Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan Source: http://www.archive.org/details/banishedtrfroml00haufgoog
2. Numbering of chapters is in error starting with chapter XIII. The Chapter number XIII. is duplicated; therefore all numbers after XIII. are short by one.
THE BANISHED:
A
SWABIAN HISTORICAL TALE.
EDITED BY
JAMES MORIER, ESQ.
AUTHOR OF HAJII BABA, &c.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON,
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1839.
LONDON: PRINTED BY J. B. NICHOLS AND SON, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET.
EDITOR'S NOTICE.
The Editor feels that he stands very much in the same position as the man who plies at the door of the exhibition of some historical picture or panorama, and who is ready to assure his visitors that the exhibition is quite worthy their notice, and that they will neither lose their time nor their money in inspecting it. Although, in this instance, he really has no other merit than that of being trumpeter to the show, yet he can in honesty assert, that, what he has been called upon to read he sincerely approves, and maintains that the translator of this work merits the approbation and patronage of the public for having brought to its notice, and adapted to its reading, a story full of historical interest, of graphic incidents, of good moral tendency, and true in the illustration of the national manners of Germany in the sixteenth century.
J. M.
London, March 25, 1839.
THE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
The tale of The Banished has been taken from a German work;[1] but though considerable freedom has been used in the translation from the original text; the subject matter has been closely followed. It appears from the preface of M. Hauff, the author of this work, that his aim was to give an account of an event which took place in his own country, together with a faithful description of the national manners and customs of the period of which he treats; and being written at the time when the author of Waverley was as yet only known as the "Great Unknown," it would seem that M. Hauff, impelled by the fascination of his writings, has adopted him as his model, as may be seen from the following extract from his introductory chapter: "Thanks to the happy pencil of the renowned novelist, who has painted in such lively colours the green banks of the Tweed, the Highlands of Scotland, old England's merry day, and the romantic poverty of Wales, all classes among us read his admirable works with avidity, rendered into our language in faithful translations, and realizing to our minds historical events which happened some six or seven hundred years back. Such is the effect produced by these writings, that we shall be as well, if not better, acquainted with the histories of those countries than if we had investigated them ourselves with the most learned research. The Great Unknown--having opened the stores of his chronicles, and brought in review before our wondering eyes image after image, in almost endless succession--has, by the power of his magic, taught us that we are likely to become better versed in the details of Scotland's history than our own; and by its means also has made us feel less intimate with the religious and secular transactions our own country in past ages, than with those of the Presbyterians and Episcopalians of Albion.
"But we naturally ask ourselves in what consists the enchantment by which the great magician has so wonderfully drawn our attention towards the mountainous district of his own land? Are the Scottish hills clothed with a hue of brighter green than the Harz or Taunus mountains, or the heights of the Black Forest? Do the blue waters of the Tweed reflect a more brilliant colour than the Neckar or Danube; or do its banks surpass those of the Rhine in beautiful landscape? May be, that Scotland is gifted with a race of men possessing qualities of greater interest than we can boast of in Germany; and that the blood which flowed in the veins of their ancestors was of a deeper hue than that of Swabians and Saxons of olden times; or again, that their women are more engaging, and their maidens more beautiful, than the daughters of Germany?
"We have reason to doubt all these superior advantages, and believe that the magic of the Great Unknown consists principally in placing before the reader historical facts which his fertile genius has faithfully dressed up in the manners and costumes of the day in which they took place. With the same view our object has been to bring to light an event of our own country; in which we have been guided by historical truth alone."
The translator having visited the spot where one of the principal scenes of the narrative took place, his attention was drawn to the original work, as giving a faithful description of its locality, and containing an interesting account of an important occurrence in Swabian history.
On Whitsunday, 1832, he formed one of a large concourse of people assembled from all parts of the country, dressed in their gayest colours and costumes, to join in the procession, which, headed by the King of Würtemberg in person, with all his family, met for the express purpose, as is generally the case every year on the same day, to visit the "Nebelhöhle, or misty cavern, and the rock of Lichtenstein." This spot, celebrated from the circumstances which the reader will become acquainted with in the course of the narrative, is situated near the town of Reutlingen, about thirty miles from Stuttgardt, in a country full of picturesque beauties, and worthy of itself, as an object of natural curiosity, to attract the attention of the traveller. The translator cannot but hope, that when it is better known, which, through the means of the following pages, he flatters himself may be the case, that the beaten track pursued by the tourist on the Rhine may find variety by a visit to the rock of Lichtenstein, and to the Nebelhöhle; and that he thus may have been the means of producing that greatest of desiderata to the desultory traveller, viz. "an object."
FOOTNOTE TO THE "TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE":
[Footnote 1]: Lichtenstein.
INTRODUCTION
"His varied life is toss'd on Faction's wave,
A leader now, and now a party's slave;
And shall his character a waverer's seem?
If that's a fault, impute it not to him;
He play'd a stake, and fortune threw the die;
So look upon him with a brother's eye.
We would for him an interest create,
His own his virtues, and his faults his fate."
Schiller.
The events which are recorded in the following pages, took place in that part of Southern Germany situated between the mountainous district of the Alb and the Black Forest. That portion of territory is bounded by the former on the north-west, by a long chain of hills of unequal height and breadth, extending southward, whilst the forest, commencing from the sources of the Danube, stretches uninterruptedly to the banks of the Rhine. Being composed of woods of black pine, it forms a dark background to the beautiful picture produced by a luxuriant country, rich in vineyards and watered by the Neckar, which flows through it.
This country, which is the "Würtemberg" treated of in these volumes, was originally of small compass. Its previous history, which is enveloped in darkness, tells us that it rose through various conflicting struggles to its present position among the neighbouring states. When we reflect on the time when it was surrounded by such powerful frontier neighbours as the Stauffens, the Dukes of Teck and the Counts of Zollern, we are astonished that its name should still exist as a nation; for the repeated storms of internal as well as external violence often threatened to erase it from the annals of history. There was a time, indeed, when the head of the reigning family was, to all appearance, driven for ever from the halls of his ancestors. Duke Ulerich von Würtemberg being obliged to fly his country and seek shelter in painful exile from the fury of his enemies, left his castles in the possession of foreign masters, his lands being occupied by their mercenaries. Little more was wanting to complete the extinction of the name of Würtemberg, than the parcelling out of the spoil of its blooming fields among the many, or the whole becoming a province of the house of Austria.
Among the many events related by the Swabians of their country and their ancestors, there is none more fraught with romantic interest than the struggles of that period, which are closely connected with the extraordinary fate of their unfortunate prince. We have attempted to bring them to life again, as they have been related to us on the heights of Lichtenstein and the banks of the Neckar, at the risk, however, of being misapprehended. We shall probably be told that the character of Ulerich[1] is one not fit to be exhibited in a favourable point of view in an historical romance. He has been calumniated in many instances, and it has been even the custom, when reviewing the long list of Dukes of Würtemberg, to pass over in silence the descendant between Eberhard[2] and Christoph, and to look upon him with a kind of horror, as if the troubles of a country were to be attributed solely to the conduct of its ruler, or that it were better to bury in oblivion the days of its misfortunes.
It may, however, be a question, whether the condemnation pronounced on the name of Ulerich, by his bitterest enemy Ulerich von Hutten, has not been exaggerated; for, to say the least of it, he was too much a party concerned to be trusted as an impartial judge. The voice which the Duke and his family raised in vindication of his innocence of the crimes imputed to him, having been too feeble to withstand the accusations and calumnies of his enemies, contained in the flagitious publication "Philippica in Ducem Ulericum," has been silenced by the revolutions of time.
We have conscientiously compared most of the contemporaneous writers of that most boisterous period, and have not met with one who absolutely condemns him. It is but just to keep in view the powerful influence which time and circumstances produce upon the minds of men. Ulerich von Würtemberg was brought up under the guardianship of bad counsellors, who, for the purpose of making him subservient to their views, fostered the evil propensities of his mind. As he took the reins of government into his own hands when boyhood is scarcely ripened into youth, justice at least compels us to make allowances, and though we cannot extenuate the outrages he committed during the course of his career, we are bound to look to the noble side of his character, in which we shall discover strength of mind and undaunted courage, in circumstances of extreme difficulty.
The year 1519, the date of our narrative, decided his fate and saw the beginning of his misfortunes. Posterity, however, may date it as the era of his prosperity; for, having passed through the ordeal of a long banishment, in which he learnt to know himself, he came out of it a wiser man and a more powerful Prince. From that period fortune favoured him, and each Würtemberger has cause to prize the latter years of his government, esteeming the religious reformation which this prince effected in his country, as the greatest blessing conferred on his countrymen.
The public mind, in the year 1519, was still in a state of great excitement. The insurrection of "poor Conrad,[3]" six years before, had been partially quelled, though with difficulty. The country people in many places still shewed symptoms of discontent. The Duke, among his many failings, had not the method of gaining the affections of his subjects, for they were oppressed by his men in office, under his own eye, and burdened with accumulated taxes to satisfy the wants of the court. The Swabian League, composed of a formidable confederacy of princes, counts, knights, and free cities of Swabia and Franconia, formed originally for the mutual protection of their rights, was treated with contempt by the Duke, particularly owing to his refusal to become a member of it. His frontier neighbours, therefore, watched his actions with the eye of enmity, appearing to wait for an opportunity to let him feel the weight of the power which he had despised. Neither was the Emperor Maximilian, who reigned at that period; very well inclined towards him, since he was suspected of having supported the knight Götz von Berlichingen, for the purpose of avenging himself on the Elector of Mains.
A coolness had subsisted for some time between him and the Duke of Bavaria, his brother-in-law, a powerful neighbour, owing to his having ill-treated his wife Sabina, the Duke's sister. Added to that (and which hastened his downfall) was the supposed murder of a Franconian knight who lived at his court. Chronicles of undoubted authority mention, that the intimacy between Johann yon Hutten and Sabina was such that the Duke could not behold it with indifference. One day at a hunt, the Duke taxed him with, and upbraided him for his treacherous conduct, and calling upon him to defend his life, run him through the body. The family of Hutten, and particularly Ulerich, Johann's cousin, raised their voices against the supposed murderer; and their complaints and the cry of vengeance resounded throughout Germany. The Duchess also, whose imperious querulous temper had, even as a bride, irritated the Duke, now broke all ties with him; and flying with the aid of Dieterich von Spät, appeared before the Emperor as his accuser and bitterest enemy. Agreements between the contending parties were concluded and not held; peaceable adjustments of their grievances were no sooner proposed than broken off again. The Duke's troubles augmented from month to month; but his proud mind would not bend to submission, for he believed himself in the right. The Emperor died in the midst of these altercations. He was a prince who had manifested much forbearance and mildness of character towards Ulerich, in spite of the many complaints of his enemies. The Duke lost in him an impartial judge, to whom he could alone look for aid in his present troubles.
The funeral service for the Emperor was being performed in the Castle of Stuttgardt, when a messenger suddenly arrived, seeking the Duke, with the intelligence that some people of the imperial town of Reutlingen, which lay within his frontier, had slain the administrator of his woods and forests on the Achalm. The townsfolk had, on some former occasion, insulted him very keenly. He entertained a bitter hatred of them; and this circumstance now gave him an opportunity to satisfy his revenge. Easily excited by anger, he sprang upon his horse, ordered the drums to beat the alarm throughout the country, besieged the city, and gaining possession of it, compelled its inhabitants to swear allegiance to him, whereby the imperial town became part of Würtemberg.
This was the signal for the Swabian League to assemble their forces, Reutlingen being a member of the confederacy. Difficult as it might otherwise have been to summon these princes, counts, and cities together, they did not hesitate, in the present instance, to obey the call, for hatred and revenge form a strong cement. In vain did Ulerich defend his conduct by written proclamations; in vain did he attempt to justify it in the defence of his rights; the army of the League assembled in Ulm, and threatened his country with invasion.
Such was the state of affairs in Würtemberg at the commencement of the year 1519. There was no doubt of the Duke gaining many adherents, could he have maintained the superiority in the field; but woe to him if he were discomfited by the League. There was too heavy a debt of revenge to be paid before he could expect mercy at their hands.
All eyes in Germany looked anxiously to the result of this contest. They essayed to pierce the curtain of fate, and to prognosticate what the coming days were likely to bring forth, whether Würtemberg or the League should remain master of the field. The following pages will withdraw this curtain, and expose the principal characters, who took a leading part, in due order; and we trust the eye of the reader will not turn away too soon fatigued with the narrative.
It surely is not an uninteresting occupation to peruse, in our days, an historical tale of olden times; and therefore it is our hope, as it has been our aim, to excite the interest of our readers in one, the events of which, though they occurred in so secluded a spot as the Swabian Alb, and in the remote, but delightful, vallies of the Neckar, we trust that the few hours spent in their perusal will not be thrown away.
Germany is not less rife in romantic events than other countries; and she can likewise draw largely upon the history of civil strife, equally interesting to our mind, as those recorded in the pages of more well-known states. We have, consequently, ventured to unroll an historical Swabian painting, which, if it does not exhibit the bold outline of figures, the same enchanting composition of landscape--if the colouring be less brilliant, and the pencilling less clearly defined--than the works of other authors, the artist may safely shelter himself under its historical truth, to make up for the deficiencies of composition.
FOOTNOTES TO THE "INTRODUCTION":
[Footnote 1]: Ulerich von Würtemberg was born in 1487, was invested in 1498 as Duke, with a Co-regency, which he dissolved in his sixteenth year, and reigned alone from the year 1508. He died in 1550.
[Footnote 2]: Eberhard with the beard was born in 1445, and died 1469. He was the first Duke of Würtemberg, and founded the University of Tübingen in 1477. Christoph, born in 1515, and died in 1568, was a prince whose remembrance is not only blessed in Würtemberg, but also in all Germany. He was the founder of the constitution of Würtemberg.
[Footnote 3]: So called from the name of a poor peasant, who headed his oppressed fellow-sufferers, in an insurrection for the redress of their wrongs, calling themselves the "League of poor Conrad."
THE BANISHED.
CHAPTER I.
What means the drum, that deeply rolls?
What means this warlike cry?
I'll to the casement, tho' my soul's
Misgivings tell me why.
L. Uhland.
After a succession of gloomy days the imperial town of Ulm, on the 12th of March 1519, at length was enlivened by a fine bright morning. Mists from the Danube, which at such a season generally hung heavily over the town, had on this occasion been dispelled before noon by the sun, and as it rose, the view of the plain on the opposite side of the river became gradually clearer and more extended. The narrow, cold streets, inclosed by their dark gable-ended houses, were also lighted up more bright than usual, and shone with a brilliancy and cheerfulness which accorded well with the festive appearance of the town on that day. The main street, called the Herdbrucker street, leading from the Danube gate to the town hall, was on this morning thronged with people, whose heads were so closely packed on either side against the houses (like stones of a wall) that they left but a narrow passage through the middle. A hollow murmur, the indication of great expectation, which issued from the crowd, was only occasionally interrupted by a loud laugh, caused by the severity of the city guard, celebrated for its strictness and its antiquity, who, using their long halberds, pushed back with appropriate rudeness whoever was unfortunate enough to be squeezed out of his place into the middle of the street; or perchance by some wag, who, by way of joke, would exclaim, "Here they come, here they come!" causing disappointment to the anxious assemblage of spectators.
The throng was still more dense in the spot where the termination of the Herdbrucker street enters the square before the town hall. It was there that the different trades were posted; the guild of boatmen, with their masters at their head, the weavers, the carpenters, the brewers, all displaying their banners and the emblems of their vocation, were drawn up, clad in their Sunday dresses and well armed.
But if the multitude in the streets presented a jovial holiday spectacle, much more was that the case in the lofty surrounding houses. Well dressed women and young girls crowded the windows, which were adorned with many-coloured carpets and floating drapery, giving to the whole an appearance of beautiful paintings set in splendid frames.
The corner bow-window of the house of Hans von Besserer presented the greatest attraction. Within it stood two young maidens, each strikingly conspicuous by their uncommon beauty, but so much differing in looks, height, and dress, that whoever remarked them from the street, might remain some time in doubt to which to give the preference.
Both appeared to be under eighteen years of age: the tallest of the two was delicately made; rich auburn hair encircled a fine open forehead, the vaulted arch of her dark eyebrows, the placid blue eye, the delicately turned mouth, the soft colour of her cheek, were unrivalled. She altogether formed a picture, which, among the beauties of the present day, would not have failed to be distinguished; but in those times, when a higher colour, upon a face partaking of the form of an apple, was more admired, it was principally by her graceful demeanor that she drew attention.
The other, smaller, and possessing in a greater degree the attractive qualities suited to the times, was one of those thoughtless, merry beings, who are conscious that they possess the power of pleasing. Her brilliant fair hair, according to the fashion of the ladles of Ulm, fell in long braids behind and in ringlets in front, and was partly covered by a neat white cap, full of small tasteful plaits. Her round fresh face was ever in motion: her lively eyes, still more restless, wandered through the crowd below; and her laughing mouth, exhibiting at every moment a set of beautiful teeth, evidently showed that objects were not wanting, among the numerous groups and figures of adventurers, upon which to exercise the playfulness of her wit.
Behind them stood a large, broad-shouldered, elderly man, with deep, stern features, thick eyebrows, long thin beard, already sprinkled with grey hairs, and his dress so entirely black, that its hue contrasted strangely with the rich and lively colours of those about him. He wore a thoughtful, almost a sorrowful look, scarcely ever relaxing into one more cheerful, excepting when a momentary gleam of kindness would shoot through his countenance, like a flash of lightning, at some happy remark of the merry fair one. This group, so varied in colours and dress as well as in character, attracted much of the attention of the bystanders immediately beneath them. Many an eye gazed upon the pretty girls, whose fascinating appearance helped to beguile the time of the idle and staring multitude, now growing impatient to witness the sight for which they were assembled.
The time was now approaching the hour of noon. The crowd became restless at the long delay, and manifested an increased impatience, by pressing and pushing upon each other in rather a turbulent manner; whilst here and there, tired of standing, several of the more sober members of the trades seated themselves on the ground. When, however, the report of three guns, fired from the fort on the hill on the furthermost side of the river, and the sound of the cathedral bells in deep tones began to echo over the town, order was speedily restored throughout the anxious ranks.
"They are coming, Bertha, they are coming!" said the fair girl in the balcony window, and put her arm around the waist of her companion, as she stretched out her neck to the utmost.
The house of the Herrn von Besserer formed the corner of the forenamed street, having a window on one side of it looking towards the Danube gate, and another on the other side commanding a view of the town hall, by which means the party were in a good position to see the expected sight.
The space between the two rows of the people was, in the meantime, with difficulty kept sufficiently open by the town guards. Anxious stillness now reigned throughout the immense crowd, whilst the deep tolling of the bells alone broke the silence.
The deadened sound of drums, blended with the shrill clang of trumpets, was shortly after heard, and a long brilliant train of horsemen moved slowly through the gate. The appearance of the town drummers and trumpeters, and the mounted body of the sons of the patricians of Ulm, was too much of an everyday occurrence to excite any great sensation on the present occasion; but when the black and white banners of the town, emblazoned with the imperial eagle, accompanied by flags and standards of all sizes and colours, came floating in the breeze through the gate, the spectators then became sure that the long wished-for moment was arrived.
The curiosity of our two young beauties in the balcony became doubly excited when they observed the crowd in the lower part of the street respectfully take off their caps.
Mounted upon a strong bony horse a man approached, whose stately carriage, affable and open countenance, contrasted strangely with a deep stern brow, and whose hair and beard were slightly tinged with grey. He wore a hat pointed at the crown, adorned with many feathers, a cuirass over a close-fitted red jacket, and leather buskins slashed with silk, which might have been handsome when new, but by dint of bad weather and hard work had now assumed an uninterrupted dark-brown colour,--large heavy riding boots came up to his knees; his only weapon, a singularly large sword, with a long handle, and without basket-guard, completed the figure of the warrior. The sole ornament worn by this man was a long gold chain of massive rings, twisted five times around his neck, having a medallion of merit of the same metal attached to it, which hung upon his breast.
"Tell me, quickly, uncle, who is that stately man, who at once looks so young and so old?" said the fair girl, as she turned her head a little towards the man in black standing behind her.
"I can tell you, Marie," he answered; "that is George von Fronsberg, commander of the confederate infantry; an honourable man, did he but serve a better cause."
"Keep your remarks to yourself, Mr. Würtemberger," she replied, whilst she playfully threatened him with her finger; "you know that the maidens of Ulm are staunch confederates."
Her uncle, however, not heeding her reply, proceeded: "That one on the grey horse is Truchses von Waldburg, second in command. He also owes a debt of gratitude to our Würtemberg. Behind him come the colonels of the League. By heaven! they look like hungry wolves seeking for prey."
"Oh! what a set of miserable figures," remarked Marie to her cousin Bertha, "they surely are not worth the trouble we have taken of dressing; but hold, who is that young man in black on the brown horse? just look at his pale countenance, with his fiery black eyes; on his shield is written, 'I have ventured.'"
"That is the knight Ulerich von Hutten," replied the old man. "May God forgive his calumny against our Duke. Children! he is a learned, pious man, but the Duke's bitterest enemy; and I say so, for what is true must remain true. And there, those are Sickingen's colours. Truly, he is there himself! Look this way, girls; that is Franz von Sickingen. It is said he brings a thousand horsemen into the field; that is him, with the plain cuirass and red feather."
"But tell me, uncle," asked Marie again, "which of them is Götz von Berlichingen, of whom cousin Kraft has related so much to us; he is a powerful man, by all accounts, and has a hand of iron; does not he ride among the burghers?"
"Do not name Götz and the burghers in the same breath," said the old man, seriously; "he holds for Würtemberg."
The greatest part of the procession had, during this conversation, passed by under the windows; and Marie remarked, with astonishment, the indifference and unconcern with which her relation Bertha viewed it. The usual manner of her cousin was thoughtful; indeed, at times she appeared in a state of absence to all surrounding objects; but on such a day as this, to be so perfectly insensible to the brilliancy of the passing scene, was, in Marie's mind, to be guilty almost of impropriety.
She was just on the point of upbraiding her, when her attention was called to a sudden noise in the street. A large, powerful horse was prancing immediately under their window, having probably taken fright at the waving ensigns of the trades. The high crest and flowing main of the steed sheltered the rider's face, and the feathers only of his cap were visible to the spectators at the window; but the adroitness and ease with which he managed his horse and kept him under command, proved him to be a skilful cavalier. In his exertion to quiet him, his light-brown hair had fallen over his face, and as he threw it back, his look fell on the bow-window of the corner house.
"Well at last there is a handsome young man," whispered Marie to her neighbour, so softly and secretly as if she feared to be overheard by him; "and how polite and courteous he is! Look! I really think he has saluted us, without knowing who we are."
Marie's curiosity was too much excited at the moment to notice the sudden change which her remark had produced on her cousin's countenance, who, to conceal her embarrassment, feigned to pay no attention to what she said. Bertha had hitherto sat unconcerned, viewing the passing procession with apparent cold indifference; but when she recognised the young cavalier, and returned his salutation with a slight inclination of the head, her cheek was suddenly suffused with a burning blush, her thoughtful eye was animated into an expression in which tender love and fearful anticipation predominated; and though the smile about her mouth might bespeak joy at the sight of the unexpected apparition, a keen observer could not have failed to discover, that it betrayed somewhat of pain and regret. Her accustomed self-possession, however, quickly regained the ascendancy over these conflicting feelings, and thus her merry cousin, whose quick penetration at any other moment would have been startled into surprise at the alteration exhibited on the features of her whom she considered wanting in tender sentiment, lost the opportunity of rallying her upon this occasion.
Marie, pulling the old man by the cloak, cried, "Here, quickly, uncle; tell me who is this with the light-brown scarf trimmed with silver?--well?"
"Dear child," answered her uncle, "I have never seen him before. Judging from his colours, he is in no particular service, but he, as well as many others, wages war against the Duke my Lord for his own individual pleasure and profit."
"Ah! there is no getting anything out of you," said Marie, and turned away, annoyed at her uncle's indifference; "you can distinguish all the old and learned men more than at a hundred yards off; but when one asks you a question about a young and polite cavalier, you can tell one nothing. And you too, Bertha, you open your eyes upon the procession below as if the host were passing. I'll wager you did not see the handsomest man of all; and thought only of old Fronsberg, when quite a different set of men rode by."
By the time she had finished these her angry remarks, the principal part of the procession had reached their station before the town hall; the few remaining cavalry of the league which came up the street possessed little interest for the two damsels. When the officers had dismounted and gone into the town-hall for refreshment, and when the members of the trades had been dismissed, the people by degrees began to separate, and then the party in the balcony withdrew also from the window.
Marie did not appear perfectly pleased. Her curiosity was only half satisfied. She took care, however, not to let her stern old uncle remark her disappointment; but when he left the room, she turned to Bertha, who had retired to the window again, and stood there in deep thought.
"Well," she said, "after all our anticipated expectations about this procession, there was nothing worth making such a fuss about. But I wonder who that handsome young cavalier was? I should like very much to know his name! How very stupid it was of you, Bertha, not to notice him; did I not push you when he saluted us? Light-brown hair, very long and smooth,--friendly dark eyes,--the countenance a little tanned, but handsome, very handsome! Small mustachios on the upper lip. No; I tell you----but how red you get again all of a sudden, as if two maidens, when they are alone, dare not speak of the pretty mouth of a young man. We often converse upon such topics here in Ulm; but I suppose at your good aunt's at Tübingen, and your strict father's in Lichtenstein, such things were never mentioned; but I see you are dreaming again about something or other, so I must look out for some thorough Ulmer girl when I want to have a little gossip."
Bertha answered only by a smile, which expressed more than she dared to utter; and Marie, taking a large bunch of keys which hung on the door, hummed a song, and went to prepare for dinner. Though she might have been accused of being rather over curious at the momentary appearance of a courteous young cavalier, still that did not make her neglectful of the important duties of a housekeeper.
She skipped out of the room, and left Bertha to her thoughts, which we also will not disturb, whilst she now recalls to her mind the endearing remembrance at gone-by days, which the appearance of the afore-mentioned young cavalier called up at once from the depth of her faithful heart. She dwelt on that time, when a hasty glance from him would cheer the passing hours; she pondered on those nights when in her retired room, undisturbed by her good aunt, she worked that scarf, whose well-known colours awoke her now as out of a dream. We will not at present pause to inquire the reason why, when blushing and with downcast eyes, she asked herself, whether cousin Marie had rightly described the sweet mouth of her beloved?
CHAPTER II.
And don't your heart now burn
While hope succeeds to fear?
Don't even youth return
To Swabia's land so dear?
J. Schwab.
The reader will have learned from the introductory preface the state of affairs. Duke Ulerich of Würtemberg had brought upon himself the bitter hatred of the Swabian League, by the obstinacy with which he braved so many confederated princes and knights, by the furious expression of his rage and threats of revenge, by the boldness with which he alone bid them defiance, and last of all by the sudden military occupation of the imperial town of Reutlingen. These were some of the principal circumstances which led to the rupture. Others of a more private nature fostered the bloody thoughts and thirst for revenge and plunder of those who made a plea of individual insult the cause of uniting their banners, for the downfall of the Duke and the partition of his possessions.
The principal officers of the Swabian League were the Duke of Bavaria, whose object was to procure satisfaction for the ill treatment of his sister Sabina, Ulerich's wife--the knights of the Huttens to revenge the supposed murder of the cousin of their ancestor--Dieterich von Spät and his companions to wash out the disgrace of family insult in Würtemberg's misfortunes--and to these were added the authorities of the towns and boroughs, who desired to recover Reutlingen again from the occupation of Duke Ulerich's troops. They headed the pompous entry into Ulm we have described in the foregoing pages, and arrived on the same day from Augsburg, where they had assembled. War was therefore now inevitable, for it was not to be supposed that they would propose terms of peace to the Duke, after having proceeded thus far.
But of a much more peaceable and cheerful cast were the ideas of Albert von Sturmfeder, that "courteous, polite cavalier," who had so highly awaken Marie's curiosity, and whose unexpected appearance had coloured the cheeks of Bertha with so deep a red. He scarcely knew himself how he came to take part in this campaign; for though he was acquainted with the use of arms, yet he had not been trained to them. Sprung from a poor but not obscure family of Franconia, he became an orphan at an early age, and was brought up by his father's brother. A learned education began even in those days to be considered an ornament to the nobility, and his uncle, therefore, chose the path of literature for him. It is not mentioned whether he made much progress in learning in the university of Tübingen, then in its infancy; thus much, however, is known, that he took a warmer interest in the daughter of the knight of Lichtenstein, who lived with her aunt in that town of the Muses, than in the lectures of the most celebrated doctors. It is also related that she resisted with pertinacious determination the different attacks with which many a young student assailed her heart. But although all kinds of manœuvres to conquer a hard heart were well understood in those days, (for the youth of ancient Tübingen had, perhaps, studied their Ovid better than those of the present), neither nocturnal love-complaints, nor yet furious encounters between rivals to gain possession of her, could soften the maiden's apparent obduracy. One only succeeded in winning this heart, and that one was Albert. The lovers, indeed, divulged to no one when and where the first ray of tender feeling dawned in their hearts, and far be it from us to wish to penetrate the veil of mystery of first love, or even to relate things which we cannot substantiate; we can nevertheless assert this much, that they had already reached to that degree of love, when true lovers swear eternal fidelity, amidst the interruptions of external circumstances, and which, in the painful hour of separation, proved their only consolation. Her much-loved aunt having died, the knight of Lichtenstein sent for his daughter to Ulm, for the purpose of finishing her education there, under the roof of a married sister. Bertha's nurse, old Rosel, remarked that the burning tears which she shed, and the longing eyes with which Bertha over and over again looked back as they left the town, could not have been given alone to the hilly country to which she was bidding adieu.
Shortly after Bertha's departure, Albert received a communication from his uncle, in which the question was put to him, whether after four years' study he was not now learned enough? He readily complied with this hint, and, without a moment's hesitation, prepared to quit the university; for since Bertha's absence, the lectures of the learned doctors, and even the charming valley of the Neckar, were become hateful to him.
The fresh air from the hills invigorated him with renewed force, as he rode through the gate of Tübingen towards his home, on a fine morning in February. In proportion as his bodily frame was braced by the freshness of the morning, so was his soul raised to that cheerful elevation of spirits so natural to his age. Youth vainly imagines itself capable, by its own powers, to bring about its most anxious wishes, and it is this reliance on self which inspires more confidence than assistance from others.
When Albert was left to his own thoughts as he paced his lonely way homewards, the contemplation of his future prospects were wrapped in mysterious uncertainty, which led his mind to compare his present position with the clear lake which reflects on its surface the cheerful objects rising around its banks, but veils the treacherous depth of its waters by its bright colours.
Such was the feeling of Albert von Sturmfeder as he rode through the beechwood forest towards his home. This road did not, indeed, lead him nearer to his beloved; neither could he properly call anything his own besides the horse which he bestrode, and the ruined castle of his ancestors. Upon this castle there was a popular joke, which ran thus:--
A house on three props you'll find:
Whoever enters in front,
Has no room to sit behind.
But although he was well aware of his poverty, and was awake to his needy circumstances, still he knew that with a determined will a hundred paths were open to him by which he might attain his object, and that the old Roman saying, Fortes fortuna juvat, had never yet deceived him. The present state of excitement in the country appeared to afford him an opportunity by which, after some active employment, he might hope soon to realise the object of his wishes.
The result of the contest which was about to commence, appeared at that time very uncertain. The Swabian League, though it possessed experienced commanders and disciplined soldiers, was nevertheless weakened through disunion. Duke Ulerich, on his side, had enlisted 14,000 Swiss, brave and experienced warriors; he could bring into the field, out of his own country, numerous and hardy troops, but not so experienced as the others; and thus stood the state of affairs in February 1519.
When every one around him was taking an active part, Albert also determined not to remain an idle spectator: a war, he thought, might open a path to lead him sooner towards the object of his desire than any other, and by which he might hope to render himself worthy of meriting the hand of his beloved.
Neither of the contending parties had, indeed, any claim upon his heart. People of the country spoke ill of the duke, whilst the views of the League did not appear to be influenced by the purest motives. But when he heard that several knights and counts, whose properties adjoined the duke's, urged by the loud, and, as he thought, just complaints of the Huttens, against the tyrannical conduct of Ulerich, had withdrawn their allegiance from him, he was induced to join the League; being unaware that they had been corrupted by money, and the seductive prospect of rich plunder, to overrun his country. But the news of the count of Lichtenstein being in Ulm with his daughter was, in truth, the mainspring which influenced and confirmed his determination; for he thought he could not be far wrong if he took the side on which Bertha's father acted, and therefore tendered his services to the confederates.
The knights of Franconia, headed by Ludwig von Hutten, approached Augsburg at the beginning of March, for the purpose of joining Ludwig von Baiern, and the rest of the members of the League. The army being collected, their march resembled more a triumphal procession as they approached the territory of their enemy, than regular military proceedings.
Duke Ulerich was encamped at Blaubeuren, the frontier town of his possessions towards Bavaria and Ulm. In the latter place the great council of war of the League was appointed to deliberate upon the plan of the campaign, and they then hoped, in a short time, to force the Würtembergers to a decisive battle. Things having gone thus far, negotiations for peace were out of the question: war was the watchword, and victory the only thought of the army.
Albert's heart beat high when he thought that his first trial in the career of arms would soon be put to the test; but whoever may have been placed in a similar situation will readily find excuses for him, if feelings of a more tender nature at times possessed his soul, and made him forget his dreams of battle and victory.
As the army approached the town, a fresh east wind wafted towards them the salute of the heavy artillery on the walls, and the sound of all the bells ringing to welcome their arrival from the opposite side of the river. He first obtained sight of the lofty cathedral in the distance, emerging from a fog, which, gradually clearing away as he drew near, displayed the town with its dark brick houses and high entrance-towers to his view. At that moment the conflicting doubts and anxieties which had long assailed his breast oppressed him more than ever. "Do those walls indeed inclose my beloved? May not her father, perhaps, contrary to my hopes, be the faithful friend of the duke, and concealed among his enemies? and if such be the case, dare I, whose only hope is to gain his good will--dare I stand opposed to him without blasting my own happiness? And should her father have really taken part with the enemy, can his daughter possibly be with him? But even were my best hopes realised, and should she be among the spectators assembled to witness the entry of the army, shall I find her still true to that faith she has plighted?" These and many other anxious thoughts passed through his mind in rapid succession.
The last distressing thought, however, gave way to a pleasing certainty; for if all kind of disaster were leagued against him Bertha's fidelity, he felt convinced, remained unaltered. He pressed the scarf she had given him to his breast; and now, as the Ulm cavalry fell into the line, their trumpets and cornets playing martial music, his natural cheerfulness returned, he rose prouder in his saddle, and as they passed up the gaily adorned streets, his quick eye examined all the windows of the lofty houses, seeking her alone.
There he perceived her, serious and thoughtful, as she viewed the passing scene. He fancied her thoughts might be occupied with him, whom she supposed to be far distant from her. He gave his horse the spur, which made him bound in the air, and the pavement resound under the clash of his hoofs. But as she turned towards him, and their eyes met, and judging by the joyful blush which animated her features, that she assured him he was recognised and still beloved, then it was that poor Albert nearly lost all recollection of his situation; for though he followed the march to the town-hall, so great was his desire to linger in the neighbourhood of his beloved, that little was wanting to make him forget all other considerations, and be irresistibly drawn to the corner house with the bow window.
He had already made the first step in that direction, when he felt his arm grasped by a powerful hand. "What drives you in this direction, young man?" said a deep, well-known voice; "this is not the way to the town-hall. Hallo! I really believe you are faint from fatigue: no wonder, indeed, that you should be, for the breakfast was a very meagre one. But never mind, my lad, come along. The Ulmers give good wine, and we will treat you to some of the best sort, old Remsthaler."
Though the transition from the raptured joy in which his mind for some moments floated, when he first saw his love, to the bustle before the town-hall in Ulm, was somewhat sudden, he could not help being thankful to his friend, old Herrn von Breitenstein, his nearest neighbour on the frontier of Franconia, for awakening him out of his momentary dream, and saving him from making a precipitate, foolish step.
He therefore took the advice of the old gentleman in a friendly way, and with him followed the rest of the knights and nobles, whose appetites were well sharpened by their long morning ride for the good mid-day meal, which was prepared for them by the imperial free city in the town-hall.
CHAPTER III.
The sound or music greets my ear,
The castle glares with light:
What means these varied sounds I hear?
Who banquets here to-night?
SCHILLER.
The saloon of the town-hall, into which the guests were ushered, formed a large oblong. The walls, and the ceiling, low in proportion to the size of the room, were wainscoted with brown wood; numerous round windows, on which were painted the arms of the nobles of Ulm in bright colors, occupied one side of it; whilst on the walls opposite were suspended the portraits of renowned burgomasters and councillors of the town. They were all painted in the same position, that is, the left hand supported on the hip, the right resting on a table covered with rich cloth, and looking down on the guests of their descendants with grave and solemn, aspect. The assembled company crowded in mixed groups about the table, which being in the form of a horseshoe, occupied nearly the whole length of the apartment. The brilliant festive costume of the grand council and patricians, who were to do the honours of the day in the name of the town, was not in keeping when compared with that of their guests, who, covered with dust, and clad in leather and steel, discomposed the silk cloaks and velvet dresses of their entertainers in no very ceremonious manner, and much to their annoyance.
They waited some time for the Duke of Bavaria, who, having arrived in Ulm a few days before, had accepted the invitation to this brilliant feast; but when his page brought an excuse that he could not attend, the signal by sound of trumpet was given to take places. The rush to the table in consequence was so impetuous that it was impossible to put the preconcerted friendly intentions of the council into execution, by which a citizen of Ulm was to sit between each two of their guests.
Breitenstein secured a seat for Albert at the lower end of the table, which he said was one of the best places. "I could have put you," said the old man, "among our seniors, near Fronsberg, Sickingen, Hutten, and Waldburg at the head of the table, but in such company etiquette and reserve will infringe upon the more important consideration of gratifying the cravings of hunger with ease and comfort. We might have gone further up also, among the Nürnbergers and Augsburgers; there where the roasted peacock is, which I declare is not a bad place; but I know you do not like such townsfolk, and therefore brought you here. Look around you, is it not a capital position? As we do not know the faces hereabouts it will not be necessary to talk much. On the right we have a smoking hot pig's head, with a lemon stuck in its mouth; on the left a magnificent trout biting its tail for joy; and in our front a roebuck, not to be matched for its tender meat and quantity of fat the whole length of the table or elsewhere."
Albert thanked him for his kindness, and took a hasty glance at those immediately about him. On his right sat a good-looking young man about twenty-five or twenty-six years of age. His neat-combed hair, throwing out a perfume of some highly-scented ointment, his small beard, evidently having just gone through the ordeal of warm curling irons, made Albert suspect, even before he was further convinced of it by his dialect, that he was a gay Ulmer citizen. The young man, perceiving himself to be the object of his neighbour's observation, made himself very officious. He filled Albert's glass from a large silver tankard, and pledged him to drink to a better acquaintance and good fellowship; he then offered to help him the best slices of roebuck, hare, pork, pheasant, and wild duck, which lay before them in great profusion on large silver dishes.
But neither the officious kindness of his neighbour, nor the uncommon appetite of Breitenstein, could provoke Albert to eat. His mind was too much occupied with the beloved object he had seen in entering the town to follow the example of his neighbours. He sat full of thought, looking into his tankard, which he still held in his hand; and as the bubbles on the surface of the sparkling wine dispersed, he fancied he saw the portrait of his love in the gilded bottom of it. No wonder then that his sociable friend on his right, seeing how his guest held his tankard, and refused every dish which he offered him, took him for an incorrigible wine-bibber. His keen eye, which was fixed upon the object before him, appeared to point the youth out as one of those perfect connoisseurs of wine, whose refined taste liked to dwell upon the quality of the noble beverage.
For the purpose of seconding the good intentions of the grand council, namely, that of rendering the feast as pleasant as possible to their guests, the young Ulmer sought all means to discover the weak point of his neighbour. It was, indeed, contrary to his moderate habits to drink much wine; but, in the hopes of rendering himself agreeable to Albert, he thought he would stretch a point this once. He filled his goblet full, and said, "Don't you think, neighbour, this wine has fire in it, and is high flavoured? It is not, indeed, Würtemberger wine, such as you are accustomed to drink in Franconia, but it is real Elfinger, out of the cellar of the senate, and calls itself eighty years old."
Astonished at this address, Albert put down his tankard, and answered with a short, "Yes, yes." His neighbour, however, would not let him off so easily. "It appears, nevertheless," he went on to say, "that it is not quite the thing you like, but I know a remedy. Holloa, there!" he called to a servant, "bring a can of Uhlbacher here. Now just taste this; it grows hard by the castle of Würtemberg. You must pledge me in this toast: 'A short war and glorious victory.'"
Albert, to whom this conversation was in no wise agreeable, thought to turn it to something which might lead to a more interesting topic. "You have much beauty here in Ulm," said he; "at least, in passing through the town, I remarked many pretty faces at the windows."
"Yes, in truth," answered the Ulmer, "the streets might be paved with them."
"That would not be amiss," replied Albert, "for the pavement of your streets is bad indeed. But tell me who lives in that corner house with the bow-window?" pointing to the situation of it: "if I do not mistake, two young ladies were looking out of the window as we rode by."
"So! you have remarked them already?" laughed the other: "upon my word, you have a quick eye, and are a good judge. They are my pretty cousins, on my mother's side: the little blonde is the daughter of the Herrn von Besserer, the other is the lady of Lichtenstein, a Würtemberger, staying with her on a visit."
Albert thanked heaven for having been placed so near a relation of Bertha, and determined at once to take advantage of his good fortune. He turned to him, and in the most friendly manner said, "You have a couple of pretty cousins, Herr von Besserer."
"I call myself Dieterick von Kraft, secretary to the grand council, with your permission."
"A pair of pretty cousins, Herr von Kraft; do you visit them often?"
"Yes, I do," answered the secretary, "and particularly since the daughter of Lichtenstein is in the house. Before her arrival, cousin Marie and I were one heart and soul, but she is somewhat jealous now, being piqued by the attentions I bestow upon her charming cousin, Bertha von Lichtenstein, which she thinks belong to her alone."
This confidential communication of the secretary to a perfect stranger, was not a little surprising to Albert, who very soon discovered that a certain portion of vanity was one of his weak points, though in other respects there was much to like in him.
This avowal, however, on the part of his new acquaintance, did not sound agreeable to Albert's ear, which caused him to press his lips together, whilst his cheeks assumed a deeper colour.
"Laugh as you will," proceeded the scribe, whose head began to feel the effects of the wine, to which he was unaccustomed; "if you only knew how they pull caps about me! My Lichtenstein cousin has, however, a disagreeable, odd way of showing her friendship; she is so ladylike and reserved, that one is afraid to joke in her presence, much less to be as familiar with her as with Marie; but it is just that which renders her so attractive in my eyes, for if she sends me away ten times, I am sure to return to her the eleventh:--the reason is," he murmured to himself, "that her old strict father is present, of whom she is rather shy; let him but once cross the boundary of Ulm, and I'll soon tame her."
Finding his new acquaintance so very communicative, Albert resolved to question him respecting the knight of Lichtenstein's view of the coming struggle, because that was an essential point, upon which his dearest hopes turned, and one upon which he had his doubts; but just as he was about to begin, he was interrupted by the sound of peculiar strange voices near him. He thought he had heard them before amidst the noise and clatter of the ghosts, as they recited in a drawling uniform tone a couple of short sentences, the purport of which he could not well understand. But now that he heard them repeated close to him, he soon learnt the subject of their monotonous import. It was the fashion in those good old times, particularly in the imperial towns, for the father of the family and his wife, when they entertained company, to rise about the middle of the repast, go round to each individual guest, and in a short sentence of customary usage press him to eat and drink.
This fashion was one of such old standing in Ulm, that the grand council would on no account dispense with it on the present occasion, and, therefore, appointed the father of a family and his wife, in the persons of the burgomaster and the oldest of the councillors, to perform the office.
Having gone round two sides of the table on their "pressing" embassy, it was not to be wondered at, that their voices became, by their efforts, rather husky, so that at last their friendly exhortation assumed almost the tone of a threat. A rough voice sounded in Albert's ear, "Why don't you eat, why don't you drink?" Startling, he turned round, and beheld a large man with a red face, who had addressed these words to him, and before he had time to give an answer, a little short man, with a high shrill voice saluted his ear, on the other side.
"But eat and drink and take your fill--
Such is our magisterial will."
"I have long thought it would come to that," said old Breitenstein, as he took breath for a moment from the vigorous attack he had been making on a haunch of roebuck; "there he sits and talks, instead of enjoying the excellent dishes of roast meats, which have been put before us in such profusion."
"With your permission," said Dieterick von Kraft, interrupting him, "though the young man eats nothing, he is a lover o£ wine, and a capital judge of it; I found it out immediately, for he cannot keep his eyes from the bottom of his cup; therefore do not blame him if he prefers old Uhlbacher before anything else."
Albert had no idea how he had become the subject of this extraordinary apology; he was on the point of making an excuse, when another event drew his attention. Breitenstein had now taken pity upon the pig's head with the lemon stuck in its mouth, which he very cleverly extracted from its jaws, and undertook, with great avidity and experienced hand, its further dissection. Just as he was in the act of swallowing the first mouthful of one of the choicest bits, the burgomaster came to him also, with the same exhortation, "Why don't you eat, why don't you drink?" Breitenstein looked at him with astonishment, but his speaking organs had no time to exercise their functions; he however nodded his head, and pointed to the well-polished bone of the haunch of roebuck in his plate. The little man, also, with the cracked voice, though it appeared unnecessary, would not be debarred repeating his friendly exhortation--
"But eat and drink and take your fill,--
Such is our magisterial will."
And thus it was in the good old times. At least no one could complain of being invited to a mere parade dinner. The table soon after assumed a different appearance. The large dishes and plates were removed, and were replaced by spacious bowls and large jugs filled with generous wine. The wine passed freely, and the frequent drinking of healths, at that time very much the custom in Swabia, soon produced its usual effects. Dieterick Spät and his companions sang burlesque songs on Duke Ulerich, and confirmed each oath or bit of coarse wit with a horse laugh or a deep draught. The Franconian knights called for dice, threw for the duke's estates, and drank to the taking of the castle of Tübingen. Ulerich von Hutten and his friends carried on a controversy in Latin with some Italians about a recent attack on the papal chair, which a monk of Wittemberg of no reputation had undertaken. The Nürnbergers, Augsburgers, and some few Ulmers had got together, and disputed upon the merits of their respective republics; in short, the room resounded with the din of laughter, singing, quarrelling, and the clatter of silver and pewter tankards.
But at the upper end of the table a much more becoming and sober hilarity prevailed. George von Fronsberg, old Ludwig Hutten, Waldburg Truchses, Franz von Sickingen, and other elderly grave men occupied seats there.
Hans von Breitenstein, who was a captain of the League, having now fully satisfied his appetite, turned his eyes in that direction, and said to Albert, "The noise about us here is not at all agreeable,--what say you? would you like to be presented to Fronsberg now, as you told me a few days ago you wished so to be?"
Albert, whose desire it had long been to become acquainted with the general, gladly accepted the offer, and getting up, followed his old friend. We will not stay to inquire the reason why his heart beat quicker on this occasion, why his face assumed a higher colour, or why his steps, as he approached him, were slower or less firm. Who has not experienced in his youth similar feelings on being introduced to the notice of a brilliant character, crowned with glory? Whose darling self, "I," has not sunk into utter insignificance before the giant-like idea we have formed of a renowned man! George von Fronsberg was accounted one of the most famous generals of his day. Italy, France, and Germany had witnessed his victories, and his name will go down to posterity in the annuls of the art of war, as the author and founder of a regular system, by which a body of infantry is trained to fight in ranks and companies. Tradition and chronicles have brought down the exploits of this noble personage to our times, and who can help calling to mind the heroes of Homer, when they read the following description of this man:--"He had such strength in his limbs, that with the middle finger of his right hand he could displace the strongest man from his seat, let him hold himself as firm as he might; he could seize the bridle of a horse on the full gallop, and stop him; and he could carry alone, from one place to another, the largest gun and battering ram of the time." Breitenstein conducted the young man to him.
"Who do you bring us now, Hans?" said George von Fronsberg, as he noticed the well-grown youth with interest.
"Look at him well, noble sir," answered Breitenstein, "and you will not fall to recognise the house whence he sprung."
The general regarded him with still greater attention; old Truchses von Waldburg also run his scrutinizing eye over his person. Albert was timid and shy before these great men; but whether it was that the friendly, frank manner of Fronsberg gave him confidence, or whether he felt how important that moment was to his future prospects, he overcame the shame of being put out of countenance by the looks of so many renowned men, and faced them with determination and courage.
"I recognise you at once by that look," said Fronsberg, and gave him his hand: "you are a Sturmfeder."
"Albert von Sturmfeder," answered the young man: "my father was Burkhardt Sturmfeder; he fell by your side in Italy: so it has been told me."
"He was a brave man," said the general, whose eye rested thoughtfully on Albert's features, "he remained faithful by my side in many a warm day of battle, and fell covered with glory and honour in defence of my person. And you," he added, "have you determined to follow his steps? Methinks you have left your nest somewhat early, for you are scarcely fledged."
Waldburg, a weather-beaten, hard featured old soldier, interrupted Fronsberg, and said, with a gruff, surly voice, "I suppose that young bird is seeking a few flocks of wool to repair the dilapidated family nest."
This rude allusion to the ruined castle of his ancestors, called up a crimson blush on the cheek of the young man. He had never been ashamed of his poverty, but these words sounded so full of scorn and insult that he felt himself, for the first time, really poor, as he stood before the more affluent derider of his name. His eye at that moment passing over Truchses Waldburg, fell on that well-known bow window, where, thinking he perceived the person of his love, his usual courage resumed its dominion. "Every struggle has its price. Sir Knight," he replied; "I have proffered head and arm to the League; the motive of this step can be but indifferent to you."
"Well, well," answered the other, "we shall see what the arm can do; but as to the head it cannot be quite so clear, if you take in earnest what was meant as a mere joke."
The offended youth was about to make an angry reply, when Fronsberg, taking him kindly by the hand, said, "Just like your father; dear young man! you will in time become like him, a stinging nettle[1] also,--we shall require friends whose hearts are in the right place. You will not be the last thought of, you may rest assured."
These few words, from the lips of a man who had won so high a reputation among his contemporaries by bravery and experience in war, produced such an effect on the mind of Albert, that the unguarded answer which floated on his tongue sank harmless. He withdrew from the table to a window, partly for the sake of not interrupting the conversation of the officers, partly to convince himself with greater certainty, whether the momentary apparition which he had seen was really his beloved.
When Albert left the table, Fronsberg turned to Waldburg; "That is not the way, Herr Truchses, to win over a staunch ally to our cause. I'll wager he has not quitted us with the same zeal he brought with him."
"Do you consider yourself called upon to raise your voice in favour of that hot-headed youth?" said the other; "it is not at all necessary; he must learn to take a joke from his superiors."
"With your permission," interrupted Breitenstein, "it is no joke to be jeer'd on account of unavoidable poverty; but I know you never bore his father any good will."
"And," continued Fronsberg, "you have no controul over him in any way, for he has not yet taken the oath of alliance to the League and is therefore at perfect liberty to go wheresoever he pleases. Should he serve under your colours, I would advise you not to push him too far, as he does not appear much inclined to submit to insult or contumely."
Speechless from rage upon being contradicted, which he never in his life could brook, Truchses first looked at one and then at the other with such fury, that Ludwig von Hutten, fearful of further strife, interposed between them, and said, "Come, an end with these old stories. It is high time to rise from table. It is now getting dark, and the wine is becoming too powerful for our friends lower down there. Dieterick von Spät has already drank twice to Würtemberg's death, and the Franconians have not yet quite settled whether his castles shall be burnt to the ground or divided among them."
"Let them alone," laughed Waldburg, scornfully, "those gentry may do and say what they please to-day; Fronsberg will soon bring them to their senses."
"No," said Ludwig von Hutten, "if any one has a right to talk in such terms, I am the one, the avenger of my son's blood; but until war be declared, intemperate conversation must be restrained. My cousin Ulerich speaks much too violently with the Italians about the monk of Wittemberg, and when he is out of temper, divulges things which ought to be kept secret."
Fronsberg and Sickingen now rose from table, and those about them following their example, the break-up was general.
FOOTNOTE TO CHAPTER III.:
[Footnote 1]: The same words which Fronsberg made use of in speaking of Götz von Berlichingen.
CHAPTER IV.
The eyes with which I gaze on her
Can pierce thro' wood and stone:
They're seated in my heart so true,
That beats for her alone.
Walther von der Vogelweide.
The small distance which separated the table from the window, to which Albert had retired, permitted his hearing every word of the dispute mentioned in the latter part of the last chapter. He rejoiced to perceive the warm interest which Fronsberg took in him, an inexperienced orphan; but, at the same time, he could not conceal from himself that his first step in his military career, had also brought upon him a formidable, bitter enemy.
The unbending pride of Truchses von Waldburg was so well known in the army, that Albert had little reason to hope Hutten's mediatory and conciliatory words would have much effect in soothing the unfavourable impression, which he feared his warmth in upholding the name of his family might have created in the mind of the general. And he was well aware that men of weight and consequence, governed by a violent, imperious temper, such as Waldburg's, do not readily enter into the feelings of those who have excited their anger, nor forgive the ebullition of a generous mind when assailed in its most vulnerable point.
A slight tap on the shoulder interrupted his thoughts, and as he turned round, his friendly neighbour at table, the scribe to the grand council, stood before him.
"I'll bet, you have not looked out for a lodging yet," said Dieterick von Kraft, "and it might be now somewhat difficult to find one, as it is getting dark, and the town is very full."
Albert acknowledged he had not thought about it; he hoped however to find a room in one of the public inns.
"I would not have you be quite so sure of that," answered the other, "and, should you find a corner in one of those houses, you must reckon upon being but badly off. But if my lodging would not appear too small for you, it is very much at your service."
The good secretary of the council pressed Albert with so much cordiality, that he did not hesitate to take advantage of his invitation, though he almost feared lest, when the effects of the wine had passed off, his host might regret his proffered hospitality to him, a perfect stranger. Dieterick von Kraft, however, appeared rejoiced at the readiness with which his proposal was accepted, and taking Albert's arm, with a hearty shake of the hand, led him out of the room.
The square before the town-hall was in the mean time the scene of much bustle and confusion. The days were still short, and the evening having broken in upon the dinner-party, torches were lighted, the glare of which illumined but sparingly the large space, and played on the windows of the opposite houses, and on the polished helmets and cuirasses of the knights. Loud calls for horses and attendants sounding through the town-hall, the clatter of swords, the running here and there of many men, coupled with the barking of dogs, the neighing and pawing of impatient horses, formed a scene, which resembled more the surprise of a military post in the night by an enemy, than the breaking up of a convivial festival.
Albert remained in the hall in a state of amazement at the sight of so many jovial faces and powerful figures, who, having mounted their horses, retired in small groups, singing and springing about in all the hilarity of youth. This nocturnal, fleeting scene, forcibly impressed him with the conviction of the uncertainty and changeableness of all worldly events. These same joyous associates, thought he, would soon be engaged in the dangerous concerns of war, when many of them, even before the spring should be fully advanced, would cover the green grass with their bodies, with no other price offered for their blood than the tear of a comrade, or the short-lived glory of having fallen before the enemy as brave men.
His eye turned instinctively to that quarter where he knew the reward which he hoped would crown the success of his present undertaking awaited him. He there saw many figures at the window, but soon the black smoke of the torches, which suddenly, as a cloud, almost covered the square, veiled the objects so as to give them the appearance of mere shadows. He turned away in disappointment, saying to himself, "Such are my prospects also; at one moment the present indeed looks bright, but in the next, how dark, how uncertain is the prospect of the future!"
His kind friend roused him from this foreboding frame of mind, with the question, "Where are your servants with your horses?" Had the spot where they stood been better lighted, our good Kraft might, perhaps, have discovered a passing blush upon the cheek of his friend at this inquiry.
"A young soldier," answered Albert, quickly recovering his composure, "must learn to look after his own affairs as well as he can, without the assistance and trouble of servants, and therefore I have not brought one with me. I have given Breitenstein's groom charge of my horse."
The scribe of the council applauded the young man for the self-denial which he exercised; but he could not help making the remark, that when once in the field he would not be able to assert his independence so easily. The attention which his companion paid to his own person, his well-combed hair, his neatly curled beard, convinced Albert that he spoke from his heart, and the snug comfortable lodging into which he was introduced did not belie this opinion.
The ménage of Herrn von Kraft was, in fact, a young bachelor's establishment, for his parents died before he attained the age of manhood. He had often thought of looking for a partner to share his comforts with him, but he hesitated to renounce the charm of independence; an advantage he thought not to be despised, flattered as he was by being honored and looked upon by the ladies of Ulm as a desirable match. But ill-natured folks whispered abroad, that it was principally owing to the decided disinclination of his old nurse and housekeeper to have a young mistress in the house, which deterred him from taking so important a step.
Herr Dieterick possessed a large house not far from the cathedral, a pretty garden on St. Michael's Hill, furniture in high preservation, large oak chests full of the finest linen, made of the yarn which the ladies of the house of Kraft, with their female domestics, had for many generations passed their long winter evenings in spinning; and an iron chest in the bed-room, containing a large stock of gold florins. As to his person, he was a good-looking, substantial man, always spruce in his dress, tight-laced, and proud of the fine linen which he wore: his deportment in the council was serious and full of business; he was well conversant in state affairs, as well as in those of his own household; and being sprung from a good old family, it was no wonder that he was respected and looked up to by the whole town, and that any pretty young Ulmer damsel would have thought herself too happy to become mistress of these united advantages.
Upon a nearer inspection, however, the interior of his friend's establishment appeared to Albert any thing but enviable. The only domestic companions of Herr Dieterick were an old grey-headed man-servant, two large cats, and the above-mentioned unsightly fat nurse. These four creatures stared at the new guest with large wondering eyes, which convinced him how little accustomed they were to receive any increase of guests in the establishment. The cats went round him mewing with raised backs; the old woman, in a cross manner, fidgeted her large high round cap, ornamented with gold fringe, out of its accustomed perpendicular position, and asked whether she should prepare supper for two? When she heard her question not only affirmed, but was ordered also (it was not quite clear whether it was an order or a petition) to prepare the corner room on the second floor for the stranger, her patience appeared exhausted; she shot a look of fury at her young master, and left the room rattling a large bunch of keys, which were suspended from her girdle. The hollow sound of her footstep, and the noise of the door, as she, in her ill-humour, slammed it after her, re-echoed through the dead stillness of the spacious corridors.
The old grey-headed servant had in the mean time pushed the table and two ponderous arm-chairs near the immense stove; and having put a black box on the table, with two candlesticks and a tankard of wine, he whispered a few words to his master, and then withdrew. Herr Dieterick invited his guest to take part in his usual evening amusement of playing a game of tric-trac, which the black box contained.
Albert was amused at the proposal of his friend, and particularly when he told him that, since he was twelve years old, he had been in the habit of playing a game with his nurse every evening.
The dead silence which reigned throughout the house was only broken by the occasional snuffing of the candles, the ticking of a large wooden clock in a black case, and the monotonous throw of the dice. Albert would gladly have heard some other symptoms of life, if it were but the grumbling of the old nurse, or her footstep sounding again in the corridors. The game had never possessed any charm for him, and more particularly at the present moment, when his thoughts were otherwise occupied. He was oppressed with a lowness of spirits which he could scarcely control, separated as he now was by a few streets only from his beloved, and anxious to satisfy his longing desire to see her again. The unfeigned pleasure which Herr Dieterick appeared to derive in winning nearly every game, imparted to his good-natured face something so peculiarly agreeable, that it made up in some measure for the loss of time.
When the clock struck eight Dieterick led his guest to supper, which his housekeeper, spite of her ill humour, had prepared in her best manner, for she spared nothing to keep up the dignity and honour of the house of Kraft. The secretary again essayed the powers of his eloquence, with which he sought to season the repast. He talked concerning passing events, of the coming war, and gave Albert to understand that his situation put him in possession of state secrets known only to a select few. But in vain did Albert hope to hear something about his pretty cousins. He attempted to sound him upon a subject so nearly allied to his dearest interests, namely, upon the views of the knight of Lichtenstein in the pending struggle, which he had failed to elicit at the dinner; but the secretary, whether to impress Albert with the importance of his confidential situation in the council, or that he really did not know the intention of Bertha's father, put on a more consequential and mysterious air than usual, and the only information he would impart was, that the knight was then in Ulm with some others of Würtemberg.
This news was at least satisfactory so far as the turn it was likely to give to his fate. His joy was now for the first time complete, in the satisfaction of having joined a party which, except for the great names at the head of it, was otherwise indifferent to him. "And so her father is also among those assembled here!" thought he. "May I not hope to have the good fortune to fight by the side of that good man, and prove myself worthy of my name, and of her I love?" He felt the conviction that Albert von Sturmfeder would not be the last in a battle.
His host, after supper, conducted him to his bed-room, and took his leave with a hearty wish for a good night's rest. Albert examined his room closely, and found it to correspond precisely with the rest of the gloomy house. The round frames of the windows, warped by age, the dark woodwork of the walls and ceiling, the large stove projecting far into the apartment, the enormous bed with a broad canopy and heavy stuff curtains, gave a dull, nay a melancholy, effect to the whole. But still every thing was arranged for his comfort. Clean snow-white sheets invited him within as he threw back the curtains of the bed, the stove threw out an agreeable warmth, a night lamp was placed in a niche in the wall, and even a tankard of spiced hot wine, by way of a nightcap, was not forgotten. He closed the curtains as he got into bed, and scanned over in his mind the passing events of the day. Having taken them in their due order as they had occurred, he had reason to be satisfied with his position; but, when he afterwards fell into the province of dreaming, they were all heaped up in crowded confusion in his mind, far beyond the power of unravelling. One object alone was perfectly clear to him,--it was the portrait of his beloved Bertha.
CHAPTER V.
And is it mere illusion? Say--
Or will that one so kind, so true,
To whom my heart and life are due,
Be to my arms restored this day?
F. Haug.
Albert was awoke the next morning by a tap at the door. He threw open the curtains, and perceived that the sun was already high up. The knocking increased, when, shortly after, his kind host entering, inquired how his guest had slept, and explained to him the cause of his early visit. The grand council had determined on the preceding evening to celebrate the arrival of the confederates by a ball, which was to take place that very evening in the town-hall. It was his province, as secretary to the council, to make all the necessary arrangements for this important affair. He had to secure the services of the town musicians, and to invite the first families in the name of the senate. But his first concern would be to hasten to impart this extraordinary piece of good news to his charming cousins.
He related all this to his guest with an air of great importance, and assured him he was so full of business that he scarcely knew where his head was. Albert had only one thought, that of seeing and speaking with Bertha, and he was so overjoyed in the anticipation of such-unlooked for happiness, that he gladly would have embraced the bearer of the good tidings, if prudence had not deterred him from thus exhibiting his secret feelings.
"I can plainly see," said the scribe, "the pleasure this news gives you; the love of dancing brightens up your eyes already. I can promise you a couple of partners, such as you will not find every day. You shall dance with my cousins; for I am their chaperon on such occasions, and I will so arrange the matter that you and no other shall be the first to engage them; they will be enchanted when I promise them the best dancer in the room." With this he left the apartment, wishing his friend good morning, cautioning him when he went out of the house not to forget to notice it, so as to be able to find it again at dinner time.
Herr Kraft being a near relation of the Herrn von Besserer, was entitled to free access to his house, and upon this occasion he made an earlier call than usual.
He found the maidens still at breakfast. Ladies of the present day may perhaps be shocked at the homely meal which our two belles of Ulm, in the year 1519, were partaking of when their cousin Dieterick entered the room. It was not an elegant déjeuné, served up in painted porcelain in the form of beautiful antique vases, or curious-shaped chocolate cups; no, the natural grace of Marie and Bertha was not impaired by the occupation of breakfasting on humble beer-soup,[1] at six in the morning, served up in the brown-coloured jug of that day. Can this avowal, however, prejudice the attractive qualities of these two beauties? In the eyes of some it perhaps may; but whoever could have seen Marie and Bertha, in their pretty little morning caps and neat clean dresses, would certainly, as cousin Kraft did, have no objection to partake of the breakfast with them.
"I can see at once, cousin," began Marie, after the usual salutations of the morning, "that you would like to partake of our soup, because, I suppose, your old cross nurse has not taken care of you this morning; but don't flatter yourself that you will get any here, for you deserve punishment, and must expect----"
"Oh, we have been waiting for you so long," interrupted Bertha.
"Yes, to be sure we have," said Marie, with her usual quick way; "but don't flatter yourself that we care as much about your society, as to be informed of the news of what is going on, that's all."
The scribe had been long accustomed to be received by Marie in this manner. He determined, therefore, to make himself as agreeable as possible, satisfying her curiosity by giving her all the gossip of the town, in order to pacify the jealous mood, which he thought he had excited. He was about to begin, when Marie interrupted him. "We know," said she, "that you are too fond of a long story, and as we witnessed most of your doings in the town-hall yesterday from the balcony, we'll say nothing touching your drinking bout there, which speaks not much to your credit; but answer me this question."--She placed herself before him in an attitude of comic seriousness, and went on: "Dieterick von Kraft, scribe of the most noble council of state, did you notice among the confederates, at the dinner given yesterday in the town-hall, a remarkably distinguished-looking young knight, with long light-brown hair, a face not so milk-white as your own, but not less handsome; a small beard, not so carefully combed as yours, but much more beautiful; a light blue scarf with silver----!"
"Oh, that is no other than my guest," cried cousin Kraft; "he rode a large brown horse, and wore a blue jacket, slashed at the shoulders, and turned up with light blue."
"Yes, yes, go on; the very one," said Marie; "we have our particular reasons for inquiring all about him."
"Well, that is Albert von Sturmfeder," answered the scribe, "a handsome charming young fellow. It is curious that you should be the first he noticed in coming into the town." Kraft then related all the particulars of what had passed at the dinner, how he was at once struck by the manly figure, the commanding and attractive countenance of the young man, who, by good luck, became his neighbour at table, and that the more he knew of him the more he liked him; so much so, that he had invited him to his house.
Bertha rose from her seat, and went to look for her work-box, turning her back at the same time upon both her cousins, in order to conceal a blush which flew to her forehead, and which proved that not one word of Dieterick's conversation was lost upon her.
"Come, that is very kind of you, cousin," said Marie, as he finished: "I believe it is the first time you have ventured to have a guest in your house. I should like to have seen the face of old Sabina, when master Dieter, as she calls you, brought a stranger home so late at night."
"Oh," said the scribe, "she resembled the dragon attacking St. George; but I gave her to understand pretty clearly, that it was not at all improbable, I might soon bring home one of my pretty cousins----"
"Ah, get away with you, and don't talk nonsense," resumed Marie, as she tried to withdraw her hand, which he had taken, blushing highly at the same time. She had never appeared so pretty in his eyes as at this moment. Bertha's serious face, in proportion as this flirtation increased, lost its attraction in his estimation, the balance of his devotion was all in favour of the animated Marie, who now sat before him in all the bloom of blushing beauty.
Bertha having slipt out of the room, Marie escaped the tender grasp of Dieterick's hand, and profited by this opportunity to turn the subject of the conversation.
"There she goes," she said, as she looked after her cousin; "I would wager she is going to her room to weep again. She cried so violently yesterday, that it has made me also quite melancholy."
"What is the matter with her?" asked Dieterick, with interest.
"I am as ignorant of the cause of her grief as ever," answered Marie; "I have asked her over and over again; but she only shakes her head, as if there was no hope left. 'This unhappy war!' is all she ever gave me for answer."
"And is old Lichtenstein still determined to take her back to his castle?"
"Certainly," answered Marie; "you should have heard how the old man swore yesterday, when the confederates entered! Well, he is devoted to his Duke, heart and soul, so he may go, with all my heart. As soon as war is declared, he intends taking his departure with her."
Herr Dieterick appeared very thoughtful; he rested his head upon his hand, and listened to his cousin in silence.
"And only think," she continued, "yesterday, after the entrance of the leaguists into the town, she wept more than ever. You know she was always serious and melancholy; but as if that circumstance were to decide the fate of the war, she is now quite disconsolate, I don't believe it is the idea of leaving Ulm that affects her; but I suspect," she added, mysteriously, "she has some secret attachment at heart."
"Yes, I have long remarked that," sighed Herr Dieterick; "but how can I help it?"
"You! how can you help it?" laughed Marie, all signs of sorrow on Bertha's account vanishing from her face at these words. "No, indeed, you need not flatter yourself that you are the cause of her suffering. She was in this state long before you ever saw her."
The worthy secretary was very much put out by this assurance. He thought in his heart that a farewell from him was the real cause of Bertha's state, and her care-worn countenance at this moment almost regained the preponderance in his changeable heart. Marie went on to deride his conceitedness, when all of a sudden he recollected the main object of his visit, which he had lost sight of during the conversation. Marie sprang up with a scream of joy, as her cousin imparted to her the news of the ball.
"Bertha, Bertha!" she cried out, at the height of her voice, so that her cousin, startled, and fearing lest some accident had happened, hastened to her assistance. But before she had scarcely had time to enter the room, Marie said again, "Bertha, a ball at the town-hall this evening!"
This news was a happy surprise to her also. "When? are the strangers invited also?" were her rapid questions, whilst a deep red covered her cheeks, and a ray of joy shot from her sorrowful eyes, scarcely able to contain their tears.
Marie and her cousin Kraft were both astonished at Bertha's rapid change from depression of spirits to sudden joy, and Dieterick could not help remarking, that he supposed she must be passionately fond of dancing. But he was equally mistaken in this instance, as he was when he mistook Albert von Sturmfeder for a connoisseur of wine.
Herr Kraft, supposing his cousins would now wish to occupy themselves with the important preparation of dress, rather than listen to anything else he might have to say, took his departure, to fulfil the rest of his weighty duties. He hastened to give the requisite orders, and to invite, in person, the principal guests, and higher families. He was received everywhere as the messenger of good news; for tradition says, that the pleasure of dancing is not the passion of the present day only.
His arrangements were soon accomplished. In those days, in order to be merry and cheerful, it was not absolutely necessary there should be a long suite of apartments, lighted up with flaming chandeliers, and furnished with numerous unmeaning things, which encumber the fashionable apartments of the present age. All was simple. The room in the town-hall was, from its size, well adapted for the purpose, and the humble rude-shaped lamps which hung on the walls, had, up to that time, thrown out light enough to show off the dresses and illumine the pretty faces of the maidens of Ulm.
But not only had the arrangements of the active scribe succeeded in everything he had undertaken on this important occasion; he had also in the course of his visits learned some secret intelligence which had been confided solely to the committee of the council, and the principal officers of the League.
Satisfied with the result of his various avocations, he returned home at noon, when his first step was to inquire after his guest.
Albert had been employed, during the absence of his host, in looking over a beautifully-written book of chronicles, which he found in his room. The neat painted figures which formed the first letter of the chapters, the pictures of fields of battle, and triumphal entries of victorious troops, delineated with a bold outline, and painted with peculiar care and labour, and which were dispersed throughout the volume, had amused him for some time. His mind being full of the warlike figures he had been examining, induced him to think of his own weapons, and of polishing his helmet, armour, and the sword which he had inherited from his father. He accordingly set to work, at the same time singing sometimes a cheerful, sometimes a serious song, to the great annoyance of the unmusical organs of Frau Sabina.
Dieterick heard the sounds of his agreeable voice as he walked up stairs, and he could not resist listening at the door until he had finished his song. It was one of those touching strains, bordering almost on the melancholy, which has been brought down to our times, and is to be heard even now in the mouth of the Swabians. Often and with pleasure have we listened to those strains on the charming banks of the Neckar, struck with the beautiful simplicity and lengthened sound of their harmony.
Albert went on singing:
Swift as thought
All our pleasures come to nought!
The charger yesterday he press'd,
To-day the death-shot pierced his breast,
To-morrow opes the chilly grave.
Such the measure
Of all earthly bliss and pleasure!
In that comely cheek of thine,
The lily and the rose combine;
But rose and lily fade and die.
Then resigned
To God's will, I yield my mind:
Should the trumpet sound a call,
Should it be my fate to fall,
Say "A gallant soldier's gone."
"Really you have a fine voice," said his host, as he entered the apartment; "but why sing such melancholy songs? I prefer a merry and cheerful one, such as a young fellow of twenty-eight ought to sing."
Albert put his sword aside, and gave his hand to his friend. "Every one to his taste," said he, "but I think that to those whose occupation is war, and whose life is in constant jeopardy, a song which carries consolation and encouragement to the heart of the soldier, gives death a milder aspect."
"That's just what I mean, also," said Dieterick; "but what is the use of being melancholy upon a subject which is certainly the lot of all? 'If you paint the devil on the wall, he will surely appear,' says the proverb; however, that saying does not hold good as the case now stands."
"How? is not war decided," asked Albert, with curiosity; "has the Würtemberger accepted conditions?"
"Conditions? none will be made with him," answered the secretary, with an air of contempt; "he has lived his longest day as Duke; it is our turn now to govern. I will let you into a secret," added he, looking big with importance and mystery, "but it must be strictly between us. Your hand! You think the Duke has fourteen thousand Swiss with him? They are scattered to the winds. The messenger we despatched to Zurich and Bern has returned. All the Swiss at Blaubeuren and on the Alb will be obliged to return home immediately."
"Return home?" said Albert, with astonishment, "and for what purpose? Are they at war themselves in their own country?"
"No," was the answer, "they are in profound peace, but have no money. Believe me, before a week passes over our heads, messengers will arrive to order the whole army home."
"But will they go? they came to the Duke's assistance of their own accord; who can order them to leave his colours?"
"That's very easily managed; do you suppose they will disobey the orders of their magistrates at the risk of the loss of their property, and imprisonment? Ulerich has too little money to retain them, and they will not serve him upon mere promises."
"But you cannot call that behaving honourably," remarked Albert, "to deprive the enemy of the arms with which he wishes to meet you in fair contest."
"In politics, as we call it," answered the scribe, thinking to establish his knowledge of state affairs in the mind of the inexperienced young soldier, "in politics, honour at best is assumed but for appearance sake; for example, the Swiss will explain to the Duke, in excuse for deserting him, that it would be against their conscience to allow their troops to serve against the independence of the free towns; but the truth is, that we can fill the pockets of the bears with more gold florins in order to keep them at home, than the Duke can to assist him."
"Well, after all, let the Swiss desert the Duke," said Albert, "Würtemberg will still be able of herself to send forth valiant and ready hearts sufficient to prevent any dog passing the Alb."
"We have thought of an expedient in that case also," replied the scribe, in explanation; "we will address a letter to the states of Würtemberg, and warn them against the insufferable government of their Duke, exhorting them at the same time to cast off their allegiance to him, and join the League in the laudable undertaking of crushing his tyrannous conduct."
"How!" cried Albert, with horror, whose generous mind was as yet unacquainted with the intrigues of politics: "I call that playing the traitor. Would you force the Duke out of his country by such underhand, unworthy means, and corrupt his confiding subjects to induce them to become his bitterest enemies?"
"I believe you have been thinking, all along, that we wish nothing more than that he should restore Reutlingen again to its former rank of a town of the empire? But how then is Hutten, with his forty-two associates, to be remunerated? In what way is Sickingen to satisfy the demands of his thousand cavalry and twelve thousand infantry, if he does not get a good slice of the country to pay them? And the Duke of Bavaria, do you suppose he will not require a share of it also? And we Ulmers, our frontier borders on Würtemberg----"
"But the Princes of Germany," interrupted Albert, impatiently, "do you suppose they will quietly look on and see you parcel out his rightful possession among strangers? The Emperor, surely, will not suffer you to hunt a Duke of the empire out of his country!"
Herr Dieterick had a ready answer to this question also. "There is no doubt," said he, "that Charles succeeds his father the Emperor: we shall then offer to place the country under his protection, and, should Austria throw her mantle over it, who can resist her power? But what makes you look so downcast? if you thirst for war, you will readily find means to gratify your wish. The nobility still hold to the Duke, and many a one will have his head broken before his castle walls. But we shall lose our dinner if we go on talking thus, come soon, and we'll see what old Sabina has provided for us." Upon which the secretary left the room of his guest with a proud step, as if he himself were already installed in the office of protector of Würtemberg.
Albert did not send the most friendly look after his host as he withdrew. He replaced his helmet again in the corner, which he had but an hour ago taken such pleasure in polishing; with sorrow he looked at his sword, that faithful piece of steel, which his father had proved in many a hard conflict, and which he had sent to his orphan son from the field of battle, as his sole legacy. "Fight honourably," was the device engraved on its blade, and he asked himself, could he now draw it in a cause, which bore injustice on its front? Instead of the contest being decided by the military talents of experienced men, and the bravery of individuals, as he had supposed, he now learned that secret intrigue, designated by Herr Dieterick "politics," was to settle the question! Instead of the exhilirating clash of arms, and the prospect of glory, which had induced him to take part in the struggle, he perceived that he was to promote the covetous plans of designing men! Would his honour permit him to assist these low-minded Philistines of townsfolk, in expelling an ancient princely house from its rights, which his ancestors had served with willing arm? No, the thought was intolerable; and to be tutored by this Kraft was still more repugnant to his feelings.
He could not however long entertain any ill-will against his kind-hearted host, when he considered that this plan was not concocted by his own brain, and that men, like this political scribe, when they get hold of a state secret, or some great political scheme, foster it as their own, and as such try to instil it into the minds of their adopted children, as if the wisdom of Minerva had sprung out of their own thick heads.
He therefore met his friend in good humour, when dinner was announced. The conversation between them was dull and common-place. The scribe's thoughts appeared to be occupied with some important project; and Albert taking a review in his mind of the whole state of affairs as they stood, consoled himself with the idea that, as the father of Bertha had sided with the League as he supposed, and such men as Fronsberg had proffered their services in the same cause, there might be less reason to doubt the justice of it than he imagined.
Youth's ever ready with its word; it seizes
The first that comes to hand, as 'twould a knife:
And thus ye cry or "shame," or "nobly done,"
On every thing--all's either good or bad.
These words of the poet well describe the feelings of Albert at this moment, and the sudden change in his sentiments was also to be attributed to his inexperienced mind in worldly affairs, acting as he did alone, without the aid and advice of any tried friend. Anticipating, therefore, the happy moment of meeting his love at the ball in the evenings where he would be able to speak with her, and from her lips have his doubts cleared up respecting her father's intentions, the gloom with which his mind had been overcast in his conversation with his friend the secretary gave away to the pleasing prospect of seeing her again.
FOOTNOTE TO CHAPTER V.:
[Footnote 1]: Beer-soup was a mixture of beer, eggs, sugar, cinnamon, and a little milk, with crums of bread, in quantity according to the taste.
CHAPTER VI.
"And in the merry dance, she whispers, to impart,