NANCI.
My captor, Wolfgang Count Pappenheim, the intended son-in-law of Duke
Charles, was the son and heir of the great Pappenheim of the German
wars, he who had received no less than fourteen wounds at the battles
of Leipzig and Prague, and was surnamed _le Balafré_, as he bore on
his person exactly one hundred scars received in the field of honour.
Young Pappenheim had won himself a high reputation for bravery in
those wars, especially by his defence of the castle of Wilsburg, a
stronghold of the Margravine of Anspach, when it was assailed by the
King of Sweden, who was anxious to secure it for the Protestants of
the Franconian circle; but when summoned, Wolfgang replied--
'I will never surrender to a king of Sweden, but shall perish here,
and the ruins of Wilsburg will be my monument.'
Gustavus believed him on his father's reputation, and consequently
abandoned the siege. Thus I had 'the mortifying honour,' as Sergeant
Alsfeldt told me, 'of having surrendered my sword to one of the
finest soldiers in the army of the German emperor.'
In a state of anxiety that amounted almost to agony, I marched
towards Nanci, along a road the darkness of which, as it was buried
among coppice, was in unison with the gloom and loneliness that
oppressed my heart. The cold white moon waned and went down beyond
the level horizon. The country thereabout, though richly wooded, is
flat and uninteresting, until the plain is bounded by the Vosges.
The scenery grew dark, and the orangeries, vineyards, and coppice
that bordered the way seemed black and sombre, as the stars, like
diamonds in a dark-blue dome, twinkled in the early morning sky.
The yellow dawn began to gild its eastern quarter above the distant
chain of the Vosges; green hill tops brightened in the rising tide of
light, and the vanes of village spires and of old châteaux embosomed
among oaks that were perhaps coeval with Lothario, king of Lorraine,
glittered in the rosy beams. Squirrels and rabbits fled before us
across the road from hedge to hedge; the larks began to sing
joyously, as the brilliant morning came to gladden the hearts of all,
apparently, but me; for I had but one thought--Nicola!
'Where was she, then? Where, how, and with whom had she passed the
weary hours since our fatal separation?'
I dared not trust myself to think, as footsore, weary, damp with
midnight dew, and covered with the dust of the summer roadway, I came
in sight of the city of Nanci, which I now regarded with horror as
the probable scene of a long and exasperating imprisonment, or (it
might be) a cruel and ignominious death; for I was in the hands of
soldiers who were without scruple, pity, or remorse--the fierce men
of the long and barbarous thirty years' war.
Alsfeldt, the sergeant who had charge of me, proved, however, to be a
kind and considerate fellow. Perceiving that I was without a
covering for my head, he attempted to appropriate for my use the hat
of the first man we met; a proceeding which I would by no means
sanction. He was fond of extolling the bravery of his colonel, the
Prince of Vaudemont, under whom he had served at the defence of
Wilsburg, and in some of the more recent battles of the Empire. At a
wayside beer-house I entertained him and the musketeers of my escort
with cans of beer each; an act of attention which won me their entire
good-will. The sergeant drank to my health and better fortune as he
raised the huge wooden tankard to his lips and held it there, with
the cheek-plates of his morion and his long, bushy moustaches dipping
in the froth, till the contents were drained to the bottom. The
soldiers all promised faithfully to prosecute every inquiry in the
city and garrison concerning the lady I had lost at the auberge of
the Three Willows; but they frankly told me that I had but a slender
chance of seeing her again if she was actually lured away by the
abductor of Laura of Lutzelstein.
The bells were being merrily rung as we entered Nanci, and we also
heard heavy salvos of artillery thundered from the ramparts.
'What does all this mean?' I asked, 'Has a victory been won?'
'No, monsieur,' replied the sergeant; 'but Duke Charles and the Duke
of Alsace pass in state through the streets to-day to high mass; and
if you would wish to see them proceed from the palace to the church
of St. Epurus, instead of marching you direct to where Count
Pappenheim ordered me, I shall halt for a time in the great square to
oblige you.'
'Thanks, sergeant,' said I; 'but as I neither wish to be stared at
nor mocked by the rabble, I would rather proceed to prison at once.'
'Nay, monsieur, 'tis to the palace, and not to a prison I am to
conduct you.'
Nanci, long celebrated as one of the most pleasant towns in Lorraine,
stands in the midst of a beautiful plain on the left bank of the
Meurthe, a river which rolls from the western flank of the Vosges,
bearing rafts of timber and faggots on its foaming current to the
lower country. Nanci is divided into two quarters: the old town of
the eleventh century, and the new one of the fifteenth. The former,
which is surrounded by walls, defended by towers, and enclosed by
gates and ditches, contains, or contained in 1636, the ducal palace,
the great square, which is planted with stately lime-trees, and the
ancient parish church of St. Epurus. The streets through which I was
conducted to this great square were old and quaint, crooked and
narrow.
By a magnificent gate resembling a triumphal arch, but defended by
cannon, and moreover decorated by green bays, garlands, and banners,
we entered the city. Within were guards of citizens clad in fine
velvet doublets, armed with sword, arquebuse, and partizan, wearing
the Duke's colours in their scarfs and on their hats; while bodies of
Lorraine troops and vassals, mingled with imperial pikemen, lancers,
musketeers, and artillery, under the princes of Vaudemont and
Lillebonne, filled all the thoroughfares. The Marquis de Marsal, the
Counts of Rosiers and Luneville, with other military nobles of the
two duchies, all clad in brilliant armour, with plumes in their
helmets, gilded truncheons in their hands, and orders of chivalry
sparkling on their breasts, rode through the streets, maintaining
order among the vast concourse of citizens and peasantry who thronged
them, to welcome and behold their gallant native prince--the hero of
Prague--proceed from his ducal palace to the city church.
In the principal square and near the palace gate my escort halted and
stood close around me. The sergeant placed his arm through mine for
the double purpose of protecting me and precluding an escape; and
there we stood unobserved among the masses of people who loaded the
air of the clear, bright summer morning with clamorous shouts, while
cheers, the tolling of bells, with the perpetual thunder of cannon
and bombardes rang on every side.
Exactly at the hour of ten a commotion was visible at the palace; a
thrill pervaded the dense multitude; all men present who were not
soldiers uncovered their heads, and all grew silent for a moment;
then there burst forth a hurrah of welcome as the procession issued
from the bannered portal of the palace.
Duke Charles had been long absent from his native city, serving under
his patron and protector the Emperor; and now, to celebrate his
sudden return, all the loyalty of his people had flashed up, as if to
gild with a farewell splendour the expiring glory of his house, and
power--for the ancient Duchy of Lorraine was doomed ere long to be
merged and lost in the growing kingdom of the line of St. Louis. Yet
his forefathers had been men of power and valour, who had transmitted
to him a noble inheritance, with numerous titles, for he was Duke of
Lorraine and Merc[oe]ure; of Calabria, Bar, and Guelderland; Marquis
of Pontamoussin, and Nomenay; of Provence, Vaudemont, Zutphen,
Blamond, Saar-warden and Salm; Hereditary Provost of Kummelsberg and
Governor of Anjou.