The sitting of the Imperial Diet being at an end the court of the
Kurfuerst returned amidst the thunder of cannon fired from the
Trutzkaiser to the Castle at Heidelberg, which during the meeting had
been only opened for the accommodation of noble guests. The remaining
groups of those returning home passed at the same time through the
town; they were Polish, Transylvanian and Hungarian Magnates, who had
ordered servants and horses to be sent from their homes to meet them in
Heidelberg. A contagious disease broke out in the hostelry where the
servants had slept, laying all the inhabitants of the house on the sick
bed. Erastus was called in, examined the patients, who besides having a
violent fever, had their faces, breasts and arm-pits covered with blue,
violet and evil looking pustules. The swarthy complexion of the
physician turned ashy-pale when he noticed these symptoms, but without
saying a word he ordered a spunge dipped in vinegar to be brought,
which he fastened to his mouth. He caused his assistants to do
likewise, and carry the sick to the Gutleuthaus, a hospital lying
outside Heidelberg, which in former days had been founded for the use
of the returning Crusaders affected with leprosy. The inns, in which
the filthy guests had tarried were closed, the rooms disinfected with
alkalines, the beds were burnt, and the doors nailed up. No one was to
be permitted to enter the infected rooms for six weeks, with the
exception of the medical assistants, who were from time to time to
renew the means employed for purification. The population of the
afflicted district was severely visited. The matter was hushed up so as
not to injure trade, but every one knew that it was the plague, and the
unclean guests who had introduced it were shunned. The eight patients
lay together in the Gutleuthaus at Schlierbach, six died and but two
recovered. These two were inhabitants of the neighbouring villages
Schoenau and Petersthal. Thoroughly fumigated and provided with entirely
new clothing they were permitted to return to their homes. They found
it to be to their own advantage not to speak about the malady from
which they had recovered, as otherwise no one would have taken them in.
But one of them had placed his infected worthless clothing in a bundle
which he brought back with him to his home. The other had exchanged the
new boots of one of the dead for the inferior pair given him by the
authorities of the hospital. Eight days after their return the pest
broke out in these two villages with unheard of violence. The mother of
the Schoenau patient was the first to take the sickness and die,
followed by the sister who had watched over her, the clergyman who had
administered the sacraments, the women who had dressed out the corpse
and those who had attended the burial. The guilty wretch who had caused
all this evil, naturally kept silent. He quickly packed up his bundle
and left for Schwaben. The same thing occurred in Petersthal.
Inhabitants of these villages went from house to house in Heidelberg,
offering fruit, vegetables, pine wood, cones, and straw-mats for sale.
The physicians reported fresh cases of the plague in all parts of the
town. A general fear seized the population. One morning it became known
that the court had left for Mosbach. Great was the discouragement of
the citizens at this ruthless step, for which the young wife of the
Kurfuerst was blamed. Whoever could, followed the example thus set.
Erastus and his medical colleagues urged the magistrate to stricter
measures. All communication with the infested villages was forbidden,
the University and schools were closed. The hospital was set aside
especially for plague stricken patients, and everyone infected with
this terrible sickness was carried thither. A violent thunderstorm
which dispelled the evil vapors, aided by a high tide which cleared out
the sewers enabled them to obtain the mastery. The Court returned to
the Castle and Heidelberg resumed its usual aspect. But even after the
disappearance of the epidemic, a victim died here and there of the
disease from which they had imagined themselves now free. The cause lay
in the continuation of the plague in the neighbouring villages, which
in the anxiety to save the town had been neglected. Heart-rending were
the accounts heard, but the exertions of the officials were limited to
the provision of food, the strictest quarantine being maintained. He
who wished to leave to render assistance, could only do so by promising
not to return. Erastus finally managed to carry an order through, that
the Magistrate and certain physicians should visit the various
localities, bringing with them especially medicines, clean clothing,
and linen. As the Magistrate fell ill on the day appointed Erastus
placed himself at the head of the Commission to see what might be done
to abate the evil. Ten of the hospital laborers accompanied them with
spades and axes in a second cart. A third cart was loaded with wine,
food, lime, and other disinfectants. The physicians found the nearest
village still as if all were dead. All the roads leading from the
mountains were barricaded and the peasantry armed with hallebards and
weapons mounted guard to prevent the entry of the inhabitants of the
valleys. The Commissioners were only permitted to pass their carts
through with the greatest difficulty, and in spite of the mandate given
by the Kurfuerst, the peasants declared they would not suffer one of the
gentlemen to return that way, as the plague did not seem to trouble
itself about princely mandates. They continued on their way through
this still valley of death. Here and there a stray beast browsed on the
green pastures. The houses of the peasantry above seemed to be
abandoned. The Commissioners entered one. A hen seeking for grain in
the empty court was the only living being. The doors were broken in,
the shutters burst out. Objects which plunderers had not been able to
carry off lay scattered on the floor in wild confusion. Further on they
found a dead body lying at a little distance from one of the roads to
the fields. Where death had overtaken him, there lay the miserable
being. The physicians gazed in horror at the wild distorted features of
the corpse. "Death caused by the bite of a poisonous viper, or a rabid
blood-hound appears in the form of an angel of peace as compared with
that effected by the plague," said Erastus. In the next farm they saw a
peasant sitting before his door on a bundle of straw. His face was
flaming from the inner heat, the eyes gleamed feverishly, he shaded
them continually with his hands to avoid the light. "Why do you sit
here, instead of being in bed?" asked Erastus.
"I have no one who will bring me water."
"Where are your laborers?"
"Gone."
"Your wife?"
"Dead."
"Have you no one to help you?"
"All are dead."
Erastus fastened the spunge dipped in vinegar once more to his mouth,
and entered the dwelling with his colleagues who took the like
precautions. The windows were still fastened up, as there was nothing
the patient hated so much as light. The commissioners hastily threw
them open, so as to dispel by a draught of fresh air the horrible
odors. The sunlight disclosed a neatly ordered clean room. The evening
meal still stood on the table, a proof, of how quickly the horrible
pestilence had seized the various members of the family at the same
moment. A child's catechism and slate lay near the window ready for the
morning school. A wild confusion was however disclosed in the adjoining
rooms. The floors were strewn with rags, bandages, and straw, which
proved how terrible the ravages of the plague had been. Two dead
children lay in the same bed convulsively grasping each other. On
another bed was seen the body of a woman, to which still clung a child,
whose waxy little hand hung stiff outside the bed. Erastus himself set
to work and with the aid of his assistants carried the bodies outside.
The neighboring houses presented the same appearance. The more distant
farmyards had all been plundered. The healthy occupants had taken to
flight, the plague-stricken had gathered together in the villages,
where the houses were nearer at hand, and where they might possibly
render each other a little help. All round were heard sighs, shouts of
delirium, and the death-rattle. Convalescents and those who were not so
heavily afflicted by the infection moved about weakly and stupefied
with fever rendering only the most necessary assistance. They brought
the bread which had been deposited at a certain place outside the
boundary line, into the village, milked the cows, kept up the fires,
and buried the dead when capable of doing so.
"Where is the Mayor?" asked Erastus.
"Dead," answered a miserable looking knot of women, around whose necks
hung some wretched infants.
"The clergyman?"
"His wife fell ill, he therefore hurried away with his family."
"The schoolmaster?"
"He went off with the clergyman."
"Who looks after you then?"
"No one."
Under these circumstances it was arranged that the physicians and
workmen should remain there for a time, dig a grave for the dead,
disinfect the houses, and give out medicines and clothes. Erastus
however and others would go on to Schoenau to see what might be done
there. A solitary path in the woods led over the brow of the hill to
the village. The farms lying high above on the slopes of the wood had
mostly escaped the infection, they were however strictly barricaded,
and the inhabitants repelled with hard words any attempt at approach.
The first houses in the village they came to, were tightly fastened up,
though traces of violence were however not to be perceived. Then they
entered the little town, which in course of time had been built around
the old abbey. Everything was quiet, but a better order seemed to
prevail. Windows were open to admit the fresh air, the sick lay in
clean beds, and near them stood a pitcher of water. The rooms were
tidy. Pale children went to and fro to help the sufferers. Erastus
entered one of the houses, to make some inquiries of a woman who seemed
to be on the way towards recovery. He praised the means taken and asked
if they were satisfied with their physician.
"We have no physician, none will come to us."
"Who taught you then to air the houses, and apply wet cloths to the
head?"
"The clergyman from Heidelberg."
"Who is he?"
The woman shrugged her shoulders and turned her face to the wall. He
saw that she did not wish to be disturbed. Outside he met some young
men filling buckets with water.
"For whom is the water?" asked Erastus.
"For the sick in the Church."
"Have you turned the Church into an hospital?"
"Yes."
"Who ordered it?"
"The Heidelberg clergyman."
"Where is the Mayor?"
"Gone."
"And the parson of Schoenau?"
"Dead."
"And the schoolmaster?"
"Gone."
"Who is it then keeps order?"
"The Heidelberg clergyman."
Erastus became interested in finding out the man, who by his own
exertions had worked the miracle, of mustering together a strange
parish, and so organizing it that nothing was left for his Commission
to do. He entered the large roman church, whose wide spanned aisles had
been transformed into well aired cool wards. A long row of patients lay
near the walls on beds of straw covered with blankets. The hideous
disease showed even here its true character; there were faces who bore
the stamp of death, and others distorted grimly by their sufferings,
delirious patients who raged, laughed insanely and raved, convalescents
who lay stretched out weak and helpless on their beds, many of them
wishing that the end of their sufferings might overtake them. But they
were all thoroughly cared for, they lay protected from the painful
light; in spite of the number of the sufferers the air was pure and
continually renewed, without the patients suffering from the draughts.
Women moved quietly and lightly hither and thither and provided for all
their necessities. The skilled look of the physician took in with
satisfaction the picture thus presented to him. He saw a priest
kneeling in a dark corner of the Church near a dying man. He heard
prayers spoken in low tones, he saw the Catholic sign of the cross made
by the priest over the dying man, and could not help shaking his head.
"Who can that be?" he thought.
The priest rose, a tall thin figure. "Magister Laurenzano!" cried
Erastus in his astonishment. Paul had also recognized Erastus. He
approached him in a constrained manner. Then he said "Heaven has sent
you to us, Sir Counsellor! It was indeed time that the government
should remember us. Please to come with me to the Cloister. Twice did I
wish to send in letters and messages, for what we needed, but neither
letters nor messengers were allowed in through cowardly fear of
infection. Come, come, at last help has reached us."
The look of this young man, who, utterly regardless of his own safety,
waited on the sick without using any antidotes against infection, so
shamed Erastus, that he secretly placed his vinegared spunge in his
pocket, and accompanied Laurenzano to the abandoned monastery which had
likewise been turned into an hospital. The young Priest set before
Erastus in the high vaulted Refectorium a beaker of wine, and pointing
to long rows of bottles and glasses said, "Here are my head-quarters."
Erastus joined to his expression of admiration for Paolo's self-denying
energy, a few strong remarks on the baseness of the officials who had
run away, on the heartlessness of members of families who had left, and
on the sordidness of the population.
"Do not say that, Sir," answered Paul, and a gentle tone of sympathy
lay in his fine, deep voice. "I have in these days of struggle learnt,
on the contrary, that more love exists among us, than I formerly used
to think. I have seen proofs of self-sacrifice, which made my heart
melt, not only from the mother to her children, or the daughter to her
father. Go over there and see these delicate pale women, still for the
most part suffering from the fever, who nevertheless indefatigably
listen for every impatient groan uttered by the sick."
Erastus interrupted him with an account of how he had found matters in
Petersthal.
"Thus was it here also," replied Paolo, "but who is to blame for this
state of things? The Prince's government, no one else. The people only
needed guiding. Out of shere despair they raged against one another.
But it was sufficient, in order to restore confidence among them,
merely to tell them that they could help each other, and the apparent
coarseness and selfishness gave way to the uttermost self-sacrifice and
generosity. Since everything has been organized, since each one knows
that he will be found a fitting position for his energies and that he
is necessary and indispensable, the people have developed a
conscientiousness and faithfulness, which have quite astonished me. I
have learnt to think better of your people, since I have led them
against this most terrible enemy, than before, when I only saw
occasionally the youth of Schoenau lounging on Sundays along the country
roads."
"But how did you manage to bring about this miracle?" asked Erastus.
Paul smiled but did not answer this question. "Unfortunately we are in
want of many necessaries," said he. "Our vinegar is all consumed, all
sweat-exciting herbs have been plucked from the mountains; we want lime
to spread over the corpses and render the exhalations innocuous. We
have now to make large fires, and these are costly and take up time."
"You can have all these things from me," replied the physician. "Here
is a list I have made of all the things which we bring you," and he
pulled a paper out of his pocket. Paul cast a look at it, then stared
fixedly with a look of sudden horror at the handwriting. "Did you write
this yourself?" he asked in a tone, as if life and death were depending
on the answer.
"Certainly, why do you ask." The priest's hand trembled. "Is that your
handwriting?" repeated Paul looking anxiously towards Erastus. The
physician did not understand what the priest meant. Convulsively did
the young man compose himself. "I will mark out what we require,"
murmured he absently and left the room in evident confusion. Erastus
looked after the strange young man with a shake of the head; he had
expected that Paul would have rejoiced at receiving the articles, which
he gave gratuitously to the patients.
Once outside the young priest pulled out the physician's list and
examined it tremblingly. "There is no doubt," he muttered to himself,
"the strokes are the same, as those which Pigavetta caused me to
imitate, and Herr Adam, to whom his dictation was addressed, was none
other than the heretical Parson Adam Neuser. But he threw the paper
before my eyes into the street. Was it the same after all?" and with an
expression of despair Paul sank down near the round window of the
cloister and gazed gloomily out. "How the vipers of repentance, which
for a time had curled up in some dark corner, bite once more? How again
the old chain works its way into the flesh?" Should he warn Erastus. He
sank into a melancholy train of thought, but could arrive at no
determination. At last he shook it away from him. "Let us think of the
misery of to-day. Should to-morrow another misfortune arise, it will be
time enough. God's mercy does not let every seed of wickedness
germinate, which we may have sown unthinkingly, and around me here
there is sufficient misery, to requite by good to many, the evil which
I have caused to many." Then he arose, so as to prepare himself in his
chamber, for the service which he held for the sick every evening in
the Church.
The physician wearied by his exertions of the day, remained for a while
longer in the Refectorium, and thought over his glass of wine about the
young man, for whom he now felt so great an admiration. Shortly an old
peasant woman, with white hair and a calm peaceful countenance appeared
balancing a basket full of herbs on her head. After setting down her
basket, and wiping the perspiration from her brow, she began to pull
out and sort the herbs.
"You must be very glad that the Heidelberg clergyman came among you?"
said Erastus opening a conversation.
"Glad?" replied the old woman, "it was he who saved us."
"Yes indeed, when one compares Petersthal with your village, one must
admire the man."
"If you had only witnessed, how he performed the miracle on the
Kreuzwiese, you would speak in quite another way."
"What sort of miracle, mother?"
"You do not know it," said the old woman quickly. "Then you know
nothing. You ought to have seen how the man addressed the people all
day long but in vain. Those that were healthy packed up, and wanted to
escape by footpaths that were not guarded. Wicked ruffians plundered
the farm-yards and treated the defenceless owners with every cruelty,
the sick lay abandoned in their rooms, in the streets, in the open
fields. Then the strange clergyman threatened those who wished to leave
with all the punishments of heaven, should they abandon their parish to
its fate.--Immediately the first miracle took place. The ring-leader of
those about to depart, attempted to reach a footpath by climbing the
stone-quarry behind the Sperlingshof, by which one can reach the road
to Leiningen, without being stopped. As he reached the top, he
stumbled, fell backwards into the quarry and broke his neck. You should
then have seen the parson, pointing to the place and calling out to the
people with flaming eyes. 'I tell you, that each of you, that attempts
this path, will end in this manner,' and he began to call on God, to
destroy all those, who wished to leave their brethren to destruction,
and to help those who helped their brethren. By the quarry the holy
cross still stands, which the Kurfuerst ever wanted to break down as
being an idolatrous image. The parish however opposed this, as it stood
there long before the monastery, and is an old relic. Finally the Holy
Virgin and the Disciple were broken off and taken away, but the blessed
Saviour was allowed to remain on his Cross. The strange clergyman now
turned towards Him, and you should only have heard him, how he
addressed Him, it was enough to soften the heart of a stone. The tears
streamed down our cheeks. Then he called out as if entranced: 'Thou
willest it Lord! Give a sign that thou willest it!' and he stretched
both his hands towards the Saviour, as if he wished to embrace him, and
called out exultingly. 'See, see, He wills it.' Then it seemed to us
that we were dreaming. The stone image raised head and arms and bowed,
thrice, four times. It seemed to us once, as if the whole of the sacred
body inclined towards us. And then the clergyman turned to us and said:
The Lord has said 'yes;' he who now doubts, or refuses, shall be burnt
as an heretic, and I shall be the first to set fire to the pile.' Then
you should have heard the silence that reigned among the people. I
myself did not hear the 'yes' said, because I stood too far off, but
there were many there who heard quite distinctly how the stone image
opened its mouth and said 'yes' as does a bridegroom at the altar. The
clergyman now numbered off the young men: 'Do you get down your spades
and dig a large grave in the cemetery capable of holding at least
thirty bodies. You,' he said to the older people, 'carry out the bodies
and I will bless them so soon as the grave is ready.' Then turning to
the young girls, 'do you draw water' and to the older women 'do you
purify the houses,' Then he singled out some of the men and women and
said, 'you come with me and we shall turn the church into an hospital.'
What could we do, his eyes flamed like two fires, his gestures were
those of a Kurfuerst, or Apostle, or something higher yet. I believe he
would have slain with one single word, as St. Paul did Ananias,
whosoever had opposed him. By sun-down the village was purified, the
sick brought into the Church. Whosoever fell ill, was carried there, in
case he could not be properly taken care of at home, and every day the
Parson inspects the houses with the old people, to see that nothing is
neglected."
"He is indeed a wonderful man," remarked Erastus.
"He is a Catholic," said the old woman in a low tone, "he administers
the last unction to the dying."
"Are you sure of that," said Erastus incredulously.
The old woman nodded. "The old faith was however better, it could
perform miracles." Erastus stood up. The admiration he had felt for
Laurenzano was turned by this one word into disgust. "With the old
bogey of the Bare-footed monks and the new Jesuit tricks, he will
endeavour to restore papistry here," said the excited physician. "So
soon as the Magistrate has the courage to come out here, that stone
object of idolatry must be pulled down. We will teach you to perform
miracles and conversions." Enraged he stepped aside. He heard through
the open windows of the Church the words of the evening service held by
Laurenzano for the sick. No healthy person was allowed to enter, but
the people stood in groups outside to catch through the open windows
the words of the prayers offered. Erastus also approached. He heard how
Paul explained the text of the Epistle of St. James to the sick.
"Behold, we called them blessed which endured: ye have heard of the
patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord, how that the Lord
is full of pity and merciful." As a gentle soothing song sounded the
melodious tone of the melancholy sermon from the church even to the
place under the old lindens, fanned by the evening breeze: "Behold, we
call them blessed which endured, endured even to the end. Our portion
is grief and suffering but they are at rest in the peace of God; we
rack our brains to find out how to build up once more our fortunes,
they have entered into the rest of the Saints, and are concealed in the
eternal mansions; we must raise once more our arms in hard work, whilst
they lie in a peaceful calm slumber. Thousands of irksome paths await
our weary tread, while their feet are in sweet repose after their long
pilgrimage." It seemed as if the patients in their couches were now
more tranquil. The groans of agony ceased, the cries of impatience were
hushed. "Behold, we call them blessed, which endured," reechoed the
preacher, "all of those who have gone forth through these portals to
the silent chambers of God, have died in the Lord. But we also, who
have been preserved for a fresh struggle, let us call ourselves
blessed, in that we have suffered; for then only can we say with the
Apostle: as we live, we live in the Lord. The destroying angel of God
has come in among us like a prophet and he said: I have a word unto
you, you children of men! He found you with your sorrows, cares,
enmities, idle thoughts, your coarse enjoyments. Then came the dread
angel of the Lord, and he asked you old people, what was the worth of
that for which you fret, grieve, quarrel, strive after, in the presence
of death. He asked you young maidens, what was the value of your
ornaments, finery, and beauty, if the next morning the angel of the
plague touched you with its finger. He knocked the cup out of your
hands, young men, and hushed your lewd songs. He placed the hand of the
brother in that of the sister, he made peace between father and son,
between neighbor and relation. Therefore let us call ourselves blessed,
that we have gone through this time of tribulation. We take our life
from God, as a gift bestowed a second time upon us, now let us make use
of it as ordered by the Giver, as being at all time in His hand, which
He can at all time demand back in case we misuse it. Let us all, who
have endured, suffered, hoped, and feared in common, who have seen in
common our own snatched away from our hearts and carried out to that
place, from which none return, laid in that grave, which will only open
at the sound of the last trump, let us be from henceforth as one
family, and when the old spirit of strife, self-seeking, greed returns,
then do I place you before those graves, and before this altar, which
to-day hears your groans of agony, and ask of you, how much all for
which you may be striving may be worth, if the angel whom you have seen
within the last days in all his dreadful majesty should return? Then
will you live in the Lord, then shall we call you blessed, in that the
appearance of the Holy Angel has made you wiser."
A touching prayer followed this discourse. Erastus was deeply moved.
His wrath was gone. That which he had heard sounded so differently from
the magister's former florid tirades rich in antitheses. Then used he
to ape the preacher, this time had he preached. The listeners
dispersed. As Erastus was slowly descending from the village, Paul
caught him up, in order to accompany him on his way home. "You have
petitioned the Council to free you from your spiritual functions," said
Erastus, "I see however that you have not observed your own proposal."
"I was ill," said Paul, "sick at heart, poor and suffering, I felt that
I had no longer any right to teach others, when I sent in that
request," and a sad smile passed over his delicate, pale face. "When I
however found that I could do some good by preaching, I naturally
overlooked my unworthiness. It would have been very wrong under such
circumstances to think of one's self. I am thankful to-day to God, that
he sent me this tribulation, which returned to my withered-up heart,
the power to think of, and feel for the sorrow of others. These times
have been a great blessing for me." As Erastus kept silent, Paul
continued. "I have also become convinced once more, of the power of the
Church offices as a guide to the ignorant. Only by prayer can these
demoniacal powers be subdued. In spite of all reason I had been
helpless without preaching and praying."
"You are forgetting the miracles," said Erastus sarcastically. Paul
looked at him abashed. "Why do you attain your good intentions by
deception and evident quackery? How about that miracle on the
Kreuzweg?"
The young Priest smiled. "You have been in Bologna," he said, "and have
seen the leaning tower, the Asinella:
How Carisanda's tower
Nods towards the traveller, whenever a cloud
Passes over it contrary to its incline,
Causing him rather to seek another road.
This same phenomenon happened to me, when addressing the people. The
clouds were being driven by the wind across the blue heaven back of the
cross, which, since the rough spoliation of the other figures stands
much out of the perpendicular, so that it appears in fact the more the
sky is cast over, the more to nod or bend over. No one noticed this.
But when I saw that the crowd was deeply affected by the sudden death
of a wicked youth, who broke his neck at the time I prophesied, it shot
through my brain, to weld the iron whilst it was hot. Thus I made the
second miracle quickly succeed the first. You shake your head, but I
had no other means to bring the people for their own good under my
power. If ever a _pia fraus_ was permissible it was then."
"You are a Romanist," said Erastus coldly.
"I am," answered the young Priest, who seemed to increase in stature.
"I shall however leave the Palatinate, so soon as matters are so far in
order here, that your officials and clergy can carry on the work."
Saying this he stretched out his hand to Erastus as if for a last
farewell. The physician hesitatingly gave him his lame right hand. "May
it be well with you," he said. But he thought to himself: "from to-day
our paths are separate." As Erastus later on reaching a turn in the
road looked back, he saw the young Priest coming out of a house with a
child in his arms, leading another by the hand. The little ones had
apparently lost their parents.