when your footsteps wander through places where the splendid monuments
of Old German Art speak, like eloquent tongues, of the magnificence,
good steady industry, and sterling honesty of an illustrious age now
long since passed away. Do you not feel as if you were entering a
deserted house? The Holy Book in which the head of the household read
is still lying open on the table, and the gay rich tapestry that the
mistress of the house spun with her own hands is still hanging on the
walls; whilst round about in the bright clean cupboards are ranged all
kinds of valuable works of art, gifts received on festive occasions.
You could almost believe a member of the household will soon enter and
receive you with genuine hearty hospitality. But you will wait in vain
for those whom the eternally revolving wheel of Time has whirled away;
you may therefore surrender yourself to the sweet dream in which the
old Masters rise up before you and speak honest and weighty words that
sink deeply into your heart Then for the first time will you be able to
grasp the profound significance of their works, for you will then not
only live in, but you will also understand the age which could produce
such masters and such works. But, alas! does it not happen that, as you
stretch out your loving arms to clasp the beautiful image of your
dream, it shyly flees away on the light morning clouds before the noisy
bustle of the day, whilst you, your eyes filling with scalding tears,
gaze after the bright vision as it gradually disappears? And so, rudely
disturbed by the life that is pulsing about you, you are suddenly
wakened out of your pleasant dream, retaining only the passionate
longing that thrills your breast with its delicious awe.
Such sentiments as these, indulgent reader, have always animated the
breast of him who is about to pen these pages for you, whenever his
path has led him through the world-renowned city of Nuremberg. Now
lingering before that wonderful structure, the fountain2 in the
market-place, now contemplating St. Sebald's shrine,3 and the ciborium4
in St. Lawrence's Church, and Albert Dürer's5 grand pictures in the
castle and in the town-house, he used to give himself up entirely to
the delicious reveries which transported him into the midst of all the
glorious splendours of the old Imperial Town. He thought of the
true-hearted words of Father Rosenblüth6--
O Nuremberg, thou glorious spot,
Thy honour's bolt was aimed aright,
Sticks in the mark whereat wisdom shot;
And truth in thee hath come to light.
Many a picture of the life of the worthy citizens of that period, when
art and manual industry went loyally and industriously hand in hand,
rose up brightly before his mind's eye, impressing itself upon his soul
in especially cheerful and pleasing colours. Graciously be pleased,
therefore, that he put one of these pictures before you. Perhaps, as
you gaze upon it, it may afford you gratification, perhaps it may draw
from you a good-natured smile, perhaps you may even come to feel
yourself at home in Master Martin's house, and may linger willingly
amongst his casks and tubs. Well!--Then the writer of these pages will
have effected what is the sincere and honest wish of his heart.
_How Master Martin was elected "Candle-master" and how he returned
thanks therefor._
On the 1st of May, 1580, in accordance with traditionary custom and
usage, the honourable guild of coopers, or wine-cask makers, of the
free Imperial Town of Nuremberg, held with all due ceremony a meeting
of their craft. A short time previously one of the presidents, or
"Candle-masters," as they were called, had been carried to his grave;
it was therefore necessary to elect a successor. Choice fell upon
Master Martin. And in truth there was scarcely another who could be
measured against him in the building of strong and well-made casks;
none understood so well as he the management of wine in the cellar;7
hence he counted amongst his customers very many men of distinction,
and lived in the most prosperous circumstances--nay, almost rolled in
riches. Accordingly, after Martin had been elected, the worthy
Councillor Jacobus Paumgartner, who, in his official character of
syndic,8 presided over the meeting, said, "You have done bravely well,
friends, to choose Master Martin as your president, for the office
could not be in better hands. He is held in high esteem by all who know
him, not only on account of his great skill, but on account of his ripe
experience in the art of keeping and managing the rich juice of the
grape. His steady industry and upright life, in spite of all the wealth
he has amassed, may serve as an example to you all. Welcome then a
thousand times, goodman Master Martin, as our honoured president."
With these words Paumgartner rose to his feet and took a few steps
forward, with open arms, expecting that Martin would come to meet him.
The latter immediately placed both his hands upon the arms of his chair
and raised himself as expeditiously as his portly person would permit
him to rise,--which was only slowly and heavily. Then just as slowly he
strode into Paumgartner's hearty embrace, which, however, he scarcely
returned. "Well," said Paumgartner, somewhat nettled at this, "well,
Master Martin, are you not altogether well pleased that we have elected
you to be our 'Candle-master'?" Master Martin, as was his wont, threw
his head back into his neck, played with his fingers upon his capacious
belly, and, opening his eyes wide and thrusting forward his under-lip
with an air of superior astuteness, let his eyes sweep round the
assembly. Then, turning to Paumgartner, he began, "Marry, my good and
worthy sir, why should I not be altogether well pleased, seeing that I
receive what is my due? Who refuses to take the reward of his honest
labour? Who turns away from his threshold the defaulting debtor when at
length he comes to pay his long standing debt? What! my good sirs," and
Martin turned to the masters who sat around, "what! my good sirs, has
it then occurred to you at last that I--I _must_ be president of our
honourable guild? What do you look for in your president? That he be
the most skilful in workmanship? Go look at my two-tun cask made
without fire,9 my brave masterpiece, and then come and tell me if
there's one amongst you dare boast that, so far as concerns
thoroughness and finish, he has ever turned out anything like it. Do
you desire that your president possess money and goods? Come to my
house and I will throw open chests and drawers, and you shall feast
your eyes on the glitter of the sparkling gold and silver. Will you
have a president who is respected by noble and base-born alike? Only
ask our honoured gentlemen of the Council, ask the princes and noblemen
around our good town of Nuremberg, ask his Lordship, the Bishop of
Bamberg, ask what they all think of Master Martin? Oh! I--I don't think
you'll hear much said against him." At the same time Master Martin
struck his big fat belly with the greatest self-satisfaction, smiling
with his eyes half-closed. Then, as all remained silent, nothing being
heard except a dubious clearing of the throat here and there, he
continued, "Ay! ay! I see. I ought, I know very well, to thank you all
handsomely that in this election the good Lord above has at last seen
fit to enlighten your minds. Well, when I receive the price of my
labour, when my debtor repays me the borrowed money, I write at the
bottom of the bill or of the receipt my 'Paid with thanks, Thomas10
Martin, Master-cooper here.' Let me then thank you all from my heart,
since in electing me to be your president and 'Candle-master' you have
wiped out an old debt. As for the rest, I pledge you that I will
discharge the duties of my office with all fidelity and uprightness. In
the hour of need I will stand by the guild and by each of you to the
very best of my abilities with word and deed. I will exert the utmost
diligence to uphold the honour and fame of our celebrated handicraft,
without bating one jot of its present credit. My honoured syndic, and
all you, my good friends and masters, I invite to come and partake of
good cheer with me on the coming Sunday. Then, with blithesome hearts
and minds, let us deliberate over a glass of good Hochheimer11] or
Johannisberger,12 or any other choice wine in my cellar that your
palates may crave, what can be done for the furtherance of our common
weal. Once again, I say you shall be all heartily welcome."
The honest masters' countenances, which had perceptibly clouded on
hearing Master Martin's proud words, now recovered their serenity,
whilst the previous dead silence was followed by the cheerful buzz of
conversation, in which a good deal was said about Master Martin's great
deserts, and also about his choice cellar. All promised to be present
on the Sunday, and offered their hands to the newly-elected "Candle-
master," who took them and shook them warmly, also drawing a few of the
masters a little towards him, as if desirous of embracing them. The
company separated in blithe good-humour.
_What afterwards took place in Master Martin's house._
Now it happened that Councillor Jacobus Paumgartner had to pass by
Master Martin's in order to reach his own home; and as they both stood
outside Master Martin's door, and Paumgartner was about to proceed on
his way, his friend, doffing his low bonnet, and bowing respectfully
and as low as he was able, said to him, "I should be very glad, my good
and worthy sir, if you would not disdain to step in and spend an hour
or so in my humble house. Be pleased to suffer me to derive both profit
and entertainment from your wise conversation." "Ay, ay! Master Martin,
my friend," replied Paumgartner smiling, "gladly enough will I stay a
while with you; but why do you call your house a humble house? I know
very well that there's none of the richest of our citizens who can
excel you in jewels and valuable furniture. Did you not a short time
ago complete a handsome building which makes your house one of the
ornaments of our renowned Imperial Town?13 In respect of its interior
fittings I say nothing, for no patrician even need be ashamed of it."
Old Paumgartner was right; for on opening the door, which was brightly
polished and richly ornamented with brass-work, they stepped into a
spacious entrance hall almost resembling a state-room; the floor was
tastefully inlaid, fine pictures hung on the walls, and the cupboards
and chairs were all artistically carved. And all who came in willingly
obeyed the direction inscribed in verses, according to olden custom, on
a tablet which hung near the door:--
Let him who will the stairs ascend
See that his shoes be rubbed well clean.
Or taken off were better, I ween;
He thus avoids what might offend.
A thoughtful man is well aware
How he indoors himself should bear.
It had been a hot day, and now as the hour of twilight was approached
it began to be close and stuffy in the rooms, so Master Martin led his
eminent guest into the cool and spacious parlour-kitchen. For this was
the name applied at that time to a place in the houses of the rich
citizens which, although furnished as a kitchen, was never used as
such--all kinds of valuable utensils and other necessaries of
housekeeping being there set out on show. Hardly had they got inside
the door when Master Martin shouted in a loud voice, "Rose, Rose!" Then
the door was immediately opened, and Rose, Master Martin's only
daughter, came in.
I should like you, dear reader, to awaken at this moment a vivid
recollection of our great Albrecht Dürer's masterpieces; I would wish
that the glorious maidens whom we find in them, with all their noble
grace, their sweet gentleness and piety, should recur to your mind,
endowed with living form. Recall the noble and delicate figure, the
beautifully arched, lily-white forehead, the carnation flitting like a
breath of roses across the cheek, the full sweet cherry-red lips,--
recall the eyes full of pious aspirations, half-veiled by their dark
lashes, like moonlight seen through dusky foliage,--recall the silky
hair, artfully gathered into graceful plaits,--recall the divine beauty
of these maidens, and you will see lovely Rose. How else than in this
way could the narrator sketch the dear, darling child? And yet permit
me to remind you here of an admirable young artist into whose heart a
quickening ray has fallen from these beautiful old times. I mean the
German painter Cornelius,14 in Rome. Just as Margaret looks in
Cornelius's drawings to Goethe's mighty _Faust_ when she utters the
words, "Bin weder Fräulein noch schön"15 (I am neither a lady of rank,
nor yet beautiful), so also may Rose have looked when in the shyness of
her pure chaste heart she felt compelled to shun addresses that smacked
somewhat too much of freedom.
Rose bowed low with child-like respect before Paumgartner, and taking
his hand, pressed it to her lips. The crimson colour rushed into the
old gentleman's pale cheeks, as the sun when setting shoots up a dying
flash, suddenly converting the dark foliage into gold, so the fire of a
youth now left far behind gleamed once more in his eyes. "Ay! ay!" he
cried in a blithesome voice, "marry, my good friend Master Martin, you
are a rich and a prosperous man, but the best of all the blessings
which the good Lord has given you is your lovely daughter Rose. If the
hearts of old gentlemen like us who sit in the Town Council are so
stirred that we cannot turn away our purblind eyes from the dear child,
who can find fault with the young folks if they stop and stand like
blocks of wood, or as if spell-bound, when they meet your daughter in
the street, or see her at church, though we have a word of blame for
our clerical gentry, because on the Allerwiese,16 or wherever else a
festival is held, they all crowd round your daughter, with their sighs,
and loving glances, and honied words, to the vexation of all other
girls? Well, well, Master Martin, you can choose you your son-in-law
amongst any of our young patricians, or wherever else you may list."
A dark frown settled on Master Martin's face; he bade his daughter
fetch some good old wine; and after she had left the room, the hot
blushes mantling thick and fast upon her cheeks, and her eyes bent upon
the floor, he turned to old Paumgartner, "Of a verity, my good sir,
Heaven has dowered my daughter with exceptional beauty, and herein too
I have been made rich; but how can you speak of it in the girl's
presence? And as for a patrician son-in-law, there'll never be anything
of that sort." "Enough, Master Martin, say no more," replied
Paumgartner, laughing. "Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth must
speak. Don't you believe, then, that when I set eyes on Rose the
sluggish blood begins to leap in my old heart also? And if I do
honestly speak out what she herself must very well know, surely there's
no very great mischief done."
Rose brought the wine and two beautiful drinking-glasses. Then Martin
pushed the heavy table, which was ornamented with some remarkable
carving, into the middle of the kitchen. Scarcely, however, had the old
gentlemen taken their places and Master Martin had filled the glasses
when a trampling of horses was heard in front of the house. It seemed
as if a horseman had pulled up, and as if his voice was heard in the
entrance-passage below. Rose hastened down and soon came back with the
intelligence that old Junker17 Heinrich von Spangenberg was there and
wished to speak to Master Martin. "Marry!" cried Martin, "now this is
what I call a fine lucky evening, which brings me my best and oldest
customer. New orders of course, I see I shall have to 'cask' out
again"--Therewith he hastened down as fast as he was able to meet his
welcome guest.
_How Master Martin extols his trade above all others._
The Hochheimer sparkled in the beautiful cut drinking-glasses, and
loosened the tongues and opened the hearts of the three old gentlemen.
Old Spangenberg especially, who, though advanced in years, was yet
brimming with freshness and vivacity, had many a jolly prank out of his
merry youth to relate, so that Master Martin's belly wabbled famously,
and again and again he had to brush the tears out of his eyes, caused
by his loud and hearty laughing. Herr Paumgartner, too, forgot more
than was customary with him the dignity of the Councillor, and enjoyed
right well the noble liquor and the merry conversation. But when Rose
again made her appearance with the neat housekeeper's basket under her
arm, out of which she took a tablecloth as dazzling white as fresh-
fallen snow,--when she tripped backwards and forwards busy with
household matters, laying the cloth, and placing a plentiful supply of
appetising dishes on the table,--when, with a winning smile she invited
the gentlemen not to despise what had been hurriedly prepared, but to
turn to and eat--during all this time their conversation and laughter
ceased. Neither Paumgartner nor Spangenberg averted their sparkling
eyes from the fascinating maiden, whilst Master Martin too, leaning
back in his chair, and folding his hands, watched her busy movements
with a gratified smile. Rose was withdrawing, but old Spangenberg was
on his feet in a moment, quick as a youth; he took the girl by both
shoulders and cried, again and again, as the bright tears trickled from
his eyes, "Oh you good, you sweet little angel! What a dear darling
girl you are!" then he kissed her twice--three times on the forehead,
and returned to his seat, apparently in deep thought.
Paumgartner proposed the toast of Rose's health. "Yes," began
Spangenberg, after she had gone out of the room, "yes, Master Martin,
Providence has given you a precious jewel in your daughter, whom you
cannot well over-estimate. She will yet bring you to great honour. Who
is there, let him be of what rank in life he may, who would not
willingly be your son-in-law?" "There you are," interposed Paumgartner;
"there you see, Master Martin, the noble Herr von Spangenberg is
exactly of my opinion. I already see our dear Rose a patrician's bride
with the rich jewellery of pearls18 in her beautiful flaxen hair." "My
dear sirs," began Martin, quite testily, "why do you, my dear sirs,
keep harping upon this matter--a matter to which I have not as yet
directed my thoughts? My Rose has only just reached her eighteenth
year; it's not time for such a young thing to be looking out for a
lover. How things may turn out afterwards--well, that I leave entirely
to the will of the Lord; but this I do at any rate know, that none
shall touch my daughter's hand, be he patrician or who he may, except
the cooper who approves himself the cleverest and skilfullest master in
his trade--presuming, of course, that my daughter will have him, for
never will I constrain my dear child to do anything in the world, least
of all to make a marriage that she does not like." Spangenberg and
Paumgartner looked at each other, perfectly astonished at this
extraordinary decision of the Master's.19 At length, after some
clearing of his throat, Spangenberg began, "So, then, your daughter is
not to wed out of her own station?" "God forbid she should," rejoined
Martin. "But," continued Spangenberg, "if now a skilled master of a
higher trade, say a goldsmith, or even a brave young artist, were to
sue for your Rose and succeeded in winning her favour more than all
other young journeymen, what then?" "I should say," replied Master
Martin, throwing his head back into his neck, "show me, my excellent
young friend, the fine two-tun cask which you have made as your
masterpiece; and if he could not do so, I should kindly open the door
for him and very politely request him to try his luck elsewhere." "Ah!
but," went on Spangenberg again, "if the young journeyman should reply,
'A little structure of that kind I cannot show you, but come with me to
the market-place and look at yon beautiful house which is sending up
its slender gable into the free open air--that's my masterpiece.'" "Ah!
my good sir, my good sir," broke in Master Martin impatiently, "why do
you give yourself all this trouble to try and make me alter my
conviction? Once and for all, my son-in-law must be of _my_ trade; for
my trade I hold to be the finest trade there is in the world. Do you
think we've nothing to do but to fix the staves into the trestles
(hoops), so that the cask may hold together? Marry, it's a fine thing
and an admirable thing that our handiwork requires a previous knowledge
of the way in which that noble blessing of Heaven, good wine, must be
kept and managed, that it may acquire strength and flavour so as to go
through all our veins and warm our blood like the true spirit of life!
And then as for the construction of the casks--if we are to turn out a
successful piece of work, must we not first draw out our plans with
compass and rule? We must be arithmeticians and geometricians of no
mean attainments, how else can we adapt the proportion and size of the
cask to the measure of its contents? Ay, sir, my heart laughs in my
body when we've bravely laboured at the staves with jointer and adze
and have gotten a brave cask in the vice; and then when my journeymen
swing their mallets and down it comes on the drivers clipp! clapp!
clipp! clapp!--that's merry music for you; and there stands your well-
made cask. And of a verity I may look a little proudly about me when I
take my marking-tool in my hand and mark the sign of my handiwork, that
is known and honoured of all respectable wine-masters, on the bottom of
the cask. You spoke of house-building, my good sir. Well, a beautiful
house is in truth a glorious piece of work, but if I were a house-
builder and went past a house I had built, and saw a dirty fellow or
good-for-nothing rascal who had got possession of it looking down upon
me from the bay-window, I should feel thoroughly ashamed,--I should
feel, purely out of vexation and annoyance, as if I should like to pull
down and destroy my own work. But nothing like that can happen with the
structures I build. Within them there comes and lives once for all
nothing but the purest spirit on earth--good wine. God prosper my
handiwork!"