were now busy driving on the first hoops. Whilst doing this they were
always in the habit of striking up a song; and on this occasion they
began a good song in Adam Puschmann's _Stieglitzweis_. Then Conrad
(that was the name of the new journeyman) shouted across from the bench
where Master Martin had placed him, "By my troth, what squalling do you
call that? I could fancy I hear mice squeaking somewhere about the
shop. An you mean to sing at all, sing so that it will cheer the heart
and make the work go down well. That's how I sing a bit now and again."
And he began to bellow out a noisy hunting ditty with its hollas! and
hoy, boys! and he imitated the yelping of the hounds and the shrill
shouts of the hunters in such a clear, keen, stentorian voice that the
huge casks rang again and all the workshop echoed. Master Martin held
his hands over his ears, and Dame Martha's (Valentine's widow) little
boys, who were playing in the shop, crept timorously behind the piled-
up staves. Just at this moment Rose came in, amazed, nay, frightened at
the terrible noise; it could not be called singing anyhow. As soon as
Conrad observed her, he at once stopped, and leaving his bench he
approached her and greeted her with the most polished grace. Then he
said in a gentle voice, whilst an ardent fire gleamed in his bright
brown eyes, "Lovely lady, what a sweet rosy light shone into this
humble workman's hut when you came in! Oh! had I but perceived you
sooner, I had not outraged your tender ears with my wild hunting
ditty." Then, turning to Master Martin and the other journeymen, he
cried, "Oh! do stop your abominable knocking and rattling. As long as
this gracious lady honours us with her presence, let mallets and
drivers rest. Let us only listen to her sweet voice, and with bowed
head hearken to what she may command us, her humble servants." Reinhold
and Frederick looked at each other utterly amazed; but Master Martin
burst out laughing and said, "Well, Conrad, it is now plain that you
are the most ridiculous donkey who ever put on apron. First you come
here and want to break everything to pieces like an uncultivated giant;
then you bellow in such a way as to make our ears tingle; and, as a
fitting climax to all your foolishness, you take my little daughter
Rose for a lady of rank and act like a love-smitten Junker." Conrad
replied, coolly, "Your lovely daughter I know very well, my worthy
Master Martin; but I tell you that she is the most peerless lady who
treads the earth, and if Heaven grant it she would honour the very
noblest of Junkers by permitting him to be her Paladin in faithful
knightly love." Master Martin held his sides, and it was only by giving
vent to his laughter in hums and haws that he prevented himself from
choking. As soon as he could at all speak, he stammered, "Good, very
good, my most excellent youth; you may continue to regard my daughter
as a lady of high rank, I shall not hinder you; but, irrespective of
that, will you have the goodness to go back to your bench?" Conrad
stood as if spell-bound, his eyes cast down upon the ground; and
rubbing his forehead, he said in a low voice, "Ay, it is so," and did
as he was bidden. Rose, as she always did in the shop, sat down upon a
small cask, which Frederick placed for her, and which Reinhold
carefully dusted. At Master Martin's express desire they again struck
up the admirable song in which they had been so rudely interrupted by
Conrad's bluster; but he went on with his work at the bench, quite
still, and entirely wrapped up in his own thoughts.
When the song came to an end Master Martin said, "Heaven has endowed
you with a noble gift, my brave lads; you would not believe how highly
I value the delectable art of song. Why, once I wanted to be a _
Meistersinger_ myself, but I could not manage it, even though I tried
all I knew how. All that I gained by my efforts was ridicule and
mockery. In 'Voluntary Singing'32 I either got into false 'appendages,'
or 'double notes,' or a wrong 'measure,' or an unsuitable
'embellishment,' or started the wrong melody altogether. But you will
succeed better, and it shall be said, what the master can't do, his
journeymen can. Next Sunday after the sermon there will be a singing
contest by the _Meistersinger_ at the usual time in St. Catherine's
Church. But before the 'Principal Singing' there will be a 'Voluntary,'
in which you may both of you win praise and honour in your beautiful
art, for any stranger who can sing at all, may freely take part in
this. And, he! Conrad, my journeyman Conrad," cried Master Martin
across to the bench, "would not you also like to get into the singing-
desk and treat our good folk to your fine hunting-chorus?" Without
looking up, Conrad replied, "Mock not, good master, mock not;
everything in its place. Whilst you are being edified by the _
Meistersinger_, I shall enjoy myself in my own way on the Allerwiese."
And what Master Martin anticipated came to pass. Reinhold got into the
singing-desk and sang divers songs to divers tunes, with which all the
_ Meistersingers_ were well pleased; and although they were of opinion
that the singer had not made any mistake, yet they had a slight
objection to urge against him--a sort of something foreign about his
style, but yet they could not say exactly in what it consisted. Soon
afterwards Frederick took his seat in the singing-desk; and doffing his
baretta, he stood some seconds looking silently before him; then after
sending a glance at the audience which entered lovely Rose's bosom like
a burning arrow, and caused her to fetch a deep sigh, he began such a
splendid song in Heinrich Frauenlob's33 _Zarter Ton_, that all the
masters agreed with one accord there was none amongst them who could
surpass the young journeyman.
The singing-school came to an end towards evening, and Master Martin,
in order to finish off the day's enjoyment in proper style, betook
himself in high good-humour to the Allerwiese along with Rose. The two
journeymen, Reinhold and Frederick, were permitted to accompany them;
Rose was walking between them. Frederick, radiant with delight at the
masters' praise, and intoxicated with happiness, ventured to breathe
many a daring word in Rose's ear which she, however, casting down her
eyes in maidenly coyness, pretended not to hear. Rather she turned to
Reinhold, who, according to his wont, was running on with all sorts of
merry nonsense; nor did he hesitate to place his arm in Rose's. Whilst
even at a considerable distance from the Allerwiese they could hear
noisy shouts and cries. Arrived at the place where the young men were
amusing themselves in all kinds of games, partly chivalric, they heard
the crowd shout time after time, "Won again! won again! He's the
strongest again! Nobody can compete with him." Master Martin, on
working his way through the crowd, perceived that it was nobody else
but his journeyman Conrad who was reaping all this praise and exciting
the people to all this applause. He had beaten everybody in racing and
boxing and throwing the spear. As Martin came up, Conrad was shouting
out and inquiring if there was anybody who would have a merry bout with
him with blunt swords. This challenge several stout young patricians,
well accustomed to this species of pastime, stepped forward and
accepted. But it was not long before Conrad had again, without much
trouble or exertion, overcome all his opponents; and the applause at
his skill and strength seemed as if it would never end.
The sun had set; the last glow of evening died away, and twilight began
to creep on apace. Master Martin, with Rose and the two journeymen, had
thrown themselves down beside a babbling spring of water. Reinhold was
telling of the wonders of distant Italy, but Frederick, quiet and
happy, had his eyes fixed on pretty Rose's face. Then Conrad drew near
with slow hesitating steps, as if rather undecided in his own mind
whether he should join them or not Master Martin called to him, "Come
along, Conrad, come along, come along; you have borne yourself bravely
on the meadow; that's what I like in my journeymen, and it's what
becomes them. Don't be shy, lad; come and join us, you have my
permission." Conrad cast a withering glance at his master, who however
met it with a condescending nod; then the young journeyman said
moodily, "I am not the least bit shy of you, and I have not asked your
permission whether I may lie down here or not,--in fact, I have not
come to _you_ at all. All my opponents I have stretched in the sand in
the merry knightly sports, and all I now wanted was to ask this lovely
lady whether she would not honour me with the beautiful flowers she
wears in her bosom, as the prize of the chivalric contest." Therewith
he dropped upon one knee in front of Rose, and looked her straight and
honestly in the face with his clear brown eyes, and he begged, "O give
me those beautiful flowers, sweet Rose, as the prize of victory; you
cannot refuse me that." Rose at once took the flowers from her bosom
and gave them to him, laughing and saying, "Ay, I know well that a
brave knight like you deserves a token of honour from a lady; and so
here, you may have my withered flowers." Conrad kissed the flowers that
were given him, and then fastened them in his baretta; but Master
Martin, rising to his feet, cried, "There's another of your silly
tricks--come, let us be going home; it is getting dark." Herr Martin
strode on first; Conrad with modest courtly grace took Rose's arm;
whilst Reinhold and Frederick followed them considerably out of humour.
People who met them, stopped and turned round to look after them,
saying, "Marry, look now, look; that's the rich cooper Thomas Martin,
with his pretty little daughter and his stout journeymen. A fine set of
people I call them."
_Of Dame Martha's conversation with Rose about the three journeymen,
Conrad's quarrel with Master Martin._
Generally it is the morning following a holiday when young girls are
wont to enjoy all the pleasure of it, and taste it, and thoroughly
digest it; and this after celebration they seem to like far better than
the actual holiday itself. And so next morning pretty Rose sat alone in
her room with her hands folded on her lap, and her head bent slightly
forward in meditation--her spindle and embroidery meanwhile resting.
Probably she was now listening to Reinhold's and Frederick's songs, and
now watching Conrad cleverly gaining the victory over his competitors,
and now she saw him coming to her for the prize of victory; and then
she hummed a few lines of a pretty song, and then she whispered, "Do
you want my flowers?" whereat a deeper crimson suffused her cheeks, and
brighter glances made their way through her downcast eyelashes, and
soft sighs stole forth from her inmost heart. Then Dame Martha came in,
and Rose was delighted to be able to tell at full length all that had
taken place in St. Catherine's Church and on the Allerwiese. When Rose
had done speaking, Dame Martha said, smiling, "Oh! so now, dear Rose,
you will soon have to make your choice between your three handsome
lovers." "For God's sake," burst out Rose, quite frightened, and
flushing hotly all over her face, "for mercy's sake, Dame Martha, what
do you mean by that? I--three lovers!" "Don't take on so," went on Dame
Martha, "don't take on in that way, dear Rose, as if you knew nothing,
as if you could guess nothing. Why, where do you put your eyes, girl?
you must be quite blind not to see that our journeymen. Reinhold,
Frederick, and Conrad--yes, all three of them--are madly in love with
you." "What a fancy, to be sure, Dame Martha," whispered Rose, holding
her hands before her face. Then Dame Martha knelt down before her, and
threw her arm about her, saying, "Come, my pretty, bashful child, take
your hands away, and look me straight in the eyes, and then tell me you
have not long ago perceived that you fill both the heart and the mind
of each of our journeymen, deny that if you can. Nay, I tell you, you
can't do it; and it would, i' faith, be a truly wonderful thing if a
maiden's eyes did not see a thing of that sort. Why, when you go into
the shop, their eyes are off their work and flying across to you in a
minute, and they bustle and stir about with new life. And Reinhold and
Frederick begin their best songs, and even wild Conrad grows quiet and
gentle; each tries to invent some excuse to approach nearer to you, and
when you honour one of them with a sweet look or a kindly word, how his
eyes sparkle, and his face flushes! Come now, my pet, is it not nice to
have such handsome fellows all making love to you? But whether you will
choose one of the three or which it will be, that I cannot indeed say,
for you are good and kind to them all alike, and yet--and yet--but I
must not say more. Now an you come to me and said, 'O Dame Martha, give
me your advice, to which of these young men, who are all wanting me,
shall I give my hand and heart?' then I should of course answer, 'If
your heart does not speak out loudly and distinctly. It's this or it's
that, why, let them all three go.' I must say Reinhold pleases me right
well, and so does Frederick, and so does Conrad; and then again on the
other hand I have something to say against each of them. In fact, dear
Rose, when I see them working away so bravely, I always think of my
poor Valentine; and I must say that, if he could not perhaps produce
any better work, there was yet quite a different kind of swing and
style in all that he did do. You could see all his heart was in his
work; but with these young fellows it always seems to me as if they
only worked so, so--as if they had in their heads different things
altogether from their work; nay, it almost strikes me as if it were a
burden which they have voluntarily taken up, and were now bearing with
sturdy courage. Of them all I can get on best with Frederick; he's such
a faithful, affectionate fellow. He is the one who seems to belong to
us most; I understand all that he says. And then his love for you is so
still, and as shy as a good child's; he hardly dares to look at you,
and blushes if you only say a single word to him; and that's what I
like so much in the dear lad." A tear seemed to glisten in Rose's eye
as Dame Martha said this. She stood up, and turning to the window,
said, "I like Frederick very much, but you must not pass over Reinhold
contemptuously." "I never dreamt of doing so," replied Dame Martha,
"for Reinhold is by a long way the handsomest of all. And what eyes he
has! And when he looks you through and through with his bright
glances--no, it's more than you can endure. And yet there's something
so strange and peculiar in his character, it quite makes me shiver at
times, and makes me quite afraid of him. When Reinhold is working in
the shop, I should think Herr Martin, when he tells him to do this or
do that, must always feel as I should if anybody were to put a bright
pan in my kitchen all glittering with gold and precious stones, and
should bid me use it like any ordinary common pan--why, I should hardly
dare to touch it at all. He tells his stories and talks and talks, and
it all sounds like sweet music, and you are quite carried away by it,
but when I sit down to think seriously about what he has been saying, I
find I haven't understood a single word. And then when he now and again
jests in the way we do, and I think now he's just like us, then all at
once he looks so distinguished that I get really afraid of him. And yet
I can't say that he puffs himself up in the way that many of our
Junkers or patricians do; no, it's something else altogether different.
In a word, it strikes me, by my troth, as if he held intercourse with
higher spirits, as if he belonged, in fact, to another world. Conrad is
a wild overbearing fellow, and yet there is something confoundedly
distinguished about him as well; it doesn't agree with the cooper's
apron somehow. And he always acts as if nobody but he had to give
orders, and as if the others must obey him. In the short time that he
has been here he has got so far that when he bellows at Master Martin
in his loud ringing voice, his master generally does what he wishes.
But at the same time he is so good-natured and so thoroughly honest
that you can't bear ill-will against him; rather, I must say, that in
spite of his wildness, I almost like him better than I do Reinhold, for
even if he does speak fearfully grand, you can yet understand him very
well. I wager he has once been a campaigner, he may say what he likes.
That's why he knows so much about arms, and has even got something of
knights' ways about him, which doesn't suit him at all badly. Now do
tell me, Rose dear, without any ifs and ands, which of the three
journeymen you like best?" "Don't ask me such searching questions, dear
Dame Martha," answered Rose. "But of this I am quite sure, that
Reinhold does not stir up in me the same feelings that he does in you.
It's perfectly true, too, that he is altogether different from his
equals; and when he talks I could fancy I enter into a beautiful garden
full of bright and magnificent flowers and blossoms and fruits, such as
are not to be found on earth, and I like to be amongst them. Since
Reinhold has been here I see many things in a different light, and lots
of things that were once dim and formless in my mind are now so bright
and clear that I can easily distinguish them." Dame Martha rose to her
feet, and shaking her finger at Rose as she went out of the room, said,
"Ah! ah! Rose, so Reinhold is the favourite then? I didn't think it, I
didn't even dream it." Rose made answer as she accompanied her as far
as the door, "Pray, dear Dame Martha, think nothing, dream nothing, but
leave all to the future. What _it_ brings is the will of God, and to
that everybody must bow humbly and gratefully."
Meanwhile it was becoming extremely lively in Master Martin's workshop.
In order to execute all his orders he had engaged with ordinary
labourers and taken in some apprentices, and they all hammered and
knocked till the din could be heard far and wide. Reinhold had finished
his calculations and measurements for the great cask that was to be
built for the Bishop of Bamberg, whilst Frederick and Conrad had set it
up so cleverly that Master Martin's heart laughed in his body, and he
cried again and again, "Now that I call a grand piece of work; that'll
be the best little cask I've ever made--except my masterpiece." Now the
three apprentices stood driving the hoops on to the fitted staves, and
the whole place rang again with the din of their mallets. Old Valentine
was busy plying his draw-knife, and Dame Martha, her two youngest on
her knee, sat just behind Conrad, whilst the other wideawake little
rascals were shouting and making a noise, tumbling the hoops about, and
chasing each other. In fact, there was so much hubbub and so much
vigorous hard work going on that hardly anybody noticed old Herr
Johannes Holzschuer as he stepped into the shop. Master Martin went to
meet him, and politely inquired what he desired. "Why, in the first
place," said Holzschuer, "I want to have a look at my dear Frederick
again, who is working away so lustily yonder. And then, goodman Master
Martin, I want a stout cask for my wine-cellar, which I will ask you to
make for me. Why look you, that cask they are now setting up there is
exactly the sort of thing I want; you can let me have that, you've only
got to name the price." Reinhold, who had grown tired and had been
resting a few minutes down in the shop, and was now preparing to ascend
the scaffolding again, heard Holzschuer's words and said, turning his
head towards the old gentleman, "Marry, my friend Herr Holzschuer, you
need not set your heart upon this cask; we are making it for his
Lordship the Bishop of Bamberg." Master Martin, his arms folded on his
back, his left foot planted forward, his head thrown back in his neck,
blinked at the cask and said proudly, "My dear master, you might have
seen from the carefully selected wood and the great pains taken in the
work that a masterpiece like that was meant for a prince's34 cellar. My
journeyman Reinhold has said the truth; don't set your heart on a piece
of work like that. But when the vintage is over I will get you a plain
strong little cask made, such as will be suitable for your cellar." Old
Holzschuer, incensed at Master Martin's pride, replied that his gold
pieces weighed just as much as the Bishop of Bamberg's, and that he
hoped he could get good work elsewhere for ready money. Master Martin,
although fuming with rage, controlled himself with difficulty; he would
not by any means like to offend old Herr Holzschuer, who stood so high
in the esteem both of the Council and of all the burghers. At this
moment Conrad struck mightier blows than ever with his mallet, so that
the whole shop rang and cracked; then Master Martin's internal rage
boiled over, and he shouted vehemently, "Conrad, you blockhead, what do
you mean by striking so blindly and heedlessly? do you mean to break my
cask in pieces?" "Ho! ho!" replied Conrad, looking round defiantly at
his master, "Ho! ho! my comical little master, and why should I not?"
And therewith he dealt such a terrible blow at the cask that the
strongest hoop sprang, rattling, and knocked Reinhold down from the
narrow plank on the scaffolding; and it was further evident from the
hollow echo that a stave had been broken as well. Completely mastered
by his furious anger, Master Martin snatched out of Valentine's hand
the bar he was shaving, and striding towards the cask, dealt Conrad a
good sound stroke with it on the back, shouting, "You cursed dog!" As
soon as Conrad felt the blow he wheeled sharply round, and after
standing for a moment as if bereft of his senses, his eyes blazed up
with fury, he ground his teeth, and screamed, "Struck! struck!" Then at
one bound he was down from the scaffolding, had snatched up an adze
that lay on the floor, and aimed a powerful stroke at his master; had
not Frederick pulled Martin on one side the blow would have split his
head; as it was, the adze only grazed his arm, from which, however, the
blood at once began to spurt out. Martin, fat and helpless as he was,
lost his equilibrium and fell over the bench, at which one of the
apprentices was working, into the floor. They all threw themselves upon
Conrad, who was frantic, flourishing his bloody adze in the air, and
shouting and screaming in a terrible voice, "Let him go to hell! To
hell with him!" Hurling them all off with the strength of a giant, he
was preparing to deal a second blow at his poor master, who was gasping
for breath and groaning on the floor,--a blow that would have
completely done for him--when Rose, pale as a corpse with fright,
appeared in the shop-door. As soon as Conrad observed her he stood as
if turned to a pillar of stone, the adze suspended in the air. Then he
threw the tool away from him, struck his hands together upon his chest,
and cried in a voice that went to everybody's heart, "Oh, good God!
good God! what have I done?" and away he rushed out of the shop. No one
thought of following him.
Now poor Master Martin was after some difficulty lifted up; it was
found, however, that the adze had only penetrated into the thick fleshy
part of the arm, and the wound could not therefore be called serious.
Old Herr Holzschuer, whom Martin had involved with him in his fall, was
pulled out from beneath the shavings, and Dame Martha's children, who
ceased not to scream and cry over good Father Martin, were appeased as
far as that could be done. As for Martin himself, he was quite dazed,
and said if only that devil of a bad journeyman had not spoilt his fine
cask he should not make much account of the wound.
Sedan chairs were brought for the old gentlemen, for Holzschuer also
had bruised himself rather in his fall. He hurled reproaches at a trade
in which they employed such murderous tools, and conjured Frederick to
come back to his beautiful art of casting and working in the precious
metals, and the sooner the better.
As soon as the dusk of evening began to creep up over the sky,
Frederick, and along with him Reinhold, whom the hoop had struck rather
sharply, and who felt as if every limb was benumbed, strode back into
the town in very low spirits. Then they heard a soft sighing and
groaning behind a hedge. They stood still, and a tall figure at once
rose up; they immediately recognised Conrad, and began to withdraw
timidly. But he addressed them in a tearful voice, saying, "You need
not be so frightened at me, my good comrades; of course you take me for
a devilish murderous brute, but I am not--indeed I am not so. I could
not do otherwise; I _ought_ to have struck down the fat old master, and
by rights I ought to go along with you and do it _now_, if I only
could. But no, no; it's all over. Remember me to pretty Rose, whom I
love so above all reason. Tell her I will bear her flowers on my heart
all my life long, I will adorn myself with them when I--but she will
perhaps hear of me again some day. Farewell! farewell! my good, brave
comrades." And Conrad ran away across the field without once stopping.
Reinhold said, "There is something peculiar about this young fellow; we
can't weigh or measure this deed by any ordinary standard. Perhaps the
future will unfold to us the secret that has lain heavy upon his
breast."
_Reinhold leaves Master Martin's house._
If formerly there had been merry days in Master Martin's workshop, so
now they were proportionately dull. Reinhold, incapable of work,
remained confined to his room; Martin, his wounded arm in a sling, was
incessantly abusing the good-for-nothing stranger-apprentice, and
railing at him for the mischief he had wrought Rose, and even Dame
Martha and her children, avoided the scene of the rash savage deed, and
so Frederick's blows fell dull and melancholy enough, like a
woodcutter's in a lonely wood in winter time, for to Frederick it was
now left to finish the big cask alone, and a hard task it was.