
he was as good, or at least as bad, as his word. Then the murderer
tried to force his way into the house through the mill-wheel, but the
miller's wife set the wheel going, and the fellow'--
'Just so--was flattened like a pancake,' said the sentry. 'She is
something like a brave woman!'
'And when they opened the chest they found 'that the robber inside was
suffocated,' said Conrad, taking up the handle of his truck again.
'Well, he received the due reward of his deeds,' said Master Prieme
gravely. 'But to which side did the two men belong? They must have
been either Swedes or Imperialists.'
'They were just soldiers,' said the youth, 'and when you've said that,
you've said all. Whether they were Saxons, or Swedes, or Imperialists,
it all comes to the same thing. They change about from one master to
another, but they are all alike in tormenting the unhappy people.'
'That's all the fault of this dreadful war,' muttered Prieme. 'It has
been going on now for over twenty-four years. The soldiers are getting
so used to killing people, that they do it even when there are no
enemies for them to kill.'
Conrad hurried on his way. He had not yet reached the village of
Erbisdorf, when his quick eye caught the glitter of a troop of cavalry
coming in the distance. In those days an unarmed person was always
afraid to meet soldiers. Conrad, however, fortunately for him, knew
what he was to do if he met any troopers on the road. He opened his
truck, took out the little coffin, and put it into a shallow dry ditch
by the roadside; then wheeling the truck hastily to the edge of the
road, got into it, and pulled the lid over himself as he lay. He had
not long to wait before the trampling of many horse-hoofs warned him
that the troopers were approaching. The men did not take much notice
of his truck, but some of the horses were frightened at it. Several of
them shied, and their riders urged them on at a rapid trot. The last
man alone could not get his horse to pass it. The animal reared and
threatened to fall backwards on its rider, who appeared to be in a
towering passion. He rode back a short distance, and used all the arts
of his horsemanship to reduce his refractory steed to obedience. The
man did not spare either oaths, spurring, or blows of his heavy whip,
until the horse, still shying but obedient at last, went trembling past
the truck. Then the rider turned the animal back once more, and did
not rest until he had made it leap over the object of its terror. As
it did so, one of its hind hoofs touched the lid of the truck and threw
it back. The soldier turned in mid-career, saw the form of the
apprentice, drew a pistol from his holster like lightning, and fired at
him where he lay. At the report and flash the youth started up, and
the bullet passed close by his hand, grazing the skin, and lodged in
the side of the truck. Fortunately for him, the report of the pistol
had such a startling effect on the already frightened horse, that the
rider could no longer restrain it, and rode off at full speed after his
comrades, leaving the apprentice to pursue his way to Erbisdorf in
peace. On reaching the village, he directed his steps towards the
mill, where he was received by a slender, pale little woman, not at all
like the miller's wife he expected to see, for he had pictured the
heroine of his story as a tall, strong woman, with a loud voice and
great muscular arms. He soon found out his mistake, however, for at
sight of the sorrowful burden he had brought, she cried out, 'What!
must I lay my little Georgie to rest in such a thing as that? Why, my
husband need not have sent to Freiberg for it. We could have made a
prettier resting-place ourselves for my little son, and'--
'Please have patience,' interrupted the apprentice, 'and do not despise
our work before you have examined it. But first, would you be so good
as to give me a bit of sopped bread to tie on my hand; it begins to
burn and smart pretty badly. Just look, Mistress Miller, there's a
Swedish dragoon's bullet in the side of the truck; if you would lend me
a chisel or a pair of pincers, I could get it out, and take it home in
my pocket.'
While the woman was gone to fetch what he had asked for, Conrad carried
the little coffin into the house.
'I know one thing,' he said to the miller's wife when she returned,
'our senior journeyman must be a very smart man; I should think he can
almost hear the grass grow. If he had not been, my last hour would
have come today. "Conrad Schmidt," he said to me before I
started,--"Conrad Schmidt, in these days we must mind what we are
about. You will perhaps meet some soldiers on the way to Erbisdorf,
and if you do, I will tell you how to escape." If he had not told me
what to do, they would have killed me to a certainty. But where is the
poor little boy?'
The miller's wife stepped across to a corner of the room and drew back
a large linen cloth from a bed, disclosing the body of a fine boy
between eight and nine years old. He lay with closed eyes and little
hands peacefully folded on his breast, so quiet that any one might have
thought it was only sleep.
'We found him with his little hands folded just like that,' said the
miller's wife, bursting into tears. 'His soul has gone to heaven, I am
sure.'
'Ah! you can see he did not suffer much,' said Conrad softly, 'and that
is something to be thankful for. Whether the two soldiers were
Imperialists or Swedes, they might have tied the little fellow to a
barn-door and practised at him with their pistols, or tortured him in
fifty cruel ways, as they have often done to others. My mistress
always says it is a happy thing for those who rest peacefully in their
quiet graves. But what have you done with the bodies of the two wicked
men?'
At this question a sudden change came over the miller's wife. A bright
colour rose to her pale face, her eyes sparkled, and her hands clenched
themselves tightly, as her trembling lips gave utterance to the words,
'They lie out there, behind the barn, waiting till the executioner
comes to bury them.'
In the meantime the room had filled with country people, who had
strolled into the mill on hearing that the child's coffin had arrived.
'H'm!' said the young carpenter; 'are you quite sure the dragoons I met
will not come here and find that the two murderers were comrades of
theirs? If they did, your brave deed might cost you dear.'
A smile was the woman's only reply, but a peasant answered for her:
'Dragoons, did you say, youngster? What countrymen were they?'
'Well,' replied Conrad, 'you can't always tell a bird by its feathers,
especially if you don't happen to be a bird fancier. Whether they were
Saxons, Imperialists, or Swedes, I do not know. The soldier that tried
to kill me spoke good German, and he wore a blue doublet with bright
yellow facings.'
'God help us!' cried the peasant. 'They are the Swedes, sure enough; I
have known the blue doublets ever since 1639, the year they did so much
harm to Erbisdorf, when General Bannier made his attack on Freiberg.'
'But come,' said Conrad, trying to rally his own courage, 'there's
plenty of blue cloth and yellow facings in the world besides what is on
Swedish uniforms; and as I told you before, that dragoon could swear in
downright good German.'
'The Swedes! the Swedes!' was now heard from outside the house. 'The
schoolmaster saw them from the top of the church tower.'
'The Swedes are coming!' was the general exclamation as every face
turned pale. 'May heaven have mercy on us!' With this cry the
frightened people rushed out of the room, leaving the terrified young
apprentice and the miller's wife alone together. The latter did not
appear to be much disturbed. She quietly counted out to the lad the
price of the little coffin, and then turned away to lay her son's body
in it. Conrad Schmidt hardly knew what he had better do. First of all
he hid the money he had just received in one of his shoes, and then
began to consider whether he should leave his hand-truck at the mill or
take it back with him to Freiberg. His uncertainty did not last long.
What the horse is to a horseman, that his truck is to a carpenter's
apprentice. Neither the one nor the other will willingly part from his
faithful companion except in great emergencies. Full of inward fears,
but without showing any outward signs of panic, the youth set forth on
his homeward way, a distance of six or eight miles.