Pictures of German Life in the XVth, XVIth, and XVIIth Centuries, Vol. II.

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Title: Pictures of German Life in the XVth, XVIth, and XVIIth Centuries, Vol. II.
Author: Freytag, Gustav
Language: English
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PICTURES OF GERMAN LIFE

IN THE

FIFTEENTH, SIXTEENTH, AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES.

* * * * *

VOL. II.

PICTURES

GERMAN LIFE

In the XVth XVIth and XVIIth Centuries.

BY
GUSTAV FREYTAG

Translated from the Original by
MRS. MALCOLM.

_COPYRIGHT EDITION.--IN TWO VOLUMES_.

VOL. II.

LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY.
1862.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET.

CONTENTS.

SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES.

Introduction--Retrospect of the results of the sixteenth
century--Greater development of individuality--Defects of
Protestantism--A more elevated tone in Catholicism--Contrast of the
Roman and German systems--Political weakness of Protestantism--The
Hapsburgers--Discontent in the people

CHAPTER I.

The Thirty Years' War (1618 to 1638). The Army--Strength of
the Army--Cost--Method of conducting the war--Political events
of it--Organization of the army--The officers and the
banners--Pay--Discipline--Punishments--Camp followers and their
discipline--Description of a Soldier's Life before the War, by Adam
Junghans

CHAPTER II.

The Thirty Years' War. Life and Manners of the Soldiers (1618
to 1648)--Intermixture of nations--The camp; gambling; luxury;
scarcity--Superstition--Vices--Camp language--The
cartel--Booty--Partisan service and spies--Marauders--Oppression

CHAPTER III.

The Thirty Years' War. The Villagers and their Pastors (1618 to
1648)--State of the villages--Position and manners of the
peasantry--Effects of the war; money perplexities; quartering of
troops; tortures--Fear; insolence; lawlessness--Love of home--The
pastors and their endurance--Fate of the Pastor Bötzinger

CHAPTER IV.

The Thirty Years' War. Clippers of Money and Public Opinion (1618 to
1648)--The commencement of newspapers--Struggle of the press at the
beginning of the war--The _kipper_ time--Money coining--Depreciation of
the coinage in 1621, and its effect upon the people--Discovery of the
danger; excitement; storm in the press--Specimen from the flying sheet
_expurgatio der kipper_--Theological controversial writings--Enthusiasm
for Gustavus Adolphus--Character of that king--Dialogue between
the king and the envoy of Brandenburg--The fate of Gustavus
Adolphus--Opposition of the press to Sweden--Patriotism of the German
press--The Flying-Sheet, the German Brutus--The benefit of Sweden to
Germany

CHAPTER V.

The Thirty Years' War. The Cities (1618 to 1648)--Aspect of the cities
in 1618--Effects of the war; luxury; contributions; sieges--Religious
persecution--The Ladies of Löwenberg

CHAPTER VI.

The Thirty Years' War. The Peace (1650)--Festivities of the Ambassadors
at Nuremberg--Festive Fair in a Thuringian Village--Condition of the
country after the war--Its devastation--Attempted estimation of it--The
consequences to the Austrian provinces

CHAPTER VII.

Rogues and Adventurers--Their increase during the war--Their
history--The strollers of the middle ages--Gipsies and their
language--Gibberish and beggars--Travelling scholars--Robbers and
incendiaries--Foreign jugglers--Description of Strolling Players,
by Garzoni--Comedians, and influence of adventurers on
literature--Swindlers of distinction--Alchemists

CHAPTER VIII.

Engagement and Marriage at Court (1661)--Fashion and gallantry, a
foreign means of preserving decorum--Courtly Wooing and Marriage at
Vienna--The Royal families--The Elector Palatine Carl Ludwig--Letter of
the Electress Palatine Charlotte to the Emperor--Judgment upon her and
her husband

CHAPTER IX.

Of the Homes of German Citizens (1675)--Order and decorum in
wooing--Narrative of Friedrich Lucä--Change in expression of feelings
of the heart--Life at home--Prosperity of Hamburg--Letter of
Burgomaster Schulte to his Son in Lisbon--Strong sense of duty in
men--Berend Jacob Carpfanger--Sorrowful tidings from Cadiz

CHAPTER X.

German Life at the Baths (1690)--Distinction of ranks--Forms of
society--Bath life--Poggio--Baths in the Fifteenth Century, by
Poggio--In the Sixteenth, by Pantaleon--In the Seventeenth, by de
Merveilleux--In the Eighteenth, by Hess

CHAPTER XI.

Jesuits and Jews--Decay of the Church--Protestants and Catholics--The
Jesuits also weaker--Position of the Jews since the middle ages--Their
lucrative business--The Jews at Prague Story of Simon Abeles--Victory
of humanity over religious intolerance

CHAPTER XII.

The Wasunger War (1747)--Weakness of the German Empire--Division
of classes wider--Anthony Ulrich von Meiningen and Philippine
Cesar--Quarrels at the Court of Meiningen--Cause of the war--Diary of
the Gotha Lieutenant Rauch

Conclusion. From Frederick the Great up to the present time--Object of
these pictures--The mind of the people

PICTURES OF GERMAN LIFE.

INTRODUCTION TO THE SECOND VOLUME.

The year 1600 dawned upon a people who had gone through a vast change in
the last century. Everywhere we perceive marks of progress. Let us
compare any learned book of the year 1499 with one of 1599. The former
is written in bad Latin, poor in diction, ponderous in composition, and
not easy of comprehension. Of independent spirit and individual
conviction we find little trace. There are undoubtedly exceptions, but
they are very rare. Even the Latin of the earlier Humanitarians reminds
us of the subtle vapidness of monkish language, almost as much as of the
artistic phrases of ancient rhetoricians. We are sometimes surprised to
find in the theology, an undercurrent of deep-thinking speculations of
elevated grandeur; but it is a kind of secret doctrine of souls
depressed under the constraint of the cloister. It is certainly
philosophy, but deprived of vitality.

A century later we discover, even in mediocre authors, a certain
independent individuality. The writers begin to reflect on human life
and faith; they understand how to represent their own feelings and the
emotions of the soul, and struggles for their own convictions. Yet still
they remain too much bound by general prescription, and there is still
much that is monotonous, according to our views, in their judgment and
learning, and the cultivation of their minds. But in their prose we find
a peculiar and often original style, and almost always a stronger and
more active common sense. Three generations struggled for their faith,
many individuals perished for their convictions, and thousands were
plunged in misery. Martyrdom was no longer a monstrous and unheard-of
thing, and men maintained their own judgment on the highest questions.
There were few souls strong enough to do this a century earlier; then,
among the people, individuals passed their lives without any community
of ideas or activity of mind, seeking in the narrow circle of their
associates no advantage save that of support against insufferable
oppression; that alone was the purport of their struggles. But now
enthusiasm had been called forth in the nation, the individual felt
himself in close connection with millions, he was carried along the
stream by the unanimous impulse of all who were like-minded; he acted
and suffered for an idea; this was especially the case with the
Protestants; and even Roman Catholics partook of this blessing: so much
nobler had men become.

But every higher development produces new defects; the child is free
from many complaints which attack the youth. Protestantism, which had
done so much for the people, did not for a long time achieve its
greatest results. It required the unceasing inward workings of the minds
of individuals; it gave an impulse everywhere to self-decision, and yet
it could not raise itself above the worst principles of the old Church.
It wished still to dominate over the faith of its disciples and to
persecute as heresy every deviation from its convictions. Luther's giant
nature had been able to keep zealous spirits united, but he himself had
predicted that after his death they would not remain so. He knew his
faithful adherents accurately; their weaknesses, and their eagerness to
carry out their own views. Melancthon, who though firm in his theology
and in the every-day troubles of life, was embarrassed and uncertain in
matters of great import, could not command the fiery spirits of more
determined characters. At that Imperial Diet which was held at Augsburg
in 1547, the victorious Emperor had endeavoured, in his way, to compose
the disputes of the Churches, and had pressed upon the vanquished
Protestants a preliminary formula of faith, called the Interim. From the
point of view of the Roman Catholics, it was considered as extreme
toleration, which was only bearable because it gradually led back to the
Old Church; from the point of view of zealous Protestants, it was held
to be insupportable tyranny, which ought to be withstood. The
ecclesiastical leaders of the opposition rose everywhere against this
tyranny; hundreds of preachers were driven from their benefices and went
about with their staffs as miserable pilgrims, and many fell victims to
the furious reaction. It was the heroic time of the Protestant faith;
simple preachers, fathers with wives and children, manfully suffered for
their convictions, and were soon followed by thousands of laity.

But this enthusiasm was fraught with danger. The Interim was the
beginning of vehement theological disputes, even among Luther's
followers. The struggle of individuals became also the struggle of the
Universities. The successors of Frederick the Wise lost the University
of Wittenberg as well as the Electoral dignity; Melancthon and the
Wittenbergers were under the influence of Maurice and his brothers;
while the most zealous Lutherans were assembled at the new University of
Jena.

This race of vehement men was followed by another generation of
_Epigonen_. At the end of the century German Protestantism appeared in
most of the provinces to be secure from outward dangers. Then the
ecclesiastics became too self-sufficient and fond of power--the failings
of a privileged order. Influential counsellors of weak princes, and
rulers of public opinion, they themselves persecuted other believers
with the weapons of the old Church. They sometimes called down the civil
power upon heretics; and the populace stormed the houses of the
Reformers in Leipzig; at Dresden a courtly ecclesiastic was executed on
account of heresy, though perhaps there may also have been political
reasons. Thus this new life threw deep shadows over the souls of the
people.

In Roman Catholic territories also, a vigorous and extraordinary life
was roused. The Roman Catholic Church gave birth to a new discipline of
the mind, a mode of human culture distinctly opposed to Protestantism.
Even in the old Church a greater depth of inward life was attained. A
new system of rapturous excitement and self-denial, with high duties and
an exalted ideal, was offered to satisfy the needs of the souls of the
faithful. In Spain and Italy this new religious zeal was aroused, full
of resignation and self-sacrifice, full of great talent, eagerness for
combat, and glowing enthusiasm, and rich in manly vigour. But it was not
a faith for Germans. It demanded the annihilation of free individuality,
a rending from all the ties of the world, fanatical devotion, and an
unconditional subjection of the individual to a great community. Each
one had to make an offering of his life for a great aim, without
criticism or scruple. Whilst Protestantism formed a higher standard, and
imposed on each individual, the duty of seeking independently by an
effort of his own mind, the key to divine and human knowledge, the new
Catholicism grasped his whole being with an iron hand. Protestantism
was, notwithstanding all the loyalty of the Reformers, essentially
democratic; the new Catholicism concentrated all the powers of men, of
which it demanded the most unhesitating submission, in a spiritual
tyranny, under the dominion of the head of the Church, and afterwards
under that of the State.

The great representatives of this new tendency in Church and State were
the Jesuits. In the impassioned soul of a Spanish nobleman smouldered
the gloomy fire of the new Catholic teaching; amidst ascetic penances,
in the restricted intercourse of a small brotherhood, the system was
formed. In the year 1540 the Pope confirmed the brotherhood, and shortly
after, the first members of the order hastened across the Alps and the
Rhine into Germany, and began already to rule in the council of Trent.
Their unhesitating determination strengthened the weak, and frightened
the wavering. With wonderful rapidity the order established itself in
Germany, where the old faith still subsisted along with the new; it
acquired favour with the higher classes, and a crowd of adherents
amongst the people. Some princes gave up to it the spiritual dominion of
their countries, above all the Hapsburgers; and besides them, the German
princes of the Church, who could not uphold by their own intrinsic
strength, the wavering faith of their subjects: and lastly the Dukes of
Bavaria, who for more than a century had been in the habit of seeking
advantage for their house in a close union with Rome. When the
brotherhood first entered Germany the whole nation was on the point of
becoming Protestant; even at the beginning of the Thirty years' war,
after losses and successes on both sides, three fourths of Germany were
Protestant; but in the year 1650, the whole of the new Imperial state,
and the largest third of the rest of Germany, had again become Roman
Catholic. So well did these foreign priests serve their Church.

The way in which they worked was marvellous; cautiously, step by step,
with endless schemes, and firm determination, never wavering, bending to
the storm, and indefatigably returning again, never giving up what they
had once begun, pursuing the smallest, as well as the greatest plans at
any sacrifice, this society presented the only specimen of an
unconditional submission of the will, and surrender of everything to one
idea, which did not find expression in individuals, but only in the
society. The order governed, but no single member of it was free, not
even the General of the order.

The society gained honour and favour; it understood well how to make
itself beloved, or indispensable wherever it came; but it never found a
home in Germany. Its fearful principle of mystery and secrecy was felt,
not only by the Protestants, who endeavoured to break its power by
their paper weapons, the flying-sheets, and made it answerable for
every political misdeed, whether far or near, but also in the Roman
Catholic countries. Even there it was only a guest, influential
certainly, and much prized, but from time to time ecclesiastics and
laity felt that it was a thing apart from them. All the other spiritual
societies had become national,--the Jesuits never. It is not unnatural
that this feeling was strongest among the Roman Catholic ecclesiastics,
for their worldly prospects were often injured by the Jesuits.

Thus from the middle of the sixteenth century two opposite methods of
mental cultivation, two different sources of morals and working power
have struggled against one another. Devotion and unconditional
subjection, against feelings of duty and thoughtful self-assertion;
rapid and unhesitating decision, against conscientious doubts; a spirit
of energy, working laboriously with much deliberation and scheming after
distant aims, against defective discipline; and an urging to unity,
against a striving for separation.

These opposing powers appeared everywhere, especially in politics and at
the courts of princes. Protestantism in its unfinished shape, though it
had elevated the people, was no help to the formation of the character
of the German princes; it had raised higher their external power, but it
had lessened their inward stability; their youthful training became in
general too theological to be practical. However immoral many of them
were, they all suffered from conscientious doubts; and there was no
ready answer for these doubts, such as the Roman Catholic confessor had
always in store for them. The Protestant princes stood isolated; there
was no firm bond of union between the Churches of the different states,
but much trivial quarrelling and bitter hatred, not only between
Lutherans and Reformers, but even amongst the followers of the Augsburg
confession; and this diminished the strength of the princes. Whilst the
priests of the Roman Catholic Church did their best to unite their
rulers, the Protestant ecclesiastics helped to increase the disunion of
theirs. So it is not surprising, that the Protestants for a long time
stood at a disadvantage in their political struggle with the old faith.
The Germans had not yet found, and did not for centuries attain to, the
new constitution of State, which transfers the mainspring of government
from the accidental will of the ruler, to the conscience of the nation,
and which places in a regulated path, citizens of talent and integrity
as advisers to the crown; public opinion was still weak, the daily press
not yet in existence, and the relation between the political rights of
the princes and the people very undefined.

Protestantism had everywhere produced political convulsions, from the
peasant war even into the following century. The Reformation had
unloosed all tongues, it had given the Germans a freer judgment upon
their position as citizens, and had inspired individuals with the
courage to fight for their own convictions. The peasant now loudly
murmured against exorbitant burdens, the members of guilds against the
selfish dominion of the corporations, and the noble members of the
provincial estates against the extravagant demands of the sovereign for
war expenses. The wild democratic disturbances of 1525 were with
Luther's entire approbation easily put down, but democratic tendencies
did not therefore cease, and together with them, anabaptist and
socialist views spread from city to city. Their teaching, which scarcely
forms a system, took a different colouring in different individuals,
from the harmless theorist who imagined a community of good citizens
without egotism, full of self-abnegation, as did the talented Eberlin,
to the reckless fanatic who tried to establish a new Zion at Münster,
with an illusive community of goods and wives. These excitements lost
their power towards the end of the century, but still continued to
ferment among the people, especially in those provinces, where the
Protestant opposition of the estates excited the people against the old
faith of the rulers of the country. Thus it was in Bohemia, Moravia, and
Upper Austria. The more zealously the Hapsburgers endeavoured, by means
of the Jesuits, to restore the old faith, the more it was kept in check,
even in their own country, by the demands of the opposition in the
estates, and the commotions among the people. And well did they perceive
the threatening connection of this opposition to their house. Two ways
only were therefore open to them, either they must themselves have
become Protestants, which they found impossible, or they must have
resolutely destroyed the dangerous teaching and pretensions which upset
the souls of men everywhere, especially in their own country. The
Hapsburger appeared who attempted this.

Meanwhile the spirit of the old Church had been raised, by the great
victories which it had gained in other countries. The Protestant princes
combined against the threatened offensive movement of the Roman Catholic
party, as before at Smalkald, and the Roman Catholic party answered by
the formation of the League; but the object at heart, of the League was
attack, while that of the Protestants was only defence.

This was the political state of Germany before the Thirty years' war; a
most unsatisfactory state. Discontent was general, a mournful tendency,
a disposition to prophecy evil, were the significant signs of the times.
Every deed of violence which was announced to the people in the
flying-sheets, was accompanied by remarks on the bad times. And yet we
know for certain that immorality had not become strikingly greater in
the country. There was wealth in the cities, and even in the country
increase of prosperity; there was regular government everywhere, better
order and greater security of existence, luxury and an inordinate love
of enjoyment had undoubtedly increased, together with riches; even among
the lower strata of the people greed was awakened, life became more
varied and dearer, and much indifference began to be shown concerning
the quarrels of ecclesiastics. The best began to be gloomy, and even
cheerful natures, like the honest Bartholoméus Ringwald, became prophets
of misfortune, and wished for death.

And there was good reason for this gloom. There was something diseased
in the life of Germany, an incomprehensible burden weighed it down,
which marred its development. Luther's teaching, it is true, produced
the greatest spiritual and intellectual progress which Germany had ever
made through one man, but the demands of life increased with every
expansion of the soul. The new mental culture must be followed by a
corresponding advance in earthly condition, a greater independence in
faith, demanded imperiously a stronger power of political development
But it was precisely this teaching, which appeared like the early dawn
of a better life, that conveyed to the people the consciousness of their
own political weakness, and by this weakness they became one-sided and
narrow minded. Germany being divided into countless territories under
weak princes, its people everywhere involved in and occupied with
trifling disputes, were deficient in that which is indispensable to a
genial growth; they needed a general elevation, a great united will, and
a sphere of moral duties, which alone makes men pre-eminently cheerful
and manly. The fatherland of the Germans extended probably from Lorraine
to the Oder, but in no single portion of it did they live like the
citizens of Elizabeth or Henry IV.

Thus already inwardly diseased, Germany entered upon a war of thirty
years. When the war ended, there was little remaining of the great
nation. For yet a century to come, the successors of the survivors were
deficient in that most manly of all feelings,--political enthusiasm.

Luther had raised his people out of the epic life of the middle ages.
The Thirty years' war had destroyed the popular strength, and forced the
Germans into individual life, the mental constitution of which one may
truly call lyrical. That which will here be depicted from the accounts
of cotemporaries, is a sad joyless time.

CHAPTER I.

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.--THE ARMY.

The opposition between the interests of the house of Hapsburg and of the
German nation, and between the old and new faith, led to a bloody
catastrophe. If any one should inquire how such a war could rage through
a whole generation, and so fearfully exhaust a powerful people, he will
receive this striking answer, that the war was so long and terrible,
because none of the contending parties were able to carry it out on a
great and decisive scale.

The largest armies in the Thirty years' war did not exceed in strength
one corps of a modern army. Tilly considered forty thousand men the
greatest number of troops that a general could wish to have. It was only
occasionally that an army reached that strength; almost all the great
battles were fought by smaller bodies of men. Numerous were the
detachments, and very great were the losses by skirmishes, illnesses,
and desertion. As there was no regular system for maintaining the
strength of the army, its effective amount fluctuated in a remarkable
way. Once, indeed, Wallenstein united a larger force under his
command--according to some accounts a hundred thousand men--but they
did not form one army, nay, they were hardly in any military connection,
for the undisciplined bands with which, in 1629, he subdued the German
territories of the Emperor, were dispersed over half Germany. Such large
masses of soldiers appeared to all parties as a terrible venture; they
could not, in fact, be kept under control, and after that, no general
commanded more than half that number.[1]

An army in order of battle was considered as a movable fortress, the
central point of which was the General himself, who ruled all the
details; he had to survey the ground and every position, and every
attack was directed by him. Adjutantcies and staff service were hardly
established. It was part of the strategy to keep the army together in
masses, to defend the ranks by earth-works, and not to allow horse or
man to be out of observation and control. In marching also, the army was
kept close together in narrow quarters, generally within the space of a
camp; from this arose commissariat difficulties, the high-roads were
bad, often almost impassable, the conveyance of provisions compulsory,
and always ill-regulated: and worst of all, the army was attended by an
intense baggage-train, which, with the wild-robber system, quickly
wasted the most fertile countries.

Great care was therefore taken that no such embarrassment should arise.
Neither the Emperor nor the Princes of the Empire were in a condition to
maintain forty thousand men out of their income even for three months.
The regular revenue of the sovereign was much less than now, and the
maintenance of an army far more costly. The greater part of the revenue
was derived from tithes in kind, which in time of war was insecure and
difficult to realize. The finances of the parties engaged in this war
were even at the commencement of it in a most lamentable state.

In the winter of 1619 and 1620, half the Bohemian army died of hunger
and cold, from the want of pay and a commissariat; in September 1620,
more than four and a half million of gulden of pay was owing to the
troops, and there were endless mutinies, and the King Palatine Frederick
could not aid his Protestant allies with subsidies. The Emperor was then
not in much better condition, but he soon afterwards obtained Spanish
subsidies. When the Elector of Saxony, whose finances were better
regulated, first hired fifteen hundred men in December, 1619, he could
not pay them regularly. What was granted by the estates in war taxes,
and the so-called voluntary contributions of the opulent, did not go
far; loans even in the first year of the war were very difficult to
realize; they were attempted with the banking-houses of southern
Germany, and also in Hamburg, but seldom with success. City communities
were considered safer debtors than the great princes. There were
dealings about the smallest sums even with private individuals. Saxony
in 1621, hoped to get from fifty to sixty thousand guldens from the
Fuggers, and endeavoured in vain to borrow thirty and seventy thousand
gulden from capitalists. Maximilian of Bavaria, and the League, made a
great loan for the war of one million two hundred thousand gulden at
twelve per cent, from the merchants in Genoa, for this the Fuggers
became responsible, and the salt trade of Augsburg was given to them for
their security. Just one hundred years before, this said banking-house
had taken an important share in the election of the Emperor Charles V.,
and now it helped to secure the victory of the Roman Catholic party; for
the Bohemian war was decided even more by the want of money than by the
battle of the Weissen-Berge. Thus the war began with the governments
being in a general state of insolvency; and therefore the maintenance of
great armies became impossible.

It is evident that there was a fatal disproportion between the military
strength of the parties and the ultimate object of every war. None of
them could entirely subdue their opponents. The armies were too small,
and had too little durability, to be able to control by regular
strategic operations, the numerous and warlike people of wide-spread
districts. Whilst a victorious army was ruling near the Rhine or the
Oder, a new enemy was collecting in the north on the shores of the
Baltic. The German theatre of war, also, was not so constituted as to be
easily productive of lasting results. Almost every city, and many
country seats were fortified. The siege guns were still unwieldy and
uncertain in their aim, and the defence of fortified places was
proportionably stronger than the attack. Thus war became principally a
combat of sieges; every captured town weakened the victorious army, from
the necessity of leaving garrisons. When a province had been conquered,
the conqueror was often not in a position to withstand the conquered in
open battle. By new exertion the conqueror was driven from the field;
then followed fresh sieges and captures, and again fatal disruption of
strength.

It was a war full of bloody battles and glorious victories, and also of
excessive alternations of fortune. Numerous were the dark hero forms
that loomed out of the chaos of blood and fire; the iron Ernst von
Mansfeld, the fantastic Brunswicker, Bernhard of Weimar; and on the
other side, Maximilian of Bavaria, and the generals of the League,
Tilly, Pappenheim, and the able Mercy; the leaders of the Imperial army,
the daring Wallenstein and Altringer; the great French heroes, Condé and
Turenne, and amongst the Swedes, Horn, Bauer, Torstenson, Wrangel, and
above all the mighty prince of war, Gustavus Adolphus. How much manly
energy excited to the highest pitch, and yet how slow and poor were the
political results obtained! how quickly was again lost, what appeared to
have been obtained by the greatest amount of power! How often did the
parties themselves change the objects after which they were striving,
nay even the banner for which they desired victory!

The political events of the war can only be briefly mentioned here; they
may be divided into three periods. The first, from 1618 to 1630, is the
time of the Imperial triumphs. The Protestant estates of Bohemia,
contrary to law and their own word, refused the Bohemian crown to the
Archduke Ferdinand, and chose for their ruler the Elector Palatine, a
reformer. But by means of the League and the Lutheran Electors of
Saxony, Ferdinand became Emperor. His opponent was beaten in the battle
of the Weissen-Berge, and left the country as a fugitive. Here and
there, the Protestant opposition continued to blaze up, but divided,
without plan, and with weak resources. Baden-Durlach, the Mansfelder,
the Brunswicker, and lastly the circle of lower Saxony with the Danish
King, succumbed to the troops of the League and the Emperor. Ferdinand
II., who though Emperor, was still a fugitive in the states belonging to
his house, obtained through the assistance of an experienced mercenary
commander, Wallenstein, a large body of troops, whom he maintained in
the territory of the principality by contribution and pillage. Ever
greater did the Emperor's army continue to swell; ever higher rose his
claims in Germany and Italy: the old idea of Charles V. after the
Smalkaldic war became a living principle in the nephew; he would subdue
Germany, as his predecessor had done the peasants and the estates in
the Austrian provinces; he would crush all independence, the privileges
of cities, the rights of the estates, the pride and family power of
princes--he hoped to subjugate all Germany to his faith and his house.
But throughout the whole of Germany sounded a cry of grief and
indignation, at the horrible marauding war which was conducted by the
merciless general of the Hapsburger. All the allies of the Imperial
house rose threateningly against him. The Princes of the League, and
above all Maximilian of Bavaria, looked abroad for help; they subdued
the high spirit of the Emperor, and he was obliged to dismiss his
faithful General and to control the barbarous army. Nay, more, even the
Holy Father began to fear the Emperor. The Pope himself united with
France in order to bring Swedish help to the Protestants. The lion of
the north disembarked on the German coast.

Now began the second period of the war. The swelling billows of the
Roman Catholic power had overflowed Germany even up to the Northern Sea.
From 1630 to 1634 came the Protestant counter-current, which flowed in a
resistless course from north to south over the third part of Germany.
Even after the death of their king, the Swedish Generals kept their
ascendency in the field; Wallenstein himself abandoned the Emperor, and
was secretly murdered. The Roman Catholic party had begun to lose
courage, when, by a last effort of collected strength, it won the bloody
battle of Nördlingen.

Then followed the third period of fourteen years, from 1634 to 1648, in
which victory and reverses were nearly equal on both sides. The Swedes,
driven back to the Northern Sea, girding up their whole strength, again
burst forth into the middle of Germany. Again the tide of fortune ebbed
to and fro, becoming gradually less powerful. The French, greedy of
booty, spread themselves as far as the Rhine; the land was devastated,
and famine and pestilence raged. The Swedes, though losing one General
after another, kept the field and maintained their claims with unceasing
pertinacity. In opposition to them stood the equally inflexible
Maximilian, Prince of the League. Even in the last decade of the war,
the Bavarians fought for three years the most renowned campaigns which
this dynasty has to boast of. The fanatical Ferdinand was dead, his
successor, able, moderate, and an experienced soldier, persevered from
necessity; he also was firm and tenacious. No party could bring about a
decisive result. For years negotiations for peace were carried on;
whilst the generals fought, the cities and villages were depopulated and
the fields were overgrown with rank weeds. Peace came at last; it was
not brought about by great battles, nor by irresistible political
combinations, but chiefly by the weariness of the combatants, and
Germany celebrated it with festivities though she had lost three
fourths of her population.

All this gives to the Thirty years' war the appearance of foredoomed
annihilation, ushered in as it was by the most fearful visitations of
nature. Above the strife of parties a terrible fate spread its wings; it
carried off the leaders and prostrated them in the dust, the greatest
human strength became powerless under its hand; at last, satiated with
devastation and death, it turned its face slowly from the country which
had become a great charnel house.

It is not the intention of this work to characterize the Generals and
battles belonging to this period of struggle, but to speak of the
condition and circumstances of the German people, both of the
destructive and suffering portions of the population, of the army, alike
with the citizen and peasant. Since the Burgundian war and the Italian
battles of Maximilian and Charles V., the burgher infantry had thrown
into the background the knightly cavalry of the middle ages.

The strength of the German army consisted of Landsknechte, freemen,
either citizens or peasants, and among them occasionally a few nobles.
They were for the most part mercenaries, who bound themselves
voluntarily by contract to some banner for a time. They carried on war
like a trade, sternly, actively, and enduringly. But the full vigour of
their power was of short duration: their decadence may be dated from
their revolt against the old Fronsperg; from that hour when they broke
the heart of their father, the gray-headed Landsknecht hero. Many
things combined to corrupt this new infantry: they were mercenaries,
serving only for a time, accustomed to change their banner, and not to
fight for an idea, but only for booty or their own advantage. They were
not called into existence in consequence of the application of gunpowder
to the art of war; but they more especially appropriated this new
invention to themselves. The introduction of fire-arms into the army,
certainly first showed the weakness of their opponents, the old cavalry
of knighthood, but at the same time soon caused the diminution of their
own efficiency, for these weapons were too clumsy and slow to insure
victory on the battle-field. The final result still depended on the
rushing charge of the pikemen and the onslaught of their great masses on
the enemy.

To this was added other detrimental circumstances; there were as yet no
standing armies: when there was threatening of a feud, troops were
assembled by the territorial lords great and small, and by the cities,
and at the conclusion of the war they were dismissed. These wars were
generally short and local; even the Hungarian wars were only summer
campaigns of a few months. The German rulers, always in want of money,
endeavoured to help themselves by the depreciation of the coinage,
striking a lighter coin expressly for the payment of the soldiers, and
also by faithlessly paying them less than had been agreed upon. This
unworthy treatment demoralized the men, no less than the shortness of
the service. Thus the Landsknechte became deceived deceivers,
adventurers, plunderers and robbers.

The infantry at the beginning of the war used either fire-arms or pikes,
the former to open the enemy's ranks, the latter to decide the battle by
hand-to-hand fighting. At this period we find that the pikemen were the
heavy infantry; they wore breastplates, brassarts, swords, and a pike
eighteen feet long with an iron point, the handles of the best were of
ash; the lance-corporals and subaltern officers had halberds and
partisans. The two species of fire-arms which prevailed in the army were
the musketoon (which with the Imperialists was a heavy weapon six feet
long, with matchlocks and balls, of which there were ten in the pound)
and the short hand-gun, a weapon of lighter and smaller calibre, which
in the beginning of the war bore amongst the infantry the old name of
arquebuss. The musketeer wore also at his side a hanger, a weapon with a
small curved point, and over his shoulder a bandolier with eleven
cylindrical cases in which the charges were placed, a match holder, and
a musket rest, a staff with a metal point and two metal prongs, on the
top of which the musketeer laid his weapon: his head was covered with a
helmet or morion; this last piece of armour was soon discarded. The foot
arquebussier did not carry a rest or a shoulder-belt; he loaded from his
shot-pouch and powder-horn. There were pikemen and musketeers in the
same company, and long even before the great war there were companies in
which fire-arms alone were borne. Out of the light infantry were formed,
in the middle of the war, what were called rifle companies, but among
whom only a few had rifles. The grenadiers, who threw hand-grenades,
were then formed in small numbers; for instance, in 1634, by the Swedes
at the siege of Ratisbon.

At the beginning of the war the pikemen, as heavy infantry, were
considered of importance, and they were put down in the muster-rolls as
receiving double pay; but in the course of it they were found to be too
unwieldy for long marches, helpless in attack, in short, almost useless,
since the last decision of the battle now devolved upon the cavalry;
thus they gradually sank into contempt, and the clever judgment
pronounced by the jovial Springinsfeld, accurately expresses the view
that was taken of their utility. "A musketeer is indeed a poor, much
harassed creature; but he lives in splendid happiness compared to a
miserable pikeman: it is vexatious to think what hardships the poor
simpletons endure; no one who had not experienced it themselves could
believe it, and I think whoever kills a pikeman whom he could save,
murders an innocent man, and can never be excused such a barbarous deed:
for although these poor draught oxen--they were so called in
derision--are formed to defend their brigades in the open field from the
onslaught of the cavalry, yet they themselves do no one any injury, and
he who throws himself upon their long spears deserves what he gets. In
short, I have during my life seen many sharp encounters, but seldom
found that a pikeman ever caused the death of any one." Nevertheless the
pikemen kept their ground till towards the end of the seventeenth
century. The musketeers who were, however, the great mass of the
infantry, were rendered more agile by Gustavus Adolphus; he discarded
from the Swedish army the musket rests, lightened their weapons and the
calibre of the balls, of which there were thirteen to the pound, and
introduced instead of the rattling bandoliers, paper cartridges and
pockets; but the musketeers, without bayonets, slow in firing,
unaccustomed to fight in close ranks, were little fitted to decide an
engagement.

The influence of the cavalry on the other hand increased. At the
beginning of the war there were two contending principles concerning
them, the method and arming of old knightly traditions were mixed up
with the Landsknechte characteristics, many of whom were also horsemen.
The heavy cavalry were still considered an aristocratic corps, the
nobleman still placed himself with his charger, his knightly armour, his
old knightly lance, and his troop of vassals, for whom he drew pay,
under the standard of the cavalry regiments. But the war made an end
gradually of this remnant of old customs. It was still, however, an
object of ambition to join the army as a soldier of fortune, either with
an esquire or alone, and whoever estimated himself highly or had made
much booty, thronged to the cavalry standard. In the German army there
were four kinds of regular cavalry, the Lancers, in full armour even to
the knightly spurs, without shield, with the knightly lance or the spear
of the Landsknechte, a sword, and two holster pistols; the Cuirassiers,
with similar armour, pistols and sword; the Arquebussiers, called later
Carbineers, half armed, with morion, and pistol proof back and breast
pieces, with two pistols and an arquebuss on a small bandolier; finally
the Dragoons, mounted pikemen, or musketeers, who fought either on foot
or on horseback. Besides these there were irregular cavalry Croats,
Stradiots, and Hussars, who almost a century before, in 1546, had made a
great sensation in Germany when Duke Maurice of Saxony borrowed them
from King Ferdinand of Bohemia. Their appearance was not displeasing;
they wore Turkish armour, a sabre, and a targe, but they were wild
robbers, and in the worst repute. Gustavus Adolphus brought to Germany
only Cuirassiers and Dragoons. His Cuirassiers were more lightly armed
than the Imperial, but far superior to them in energy of attack. During
the whole war the endeavour of the cavalry was to lighten their heavy
armour; the more the army separated into military companies the more
pressing was the necessity for greater activity.

In the sixteenth century the heavy guns were very varied in calibre and
length of barrel, and had divers curious names. The sharp metz, the
carronade, culverin and nightingale, the singer, the falcon and the
falconet, the field serpent and serpentine, with balls from one hundred
pounds down to one pound, besides the organ,[2] mortars large and small,
rifle-barrelled guns and rifles. But in the beginning of the Thirty
years' war the forms were already simplified; they cast forty-eight, and
twenty-four pounders, twelve and six pounders, with forty-two,
twenty-four, twelve and six pound balls;[3] the first were fortress and
siege guns, the last were field guns; besides these, disproportionately
long culverins and falconets, also chamber pieces for throwing shells,
or bomb mortars which were soon called howitzers, smaller mortars for
throwing fire-balls, stinkpots, &c.; and in the beginning of the war
bombarders, which fired pieces of iron, lead, small shot, and stones.
Lastly from forged pieces they fired half-ounce bullets, double,
single, and half-hooks, or grappling irons. But the length of the
barrels of the guns was too long for balls; the powder was bad, and the
aim consequently uncertain. Gustavus Adolphus introduced shorter and
lighter guns; his leather cannon, made of copper cylinders with thick
hemp and leather coverings[4] held together by iron hoops, soon ceased
to be used, probably because they were not sufficiently durable, but his
short four-pounders, two of which were given to every regiment, and
which worked best with grape shot, lasted over the war. These field
pieces fired not only from position but were moved with tolerable
rapidity during action, but the bombardes and petards were unwieldy; the
last were twisted round with ropes more like a sort of cannon than our
bombs and grenades, but were of uncertain effect because the locks were
badly prepared and they did not measure the time for the explosion. The
old disposition of the Germans to give life to the inanimate had already
in earlier times bestowed especial names on favourite guns, and the
custom remained, even after pieces of the same calibre were cast in
greater numbers; then particular guns, for example, were called after
the planets, months, and signs of the zodiac, like a high sounding
alphabet,[5] and in this case indicated by single letters. There was
always a new name given according to the calibre, which in spite of all
the simplification was still very varied. The progress of artillery and
its influence on the conduct of war was impeded in the last half of the
war by the want of experienced master gunners, the greater portion of
them were infantry commanders; the loss of an artillery officer of
capacity was difficult to replace.

The relative numbers of particular branches of the service were changed
during the war. In the beginning the proportion of the cavalry to the
infantry was as one to five, but soon they became one to three, and in
the latter period they were sometimes the strongest. This striking fact
is a proof both of the deterioration of the troops and of the art of
war. In the exhausted country, the army could only be maintained by a
strong force of cavalry, who could forage further and change their
ground with more rapidity. As all who hoped for independence or booty
pressed into the cavalry it was in better condition proportionately than
the infantry, who at last were reduced to support themselves by reaping
the scanty remains left by the horsemen. Undoubtedly the cavalry also
became worse, the want of good horses was at last more sensibly felt
than that of men, and the heavy cavalry could not be kept up, whilst in
the last year the service of the scouts and foraging parties for the
commissariat was brought to great perfection. Nevertheless the cavalry
were the most effective, for it was their task to decide the battle by
their charge. The last army with skilled infantry and Dutch discipline
was that of Bavaria under Mercy, from 1643 to 1645.

The tactics of armies had slowly altered in the course of the century.
The old Landsknecht army advanced to battle in three great squares,--the
advanced guard, the main body, and the rear guard--disregarding roads
and corn-fields; before it went pioneers, who filled in ditches and cut
down hedges to clear the way for the bulky mass. For battle, the deep
square masses of infantry placed themselves side by side, each square
mass consisted of many companies, sometimes of many regiments; the
cavalry formed in a similar deep position at the wings. There was no
regular reserve, only sometimes one of the three masses was kept back
for the final decision; a select body of men, the forlorn hope, was
formed for dangerous service, such as forcing the passage of a river,
covering an important point, or turning the enemy's flank. Since
fire-arms had prevailed over pikes, these great battalions were
surrounded by files of sharpshooters, and at last special bodies of
sharpshooters were formed and attached to them. In the war in the
Netherlands, the unwieldiness of these heavy squares led to breaking the
order of battle into smaller tactical bodies. But it was only slowly,
that formation in line and a system of reserve were organized. Much of
the old method continued in the Imperial army in the beginning of the
war. Still the companies of infantry were united in deep squares--in
battalions. To take firm positions and assume defensive warfare had
become too much the custom in inglorious campaigns against the wild
storming Turks. The weight and tenacity of deep masses might certainly
be effective, but if the enemy succeeded in bringing his guns to bear
upon them, they suffered fearfully, and were very unwieldy in all their
movements. Gustavus Adolphus adopted the tactical innovations of the
Netherlanders in an enlightened way; when in battle he placed the
infantry six, and the cavalry only three deep; he distributed the great
masses into small divisions, which firmly connected together, formed
the unity of the Swedish brigade; he strengthened the cavalry, placing
between them companies of sharpshooters, and introduced light artillery
regiments besides those that were in reserve and position, and
accustomed his soldiers to rapid offensive movements and daring
advances. His infantry fired quicker than the Imperial, and at the
battle of Breitenfeld the old Walloon regiments of Tilly were routed by
their close platoon firing; he also laid down for his cavalry, those
very rules by which a century later Frederick the Great made his, the
first in the world; viz., not to stop in order to fire, but at the
quickest pace to rush upon the enemy.

During the battle the soldiers recognized one another by their war-cries
and distinguishing marks, the officers by their scarfs. For example, at
Breitenfeld Tilly's army wore white bands on their hats and helmets, and
white lace round the arm, and the Swedes had green branches. The
Imperial colour in the field was red, therefore Gustavus Adolphus
prohibited his Swedes from wearing that colour,[6] the scarfs of the
Swedish officers at the battle of Lützen were green, those of Electoral
Saxony during the war were black and yellow, and later, after the
acquisition of the Polish crown, red and white.

The soldiers were formed in troops or companies, and these were combined
in regiments which had administrative unity. The German infantry
regiments consisted of three thousand men, in ten companies of three
hundred men; they seldom reached their normal strength, and lost their
men in the war with frightful rapidity, so that there were frequently
regiments of from a thousand to three hundred, and companies of seventy
to thirty men. Cavalry regiments were required to be from five hundred
to a thousand men strong; the numbers of the troops were different, and
their effective war strength was still more variable.

The titles and duties of officers had already much similarity to the
modern German organization. He who had raised a regiment for his
Sovereign, was called the colonel of the regiment, even if he had the
rank of General; under him were the Lieutenant-colonel and Major. More
important for the object of these pages were the officers of companies;
the Captain of infantry or cavalry, with his Lieutenant, an Ensign, and
sergeant, or troop sergeant-major, non-commissioned officers and
lance-corporals, and finally the provost-marshal.

When an officer at the mustering of his company in a circle, was
installed as chief captain and father, he begged his dear soldiers, in a
friendly manner, to be true and obedient to him, recounted to them
their duties, promised to stand by them in every emergency, and as an
honest man, devote himself to them in life or death, and leave them
whatever he had. Unfortunately the captain's first duty was to be
faithful in money concerns, both towards the colonel and his own
soldiers, to procure clever good soldiers for the reviewing officer, not
to charge for more mercenaries than was right, and to give the soldiers
their full pay; but this seldom happened. The temptation to a system of
fraudulent gain was great, and conscientiousness in the uncertain life
of war was a virtue which quickly disappeared; even the most honourable
fell upon dangerous rocks when the pay had been long in arrear, or not
fully given. Besides this, it was necessary for him to be an energetic
experienced man, just and kind in disposition, but strict in maintaining
rights. During the week, he was, according to the old proverb, to look
severe, and not to smile upon the soldiers before Sunday; when there was
preaching in the camp, the soldiers sat on the ground, but stood up,
taking their hats off, before the captain, but he who wore a morion kept
it on. On the march, the captain rode, but before the enemy he went on
foot, carrying either the pike or the musket of his company.[7]

The banner of the infantry, which was held sacred by the company, had a
standard about the size of ours, but the silken flag, like an enormous
sail, reached almost to the end of the standard; it was of heavy
material, according to the taste of that time, with allegorical pictures
painted on it, and short Latin sentences beautifully illuminated. The
"_cornete_" of the cavalry, sometimes vandyked, were smaller, and fixed
to the standard like our banners. The regiments were sometimes called
after the colours of the banners; for example, in Electoral Saxony,
where the ground of the banners was always of two colours, they were
called the black and yellow, blue and white, red and yellow, regiments;
each of the ten banners of the regiment also had its especial emblem and
motto, and different combinations of the regimental colours, grained,
striped and in squares, yet the chief standard showed the regimental
colours only on the border. The "_cornete_" of the cavalry had a ground
of only one colour: the corps of cavalry were denoted according to the
colours of their banners, and not by their uniforms, which they hardly
ever wore; for example:--"two corps of orange-coloured cornet
cuirassiers," "five corps of steel-green cornet arquebussiers." The
Swedes also distinguished their brigades, which were in Germany
frequently called regiments, by the colour of their banners; thus,
besides the yellow (Body Guard) there were the green, blue, white, and
red. The colours of regiments were often chosen from the armorial
bearings of the colonel, especially if he had raised the regiment.
Gradually, however, it became the custom in all the armies to call the
regiments after the names of the officers.

The flag was attached to the standard and erected in the midst of the
circle of enlisted soldiers; then the Colonel delivered the banner to
the Ensign, and thus gave it into his charge:--"As your bride or your
own daughter, from the right hand to the left; and if both your arms
should be shot or cut off, you should take it with your mouth; and if
you cannot preserve it thus, wrap yourself therein, commit yourself to
God so to be slain, and die as an honourable man." As long as the
colours were flying, and a piece of the standard left, the soldiers were
to follow the Ensign to the death, till all should lie in a heap on the
battle-field, that no evil-doer or blameworthy person should be
sheltered by the flag; if any one should transgress against the banner
oath, the Ensign was to furl the banner, and forbid the transgressor to
march under it or mount guard, and he was obliged to go among the bad
women and children with the baggage till the affair was arranged: the
Ensign was not to leave the colours a single night without permission;
when he slept he was to have them by him, and never to separate himself
from them; if they should be torn from the standard by treachery or some
roguish attendant, the Ensign should be delivered over to the common
soldiers to be judged for life or death, according to their will. It was
necessary for him to be tall, powerful, manly, and valiant, and a
cheerful companion, friendly to every one, a mediator and peace-maker;
he was not to inflict punishment on any one, that he might incur no
hatred. In the open field under the unfurled colours appointments were
declared and the articles of war read. A trooper was not, without
permission, to be out of sight of the colours when the army was marching
or encamped; whoever fled from the colours in battle was to die for it,
and whoever killed him was to be unpunished: if an Ensign should abandon
a fort or redoubt before he had held out against three assaults without
relief, he transgressed the rules of war; a regiment lost its colours if
from cowardice it yielded a fortress before the time. It was not long
since pike-law was given up, the severe tribunal of the Landsknechte,
where, before the circle of common soldiers, the provost-marshal accused
the evil-doer, and forty chosen men, officers and soldiers, pronounced
judgment: at the beginning of the trial the Ensigns furled their
colours, and reversed them with the iron point in the ground, and
demanded a sentence, because the colours could not fly over an
evil-doer. If the transgressor was condemned to the spear, or to be shot
by the arquebussiers, then the Ensign thanked them for their judgment on
the offender, unfurled the colours, and caused them to fly towards the
east, comforted the poor sinner, and promised to meet him halfway, and
thereby to deliver him by taking him under the protection of the
colours. When the line of pikes was formed they went to the end of it
with their backs towards the sun; but the transgressor had to bless the
soldiers and pray for a speedy death, then the provost gave him three
strokes with his staff on the right shoulder and pushed him into the
lane. Whoever had disgraced himself, if the colours were waved three
times over him, was freed from his disgrace. The Ensign received every
three years, money for a new flag or dress (from eighty to a hundred
gulden), and for that he was to make a present to the company of two
casks of beer or wine.

The office of Cornet of cavalry was less responsible. It was his duty to
rush vigorously upon the enemy, and after the attack to raise his
standard on high, that his people might collect round him. In the
Hungarian war the Cornet passed sometimes into the rank of Lieutenant,
and in some regiments (the Wallenstein army for instance) this custom
was kept up.

The most important man of the company next to the Captain was the
Sergeant; he was the drill-master and spokesman for the soldiers, and
had to mark out with flags the position to be taken up by the troops of
the Imperial batons, or Swedish brigades, to arrange the men, placing in
the front and rear ranks and at the sides, the best armed and most
efficient men, to mingle the halberds and short weapons, to lead and
keep with the arquebussiers; he was the instructor of the company, and
knew the proper and warlike use of his weapons.

As the "mob" who came together from for and near under a banner were
difficult to keep in order, the greater part of them not to be depended
on, and unskilled in the exercise of their weapons, the number of
non-commissioned officers was necessarily very great, frequently indeed
they formed more than a third of the troop. Any one who had military
capacity or could be depended upon, was marked out by the subordinate
commander for higher pay and posts of confidence. Amongst the numerous
functions and manifold designations of the subalterns, some are
particularly characteristic. In the beginning of the war every company
had, according to the old _Landsknecht_ custom, their "leader," who, in
the first instance at least, was chosen by the soldiers. He was the
tribune of the company, their spokesman, who had to lay their grievances
and wishes before the Captain, and to represent the interests of the
soldiery. It may easily be understood that such an arrangement did not
strengthen the discipline of the army; it was done away with in time of
war. Even the thankless office of quartermaster was of greater
importance than now; the complaints of the soldiers, who quarrelled
about the bad quarters he had provided for them, he met with defiance,
and inspired them with fear of his usurious practices. When a company
came to a deserted village, the serjeants threw their knives into the
hat of the quartermaster; he then went from house to house, sticking the
blades as they came to his hand in the door-posts, and every band (of
six or eight men) followed their leader's knife. When poor members of
the nobility, candidates for commission, of whom the number was often
great, presented themselves, their names were inscribed on the list of
lance-corporals. Old vagabonds full of pretension were designated in
the military kitchen Latin by the title of "_Ambesaten_," and
afterwards "_Landspassaten_;" they were orderlies and messengers
receiving higher pay, representatives and assistants of the Corporals.
There was a general endeavour to add a deputy to every office, as the
Lieutenant to the Captain, an under Ensign to the Ensign, to the
Serjeant an under Serjeant, and frequently with the infantry a vidette
for the sentinels at outposts; in the same way serjeants were deputies
to the officers, and the "_Landspassaten_" to the Corporal, and the
provost to the provost-general, &c., &c.

The army consisted, with few exceptions, of enlisted soldiers. The
Sovereign empowered an experienced leader by patent to raise for him an
army, a regiment, or a company; recruiting places were sought for and a
muster place established where the recruits were collected. The recruits
were paid their travelling expenses or bounty; at the beginning of the
war this was insignificant, and sometimes deducted from their pay, but
later the bounty increased, and was given to the soldiers. At the
beginning of the war negotiations were carried on with every mercenary,
about the pay, at the muster-place. The soldier in quarters received
nothing but his pay, which in 1600, for the common foot soldier,
amounted to from fifteen to sixteen gulden a month.[8] With this they
had to procure for themselves weapons, clothing, and food. Garrisons
were provided with stores by the quartermaster, the cost being
reimbursed to him. During the great war, however, the arrangements about
pay were often deviated from, the distribution of it to the soldiers was
very irregular.

In the Imperial army the pay, exclusive of food, was nine gulden to the
pikeman and six to the musketeer. In the Swedish army it was still
lower, but was in the beginning more regularly paid, and there was more
care about the provisions. The whole sustenance of the army was charged
upon the province by a hard system of requisition, even on friendly
territory. The maintenance of the upper officers was very high, and yet
formed only a small share of their income. During the time of service
the troops were entered on the muster-roll by a court of comptrol, the
reviewing officer, or commissary of the Prince; in order to prevent the
officers and commanders drawing too much pay, when they were assembled
round the flag, the names of the deserters were written apart, and
beside each name a gallows was painted. At the time of muster if any one
was unserviceable or had served a long time, he was taken off the
muster-roll, and declared free, given his discharge, and provided with a
pass or certificate. Whoever wished for leave, obtained a pass from the
Ensign. The soldier had to clothe himself, uniforms were only found
exceptionally; the halberdiers of the life-guards, and the heavily armed
cavalry, so far as armour was concerned, were generally furnished by the
Sovereign; but before the war it was only occasionally done, and then
pay was deducted for it, or the Colonel took back the armour after the
campaign.

The military discipline of the Germans was, in the beginning of the war,
in the worst repute. The German soldiers were considered by other
nations as idle, turbulent, refractory bullies;[9] they had been not a
little spoilt by service in half-barbarous countries, as Hungary and
Poland then were, and against the barbarian Turks. When individuals had
to chaffer about their pay, discontent began; when the Captain would not
satisfy the claims of the enlisted mercenary, the malcontent threw his
musket angrily at the feet of the former, and went off with the money
for his travelling expenses, there was no means of detaining him. Though
the Ensign was bound by oath, the Captain only too frequently found
advantage in favouring plunder and the nightly desertion of the banner,
for he had his share of the soldier's booty; the worst thieves were the
best bees.

The paymasters were always deeply hated, because they generally gave the
regiments short pay and bad coin; they and other commissaries of the
sovereign were exposed to much insult when they came to the camp. The
worst things are related of the Commanders-in-chief, above all, that
they received more pay than they distributed to the soldiers; still
worse were the Generals. Frequently open mutiny broke out, and then the
mutineers placed a Colonel or Captain in the middle of them, and chose
him for their leader. The same thing took place in Hungary. Indeed it
happened, during the armistice preceding the Westphalian peace, that in
a Bavarian dragoon regiment, a corporal of the garrison of Hilperstein
nominated himself Colonel of the regiment, and by the help of his
comrades drove away the officers; the regiment was surrounded by loyal
soldiers, the new Colonel with eighteen of the ringleaders were
executed, the muskets were taken from the regiment, it was resworn and
formed anew as a cavalry regiment. The arrears of pay were the usual
cause of mutiny. In the year 1620, the regiment of Count Mansfeld
mutinied. He began to pay, but meanwhile leaving his tent, struck down
two of the soldiers with his own hands, severely wounding them; he then
mounted his horse, sprang into the midst of the mutineers, and shot many
of them. He alone with three captains subdued the insolence of six
hundred men, after having slain eleven, and severely wounded
six-and-twenty. If it was difficult to secure obedience to military
commands whilst the banner was waving, still greater was the burst of
resentment when it was furled and the regiment was disbanded. Then the
provost, the prostitutes, and the soldiers' sons hid themselves; the
Captain, Lieutenant, and other commanders were obliged to submit to
abusive language and challenges, and to hear themselves thus accosted:
"Ha, you fellow, you have been my commander, now you are not a jot
better than I; a pound of your hair is of no more importance to me than
a pound of cotton; out with you, let's have a scuffle!" Whenever
punishment was administered, the commanders were in danger from the
revenge of the culprit or his friends. The disbanded soldiers quarrelled
amongst each other, as they did with their officers, and sometimes there
were as many as a hundred parties in one place engaged in duelling. The
most wanton death-blows were dealt, and murders perpetrated, such as
have never been heard of since the beginning of Christianity. When the
banner was unfurled, it was customary for the combatants to join hands
and vow to fight out their quarrel when their term of service was ended,
and till then to live together in brotherly love. When this disbanding
took place, the most disorderly of the soldiers combined together and
began an "armour cleaning" of those comrades to whom, during service,
the officers had shown favour; that is to say, they robbed them of all,
deprived them of their clothes, beat and almost killed them. All these
crimes were tolerated, and the powerless commander-in-chief looked
passively on these proceedings as a mere custom of war.

During the Hungarian campaigns the soldiers adopted the habit of only
remaining by their banners during the summer months; they found their
reckoning in serving a short time, and mutinying if more was desired of
them; for during the autumn and winter they went with two, three, or
more boys as "_Gartbrüder_"[10] through the country, a fearful plague to
the farmers in eastern Germany. In the frontier countries, Silesia,
Austria, Bohemia, and Styria, it was even commanded by the sovereigns to
pay a farthing to every soldier who was roving about as "_Gartbrüder_."
Thus by their refractory conduct they daily obtained a gulden or more;
their boys pilfered where they could, and were notorious poachers.
Wallhausen, whilst making other energetic complaints, reckons that the
support of a standing army would cost less to the princes and states,
and secure greater success against the enemy, than this old bad system.

More than once during the long war, these wild armies were brought under
the constraint of strict discipline by the powerful will of individuals,
and each time great military successes were obtained; but this was not
of any duration. The discipline of the Wallenstein army was excellent in
a military point of view; but what the commander permitted with regard
to citizens and peasants was horrible. Even Gustavus Adolphus could not
preserve for more than a year, the strict discipline which on his
landing in Pomerania was so triumphantly lauded by the Protestant
ecclesiastics. It is true that the military law and articles of war
contained a number of legal rules for all soldiers, concerning the
forbearance to be observed even in an enemy's land towards the people
and their property. The women, invalids, and aged were under all
circumstances to be spared, and mills and ploughs were not to be
injured. But it is not by the laws themselves, but by the administration
of them, that we can judge of the peculiar characteristics of a period.

The punishments were in themselves severe. With the Swedes,--for the
embezzlement of money intended for the hospitals or invalid soldiers,
the wooden horse with its iron fittings was awarded, or running the
gauntlet (for this hardy fellows were hired to take upon them the
punishment), or loss of the hand, shooting, or hanging. For whole
divisions,--the loss of their banners, cleaning the camp and lying
outside it, and decimation. In the beginning of the war many of the old
Landsknecht customs were maintained, for instance, their criminal court
of justice, in which the law was decided by the people through select
jurymen. And before the war, together with this, court-martials had been
introduced. During the war a military tribunal was organized according
to the modern German method, under the presidency of the
advocate-general, and the provost-marshal superintended the execution.
But even in punishments there was a difference between the army and the
citizens and peasants. The soldier was put in irons, but not in the
stocks or in prison; no soldier was ever hanged on a common gallows, or
in a common place of execution, but on a tree or on a special gallows,
which was erected in the city for the soldiers in the market-place; the
old form by which the delinquent was given over to the hangman was thus
expressed: "He shall take him to a green tree and tie him up by the
neck, so that the wind may blow under and over him, and the sun shine on
him for three days; then shall he be cut down and buried according to
the custom of war." But the perjured deserter was hanged to a withered
tree. Whoever was sentenced to death by the sword, was taken by the
executioner to a public place, where he was cut in two, the body being
the largest and the head the smallest portion. The provost and his
assistant also were in nowise dishonoured by their office; even the
avoided executioner's assistant, the "_Klauditchen_" of the army, who
was generally taken from among the convicts, and who was allowed to
choose between punishment and this dishonourable office, could, if he
fulfilled his office faithfully, become respectable when the banner was
unfurled; he could then receive his certificate like any other gallant
soldier, and no one could speak evil of him.

There was one circumstance which distinguished the armies of the Thirty
years' war from those of modern days, and which made their entrance into
a province like an eruption of a heterogeneous race of strangers: each
soldier, in spite of his short term of service in the field, was
accompanied by his household. Not only the higher officers, but also the
troopers and foot-soldiers, took their wives, and still more frequently
their mistresses with them in a campaign. Women from all countries,
adorned to the utmost of their power, followed the army, and sought
entrance into the camp, because they had a husband, friend, or cousin
there. At the mustering or disbanding of a regiment, even respectable
maidens were, through the most cruel artifices, carried off by
disorderly bands, and when the money was all spent, left sometimes
without clothes, or at some carousal sold from one to another. The women
who accompanied the soldiers cooked and washed for them, nursed the
sick, provided them with drink, bore their blows, and on the march
carried the children and any of the plunder or household implements
which could not be conveyed by the baggage waggons. It is known that the
King of Sweden on his first arrival in Germany would not suffer any such
women in the camp; but after his return from Franconia, this strict
discipline seems to have ceased. Whoever peruses the old church records
of the village parishes will find sometimes the names of maidens, who,
having been carried off, returned at the end of a year to their village
home, and submitted themselves to the severest Church penances in order
to die amongst the ruined population of their birthplace. The women of
the camp were also under martial law. For great offences they were
flogged, and driven out of the camp; the soldiers too were hard masters,
and little of what had been promised them in the beginning was kept.

The children accompanied the women. In the Swedish army military schools
were established by Gustavus Adolphus, in which the children were
instructed even in the camp. In these migratory schools strict military
discipline prevailed, and a story, which cannot be warranted, is told of
a cannon-ball having passed through a school in the Swedish camp, and
having killed many of the children, but the survivors continued their
sum in arithmetic.

Some soldiers maintained one or more lads, a crafty, stubborn set of
good-for-nothings, who waited upon their masters, cleaned their horses,
sometimes bore their armour, and fed their shaggy dogs; nimble spies who
prowled about far and near on the traces of opulent people, and on the
look-out for concealed money.

The plundering by the baggage-train was almost worse in a friendly
country. When the soldiers with the women and children came to a
farmhouse, they pounced like hawks upon the poultry in the yard, then
broke open the doors, seized upon the trunks and chests, and with
abusive language, threatened, importuned and destroyed, what they could
not consume or take away. On decamping they compelled the owner to horse
his waggons and take them to their next quarters. Then they filled the
waggons with the clothes, beds, and household goods of the farmers,
binding round their bodies what could not otherwise be carried away.

"Frequently," says the indignant narrator Wallhausen, "the women did not
choose to be drawn by oxen, and it was necessary to procure horses,
sometimes from a distance of six miles, to the great cost of the country
people, and when they came with the waggons to the nearest quarters,
they would not allow the poor people to return home; but dragged them
with them to another territory, and at last stole the horses and made
off."

In the beginning of the war, a German infantry regiment had to march for
some days through the country of their own sovereign; there were as
many women and children with the baggage-train, as soldiers, and they
stole in eight days from the subjects of their sovereign almost
sufficient horses for each soldier to ride. The colonel, a just and
determined man, frequently dragged the soldiers himself from the horses,
and at last enforced their restoration by extreme severity. But it was
impossible to prevent the women from riding; there was not one who had
not a stolen horse, and if they did not ride them they harnessed them
three or four together to the peasants' carts.

Only a few of the otherwise copious writers of that time make mention of
this despised portion of the army; yet there are sufficient accounts,
from which we may conclude that great influence was produced by the
baggage-train on the fate of the army and the country. Especially by the
enormous extent of it. At the end of the sixteenth century Adam Junghans
reckons, that in a besieged fortress where the camp-followers were
reduced to the smallest possible number, to three hundred infantry
soldiers, there were fifty women and forty children, besides sutlers,
horseboys, &c., &c., somewhat more than a third of the soldiers. But in
the field the proportion was quite different even in the beginning of
the war. Wallhausen reckons as indispensable to a German regiment of
infantry, four thousand women, children, and other followers. A regiment
of three thousand men had at least three hundred waggons, and every
waggon was full to repletion of women, children, and plundered goods;
when a company broke up from its quarters, it was considered an act of
self-denial if it did not carry away with it thirty or more waggons. At
the beginning of the war a regiment of north German soldiers, three
thousand strong, started from the muster-place where it had remained
some time, followed by two thousand women and children.

From that time the baggage-train continued increasing to the end of the
war. It was only for a brief space of time that great commanders, like
Tilly, Wallenstein, and Gustavus Adolphus were able to diminish this
great plague of the army. In 1648, at the end of the great war, the
Bavarian General, Gronsfeld, reports that in the Imperial and Bavarian
armies there were forty thousand soldiers who drew war rations, and a
hundred and forty thousand who did not; on what were these to subsist if
they did not obtain their food by plunder, especially as in the whole
country where the army encamped, there was not a single place where a
soldier could buy a bit of bread. In the year 1648 the camp-followers
were more than three times the number of the fighting-men. These numbers
tell more significantly than any deductions, what a dreadful amass of
misery surrounded these armies.

Before we proceed to describe the influence which armies thus composed
exercised upon the life of the German people, we must once more remind
the reader, that this monstrous evil was not created by the Thirty
years' war, but for the most part already in existence. Some
observations will therefore be here introduced from the above-quoted
and now rare little book, written by Adam Junghans von der Olnitz, at
that period when the worth and capacity of the old Landsknecht army
passed away into the wild dissolute life of mercenaries. It appears here
as the prologue to the monstrous tragedy which began twenty years later.

"Each and every officer, captain of horse, or other captain, knows well
that no doctors, magisters, or any other God-fearing people, follow in
his train, but only a heap of ill-disposed lads, out of all kinds of
nations; strange folks, who leave wives and children, abandon their
duties, and follow the army; all that will not follow the pursuits of
their fathers and mothers, must follow the calf-skin which is spread
over the drum, till they come to a battle or assault, where thousands
lie on the field of battle, shot or cut to pieces; for a Landsknecht's
life hangs by a hair, and his soul flutters on his cap or his sleeve.
Besides, three kinds of herbs always grow with war; these are, sharp
rule, fifty forbidden articles, and severe judgment with speedy
sentence, which fits many a neck with a hempen collar.

"It is not enough that a soldier should be strong, straight, manly,
tyrannical, bloody-minded, in his actions like a grim lion, and behave
like a bully, as if he himself would catch and eat the devil alone, so
that none of his comrades should partake of him; but these
trigger-pullers wantonly bring themselves to destruction by their
stupidity, and other good fellows with them. Another is a snorer, and a
kicker, and stamps like a wild horse on the straw, and when he goes
into battle, and the balls whistle about his head, he is a martyr and
poor sinner, who would for very fear soil his hosen, and allow his
weapon to fall from his hand. But when they sit at the tap, or in the
cantinières' stalls, or in public-houses, then they have seen much and
can do nothing but fight, then a fly on the wall irritates them, there
is no peace with them, then they are ready to fight the enemy with great
curses. Such 'bear-prickers' are generally found out; one seldom finds
one who is not maimed in the hands or arms, or has a scar on the cheek,
and they have never really all their lives long, faced the enemy. The
captain may well keep clear of such fellows, for they are generally
seditious mutineers. A wise soldier avoids quarrels and public-house
brawls whenever he can, that he may have his skin whole and uninjured
to bring in front of the enemy. To be wounded by the enemy is an
honour, but he who injures himself wantonly must expect scorn and
derision, and is of no use to any army. Such a fellow must remain all
his life a paltry beggar; he roves about the country, begs bread and
sells it again, feeds like a wolf, and when the rats and mice are
drowned in the countrywoman's milk, he maintains himself on the cheese
made from it, and must submit to the rough words of the peasants, and
herd with other poor beggars to the end of his life. Besides these,
there are many who wish to be soldiers, mothers' sons, beardless boys,
like young calves, who know nothing of suffering, who have sat beside
the stove and roasted apples, and lain in warm beds. When they are
brought to a foreign country, and meet with all kind of strange
arrangements, food, drink, and other things, they are like soft eggs
that flow through the fingers, or like paper when it lies in the water.
It is thus not only with foot Landsknechte, but also with young nobles.
When they are led to the field in devastated countries, where all is
consumed and laid waste, and they can no longer carry their well-filled
bread wallets and drinking-flasks on their necks, they first pine away,
hunger and thirst, then eat and drink unusual things, from which result
all kinds of maladies. These delicate vagabonds ought to remain at home,
attend to the tillage, or sit in the shop by the pepper-bags, and shift
for themselves, as their fathers and mothers have done, fill their
stomachs at eventide, and go to bed; thus they would not be slain in
war. It is truly said that soldiers must be hardy and enduring people,
like unto steel and iron, and like the wild beasts that can eat all
kinds of food. According to the jocose saying, the Landsknechte must be
able to digest the points of their wheel-nails; nothing must come amiss
to them, even if necessity required that they should eat dogs' or cats'
flesh, and the flesh of horses from the meadow must be like good venison
to them, with herbs unseasoned by salt or butter. Hunger teaches to eat,
if one has not seen bread for three weeks. Drink one may have gratis,
for if one can get no water from the brook, one can drink with the geese
out of the pond or the puddle. One must sleep under a tree, or in the
field; there is plenty of earth to lie on, and of sky for a canopy; such
must often be the Landsknecht's sleeping-room, and from such a bed no
feathers will stick to his hair. Hence arises the old quarrel between
the fowls and geese and the Landsknechte, because the former can always
sleep in feathers, whilst the latter must often lie in straw. There is
another animal that clashes with the Landsknechte, that is the cat; as
the soldiers know well how to pilfer, they are enemies to the cats, and
friendly to the dogs. According to the old doggerel, a Landsknecht
should always have with him a beautiful woman, a dog, and a young boy, a
long spear, and a short sword; he is free to seek any master who will
give him service. A Landsknecht must make three campaigns before he can
become an honourable man. After the first campaign, he must return home
wearing torn clothes; after the second, he should return with a scar on
one cheek, and be able to tell much of alarms, battles, skirmishes and
storming parties, and to show by his scars that he has got the marks of
a Landsknecht; after the third, he should return well appointed, on a
fine charger, bringing with him a purse full of gold, so that he may be
able to distribute whole dollars as he would booty-pence.

"It is truly said, that a soldier must have to eat and drink, whether it
is paid for by the sacristan or the priest; for a Landsknecht has
neither house nor farm, cows nor calves, and no one to bring him food;
therefore he must procure it himself wherever it is to be found, and buy
without money whether the peasants look sweet or sour. Sometimes they
must suffer hunger and evil days, at others they have abundance, and
indeed such superfluity, that they might clean their shoes with wine or
beer. Then their dogs eat roast; the women and children get good
appointments, they become stewards and cellarers of other people's
property. When the householder is driven away with his wife and
children, the fowls, geese, fat cows, oxen, pigs, and sheep have a bad
time of it. The money is portioned out in their caps, velvet and silk
stuffs and cloth are measured out by long spears; a cow is slaughtered
for the sake of the hide; chests and trunks are broken open, and when
all has been plundered and nothing more remains, the house is set on
fire. That is the true Landsknecht's fire, when fifty villages and
country towns are in flames. Then they go to other quarters and do the
like again; this makes soldiers jolly, and is a desirable life for those
who do not pay for it. This entices to the field many a mother's child,
who does not return home, and forgets his friends. For the proverb says:
'The Landsknechte have crooked fingers and maimed hands for work, but
for pilfering and plundering all the maimed hands become sound.' That
has been so before our days, and will remain so truly after us. The
longer the Landsknechte learn this handiwork the better they do it, and
become circumspect, like the three maidens who had four cradles made,
the fourth as a provision in case one of them had two children. Wherever
the soldiers come, they bring with them the keys of all the rooms, their
axes and hatchets, and if there are not enough stalls in a place for
their horses, it does not signify, they stall them in the churches,
monasteries, chapels, and best rooms. If there is no dry wood for fire,
it matters not, they burn chairs, benches, ploughs, and everything that
is in the house; if they want green wood, no one need go far, they cut
down the fruit trees in the nearest orchard; for they say, whilst we
live here we keep house, to-morrow we go off again into the country,
therefore, Mr. Host, be comforted; you have a few guests you would
gladly be free from, therefore give freely and write it on the slate.
When the house is burnt the account is burnt also. This is the
Landsknechts' custom; to make a reckoning and ride off, and pay when we
return.

"The French, Italians, and Walloons are as adverse to the Germans as to
dogs, but the Spaniards are friendly to them; they however have an
unheard-of weakness for women, and are disposed to profligate and
godless conduct. Altogether, the Germans are but little thought of by
these nations, who call them nothing but drunkards, proud featherpates,
mighty braggadocios, blasphemers of God, '_Hans Muffmaff_' with the
beggar's wallet, who would willingly play the great man. And if one
comes to look at it, it is not far from the truth. For there is a new
custom amongst the North Germans when they go to war, or collect
together under a master, they spend all their goods and possessions on
ostentatious splendour, as if they were going to a bride, or riding to a
banquet. Thus the Germans who were formerly called the Blackriders, come
riding along with silver daggers, seven pound in weight, in velvet
clothes, and shining boots, with short holster pistols inlaid with
ivory, and large wide padded sleeves; they are ashamed of carrying
cuirass or armour, or indeed a spear, or any other murderous weapons, as
in the olden time. Hence it arises, that they never hold together. Then
when Hans Spaniard comes with his tilting spear and proof armour, these
chaw-bacons, with their short holster pistols, must run away or yield
their money and blood.

"Further, it is a misfortune to the Germans, that they take to
imitating, like monkeys and fools. As soon as they come amongst other
soldiers, they must have Spanish or other outlandish clothes. If they
could babble foreign languages a little, they would associate themselves
with Spaniards and Italians. The Germans would like to mingle with
foreign nations, and take pleasure in outlandish dress and manners, 'but
one should not place the vermin in the fur, it comes there without.' It
is clear that foreign people have become our neighbours, and it is to be
feared that they will in a few years come nearer. The frontier lords,
who still rest in tranquillity, fight against the wind, speak quite
wisely thereupon, comfort themselves, and have in talk, all their cities
and villages full of soldiers to defend the country and withstand all
enemies. But I fear that they prefer sitting by the stove in winter, and
in the shade in summer, playing draughts, or striking the guitar, or
dancing with _Jungfrau_ Greta, to providing their houses with good
weapons or armour.

"On this account, and because all foreign nations cry out all over
Germany, '_Cruci, cruci, mordio, mordio!_' and grind their teeth like
ravenous wolves, and desire and hope to bathe in German blood, one must
earnestly pray God not to withdraw his hand, but to take under his
protection this little vessel, tossed on the wild sea, cover it with his
wings, and preserve it from all storms; for we see how the Roman Empire
has declined from day to day, and still continues to do so. These
sufferings come from nothing but the proceedings of the ecclesiastics,
whereof the whole world complains. If one finds one right-minded
preacher there are ten to the contrary; every tradesman praises his own
wares, everyone will feed his own flock, and lead them the right way to
heaven, yet no one knows, save the devil and our Lord, where the false
shepherds go to themselves. Every one abuses, slanders, and condemns the
other; when they stand in the pulpit, the devil is their preceptor, who
helps them to manage so that one kingdom is at variance with another,
one country rebellious against the other; neighbour can no longer agree
with neighbour; nay one finds even at one table four or five different
faiths, one will worship on this mountain and another on yonder. May the
eternal Almighty God strengthen the hearts of the dear North Germans,
give them an upright spirit, and raise them up again, that they may one
day rise from the ashes, and renew their ancient repute, and their good
name. God help the righteous."

Thus writes an honourable officer before the year 1600.

CHAPTER II.

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.--LIFE AND MANNERS OF THE SOLDIERS.

Almost all the people of Europe sent their least promising sons to the
long war. Not only did foreign mercenaries follow the recruiting drum
like crows to the battle-field, but the whole of Christian Europe was
drawn into the struggle; foreigners trampled on the German soil in
companies and regiments: English and Scotch, Danes, Fins and Swedes,
besides the Netherlanders (whom the people considered as countrymen),
fought on the side of the Protestants. Even the Laplanders came with
their reindeer to the German coast; in the winter months of 1630 they
brought upon their sledges over the ice, furs for the Swedish army. But
still more chequered did the Imperial army look. The Roumaun Walloons,
Irish adventurers, Spaniards, Italians, and almost every Sclavonic race
broke into the country; worst of all the light cavalry,--Cossacks,
Polish auxiliaries (who were for the most part slaughtered by the
country people in 1620), Stradiots (among them undoubtedly some
Mahomedans), and, most hated of all, the Croats. The position of the
Emperor in the beginning of the war was striking in this respect, that
he had almost nothing but Sclavonic and Roumaun soldiers, and only
Roumaun money to oppose the Germans. By them the national rising was
crushed, and it is probable that half the troops of the League consisted
of foreigners.

Each army was a sample of the different nationalities; in each there was
an intermixture of many languages; and the hatred of nations seldom
ceased even when fighting under the same colours. It was especially
necessary in the camp to arrange the regiments according to the good
understanding between them. Germans and Italians were always kept apart.

The Field-marshal or Quartermaster-general chose the site of the camp;
if possible by running water, and in a position which was favourable for
defence. First of all was measured out the place for the General and his
staff; large ornamented tents were raised on the ground thus set apart,
which was divided from the rest of the camp by barriers and by planting
spears, frequently even by fortifications. An open place was left close
to it for the main-guard; if the army remained long encamped, a gallows
was erected there as a warning. The position of each regiment and
company was marked out with branches; the troops were marched in, the
ranks were opened, the colours of each regiment were planted in the
ground in rows side by side; behind in parallel lines lay the encampment
of the company, always fifty men in a row; near the colours was the
Ensign, in the middle the Lieutenant, at the rear the Captain, and
behind all the tents of the superior officers and officials; the surgeon
next to the Ensign, and the chaplain near the Captain. The officers
lived in tents, often in conical forms fastened with cords to the
ground. The soldiers built themselves little huts of planks and straw.
The pikemen planted their pikes in the ground near the huts; the pikes,
short spears, halberds, partisans, and standards showed from afar the
rank and weapons of the inhabitant of the tent. Two or four soldiers
were generally housed in a hut, with their wives, children, and dogs.
Thus they lay encamped, company by company, regiment by regiment, in
great squares or circles, the whole camp surrounded by a large space
which served as an alarm post. Before the Thirty years' war it was
customary to set up a barricade round the camp; then the train or
baggage waggons were pushed together in double or more rows, and bound
by chains or fastenings to the great square or circle, leaving free the
necessary openings. Then also the cavalry had their camp next the inner
side of the waggons; the necessary partitions were erected for the
horses near the huts and tents of the horsemen. This custom had become
obsolete, and it was only occasionally that the waggons surrounded the
camp, but it was protected by trenches, mounds, and field-pieces. At the
openings sentinels were posted, outside the camp, troops of horse and a
chain of outposts of musketeers or arquebussiers were stationed. Each
Ensign planted the colours before his tent; near it was the drummer of
the company, and a musketeer kept watch with a burning match in his hand
and his musket supported horizontally on its rest.

In such a camp it was that the wild soldiery dwelt in unbridled licence,
insupportable to the neighbourhood even in a friendly country. The
provinces, cities, and villages were obliged to supply wood, straw,
fodder, and provisions, the waggons rolled along every road, and droves
of fat cattle were collected. The neighbouring villages quickly
disappeared; as all the wood-work and thatching was torn away by the
soldiers and employed in building their huts, only the shattered clay
walls remained. The soldiers and their boys roved about the
neighbourhood, plundering and stealing, and the cantineers drove about
with their carts. In the camp the soldiers congregated in front of
their huts; meanwhile the women cooked, washed, mended the clothes and
squabbled together; there was constant tumult and uproar and bloody
crimes, fighting with bare weapons, and combats between the different
services or nations. Every morning the crier and the trumpet called to
prayer, even among the Imperialists; early on the Sunday the regimental
chaplain performed service in the camp, then the soldiers and their
households seated themselves devoutly on the ground, and it was
forbidden for any one during service to loiter and drink in the
canteens. It is known how much Gustavus Adolphus inculcated pious habits
and prayers; after his arrival in Pomerania he caused prayers to be read
twice a day in his camp, but even in his army, it was necessary in the
articles of war to admonish the chaplains against drunkenness.

In the open space in front of the main-guard was the gambling ground,
covered with cloaks and set with tables, round which all the gamesters
crowded. There the card-playing of the old Landsknechte gave place to
the quicker games of the dice. The use of dice was frequently forbidden
in the camp, and stopped by the captain of the guard and the provost;
then the gamblers assembled privately behind the fence, and played away
their ammunition, bread, horses, weapons, and clothes, so that it was
found necessary to place them under the supervision of the main-guard.
Three square dice were rolled on each cloak or table, called in camp
language "_Schelmbeine_;" each set had its croupier; to him belonged the
cloak, table, and dice; he had the office of judge in cases of dispute,
and his share of the winnings, but also frequently of blows. There was
much cheating and cogging; many dice had two fives or sixes, many, two
aces or deuces, others were filled with quicksilver and lead, split
hair, sponge, chaff, and charcoal; there were dice made of stags-horn,
heavy below and light above, "_Niederländer_,"[11] which must be slid
along, and "_Oberländer_,"[12] which must be thrown "from Bavarian
Heights" for them to fall right; often the noiseless work was
interrupted by curses, quarrels, and flashing rapiers. Lurking
tradespeople, frequently Jews, slipped in, ready to value and buy up the
rings, chains, and booty staked.

Behind the tents of the upper officers and the regimental provost,
separated from them by a wide street, stood the shops of the cantineers
in parallel cross rows. Cantineers, butchers, and common victuallers
formed an important community. The price of their goods was decided by
the provost, who received a perquisite in money or in kind; for example,
he received a tongue for every beast that was killed. On every cask
which was to be tapped, he wrote the retail price with chalk. By these
compacts, and the favour of the powerful, which was to be bought by
time-serving, the purveyors of the army maintained a proportionably
secure position, and insured themselves the payment, though irregular,
of their long tallies, which were scored equally for the officers and
soldiers. In good times traders came from afar to the camp with
expensive stuffs, jewels, gold and silver workmanship, and delicacies.
In the beginning of the war especially, the officers set a bad example
to the army by their extreme luxury; every captain would have a French
cook, and consumed the dearest wine in great quantities.

The military signals of the camp were, for the infantry the beat of the
drum, for the cavalry the trumpet: the drum was very large, the drummer
often a half-grown boy, sometimes the fool of the company. In the
beginning of the war, the German army had in many cases a uniform beat.
Every command from the General to the camp, had to be proclaimed by a
herald riding through it with a trumpeter. On such occasions the herald
wore over his dress a "tabard" of coloured silk, embroidered before and
behind with the arms of the sovereign. This proclamation, which
announced to the camp in the evening the work of the following day, was
very destructive to secret and rapid operations; it was also very
injurious to discipline, for it announced to the loiterers and robbers
of the camp, the night when they might steal out for booty.

When times were prosperous, a battle won, a rich city plundered, or an
opulent district laid under contribution, everything was plentiful, food
and drink cheap; and it once happened, in the last year of the war, that
in the Bavarian camp a cow was bought for a pipe of tobacco. The Croats
of the Imperial army in Pomerania, in the winter of 1630 and 1631, had
their girdles overlaid with gold, and whole plates of gold and silver on
the breast. Paul Stockmann, a pastor at Lützen, relates, that in the
Imperial army, before the battle of Lützen, one horseman had his horse
decorated with a quantity of golden stars, and another with three
hundred silver moons; and the soldiers' women wore the most beautiful
church dresses and mass vestments, and that some Stradiots rode in
plundered priests' dresses, to the great mirth of their comrades. In
these times also carousers drank to one another in costly wine from the
chalices, and caused long chains to be made of the plundered gold, from
which, according to the old knightly custom, they severed links to pay
for a carousal. But the longer the war lasted the more rare were these
golden times. The devastation of the country revenged itself fearfully
on the army itself; the pale spectre of hunger, the forerunner of
pestilence, glided through the lines of the camp, and raised its bony
hand against every straw hut. Then supplies from the surrounding
districts ceased, the price of provisions was raised so as to be almost
unattainable; a loaf of bread, for example, in the Swedish army in 1640,
at Gotha, cost a ducat. Hollow-eyed pale faces, sick and dying men, were
to be seen in every row of huts; the vicinity of the camp was
pestilential from the decaying bodies of dead animals. All around was a
wilderness of uncultivated fields, blackened with the ruins of villages,
and the camp itself a dismal city of death.

A broad stream of superstition had flowed through the souls of the
people from ancient times up to the present day, and the soldier's life
of the Thirty years' war revived an abundance of peculiar superstitions,
of which a portion continues even now; it is worth while to dwell a
little upon these characteristic phenomena.

The belief that it is possible to make the body proof by magic against
the weapons of the enemy, and on the other hand to make your own arms
fatal to them, is older than the historical life of the German people.
In the earliest times, however, something gloomy was attached to this
art; it might easily become pregnant with fatality, even to its
votaries. The invulnerability was not unconditional, and succumbed to
the stronger counter-magic of the offensive weapon: Achilles had a heel
which was not invulnerable; no weapon could wound the Norse god Baldur,
but the waving of a branch of misletoe by a blind man killed him;
Siegfried had a weak spot between the shoulders, the same which the
soldiers of the Thirty years' war considered also as vulnerable. Among
the numerous Norse traditions are many accounts of charmed weapons: the
sword, the noblest weapon of heroes, was considered as a living being,
also as a slaying serpent or a destroying fire; when it was shattered,
it was spoken of by the Norse poets as dying. It was unnecessary to
charm swords forged by dwarfs, as there was a destroying magic concealed
in them; thus the sword of Hagens, the father of Hilda, was death to any
man when it was drawn from the sheath, magic Runic character being
scratched on the hilt and blade of it.

The introduction of fire-arms gave a new aspect and a wider scope to
this superstition; the flash and report of the weapon, and the distant
striking of the ball, imposed the more on the fancy, the less the
imperfect weapon was certain of hitting: the course of the deadly shot
was considered malicious and incalculable. Undoubtedly the literature of
the Reformation seldom touched upon this kind of magic; it first made
itself heard in the middle of the century, when it served to portray the
condition of the people. But in armies, the belief in magic was general
and widely spread, travelling scholars and gipsies were the most zealous
vendors of its secrets, one generation of Landsknechte imparted it to
the next: in Italy and in the armies of Charles V., Italian and German
superstitions were mixed, and in the time of Fronsperg and Schärtlin
almost every detail of the art of rendering invulnerable is to be found.
Luther, in 1527, inveighs against the superstition of the soldiery: "One
commits himself to St. George, another to St. Christopher, some to one
saint, some to another; some can charm iron and gun-flints, others can
bless the horse and his rider, and some carry the gospel of St.
John,[13] or somewhat else with them, in which they confide." He himself
had known a Landsknecht, who, though made invulnerable by the devil, was
killed, and announced beforehand the day and place of his death.
Bernhard von Milo, Seneschal at Wittenberg, sent to Luther for his
opinion on a written charm for wounds; it was a long roll of paper
written in wonderful characters.

When the Augsburg gunner, Samuel Zimmermann the elder, wrote the
experiences of his life up to 1591, in a folio volume, under the title
of '_Charms against all Stabs, Strokes, and Shots, full of great
secrets_,' he mentions only the defensive incantations, which he did not
consider as the works of Belial; but it is apparent from his manuscript
that many devilish arts were known to him, which he intended to conceal.
Another well-known Zimmermann, who was hardened, received a fearful blow
from a dagger; there was no wound to be seen, but he died shortly after
from the internal effect of the blow. In 1558 there was an invulnerable
soldier in the regiment of Count Lichtenstein, who, after every
skirmish, shook the enemy's balls off his dress and his bare body; he
often showed them, and the holes burnt through his clothes; he was at
last slain by some foreign peasants.

When the Italians and Spaniards entered the Netherlands in 1568, they
carried along with them, with little success, whole packets and books
full of magic formulas of conjurations and charms. The French found
talismans and magic cards fastened round the necks of the prisoners and
the dead, of the Brandenburg troops who had been led by Burgrave Fabian
von Dohna, in 1587, as auxiliaries to the Huguenots. When the Jesuit
George Scheerer preached at the Court Chapel at Vienna in 1594, before
the Archduke Matthias and his Generals, he found it necessary to exhort
them earnestly against the use of superstitious charms for cuts, stabs,
shots, and burns.

It is therefore unjust in later writers to state, that the art of
rendering invulnerable was introduced at Passau by a travelling scholar
in the seventeenth century, as Grimmelshausen informs us, or as others
will have it, that it was brought into the German army by Kaspar
Reithardt von Hersbruck, the executioner; for when Archduke Leopold, the
Bishop of Passau, raised the reckless and ill-disciplined bands which
spread terror through Alsace and Bohemia by their barbarities, his
soldiers only adopted the old traditions which were rooted in German
heathenism, and had lingered on through the whole of the middle ages;
nay, even the name, "_Passau art_," which has been customary since then,
may rest on a misunderstanding of the people, for in the sixteenth
century all who bore charms about them to render them invulnerable were
called by the learned soldier, "_Pessulanten_," or "_Charakteristiker_,"
and whoever understood the art of dissolving a charm was a "_Solvent_."
It is possible that the first of these popular designations was changed
into "_Passauer_."

Even in the first year of the Thirty years' war, the art of rendering
invulnerable was eagerly discussed. A good account of it can be found in
'The true narrative of the siege and capture by storm of the city of
Pilsen in Bohemia, 1619.' The passage according to our dialect is as
follows:

"An adventurer under Mansfeld, called Hans Fabel, once took a tumbler of
beer up to the city trenches and drank it to the besieged. They saluted
him with powder and shot; but he drank up his tumbler of beer, thanked
them, entered the trenches and took five balls from his bosom. This
'_Pilmiskind_,'[14] although he was so invulnerable, was taken very
sick, and died before the capture of the town. This magical art, 'Passau
art,' has become quite common; one would sooner have shot at a rock than
at such a charmed fellow. I believe that the devil hides in their skin.
One good fellow indeed often charms another, even when the person so
charmed does not know it, and still less desires it. A small boy from
fourteen to fifteen years of age was shot in the arm when he was beating
the drum, but the ball rebounded from the arm to the left breast, and
did not penetrate; this was seen by many. But those who use this magic
come to a bad end; I have known many such lose their lives in a terrible
way, for one delusion struggles against another. Their devilish sorcery
is expressly against the first and other commandments of God. Assiduous
prayer and faith in God gives other means of support. If any one in
presence of the enemy perishes not, it is God's will. If he is struck,
the angels take him to heaven, but those who are charmed are taken by
Black Kaspar."[15]

Numerous were the means employed by men to make themselves and others
invulnerable. Even this superstition was governed tyrannically by
fashion. Of very ancient date are the charmed shirts, and the Victory
and St. George's shirts; they were prepared in different ways for the
Landsknechte. On Christmas night, according to ancient tradition,
certain virgins used to spin linen thread in the name of the devil,
weave and stitch it; on the breast two heads were embroidered, the one
on the right side with a beard, and the left like that of king
Beelzebub, with a crown, dark reminiscences of the holy heads of Donar
and Wuotan. According to later custom the charmed shirt must be spun by
maidens under the age of seven; it was to be sewed with particular cross
stitches, laid secretly on the altar till three masses had been read
over it. On the day of battle such a charmed shirt was worn under the
dress, and if the wearer received a wound, it was owing to other thread
having been mixed with that which was charmed.

Superstition gladly availed itself of the miraculous power of the
Christian Church, even when in opposition to law. The gospel of St. John
was written elaborately on thin paper and placed secretly under the
altar cover in a Roman Catholic church, and left there till the priest
had thrice read the mass over it; then it was placed in a quill or the
shell of a hazel nut, and the opening was cemented with Spanish lac or
wax, or this capsule was framed in gold or silver and hung round the
neck. Others received the host at the Lord's supper, accompanying it
with a silent invocation to the devil; taking the wafer out of their
mouths again, they separated the skin from the flesh in some part of the
body, placed the wafer there, and let the wound heal over it. The most
reckless gave themselves up entirely to the devil; such people could not
only make other men invulnerable, but even eatables, such as butter,
cheese, and fruit, so that the sharpest knife could not penetrate
them.[16]

There was a change of form and name in the written parchments also which
contained charms.

"_Pope Leo's blessing_" originated in the early Landsknecht times; it
contained good Christian words and promises. Besides this there was the
"_Blessing of the Knight of Flanders_," so called because a knight who
had once worn it could not be beheaded; it was written in strange
characters and types interspersed with signs of the cross. Then there
was "_The benediction_," or charm in time of need, which in a moment of
danger arrested the sword or gun of the enemy.[17]

Similar were the "_Passau charms_" of the seventeenth century, written
on post paper, virgin parchment, or the host, with a peculiar pen in
bat's blood; the superstition was in strange characters, wizard feet,
circles, crosses, and the letters of foreign languages; according to
Grimmelshausen[18] the rhyme runs thus: Devil help me, body and soul
give I thee. When fastened under the left arm they expelled the shot and
closed the guns of the enemy. Sometimes even the charms were eaten. But
opinions concerning their efficacy were fluctuating. Some thought them
safeguards only for four-and-twenty hours; but according to others their
magic did not begin to work till after the first four-and-twenty hours,
and whoever was shot before that time belonged to the devil. Other
charms were also used for protection, everything odious and dismal was
collected together, and what had been fearful in the ancient mythology
continued to retain its old power. A piece of the cord or chain by which
a man had been hung, or the beard of a goat, the eyes of a wolf, the
head of a bat and the like, worn round the body in a purse of black
cat's skin, rendered a person invulnerable. Hair balls (a mass of hair
from the stomach of the chamois), and the caul in which children are
born, gave invulnerability; he who had never eaten kidneys was secure
from shot or pestilence, and it was believed at Augsburg, that a famous
knight and experienced General, Sebastian Schärtlin, had thus protected
himself before the enemy.

Old magic herbs, as endive, verbena, St. John's wort, chickweed,
vervain, mallow, and garlick were used as charms, and the most powerful
of all, the deadly nightshade. It was necessary to dig them up with the
best new sharpened steel, and never to touch them with the bare hand,
least of all with the left, and they were carried like an _Agnus Dei_.
They were circular, and only found on the battle-fields of great
battles, and were, as Zimmermann says, sacred for the sake of the dead.
Besides these there was a fire-coloured flower which Cabalists called
"Efdamanila;" it not only protected the wearer from shot, stabs, and
fire, but when it was hung over the wall in a besieged town near the
enemy's cannon, they were spell-bound for a whole month.

Amulet medals also were early in use: in 1555, at the battle of
Marienburg, between the Princes of Orange and Nevers, a little child was
struck on the neck by a shot, a silver medal was doubled up, and the
child remained unhurt; this great effect was then ascribed to an amulet
parchment which the child wore round his neck near the medal. But about
the same time the "Sideristen," who were experienced in astronomical
science, poured out heavenly influence in invulnerable medals of silver
and fine gold, which were worn round the neck. Thurneisser spread also
these kinds of amulets in Northern Germany. An accidental circumstance
brought the Mansfeld St. George's thaler into repute in the Thirty
years' war, especially those of 1611 and 1613, bearing the inscription,
"With God is counsel and action."

Not only the common soldiers, but many great commanders also had the
repute of being invulnerable: not Pappenheim, indeed, who was wounded in
almost every action, but Holk, who was supposed at last to have been
carried away to hell by the devil in person; Tilly, for whom, after the
battle of Breitenfeld, the affrighted surgeon found he had only bruises
to dress; Wallenstein and his kinsman Terzka; even the sword of
Gustavus Adolphus was considered to be enchanted. Ahaz Willenger also,
leader after the death of Fardinger, of the revolted Austrian peasants,
was rendered so hard that a cannon-ball at seven paces rebounded from
his skin without penetrating it; he was at last killed by an officer of
Pappenheim. All the Princes of the house of Savoy were considered
invulnerable, even, after the Thirty years' war. Field-Marshal
Schauenburg tried it with Prince Thomas when he besieged him in an
Italian fortress; the bullets of the best marksmen missed their aim. No
one knew whether the members of that noble house had especial grace,
because they were of the race of the royal prophet David, or whether the
art of rendering themselves invulnerable was hereditary.

There were hardly any who did not believe in the mystic art. The
renowned French General Messire Jacques de Puysegur, in the French civil
war in 1622, was obliged to compass the death of an opponent, _qui avait
un caractère_, by blows of a strong pole on his neck, because he had no
weapon that could kill him; he recounts this circumstance to his King.
At the blockade of Magdeburg in 1629, the complaint against these
practices became so general, that the parties engaged in this war
entered into negotiations concerning it. Gustavus Adolphus, in his first
article of war, earnestly forbade idolatry, witchcraft, or the charming
of weapons as sins against God.

But the dark powers which the soldier invoked to his aid were
treacherous. They did not protect against everything; it was, to say
the least, very unsatisfactory that they did not preserve from the hand
of the executioner: Zimmermann relates many cases in which the
far-reaching hopes of an invulnerable person and his adherents were
disappointed at the place of execution. Certain portions of the body,
the neck, and the back between the shoulders, the armpits, and the under
part of the knee, were considered not hard or invulnerable. The body
also was only charmed against the common metals of lead or iron. The
simplest weapons of peasants, a wooden club, bullets of more precious
metals, and sometimes inherited silver could kill the invulnerable. Thus
an Austrian governor of Greifswald, on whom the Swedes had fired more
than twenty balls, could only be shot by the inherited silver button
that a soldier carried in his pocket. Thus too a witch in Schleswig was
changed into a were-wolf, and shot by inherited silver.[19] The magic
also could be broken by other mixtures, by cast balls, and by magically
consecrated weapons. Rye bread which had been leavened and baked on
Easter night, was rubbed crosswise over the edge of the steel, and signs
were indelibly impressed on blades and barrels: it was known how to
cast balls which killed without injuring the skin, others which must
draw blood, and some which broke every invulnerability; these were
prepared by mixtures of pulverized grains of corn, antimony, and
thunder-stones, and cooled in poison. But these arts were considered
supernatural and dangerous. Besides these they tried "natural" devices
which might be resorted to with advantage, even by an honourable
soldier. They imagined they could prepare gunpowder with a mixture of
pounded dogs' bones, which would make no report. Powder was also
prepared by which the person shot was only stunned for hours; other
powder that did not explode, even when glowing steel was inserted. By a
mixture of borax and quicksilver they produced a mining powder by which
the enemy's pieces were blown up, in case there was not time to spike
them. They sought after the secret of giving a man double strength
without magic.

There was a peculiar and also very old kind of magic, which spell-bound
the enemy by mystic sentences, which were recited in moments of danger.
The adept could fix whole troops of horsemen and infantry: in the same
way, by other sentences, they could dissolve the spell. There was still
another kind of sorcery; horsemen were made to appear on the field of
battle, that is to say, when support was required in imminent danger,
deceptive appearance was produced, as if soldiers were approaching in
the distance. Both these conjurations are relics of the heathen occult
sciences, the echoes of which may still be discovered in manifold tales
and traditions, even up to the present day.

The gloomy provost was the man in the regiment who was held in the most
awe; he was naturally considered as pre-eminently an adept. In 1618, it
was supposed that the executioner of Pilsen could, with the help of an
assistant, fire daily three fatal balls against the camp of Mansfeld;
after the capture of the city, he was hanged on a special gallows. The
provost of the Hatzfeld army of 1636 was still more versed in sorcery:
he was killed by the Swedes with an axe, because he was magically
hardened. It was very much in the interest of these authorities to keep
up amongst the revengeful soldiery the belief in their invulnerability.

We may add to these delusions, the endeavours of individuals to read
from the course of the stars the events and issue of the war, and their
own fate. Prognostics accumulated, the terrors of the approaching year
were unweariedly prophesied from constellations, shooting-stars, comets,
and other atmospheric phenomena; the casting of horoscopes was general.
Some individuals also possessed second sight, they foresaw to whom the
approaching future would be fatal. When in 1636 the Imperial Saxon army
was lying before Magdeburg, there was an invalid mathematician in the
camp who foretold to his friends that the 26th of June would be fatal to
him. He was lying in a closed tent when a lieutenant rode up, and
unloosening the tent cords, forced himself in and begged the sick man to
draw his nativity. After refusing a long time, the invalid prophesied to
him that he would be hanged that very hour. The lieutenant, very
indignant that any one should dare to say such a thing to a cavalier,
drew his sword and killed the sick man. There immediately arose a great
tumult, the murderer then threw himself upon his horse and tried to
escape; it happened however, accidentally, that the Elector of Saxony
was riding through the camp with General Hatzfeld and a great retinue.
The Elector exclaimed, that there would be bad discipline in the
Imperial camp if the life of a sick man in bed could not be secured from
murderers. The lieutenant was hanged.

Whoever was considered the possessor of such secrets was feared by his
comrades, but not esteemed. "For if they were not cowardly, dastardly
ninnies, they would not use such charms." Certain officers in the
sixteenth century caused every prisoner to be hanged upon whom were
found jagged or iron-coated balls, "which were consecrated for the sake
of a soul." In the Thirty years' war, a coward begged of his comrade a
Passau parchment, who wrote on a strip of paper three times: "Defend
yourself, scoundrel," folded it up and made the dastard sew it in his
clothes. From that day every one imagined that he was invulnerable, and
he went about on all occasions amongst the enemies' weapons, as hard as
horn, like a _Siegfried_, and always came out unwounded.

But the soldier had not only to win the favour of the Fates, but still
more the approbation of his comrades. Whoever carefully examines this
period, without ceasing to view with horror the numerous and refined
atrocities which were practised, will at the same time perceive that
this scene of barbarity was occasionally brightened by milder virtues,
and sometimes healthy integrity comes to light. A peculiar code of
soldier's honour was soon formed, which preserved a kind of morality,
though a lax one. We have but few records of the good humour which arose
from consciousness of having the mastery over citizen and peasant. But
the proverbial modes of speech often bear sufficiently the impress of
the same disposition which is idealized in Schiller's "Reiterlied." "The
sharp sabre is my field, and booty making is my plough." "The earth is
my bed, heaven my canopy, my cloak is my house, and wine my eternal
life."[20] "As soon as a soldier is born, three peasants are selected
for him; the first provides for him, the second finds him a beautiful
wife, and the third goes to hell for him."[21]

We have reason to suppose that sensuality was in general unbridled and
shameless; the old German vice, drunkenness, prevailed as much amongst
the officers as soldiers. The smoking and chewing tobacco, or as it was
then called, "tobacco drinking"--"eating and snuffing," spread rapidly
through all the armies, and the guard-room was a disagreeable abode for
those who did not smoke. This custom, which at the beginning of the war
was introduced into the army by the Dutch and English auxiliaries, was
at the end of it so common, that a pipe was to be found in every
peasant's house, and nine out of ten of the day labourers and
apprentices smoked during their work.

The German language also was jargonized in the army; it soon became the
fashion among the soldiers to intermix Italian and French words, and the
language was enriched even by Hungarian, Croat, and Czech: they have
left us besides their "_karbatsche_" and similar words, and also
sonorous curses. Not only was their discourse garnished with these
strong expressions, but gipsy cant became the common property of the
army. It did not indeed begin in the great war, for long before, the
Landsknechte, as "Gartbrüder" and members of the beggars' guild, had
learned their arts and language. But now the camp language was not only
a convenient help to secret intercourse with the bad rabble who followed
the army, with guild robbers, Jewish dealers and gipsies, but it also
gave a certain degree of consideration round the camp fire to be able to
bandy mysterious words. Some expressions from the camp language passed
among the people, others were carried by runaway students into the
drinking-rooms of the universities.[22]

The daily quarrels gave rise amongst the common soldiers also to the
cartel, or duels regulated by many points of honour. Duels were strictly
forbidden; Gustavus Adolphus punished them with death even among the
higher officers; but no law could suppress them. The duellists fought
alone, or with two or three seconds, or an umpire was selected: before
the combat the seconds vowed to one another and gave their hands upon
it, not to help the combatants, either before, in, or after the
encounter, nor to revenge them; the duellists shook hands and exchanged
forgiveness beforehand, in case of the death of either. They fought on
horseback or on foot, with carbines, pistols, or swords; in the fight, a
throw in wrestling or unhorsing was sufficient; stabbing was considered
un-German, above all a thrust in the back was of doubtful propriety.[23]

As it was so usual to change parties, a corporation feeling was formed
amongst the soldiers which also embraced the enemy. The armies had a
tolerably accurate knowledge of each other, and not only the character
of the upper officers, but of old soldiers was known; any day an old
comrade might be seen in the enemy's ranks, or installed as a tent
companion to a former adversary. Indeed, quarter was often proffered:
but any one who fought against the customs of war, or was suspected of
using devilish acts, was to be killed even if he sued for pardon.
Cartels were concluded between the courteous conquerors and the
vanquished, the conquerors promised to protect, and the prisoners not to
escape; the weapons, scarfs, and plumes were taken away from the
vanquished; all that he concealed in his clothes belonged to the
conqueror, but he who got Dutch quarter, kept what was enclosed in his
girdle; a courteous prisoner himself presented what he had in his
pockets. If a desperate man did not stand by his conditions of quarter,
he was killed, if he did not rapidly escape. During the transport they
were coupled by the arm, and the string taken from their hose, so that
they were obliged to hold their small-clothes with the hand that was
free. The prisoners could be ransomed, and this ransom was fixed by
tariff in each army. Towards the conclusion of the war, when soldiers
became scarce, the common prisoners were summarily placed in the
regiments without giving them a choice. Such soldiers were naturally not
to be depended on; they gladly took the first opportunity to desert to
their former colours, where they had left their women, children, booty,
and arrears of pay. Distinguished prisoners were sometimes bought from
the common soldiers by the colonels of their regiments; they were
treated with great consideration in the enemy's quarters, and almost
every one found there either an acquaintance or a relative.

Booty was the uncertain gain for which the soldier staked his life, and
the hope of it kept him steadfast in the most desperate situations. The
pay was moderate, the payment insecure; plunder promised them wine,
play, a smart mistress, a gold-laced dress with a plume of feathers, one
or two horses, and the prospect of greater importance in the company and
of advancement. Vanity, love of pleasure, and ambition, developed this
longing to a dangerous extent in the army.

The success of a battle was more than once defeated, by the soldiers too
soon abandoning themselves to plundering. It often happened that
individuals made great booty, but it was almost always dissipated in
wild revelry; according to the soldier's adage: "What is won with the
drum will be lost with the fifes." The fame of such lucky hits spread
through all armies. Sometimes these great gains brought evil results on
the fortunate finders.[24] A common soldier of Tilly's army had won
great booty at the capture of Magdeburg, it was said to be thirty
thousand ducats, and was immediately lost in gambling. Tilly caused him
to be hanged after thus accosting him: "With this money you might have
lived all your life like a gentleman, but as you have not understood how
to make use of it, I cannot see of what use you can be to my Emperor."
At the end of the war a man in Königsmark's troop had obtained a similar
sum in the suburbs of Prague, and played it away at one sitting.
Königsmark wished in like manner to despatch him, but the soldier saved
himself by this undaunted answer: "It would be unfair for your
Excellence to hang me on account of this loss, as I have hopes of
acquiring still greater booty in the city itself." This answer was
considered a good omen. In the Bavarian army a soldier in the Holtz
infantry was famed for a similar lucky hit. He had been for a long time
musketeer, but shortly before the peace had sunk to be a pikeman, and
was ill-clad; his shirt hung behind and before out of his hose. This
fellow had obtained at the taking of Herbsthausen a barrel filled with
French doubloons, so large that he could hardly carry it off. He
thereupon absconded secretly from the regiment, dressed himself up like
a prince, bought a coach and six beautiful horses, kept many coachmen,
lackeys, pages, and _valets de chambre_ in fine liveries, and called
himself with dull humour Colonel Lumpus.[25] Then he travelled to
Munich, and lived in an inn there splendidly. General Holtz accidentally
put up at the same inn, heard much from the landlord of the opulence
and qualities of Colonel Lumpus, and could not remember ever having
heard this name among the cavaliers of the Roman empire, or among the
soldiers of fortune. He therefore commissioned the landlord to invite
the stranger to supper. Colonel Lumpus accepted the invitation, and
caused to be served up at dessert, in a dish, five hundred new French
pistoles and a chain worth a hundred ducats, and said at the same time
to the General: "May your Excellence be content with this entertainment
and think thereby favourably of me." The General made some resistance,
but the liberal colonel pressed it upon him with these words: "The time
will soon come when your Excellence will acknowledge that I am wise in
making this gift. The donation is not ill applied, for I hope then to
receive from your Excellence a favour which will not cost a penny." On
this, Holtz, according to the custom of that time, accepted the chain
and money with courteous promises to repay it under such circumstances.
The General departed, and the fictitious colonel lived on there; when
he passed by the guard, and the soldiers presented arms to do him
honour, he threw to them a dozen thalers. Six weeks after, his money
came to an end. Then he sold his coaches and horses, afterwards his
clothes and linen, and spent all in drinking. His servants ran away from
him, and at last nothing remained to him but a bad dress and a few
pence. Then the landlord, who had made much by him, presented him with
fifty thalers for travelling, but the colonel tarried till he had spent
it all; again the host gave him ten thalers for travelling expenses, but
the persevering reveller answered that if it was money to be spent, he
would rather spend it with him than another. When that also was
dissipated, the landlord offered him another five thalers, but forbade
his servants to let the spendthrift have anything. At last he quitted
the inn and went to the next one, where he spent his five thalers in
beer. After that he wandered away to his regiment at Heilbronn. There he
was immediately confined in irons, and threatened with the gallows,
because he had been away so many weeks. He insisted on being taken
before his General, presented himself to him, and reminded him of the
evening at the inn. To the sharp rebuke of the General he answered that
he had all his life wished for nothing so much as to know what were the
feelings of a great lord, and for that he had used his booty.

In the Hungarian war it was made a law, that the booty should be equally
distributed, but that soon ceased. Still those who were fortunate enough
to make great gains, found it advisable to give a share to the officers
of their company. This common interest in the booty, as well as the
necessity of maintaining themselves by requisition, in remote countries,
developed in great perfection partisan service. There were not only
whole divisions of troops, which performed in the armies the service of
marauding corps, as for example those of Holk and Isolani in the
Imperial, but there were also individual leaders of companies, who
selected the most expert people for this lucrative employment. A
marauding party, departing on a secret expedition, must consist of an
uneven number to bring good luck. These parties stole far into the
country to plunder a rich man, to fall upon a small city, or intercept
transports of goods or money, and to bring away with them cattle and
provisions. There was often an agreement made with the enemy's garrisons
in the neighbourhood, as to what was to be spared in the districts
common to them. Every kind of cunning was practised in such expeditions;
they knew now to imitate the report of heavy artillery, by firing a
hand-gun, doubly loaded, through an empty barrel; they used shoes with
reversed soles, and caused the horses to be shod in the same manner, the
feet of stolen cattle were covered with shoes, and a sponge was put in
the pigs' food to which a packthread was fastened. The soldiers
disguised themselves as peasants or women, and paid spies amongst the
citizens and country people of the neighbourhood. Their messengers ran
hither and thither with despatches, and were called in camp language
"_feldtauben_" (field doves); they carried these despatches in their
ears rolled up as small balls, fastened them in the hair of shaggy dogs,
enclosed them in a clod of earth, or sewed them with green silk between
the leaves of a branch of oak, that they might be able to throw them
away, without suspicion, in time of danger.[26] These despatches were
written in gipsy language or gibberish, in foreign characters, and if
there were runaway students in the companies, they were written perhaps
in French with Greek letters; they employed, for these purpose, a
simple kind of short-hand writing, displacing the letters of the words,
or agreeing that only the middle letter of the words should have
signification.[27] The transition from such partisan service to becoming
dishonourable marauders and freebooters was easy. In the beginning of
the war, the newly raised regiment of Count Merode was so reduced by
long marches and bad nourishment, that it could hardly set its guard; it
dissolved almost entirely, on the march, into stragglers, who lay under
the hedges and in the byways, or sneaking about the army with defective
weapons, and without order. After that time, the stragglers, whom the
soldier wits had before called "_sausänger_" and "_immenschneider_"
(drones), were now denoted as "Merode-ing brothers." After a lost battle
their numbers increased enormously. Horsemen who were slightly wounded,
and had lost their horses, associated themselves with them, and it was
impossible, from the then state of military discipline, to get rid of
them.

The most undisciplined, abandoned the route of the army, and lived as
highwaymen, footpads, and poachers. Vain were the endeavours of the
sovereigns, at the end of the war, to annihilate the great robber bands;
they lasted, to a certain extent, up to the beginning of the present
century.

Such was the character of the war which raged in Germany for thirty
years. An age of blood, murder, and fire, of utter destruction to all
property which was movable, and ruin to that which was not; and an age
of spiritual and material decay in the nation. The Generals imposed
exorbitant contributions, and kept part in their own pockets. The
colonels and captains levied charges on the cities and towns in which
their troops were quartered, and merciless were the demands on all
sides. The princes sent their plate and stud horses as presents to the
Generals, and the cities sent sums of money and casks of wine to the
captains, and the villages, riding horses and gold lace to the cornets
and sergeant-majors, as long as such bribery was possible. When an army
was encamped in a district, any landed proprietors of importance,
monasteries, and villages, endeavoured to obtain the protection of a
"_salva guardia_." They had to pay dear for this guard, yet had to bear
with much unseemly conduct from them. If a place lay between two armies,
both parties had to be asked for _salva guardia_, and both guards lived
by agreement in peaceful intercourse at the expense of their host. But
it was seldom that either individuals or communities were so fortunate
as to be able to preserve even this unsatisfactory protection; for it
was necessary for the army to live. When a troop of soldiers entered a
village or country town, the soldiers rushed like devils into the
houses; wherever the dung-heaps[28] were the largest, there the greatest
wealth was to be expected. The object of the tortures to which the
inhabitants were subjected, was generally to extort from them their
hidden property; they were distinguished by especial names, as the
"Swedish fleece," and the "wheel." The plunderers took the flints from
the pistols and forced the peasants' thumbs in their place; they rubbed
the soles of their feet with salt, and caused goats to lick them; they
tied their hands behind their backs; they passed a bodkin threaded with
horse-hair through their tongues, and moved it gently up and down; they
bound a knotted cord round the forehead and twisted it together behind
with a stick; they bound two fingers together, and rubbed a ramrod up
and down till the skin and flesh were burnt to the bone; they forced the
victims into the oven, lit the straw behind them, and so they were
obliged to creep through the flames. Ragamuffins were everywhere to be
found who bargained with the soldiers, to betray their own neighbours.
And these were not the most horrible torments. What was done to the
women and maidens, to the old women and children, must be passed over in
silence.

Thus did the army misbehave amongst the people, dishonouring every bed,
robbing every house, devastating every field, till they were themselves
involved in the general ruin. And the destruction of these thirty years
increased progressively. It was the years from 1635 to 1641 which
annihilated the last powers of the nation; from that period to the
peace, a death-like lassitude pervaded the country; it communicated
itself to the armies, and one can easily understand that the bitter
misery of the soldiers called for some consideration for the citizens
and peasants. The remaining population were once more reduced to
despair, as they had to pay the cost, maintenance, and peace subsidies
for the standing army. And the army dispersed itself amongst the
population.

CHAPTER III.

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.--THE VILLAGES AND THEIR PASTORS.

Oft have the soldier's sword
And jeering Croat horde,
With usage rude and fierce,
Threaten'd my heart to pierce.
Yet I drew unhurt my breath,
No mishap could bring me death.

In water, 'gainst my will,
Plunged deep, I far'd but ill;
Closed in a wat'ry grave,
God deign'd my life to save;
Wond'rous 'tis I was not drown'd;
Brought to land all safe and sound.

Into my mouth once or more,
As 'twere a tub, they did pour
A mess of liquid dung;
Four churls, cords round me strung;
Yet I drew unhurt my breath,
No mishap could bring me death.

One of an exile band,
There in Thuringia's land
At Notleben, I dwelt,
Till I God's blessing felt,
And to Heubach's parsonage pass'd
Where kind Heaven sent peace at last.

God's servant, here have I
The church kept orderly,
Have preach'd the word therein,
The bad expell'd, of sin
Absolv'd the penitent heart,
And labour'd truth to impart.

_From 'Four Christian Hymns of Martin Bötzinger_.' (1663.)

Whoever could portray the desolation of the German people, would be able
to explain to us the striking peculiarities of the modern German
character; the remarkable mixture of fresh youth and hoary wisdom,
aspiring enthusiasm, and vacillating caution; but above all, why we,
among all the nations of Europe, still strive in vain after much which
our neighbours, not more noble by nature, not more strongly organized,
not more highly gifted, have long secured to themselves.

The following documents will only furnish an unimportant contribution to
such an explanation. Individual examples will render the ruin of the
village and city communities comprehensible, and what counteracting
power there was, together with the destroying power which supported the
remaining vitality, and prevented the final annihilation of the nation.

From these we shall see thoroughly the condition of one particular
province, which suffered severely from the miseries of war, but not more
than most other parts of Germany, not indeed so much as the Margravate
of Brandenburg and many territories of Lower Saxony and Suabia. It is
the Thuringian and Franconian side of the "Waldgebirge," which formed,
in the middle of Germany, the boundary between the north and south; more
especially the present Dukedoms of Gotha and Meiningen. The following
details are taken from the church documents and parish records, and
many, from the voluminous church and school stories which were published
by clerical collectors in the former century.

Germany was supposed to be a rich country in the year 1618. Even the
peasants had acquired during the long peace a certain degree of
opulence. The number of villages in Franconia and Thuringia was somewhat
greater than now; they were not entirely without defences, and were
often surrounded by broad ditches and palisades, or clay and stone
walls; it was forbidden to form entrances in them, but at the end of the
main streets were gates which were closed at night The churchyard was
usually defended by particularly strong walls, and more than once it was
used as the citadel and last refuge of the inhabitants. There were night
and day patroles through the villages and fields. The houses were indeed
ill formed and only of wood and clay, often crowded together in narrow
village streets, but they were not deficient in comfort and household
furniture. The villages were surrounded by orchards, and many fountains
poured their clear waters into stone basins. Small poultry fluttered
about the dung-heaps in the enclosed courtyards, immense troops of geese
fed in the stubble fields, teams of horses stood in the stables, far
more numerous than now, probably of a larger and stronger stamp; they
were rustic descendants of the old knightly chargers, the pride and joy
of their owners; and besides these were the "Kleppers," the small and
ancient race of the country. The large parish herds of sheep and cattle
grazed on the stony heights and on the rich grass marshes. The wool
fetched a high price, and in many places much value was attached to a
fine breed; the German cloths were famed, and these were the best
articles of export. This national wool, the result of a thousand years
of cultivation, was entirely lost to Germany during the war. The
district round the village (where the old Franconian divisions of long
strips were not maintained) was divided into three fields, which were
much subdivided, and each division carefully stoned off. The fields were
highly cultivated, and fine grained white wheat was sown in the winter
fields. Woad was still zealously cultivated with great advantage in the
north of the Rennstiegs. Although even before the war the foreign indigo
competed with the indigenous dye, the yearly gain from the woad in
Thuringia could be computed at three tons of gold; this was principally
in the territory of Erfurt and the Dukedom of Gotha; besides this, anise
and saffron produced much money; the cultivation of the teazel also was
formerly indigenous, and the wild turnips, and (by the Rhine) the rape
seed were sowed in the fellows. Flax was carefully prepared by steeping
it in water, and the coloured flowers of the poppies, and the waving
panicle of the millet, raised themselves in the corn-fields. But on the
declivities of warmer situations in Thuringia and Franconia there were
everywhere vineyards, and this old cultivation, which has now almost
disappeared in those countries, must in favourable years have produced a
very drinkable wine, as now on the lower range of the Waldgebirge; for
the wine of particular years is noted in the chronicles as most
excellent. Hops also were assiduously cultivated and made good beer.
Everywhere they grew fodder, and spurry and horse-beans. The meadows,
highly prized, and generally fenced in, were more carefully handled than
two hundred years later; the mole-heaps were scattered, and the
introduction and maintenance of drains and watercourses was general.
Erfurt was already the centre of the great seed traffic, of garden
cultivation, also of flowers and fine orchards. On the whole, when we
compare one time with the other, the agriculture of 1618 was not
inferior to that of 1818. It must be confessed in other respects also,
our century has but restored what was lost in 1618.

The burdens which the peasants had to bear both in service and taxes,
were not small, and greatest of all on the properties of the nobles; but
there were many free villages in that country, and the government of the
rulers was less strict than in Southern Franconia or in Hesse. Many
ecclesiastical properties had been broken up; many domains, and not a
few of the nobles' estates, were farmed by tenants; leases were a
favourite method of raising the rent of the ground. All this was for the
advantage of the peasant. The damage done by game indeed occasioned
great suffering, and there still continued much of the old bond-service
on the property of the impoverished nobles. But the greater part of the
country people were pronounced by lawyers, newly educated in the Roman
law, to be possessors of their property; it was the greatest blessing
bestowed by Roman law on the Germans in the sixteenth century. It is an
error to suppose that the bureaucratic rule is a production of modern
days; it already prevailed in those times, and the villages had often to
pay the small travelling expenses of the ducal messenger who brought
them their letters. It was already decided by superintending officials
how many fire buckets every one was to procure, and how many doves were
to be kept; they saw to the clearing of the fruit trees from
caterpillars, the cleansing of the ditches, and the annual planting of
young trees. The parish accounts had for nearly a hundred years been
kept in an orderly manner, and inspected by the government of the
country, as also the district certificates and registers of birth. There
was also a good deal of commercial intercourse. A large commercial road
passed through Thuringia, in a line almost parallel with the mountains,
from the Elbe to the Rhine and Maine; and from the descent of the
mountains near to the Werra, lay the military road which united the
north of Germany with the south. The traffic on these unconstructed
roads demanded numerous relays of horses, and brought to the villages
gain, and news from the distant world, and many opportunities of
spending money.

After the Reformation there were schools, at least in all the villages
where there was a church; the teachers were often divines, and sometimes
there were schoolmistresses for the girls. Small sums were paid for the
schooling, and a portion of the inhabitants of the village were
initiated into the secrets of reading and writing. The difference
between the countryman and the citizen was then still greater than now.
The "stupid peasant" was the favourite object of ridicule in the rooms
of the artisans, who attributed to him, as characteristic qualities,
roughness, simplicity, disingenuous cunning, drunkenness, and love of
fighting. But however retired his life then was, and poor in varied
impressions, we should do him great injustice if we considered him
essentially weaker or less worthy than he is now; on the contrary, his
independence was not less, and was frequently better established. His
ignorance of foreign states was undoubtedly greater, for there were as
yet no regular gazettes or local papers for him, and he himself
generally did not wander farther than to the nearest town, where he sold
his products, or occasionally over the mountain when he had to drive
cows; or if a Thuringian, to go to the woad market at Erfurt, if a
Franconian, perhaps to Bamberg with his hops. Also in dress, language,
and songs, he was not fashionable like the citizens; he preferred using
old strong words, which they considered coarse; he swore and cursed
after the ancient style, and his ceremonial of greeting was different
from theirs, though not less precise. But his life was not on that
account deficient in spirit, morals, or even in poetry. The German
popular songs were still vigorous, and the countryman was the most
zealous preserver of them; the peasant's feasts, his domestic life, his
lawsuits, his purchases and sales, were rich in old picturesque customs
and proverbs. The genuine German pleasure also in beautiful specimens of
handicraft, in clean and artistic heir-looms, was then shared alike by
the countryman and citizen. His household gear was superior to what it
is now. Ornamental spinning-wheels, which still pass for a new
invention, neatly carved tables, carved chairs and cupboards, have in
some instances been preserved to our times, with the earthenware apostle
jugs, and similar drinking-vessels, which may be bought by art
collectors. Great were the treasures of the countrywomen in beds, linen,
clothes, chains, medals, and other ornaments, and not less worthy of
note were the numerous sausages and hams in the chimneys. A great deal
of ready money lay concealed in the corners of chests, or carefully
buried in pots or other vessels, for the collection of bright coins was
an old pleasure to the peasantry; there had been peace as long as they
could remember, and woad and hops brought a high price. The peasant had
abundance, and was without many wants; he bought lace in the city for
his clothes, and silver ornaments for his wife and daughters, spices for
his sour wine, and whatever metal utensils and implements were necessary
for his farm and kitchen. All the woollen and linen clothes were wove
and made up by the women of the house, or the neighbour in the village.

Thus did the peasant live in middle Germany, even after the year 1618.
He heard in the ale-houses on Sunday of the war alarms in Bohemia,
about which he cared little; he bought indeed a flying-sheet of a
crafty dealer, or a satirical song on the outcast King of Bohemia; he
gave some of his bread and cheese to a fugitive from Prague or Budweis,
who came begging to his door, and shook his head as he listened to his
tale of horror. An official messenger brought into the village an order
from the sovereign, from which he found it was expected of him to
deliver into the city, money and provision for the newly raised
soldiers; he was indignant, and hastened to bury his treasures still
deeper. It soon, however, became clear that bad times were approaching
him also, for the money which he received in the town was very red, and
all goods were dear; thus he was involved in the wretched confusion
which after 1620 was brought upon the country by the coinage of bad
gold. He went no longer to the city, but kept his corn and meat at home:
he had constant disputes however with the townsmen and his neighbours,
because he wished to rid himself of the new gold in his own payments,
whilst he would receive only the good old money: his heart was full of
ominous forebodings. Thus it went on till the year 1623. He then saw
evil coming in another quarter; theft and burglary increased, foreign
vagabonds were often seen on the high-roads, trumpeters rushed into the
towns with bad news, hired soldiers, insolent and bragging, drew up
before his farm demanding entertainment, stole sausages, and carried off
his poultry in their knapsacks. _Defensioners_, the newly raised country
militia, galloped into the village, quartered themselves upon him,
demanded provisions, and molested him more than the rogues whom they
were to drive away from the cattle-sheds.

At last began--in Thuringia not till after 1623--the passage, of foreign
troops through his country, and the great sufferings of the war fell
upon him; foreign soldiers of strange appearance, reckless from blood
and battle, marched into his village, occupied his house and bed, ill
treated him and his, demanded provisions and other contributions besides
gifts, and broke, destroyed, or plundered whatever came before their
eyes. Thus it went on after 1626, worse and worse every year, troop
followed upon troop, more than one army settled itself round him in
winter quarters, the requisitions and vexations appeared endless. The
yeoman saw with dismay that the foreign soldier had the power of
tracing--which he ascribed to sorcery--the treasures which he had
concealed deep in the earth; but if he had been too sly for them, his
fate was still worse, for he himself was seized, and by torments which
it would be painful to describe, compelled to make known the place where
his treasure was concealed. On the fate of his wife and daughter we must
remain silent; the most horrible was so common, that an exception, was
extraordinary. Other sufferings also followed; his daughters,
maid-servant, and his little children were not only maltreated, but were
in imminent danger of being carried off by persuasion or force, for
every army was followed by the coarse, worthless baggage-train of women
and children. But the yeoman's homestead was devastated in still other
ways; his farming-man had perhaps borne for some years the blows of the
foreign soldiers, at last he himself was exposed to them; the team was
dragged from the plough, the cattle were fetched from the meadow, and
the tillage of the fields thus often rendered impossible. Yet pitiful
and helpless as was his position in the beginning of the war, up to the
death of Gustavus Adolphus, its horrors were comparatively bearable; for
there was as yet a certain system even in plundering and destruction,
some degree of discipline kept together the regular armies, and an
occasional year passed without any great passage of troops. It is
possible for us to discover at this time how many exactions were made on
particular parishes, for there were already country authorities who sat
in their offices, and after the passage of troops through a parish,
demanded the usual liquidation of their loans, the amount of which was
indeed seldom returned to them. Whoever will glance over the
liquidations in the parish archives, will find the names of ill-famed
commanders, whom he may know from history or Schiller's Wallenstein, in
very near connection with the history of a Thuringian village.

The effect produced by such a life of insecurity and torment on the
souls of the country people, was very sad. Fear, trembling, and dread
pervaded and enervated all hearts: their minds had always been full of
superstition, now everything was sought for, with impulsive credulity,
which could be significant of the attacks of supernatural powers. The
most horrible countenances were seen in the heavens, the signs of
fearful wickedness were discovered in numerous abortions, ghosts
appeared, mysterious sounds were heard on earth and in the heavens. In
Ummerstadt for example, in the dukedom of Hildburghausen, white crosses
illuminated the heavens when the enemy entered; when they forced their
way into the court of chancery, a spirit clothed in white met them and
motioned them back, and no one could advance; after their departure, a
violent breathing and sighing was heard for eight days in the choir of
the church which had been burnt. At Gumpershausen a maid-servant made a
great sensation through the whole country; she rejoiced in the visits of
a little angel, who appeared, sometimes in a blue, sometimes in a red
shirt sitting on the bed or by the table, cried out "Woe," warned
against cursing and blasphemy, and predicted horrible bloodshed if men
would not give up their vices, their pride, and their stiff blue
ruffs,--then a new fashion. When we look at the zealous protocols which
were drawn up by the ecclesiastics concerning the half-witted maiden, we
find that the only circumstance which was matter of surprise to them,
was that the angel did not visit themselves instead of a simple maiden.

Not only terror, but a spirit of defiance and wild despair possessed all
souls. A moral recklessness prevailed fearfully among the country
people. Wives abandoned their husbands, children their parents; the
customs, vices, and maladies of the passing armies left lasting traces,
even when the pillagers had quitted the desolated and half-ruined
villages. The brandy drinking, which had been introduced among the
people since the Peasant war, became a general vice; respect for the
property of others disappeared. In the beginning of the war the
neighbouring villages were disposed to help one another; if the soldiers
had driven away the cattle from one village, and disposed of them again
at their next night-quarters, the buyers often returned their new
purchase to the former proprietors at the purchase price. This was done
in Franconia, by both Catholic and Protestant communities, out of pure
kindness. Gradually, however, the country people began to rob and
plunder like the soldiers; armed bands combined together, passed the
frontiers into other villages, and carried off whatever they needed.
They waylaid the stragglers of the regiments in dense woods or mountain
passes, and often after a severe struggle took a bloody revenge on the
vanquished; indeed, they far surpassed the skill of the soldiers in the
contrivance of barbarities; and there were wooded hills, in whose shades
the most horrible crimes were now committed by those who had formerly
frequented them as peaceful wood-cutters and stone-breakers, singing
their simple songs. There arose gradually a terrible hatred betwixt the
soldiery and peasantry, which lasted till the end of the war, and caused
more than anything else the ruin of the villages of Germany. There were
feuds also between the provinces and individual towns; that which is
related here was only a harmless one of that gloomy time.

A violent enmity subsisted for many years after the war between the
citizens of Eisfeld and the monastery of Banz, on account of the two
fine-toned bells of their parish church, the "_Banzer_" and the
"_Messe_." A Swedish officer had carried off both bells from Banz and
sold them to the town. Twice, when the Catholic army was stationed at
Eisfeld, the monks had come with waggons and ropes to fetch back their
bells, but the first time they fell into a quarrel with a certain Croat
who was quartered there, because they wished to take away with them the
steeple clock. The Croat rushed upon the pious men with his sword, and
he and his comrades ran up the tower and vehemently pulled the bell, so
that the monks of Banz could not fetch it down, and were only able to
take away the clock with them. The second time they did not succeed
better; at last, after the peace, another bell was offered to them as
compensation. But when they discovered this sentence upon it: "Preserve
us, Lord, by thy word," they returned to their house shaking their
heads. At last the pious Duke Ernest arranged the affair; he took for
himself as a thank-offering the small bell, and hung it on the
Friedenstein in Gotha.

The villages did all in their power to defend themselves from the
rapacity of the soldiers. As long as they had money, they endeavoured to
buy off the officers who were sent forward to seek for quarters, and
many rogues took advantage of their fears, and appearing under the
disguise of quartermasters, levied heavy contributions on the deluded
villagers. Watchmen were placed on the church towers and elevations of
the plain, who gave signals if troops were visible in the distance. Then
the countryman brought whatever he could save, and the women and
children their movable chattels, hasting to some distant place of
concealment. These hiding-places were selected with great sagacity; by a
little additional labour they were made still more inaccessible, and for
weeks, indeed months, the fugitives passed their anxious existence
there. On the dark moor, midst ditches, rushes and elders, in the deep
shade of woody glens, in old clay-pits, and amid the ruins of decaying
walls, did they seek their last refuge. The countryman in many places
still shows with emotion such spots. There is a large vault with an iron
door in an old tower at Aspach, whither the Aspachers fled whenever
small bands of soldiers approached the village; for a more distant
refuge they had a field of many acres, overgrown with thick hornbeam,
and there they planted thorns which from the fertility of the soil grew
into large trees and became like a thick wall. Within this barricade,
which could only be attained by creeping on the belly, the villagers
often concealed themselves. After the war the thorns were rooted up, and
the land changed into hop, and afterwards cabbage grounds. But a portion
of this land is still called the "Schutzdorn," "thorn-defence." When the
soldiers had withdrawn, the fugitives returned and repaired with their
scanty means what had been laid waste. Often, indeed, they found only a
smoking pile.

All however who fled did not return. The more wealthy sought a refuge
for themselves and their property in the cities, where martial
discipline was a little more rigorous, and the danger less. Many also
fled into another country, and if they were threatened by enemies there,
again into another; and most of them assuredly had not less misery to
suffer there. Those who remained in the country did not all return to
their own fields. The wild life in hiding-places and woods, the rough
pleasure in deeds of violence and pillage, turned the boldest of them
into robbers; provided with rusty weapons, which they had perhaps taken
from some dead marauder, they carried on a lawless life under the
mountain pines, as companions of wolves and crows, as poachers and
highwaymen.

Thus did the population of the plains decrease with frightful rapidity.
Even in the time of the King of Sweden many villages were entirely
abandoned, the beasts of the woods roamed about among the blackened
rafters, and perhaps the tattered figure of some old beldame or cripple
might be seen. From that time ruin increased to such an extent, that
nothing like it can be found in modern history. To the destructive
demons of the sword were added others, not less fearful and still more
voracious. The land was little cultivated and the harvest was bad. An
unheard-of rise in prices ensued, famine followed, and in the years 1635
and 1636 a pestilence attacked the enfeebled population, more terrible
than had raged for more than a century in Germany. It spread its pall
slowly over the whole of Germany, over the soldier as well as over the
peasant, armies were dissipated under its parching breath, many places
lost half their inhabitants, and in some villages in Franconia and
Thuringia there remained only a few individuals. The little strength
which had remained in one corner of the land was now broken. The war
raged on still twelve long years after this time of horror, but it had
become weaker, the armies were smaller, the operations without plan or
stability, from the want of provisions and animals, but where the fury
of war still blazed, it devoured mercilessly what remained of life. The
people reached the lowest depths of misfortune; a dull apathetic
brooding became general. Of the country people of this last period there
is little to be told; they vegetated, reckless and hopeless, but few
accounts of them are to be found in village records, parish books, and
small chronicles. They had forgotten in the villages the art of writing,
nay even their crying grievances. Where an army had carried devastation
and famine raged, men and dogs ate of the same corpse, and children were
caught and slaughtered. A time had now come when those who had held out
during twenty years of suffering, laid violent hands on themselves; we
read this in the accounts of ambassadors, who for years worked in vain
for peace.

It may be asked how, after such sufferings and utter ruin, the survivors
could still form a German nation, who at the conclusion of peace could
again cultivate the country, pay taxes, and after vegetating in poverty
for a century, again engender energy, enthusiasm, and a new life in art
and science. It is certainly probable that the country people would have
entirely scattered themselves in roving bands, and that the cities would
never have been in a condition to produce a new national life, if three
powerful causes had not contributed to preserve the German countryman
from being altogether lost,--his love of his paternal acres; the
endeavours of the magistracy; and above all, the zeal of those who had
the care of his soul, the village pastors. The love of the peasant for
his own field, which works inimically against the most benevolent
agrarian laws, is even now a strong feeling, but in the seventeenth
century was still more powerful. For the peasant knew very little of the
world beyond his own village, and it was difficult for him to pass the
boundaries which separated him from other vocations, or from
establishing himself on the property of other lords. He ever returned
with tenacity from his hiding-place to his devastated farm, and
endeavoured to collect together the trampled corn, or to sow the few
seeds he had been able to preserve. When his last beast had been stolen,
he harnessed himself to the plough. He took care not to give his house a
habitable appearance; he accustomed himself to dwell amidst dirt and
ruins, and concealed the flickering fire of his hearth from the gaze of
marauders, who might perhaps be seeking in the night for some warm
resting-place. He hid his scanty meal in a place which would disgust
even a reckless enemy, in ditches and coffins, and under skulls. Thus he
lived under the powerful pressure of habit, however little hope there
might be that his labour would prove advantageous to him. If a landed
proprietor stood valiantly by his village, even in times of comparative
tranquillity, he accompanied his beasts to the fields, armed to the
teeth, ready to fight against any robbers who might pounce down on him.

It was no less the interest of the landed proprietor and his officials,
than of the peasant himself, to preserve the villages. The smaller the
number of tax-payers became, the higher was the tax on the few who
remained. The rulers, from the cities in which they resided occupied
themselves during the whole war through their officials, bailiffs, and
receivers, with the fate of the villages, nay even of individuals. The
keeping of the parish records was only interrupted during the most
troubled time, and was always recommenced. Certificates, reports,
memorials, and rescripts passed hither and thither amidst all the
misery.[29] Petitions for remission of rents and liquidation of costs
were incessantly demanded, and many a poor schoolmaster obediently gave
his service as parish writer whilst the snow floated into his schoolroom
through the shattered windows, the parish chests lay broken in the
streets, and the parishioners, whose accounts he was writing, went armed
into the woods with dark illegal projects, which were never reported to
the government. Useless as this system of writing in many cases was, it
formed numerous links which bound individuals more closely to their
states; and in the pauses of the war, and at the conclusion of it, was
of the greatest importance, for it had preserved the mechanism of the
administration.

It was however to the country clergy and their holy office that the
maintenance of the German people is chiefly owing. Their influence was
undoubtedly not less in the Catholic than in the Protestant provinces,
though there remain few accounts of it; for the Catholic village pastors
were then as averse to writing as the evangelical were fond of it. But
the Protestant pastors had a far greater share in the mental cultivation
of their time. The Reformers had made the German learned education
essentially theological, and the village clergy were, in the estimation
of the noble proprietors and peasantry, the representatives of this
intelligence. They were generally well skilled in the ancient languages,
and expert in writing Latin and elegiac verses. They were powerful
disputants, and much experienced in dogmatic controversy, stubborn and
positive, and full of zealous indignation against the followers of
Schwenkfeld, Theophrast, Rosenkreuz, and Weigelia, and their teaching
was more full of hatred to heretics than love towards their
fellow-creatures. Their influence on the consciences of the laity had
made them arrogant and imperious, and the most gifted among them were
more occupied with politics than was good for their characters. If an
order may be considered responsible for the imperfection of the mental
cultivation of the period, which it has not formed, but only represents,
the Lutheran ecclesiastics were deeply and fatally guilty of the
devastation of mind, the unpractical weakness, and the dry wearisome
formalism which frequently appeared in German life. The ecclesiastics,
as an order, were neither accommodating nor especially estimable, and
even their morality was narrow-minded and harsh. But all these errors
they atoned for in times of poverty, calamity, and persecution, more
especially the poor village pastors. They were exposed to the greatest
dangers, hated in general by the Imperial soldiers, and obliged by their
office to bring themselves under the observation of the enemy; and the
rough usage which they, their wives, and daughters had to suffer,
fatally injured their consideration in their own parish. They were
maintained by the contributions of their parishioners, and were not
accustomed, and ill fitted to obtain their daily food by bodily labour;
they were the greatest sufferers from any decrease in the wealth,
morality, or population of their villages. One must bear witness that a
very great number of them endured all these dangers as true servants of
Christ. Most of them adhered to their parishes almost to the very last
man. Their churches were plundered and burnt, chalice and crucifix
stolen, the altar desecrated with disgusting ordures, and the bells torn
from the towers and carried away. Then they held divine service in a
barn, or an open field, or in the cover of a green wood. When the
parishioners had almost perished, so that the voice of the singer was
heard no more, and the penitential hymns were no longer intoned by the
chanter, they still called the remains of their congregation together at
the hour of prayer. They were vigorous and zealous both in giving
comfort and in exercising discipline; for the greater the misery of
their parishioners, the more reason they had to be dissatisfied with
them. Frequently they were the first to suffer from the demoralization
of the villagers: theft and insolent wantonness were willingly practised
against those whose indignant looks and solemn admonitions had
heretofore overawed them. Hence their fate is particularly
characteristic of that iron time, and we happily possess numerous
records concerning them, frequently in church documents, in which they
bemoaned their sufferings, when no one would listen to them. From such
records of Thuringian and Franconian village pastors, only a few
examples will here be given.

Magister Michael Ludwig was pastor at Sonnenfeld, about 1633; there he
preached to his parishioners in the wood under the canopy of heaven;
they were called together by the sound of the trumpet, instead of the
bell, and it was necessary to place an armed watch whilst he preached;
thus he continued for eight years, till his parishioners entirely
disappeared. A Swedish officer then appointed him preacher to his
regiment; he was afterwards made president of the army consistory at
Torstenson, and superintendent at Wismar. Georg Faber preached at
Gellershausen, read prayers daily to three or four hearers, always at
the risk of his life: he rose every morning at three o'clock and learned
his sermon entirely by heart; besides that, he wrote learned treatises
upon the books of the Bible.

In the neighbouring towns of the interior, the clergy had as much to
undergo. For example, the rector at Eisfeld, about 1635, was Johann
Otto, a young man who had just married; he had in the worst times kept
the whole school during eight years, with only one teacher, and provided
the choir also gratis. The smallness of his income may be seen from the
notes which the excellent man has written in his Euclid: "2 days
thrashing in autumn, 1 day working in the wood in 1646. 2 days thrashing
in January, 1647. 5 days thrashing in February, 1647. 4 marriage letters
written. Item, 1/2 day binding oats, and one day reaping," and so on. He
persevered, and administered his office honourably for forty-two years.
His successor, the great Latin scholar, Johann Schmidt, teacher of the
celebrated Cellarius, had become a soldier, and when on guard at the
Royal Castle was reading a Greek poet; this was perceived by his officer
with astonishment, and was mentioned by him to Ernest the Good, who made
him a teacher.

The superintendent at the same place, Andreas Pochmann, was, when an
orphan, carried off with two little brothers by the Croats. He escaped
with his brothers in the night. Later, when a Latin scholar, he was
again taken prisoner by the soldiers, was made an officer's servant, and
then a musketeer. But he continued to study in the garrison, and found
among his comrades students from Paris and London, with whom he kept up
his Latin. Once, when a soldier, he was lying sick by the watch fire,
under his sleeve was the powder pouch, with a pound and a half of
powder, the flames reached the sleeve and burnt half of it; the powder
pouch was unconsumed. When he awoke he found himself alone, the camp was
abandoned, and he had not a penny of money. Then he found two thalers in
the ashes. With this he struck across to Gotha; on the way, he turned
off to Langensalza, to a lonely small house near the walls: an old woman
received the wearied man, and laid him on a bed. It was the plague
nurse, and the bed was a plague bed, for the malady was then raging in
the city; he remained unhurt. His life, like that of most of his
cotemporaries, was full of wonderful escapes, sudden changes, and
unexpected succour, of deadly perils, penury, and frequent changes of
place. These times must be accurately observed, in order to understand
how, just at a period when millions were brought to ruin and
destruction, there was fostered in the survivors a deep belief in that
Divine Providence, which, in a wonderful way, encompassed the lives of
men.

From almost every village church one can obtain reminiscences of the
sufferings, self-devotion, and perseverance of their pastors. It must be
said, that only the strongest minds came out unscathed in such times.
The endless insecurity, the want of support, the lawless proceedings of
the soldiers and of their own parishioners, made many of them petty in
their ideas, cringing and beggarly. We will give one example among many.
Johanne Elfflein, pastor at Simau after 1632, was so poor that he was
obliged to work as a day labourer, to cut wood in the forest, to dig and
to sow; twice he received either alms from the poor-box at Coburg, or
what was placed there at the baptism of children. At last the consistory
at Coburg sold one of the chalices of the church to procure bread for
him. He considered it an especial piece of good fortune, when he had
once to perform the funeral of a distinguished noble, for then he got a
good old rix-dollar, and a quarter of corn. When shortly afterwards he
confidentially complained to a neighbour of his want of food, and the
latter replied with desperate resolution, he knew well what he should do
in such a case, then, firm in faith, Magister Elfflein said, "My God
will provide means that I shall not die of hunger; He will cause a rich
nobleman to die, that I may obtain money, and a quarter of corn." He
considered it was ordained by Providence, when soon after, this
melancholy event actually occurred. His situation was so pitiable, that
even the rapacious soldiers, when they sent their lads in the
neighbourhood after booty, emphatically ordered them to leave the pastor
at Simau unmolested, as the poor simpleton had nothing for himself. At
last he got another parish.

At the source of the Itz, where the mountains decline in high terraces
towards the Main, lies the old village of Stelzen, a holy place even in
heathen times. Close to the church, from the corner of a spacious
cavern, overshadowed by primeval beech and lime trees, springs up a
miraculous well; near the well, before the Reformation, stood a chapel
to the Holy Virgin, and many a time did hundreds of counts and noblemen,
with numberless other people, flock together there as pilgrims. The
village was entirely burnt down at Michaelmas, 1632, only the church,
the school, and shepherd's hut remained standing. The pastor, Nicholas
Schubert, wrote to the authorities in the winter as follows: "I have
saved nothing but my eight poor, little, naked, hungry children. I
continue to dwell _ex mandato_ in the very old, and on account of the
want of a chimney, a floor and so forth, dangerous school-house, where I
can neither attend to my studies, nor do anything for my support. For I
have neither food nor clothes, _longe enim plura deficiunt_. Given at my
castle of misery, Stelzen, 1633. Your willing servant, and obedient poor
burnt-out pastor, Nicholas Schubert." Shortly he was removed. His
successor likewise was pillaged, and stabbed in the left hip with a
rapier; he too was removed; a second successor also was unable to
maintain himself there. After that, the parsonage house was uninhabited
for fifteen years, but the neighbouring pastor, Götz of Sachsendorf,
came every third Sunday, and performed service in the ruined village.
For two years there came no pence to the church coffers. At last, in
1647, the church was entirely burned to the bare walls.

Gregory Ewald was pastor at Königsberg; in 1632, Tilly burnt down the
city, and Ewald was taken prisoner in a vineyard by two Croats, and
robbed; when they could not withdraw a gold ring from his finger they
prepared to cut off the finger, but at last had so much consideration
that they took only the skin with the ring, and demanded a thousand
dollars ransom. Ewald released himself by this stratagem; he took the
simple soldier, who was left with him to fetch the ransom, first to the
door of a cellar in order to give him a drink of wine, and under the
pretext of fetching the key he escaped. In his great necessity he took
an appointment as Swedish army chaplain, and after the battle of
Nördlingen, lived as an exile for a year in a foreign country, from
thence he returned to his ruined parish, where for some years he and his
family endured want and misery.

Among the most instructive of the biographical accounts of Protestant
pastors, is that of the Franconian pastor, Martin Bötzinger. We see with
horror, both the village life in the time of the war, and the
demoralization of the inhabitants, distinctly portrayed in his
narrative. Bötzinger was not a man of great character, and the
lamentable lot he had to bear did not strengthen it; indeed, we can
hardly deny him the predicate of a right miserable devil. Nevertheless
he possessed two qualities which render him estimable to us, an
indestructible energy with which there was not the slightest frivolity
united; and that determined German contentment which takes the brightest
view of the most desolate situations. He was a poet. His German verses
are thoroughly pitiful, as may be seen by the specimen heading this
chapter, but they served him as elegant begging letters by which, in
the worst times, he endeavoured to procure sympathy. He celebrated all
the officials and receivers of the parish of Heldburg in an epic poem,
as also the melancholy condition of Coburg, where he tarried for a
certain time as a fugitive.

Of the career which he noted down, the beginning and the last portion
were already torn out when Krauss, in 1730, incorporated it in his
history of the Hildburghaus church, school, and province. The following
is faithfully transcribed from this fragment; only the series of events
which are intermingled in his autobiography are here arranged according
to years. Bötzinger was a collegian at Coburg and a student at Jena,
during the _Kipper_ time;[30] and in 1626, he became pastor at
Poppenhausen. In the spring of 1627, the young pastor entertained the
idea of marrying the only daughter of Michael Böhme, burgher and
counsellor at Heldburg, whose name was Ursula.

"In the year 1627, on the Tuesday after the Jubilate, all necessary
preparations being made, on this very day, a body of eight thousand men,
people from Saxe Lauenburg, together with the Prince himself, encamped
before Heldburg; pitched their camp on the cropped ground, and in eight
days ruined the city and land belonging to the corporation, so that
neither calf nor lamb, beer nor wine, could any more be procured.
Provisions were brought from all the neighbouring districts, and yet
even the royal officers and officials could hardly be maintained. They
were, on account of the cold, quartered some days in the city and
villages. It was then, for the first time, I was plundered in the
parsonage house at Poppenhausen, for not only had I not secured
anything, but rather had I made preparation as if I had to lodge an
honourable guest or officer; I lost my linen, bedding, shirts, and so
forth, for I did not yet know that the soldiers were robbers, and took
everything away with them. The prince of the country, Duke Casimir, was
himself obliged to journey to Heldburg; he ordered for the Lauenburger a
princely banquet; he presented him with fine horses and eight thousand
thalers if he would only take himself away. After this misfortune, the
blessing of God made itself miraculously visible everywhere. Owing to
the thousands of huts, quarters and fires, which made the fields look
like a wilderness, it was thought that the winter seed was lost in the
ground. Nevertheless, there grew from these burnt huts and ditches so
thick a crop, that in the same year, there was a superfluity of winter
food. A miracle! Thus my wedding could take place on the Tuesday after
the _Exaudi_, and was celebrated at the Town Hall.

"For five years there was rest in the land till 1632, except that
several Imperial corps, consisting of two, three, or more regiments,
passed to and fro, who often took up their quarters in the township of
Heldburg, and exhausted it. I wanted for nothing at Poppenhausen. I
could wish that I was now as well off as I was before the war. As,
however, the fury of war at last arrived, the neighbouring bishops began
to reform vigorously; sent Jesuits and monks with diplomas into the
country, and examined the ecclesiastical benefices and monasteries. The
princes had their militia here and there, who now and then pilfered in
the neighbouring Papal states, and stirred up the hornets there. Every
intelligent person could discover that things would become worse. The
noblemen also fled with their pastors, bailiffs, and all belonging to
them, to our little towns and villages, hoping for greater security
there than in their own places.

"In 1631, at Michaelmas, King Gustavus came from Sweden suddenly through
the wood, just as if he had wings. He took Königshofen and many other
places, and went on very flourishingly. Our nobles enlisted people for
the king, who were as bad as the enemy in pilfering and robbing. They
more especially took from the neighbouring Catholics their cows, horses,
pigs, and sheep; then was there a great sale; a ducat for one cow, and a
thaler for a pig. The Papists often came hither and saw how and who
bought their cattle, and frequently redeemed them themselves. They were
however so often taken, that they wearied of redeeming them, and it went
ill with the poor neighbouring Papists. We all at Poppenhausen preserved
for those in the neighbourhood, their bits of property in churches and
houses, as far as we could. But when in the year 1632, the tables were
turned, and the three Generals, the Friedlander, Tilly, and the Bavarian
prince, took possession of Coburg and the country, the neighbouring
Papists helped to rob and burn, and we found no faith or safety with
them.

"When on the eve of Michaelmas, all the guns were heard from Coburg, as
a signal that the enemy was approaching, and every one took care of
himself, I went with all those whom I had lodged for some weeks, to
Heldburg, where I had previously sent my wife and child. The town was on
its guard, but did not imagine what evil would betide it; the
burgomaster and some of the councillors ran away, my father-in-law of
blessed memory, having the charge of the powder, lead, and linstocks,
which he served out to the guard as need required, was obliged to remain
in the town. I had a great desire to leave the town with my wife and
children, but he would not let me go, and still less his daughter, and
bade us remain at home; he had a tolerable purse of thalers with which
he intended to make off in case of disaster. But before midday on the
feast of St. Michael, fourteen horsemen presented themselves; they were
supposed to be Duke Bernhard's people, but it was very far from the
case. These they were obliged to admit without thanks for it. They were
soon followed by some infantry, who from the beginning searched about
everywhere, and knocked down and shot whoever resisted them. In the
middle of the market, one of these fourteen struck my father-in-law with
a pistol on the head, so that he fell down like an ox. The horseman
dismounted, and searched his hosen, and our citizens who were at the
Town Hall saw that the thief drew out from thence a large mass of money.
When the stupefaction from the blow had passed away, my father-in-law
stood up: he was made to go to the Star Inn, where they found somewhat
to eat, but nothing to drink; then he said he would go home and bring
some drink. Now as they thought he might escape them, they took the
platters and food with them, and accompanied him to his house. It was
not long before one of them demanded money; and when he excused himself,
the scoundrel stabbed him with his own bread-knife in the presence of
his wife and mine, so that he sank to the ground. 'God help us!'
screamed out my wife and child. I, who was hid in the bath-house, in the
straw over the stable, sprang down and ventured amongst them. The wonder
was that they did not catch me in the parson's cap. I took my
father-in-law, who was reeling about like a drunken man, into the
bath-room, that he might be bandaged. I was obliged to look on whilst
they took off from your mother[31] her shoes and clothes, and laid hold
of you, my son Michael, in their arms; hereupon they quitted the house
and the street. I went from the little court of the bath-house to my
father-in-law's room; I carried over there pillows and mattresses,
whereon we laid him. I had to venture still further. I went into the
cellar, wherein his brother, Herr George Böhm, pastor at Lindenau, had
placed in three large butts, two tons of good wine. I wished to fetch a
refreshing drink for my father-in-law, but the vent peg was so carefully
and firmly driven into the butt that although I pulled out the spigot
nothing would flow. I was obliged to stay a long time, at great risk,
before I could get a spoonful. I had hardly gone over there, before a
scoundrel went into the bath-house, threw the invalid off the bed, and
searched everywhere. I had crept under the sweating bench, where indeed
I got a good sweating, for the day before had been the bath day.

"As there was now a great butchery and shooting down in the town, so
that no one was secure, divers citizens came at intervals to have
themselves bandaged. Then my father-in-law consented that I should seek
for a hiding-place and leave the town, but would not let my wife and
children accompany me. So I went to the castle garden, and ascended the
height behind the castle, that I might look out towards Holzhausen and
Gellershausen, to see if it was safe. Then the citizens and their wives
came to me for comfort and to journey with me. Thus I crossed over the
Hundshanger lake into the wood, and wished to go up to Strauchhahn. When
we came to the common, eight horsemen, who were Croats, rode up the
heights. As soon as they saw us they hastily galloped up to us. Two
citizens, Kührlein and Brehme, escaped; I had most to endure. They took
off my shoes, stockings, and hosen, and left me only my cap. With my
hosen I had to give up my purse full of money, which I had hid there
three hours before, and thus had preserved from the first pilferers. The
danger was so urgent that I did not think of my purse till I saw it for
the last time. They demanded first a thousand thalers, then five
hundred, and lastly a hundred, for my life. I had to go with them to
their quarters, and to run with them a whole hour barefoot. At last they
perceived that I was a _pap_ or _pfaff_, which I also confessed; then
they began to thrust at me with their sabres without discretion, and I
held my hands and arms towards them, and through God's protection only
got a few wounds on the wrist.

"Meanwhile they discovered a peasant who had hidden himself in some
bushes. It was the rich Kaspar of Gellershausen, so they all rode off to
him, and only one remained with me, who was by birth a Swede, and had
been made prisoner. This one said to me, 'Priest, priest, run, run,
otherwise you must die.' He was a good Swede: I placed confidence in
his counsel, and begged of him to feign to ride after me, as if he
would fetch me back. Thus it happened that I escaped the Croats. But the
rich Kaspar met a miserable death at that place; for as he would not
come forth from thence, they hewed off his legs, as I saw, at the
knees. Therefore he was obliged to lie in that place, where after their
withdrawal he was found. But I ran through a great oak wood for almost
an hour, and could see no thick bushes wherein to conceal myself, and
fell at last into a pool of water out of which an oak root had grown,
and I was so tired of running that I could go no further, and my heart
beat so that I knew not whether it was the horses' hoofs that I heard,
or my heart.

"Thus I sat till it was night; then I rose up and continued in search of
a thick cover, till I came out and could see Seidenstadt. I slipped into
the village, and as I heard dogs bark, I hoped to find people at home,
but there was no one; I therefore went into a shed, and was desirous of
passing the night on the hay. But God granted that the neighbours, who
had hid themselves in Strauchhahn, had come together behind this shed,
and took counsel where they should reassemble, and where they should go
to. This I could distinctly hear. I therefore descended and went to the
house. The peasant had just come in, had struck a light, and was
standing in the cellar taking the cream off the milk, which he intended
to drink. I was standing above the opening, spoke to him and greeted
him; he looked up and saw the under part of my body, namely, my shirt
and naked legs, and it was dark above. He was much frightened; but when
I told him that I was the pastor at Poppenhausen, who had been carried
off by the soldiers, he brought the milk up, and I begged him to procure
me some clothes of his neighbours, as I wished to accompany them
wherever they were going. He went out, and meanwhile I regaled myself on
his pot of milk, and entirely emptied it. In my whole life no milk had
ever tasted so good. He came back with others, and one of them brought
me a pair of old leather hosen, which smelt badly of cart-grease,
another a pair of old latchet shoes, and another two woollen stockings,
one green and one white. This livery was not suitable either for a
traveller or for a pastor; yet I took it with thanks, but could not wear
the shoes, for they were frozen too stiff. The soles of the stockings
were torn, thus I went to Hildburghausen more barefooted than shod. When
we looked around us we saw that many places in Itzgrund were in flames.
At that time, Ummerstadt, Rodach, Eisfeld, and Heldburg were burnt to
the ground.

"I was, on my arrival, such a spectacle as to create terror and fear at
Hildburghausen; no one--though many thousand strangers had come
there--felt secure, although the city had a strong guard. My only
anxiety was to get a respectable dress, stockings, shoes, &c., before we
departed from thence. I went, therefore, barefoot to the burgomaster,
Paul Walz, and to the curate, and begged them to give me something to
clothe me respectably. Herr Walz gave me an old hat which was almost an
ell in height, which disfigured me more than anything else; nevertheless
I put it on. Herr Schnetters Eidam, now curate at Römhild, gave me a
pair of hosen, which came over my knees, these were still good, Herr
Dressel a pair of black stockings, and the sexton a pair of shoes. Thus
I was rigged out, so that I could appear without being ashamed before so
many thousand strangers, who had sought security in the town; and could
show myself amongst the citizens. But the hat disfigured me very much,
therefore I sought an opportunity to obtain another. Now it came to pass
that the whole ministry, the authorities of the high school and
councillors, had agreed, without the knowledge of the citizens
generally, that they would have the gates opened at nine o'clock at
night, and go away with their wives and children: having learned this, I
went to the lodging of the town-clerk, where the gentlemen were all
assembled; but no one knew or noticed me. I placed myself alone by a
table in the dark; there I discovered that a good respectable hat was
hanging on a nail. I thought that if this should remain hanging on the
breaking up of the assembly, it would suit me. What matter; all would be
ruined after the flight. What I wished and thought came to pass: then
there began a wailing and leave-taking on their departure, and I laid my
head on the table as if I were asleep. Now when almost every one was
gone, I hung the long stork on the wall, made the exchange, and went
with the other gentlemen into the street.

"The arrangements for flight now became known to the people. Countless
numbers therefore sat with their packages in the streets; horses were
put also to many waggons and carts, all prepared to go out of the gate
with those who were departing. When we came into the open country we saw
that the good people were all dispersed about the streets. There were
thousands of lighted torches to be seen, some had lanterns, some burning
wisps of straw, others links. In short some thousands came mournfully
out. I and my flock came about midnight to Themar, the townspeople there
rose up and joined us, so that some hundreds more were added to us. The
march proceeded to Schwarzig and Steinbach, and when towards morning we
arrived at a village, the people were so terrified that they abandoned
their houses and farms and accompanied us. When we had been about an
hour at an inn, the news came that the Croats had fallen upon Themar
this very morning, had cut up the escort and plundered the carrier's
goods; had split the burgomaster's head, robbed the church, and carried
the organ pipes off to the market; and it was high time for us to have
evacuated it. Hildburghausen had afterwards to ransom itself by a large
sum of money and its chalices, otherwise the town would like all the
others have been reduced to ashes. During this wandering I got also a
present of a pair of gloves, a knife, and a sheath.

"This lasted five or six days, then came the news announcing that the
enemy had departed from Coburg. Now I could not remain any longer. I
went speedily to Römhild, where lived my honoured godfather Cremer, the
town-clerk. I had to report to the worthy magistrate what had happened
to me. This little town alone remained unplundered. The worthy
magistrate had ordered the enemy to be fired upon, and by his foresight
God preserved this little town. Meanwhile Römhild became full of
refugees, who were partly known and partly unknown. But I did not then
care for any society; so I set off for Heldburg, and passing many
hundred men, arrived there first, just when the slain were being brought
on carts to the burial-ground. When I perceived this I went to the
burial-ground, and found seventeen persons lying in one grave, among
them were three councillors, one my father-in-law, the precentor, some
citizens, a tutor, the country beadle, and town constable. They were all
horribly disfigured. After this I went to my mother-in-law's house; I
found her so ill and so disfigured from being broken on the wheel, and
pinched with pistol screws, that she could hardly speak to me; she made
up her mind that she should die. So she desired me to seek my wife and
children whom the enemy had carried away with them. The children were
you, Michael, a year and a half, and your eldest sister, five years old.
I would gladly have eaten something at Heldburg, but there was nothing
either to eat or drink. I speeded therefore hungry and terrified to
Poppenhausen, not only to refresh myself there, but to procure a
messenger who would seek and recover my wife and children. But I learnt
there that the Poppenhausen children had also been carried away, and
that there were marching columns on many roads, so that the life of a
messenger would be in deadly peril. Meanwhile my parishioners dressed a
cow for me, which had escaped the soldiers; this I looked for with a
hungry stomach. So we had meat enough to eat, but without salt and
bread. After my repast I learned by post that my wife was come, and thus
it had come to pass. She had been taken with her two children, by some
musketeers, to Altenhausen, where, from fear of dishonour, she and her
children had sprung over the bridge into the water. From thence she was
drawn out by the soldiers, and brought into the village, where she was
made to help in the kitchen to prepare the supper. Meanwhile there came
another troop of soldiers who were higher in rank and more in number,
and drove the others from their quarters. My wife took this opportunity
to escape. She wended her way out, and left the two children with the
soldiers. A poor beggar-woman led her through secret byways out of the
village, and brought her to an old cave in a wood, where she passed that
night and remained the next day till evening. On that day the people
came forth from all quarters, and thus my wife set out and came safe and
unharmed to me, so that we were all joyful and thankful to God.

"How murder and fire meanwhile had gone on at Heldburg, I will also
relate. The town of Heldburg had militia and trained bands, and it was
ordered that if the enemy came there, the city should be defended. For
it was always hoped that Duke Bernhard's people were not far distant,
and that the country would be relieved. When therefore the town was
fired, my honoured father-in-law, with many citizens and other folks,
hastened out of the town, and arrived in the night with my wife and two
children to Poppenhausen, and my wife prepared him a good invalid bed.
For my parsonage house had been filled with all kinds of furniture left
by noblemen and magistrates in their flight; and although pilferers had
been there, there was enough still left. The following day a whole troop
of horsemen came to the parsonage, examined my belongings, but let them
alone because there was one there who was wounded: they ordered supper
and went out to plunder, and returned towards evening, bringing all
kinds of booty; then it was necessary to boil and roast, and the
neighbouring women helped thereto with good will. When the horsemen were
about to depart, they advised my father-in-law not to be too confident,
as this tumult would last yet eight days, and as the road led past
there, he and his daughter might suffer violence, and as the
neighbouring villages were Popish, he had better remove to a Protestant
one. This my father-in-law did, and went at night in the fog for
security to Gleichmuthrusen; but the ungodly neighbours screamed out
that the horsemen wished to burn and slay the Lutherans, but they did it
for their advantage, as the Papists had gone with the troopers into our
villages and houses and stolen as much as others. Then my father-in-law
did not like to remain there any longer, he went with his belongings to
Einöder wood and remained there day and night. He occasionally went
forth to examine the road between Heldburg and Einöder. When therefore
one day he saw no one especial on the road, either travelling or riding,
and heard the little bell which was wont to be sounded when children
were baptized, he thought, such being the case, he might creep nearer
the town, and see whether there was any hindrance along the road. As
soon as he came to the town his steps were watched. Then a whole body of
camp followers came and took him, my mother-in-law, and my wife to the
house of Herr Göckel. Ah! there was banqueting and revelling! Being now
urged to give money and making various excuses, they singed and smeared
his eyes, beard, and mouth with tallow candles, and endeavoured
shamelessly to maltreat my wife in the room before every one, but she
screamed so that her mother sprang violently into the room and drew her
out through the door, which indeed was fastened, but the under panel had
been ingeniously covered with list, and was fractured. Then the cook had
compassion upon her, and brought her out of the house; and when my wife
gave him some ducats, which she had for a whole week concealed in the
cuff of her sleeve, he brought to her my father-in-law, who however was
horribly disfigured. Thus they left the town more dead than alive, and
being too weak to go further, went into the hospital. Not only the poor
sick folk were there, but many respectable citizens and women in hopes
of finding it a safe asylum. But it was far from being the case.
Although my father-in-law was lying on a bed nearly dying, and every one
saw that he was bleeding and had been evil treated, yet he was dragged
hither and thither, some wicked people having betrayed that he was a
rich man. They broke him on the wheel; they brought my wife and children
prisoners into the town, where they had to make shirts for the soldiers.
As she was sitting in the churchyard, one of them brought her a piece of
linen to cut out, he said to one of his comrades: 'Go and make sure that
the peasant, meaning my father-in-law, is dead.' He went, and returned
again soon, having in his arms my father-in-law's hosen and waistcoat,
and said to my wife, 'Your father is done for.' What barbarity! When the
pilferers had sufficiently pillaged the church of clothes and linen,
they left the town, and would carry my wife with them whether she would
or no.

"Not long after they received their reward at Leipzig and Lützen, as may
be read in other places. After this every one returned home, and people
found each other again; but the sheep and cattle were all gone. I did
not preserve more than three calves out of eight, without counting my
forty-eight sheep which, with the whole herd, had been lost.

"Duke Johann Casimir died in the year 1633, and was buried, on the same
day on which the funeral sermon was preached for Gustavus King of
Sweden, in that country. At that time great robbing and plundering went
on, amongst others by Duke Bernhard's soldiers, nine regiments of which
were stationed at Itzgrund, to enable the princely corpse to be buried
in safety.

"In 1634 things became much worse, and one could well perceive that in a
short time everything would be topsy-turvy. I therefore removed what I
could to the parsonage at Steltzen, my beds, two cows, clothes, &c. But
this being in the autumn, after Lamboy had quartered himself with every
one and everywhere, my winter quarters cost me more than five hundred
gulden in thirty-five weeks, which I had to settle with Captain Krebs. I
had eleven persons in my house, not counting camp-followers and
maid-servants. It is not to be described what I and my wife had to
suffer and endure for a length of time. At last I could no longer feel
secure on account of them; I ran away sick and came to Mitwitz and
Mupperg, where I had as little rest as at Heldburg. My stepmother
especially tormented me (she had been struck by lightning), she would
not let me remain in my exile with my old father. I was obliged to go
to Neistadt to the rector, M. Val. Hoffmann, now superintendent. But I
was not only very poor; but became daily more ailing, therefore I only
thought how I could return to Poppenhausen or Heldburg and die there,
for I was weary of my life.

"It is miraculous how I passed along the roads and through the villages
in the darkness of night, for it was still unsafe everywhere; at last I
reached Poppenhausen. There my poor parishioners and schoolmaster were
as joyful at sight of me, as if our Lord God had himself appeared among
them. But we were all in such great weakness and want, that we looked
more dead than alive. Many died of hunger; and we were frequently, each
day, obliged to take to our heels and conceal ourselves. And although we
hid our lentils, corn, and poor food in the ditches and old coffins,
nay, under the skulls of the dead, yet all was taken away from us.

"Then were the survivors obliged to leave house and home, or die of
hunger. At Poppenhausen most of the inhabitants were in their graves;
there remained only eight or nine souls, who fled from it in the year
1636. The same circumstances occurred at Lindenau, the cure of which was
committed to me vicariously in 1636, by the Royal Consistory. I could
obtain no income; apples, pears, cabbage, turnips, &c., were my only
pay. Thus I was pastor at Lindenau from 1636 to 1641. I had the
parsonage arranged, but could not, on account of the insecurity and
turmoil, dwell constantly there, and performed the duties from Heldburg.
I have still the testimony of the Lindenauers, wherein they acknowledge
that I did not in five years get ten gulden in money; but they have
since honestly paid me the arrears in wood and apples.

"In the year 1640, between Easter and Whitsuntide, the Imperial and
Swedish armies fought a battle at Saalfeld; and Franconia and Thuringia
were devastated far and wide. At four o'clock in the morning of the
Sunday before Whitsunday, strong bodies of Imperialists fell upon
Heldburg, when most of the citizens were still resting in their beds. My
whole street, in every direction, was full of the turmoil of horses and
riders; just as if some one had taken pains to show them my house. I and
my wife were taken prisoners five times in one hour; when I was released
from one, I was taken by another. Then I took them into my room and
cellar, that they might themselves seek what they required. At last they
went off, leaving me alone in the house; yet my terror and anguish were
so great that I never thought of my ready money, which I might have
saved ten times over, if I had had sufficient confidence to take it with
me. But all the houses and streets were full of horsemen; and if I had
taken my Mammon with me, it might so have happened that I should have
been caught. But in my dismay I thought not of money. Many men and women
were convoyed out of the town by an escort of Hasisch horsemen, who had
been quartered there. I then returned to my wife and children; we betook
ourselves to the nearest wood towards Hellingen; there old and young,
ecclesiastics and laymen, remained day and night. Our chief sustenance
was black juniper berries. Now certain of the citizens ventured into the
town, and brought back with them food and other things that they
required. I thought, ah! if thou also couldst go to thy house and get
hold of thy small cash in pence, and therewith support thyself and thy
children! I ventured it, slipped in, and went through the Spittel Gate
to the Mühl Gate, which was closed in with palisades. Within, there were
some who caught me by surprise, as a cat does a mouse; they bound me
with new cords so that I could neither help myself with hands or feet,
and must either give money, or betray rich people to them. The thieves
obliged me to toss the fodder for their horses at the Herrnhof, to lead
them to drink, and other odd work. Then imagining myself more at
liberty, I ran from thence, being unaware that a whole troop of soldiers
were standing at the gate of the courtyard, so I ran into their arms.
They beat me well with their swords and bandoliers, kept me still more
strictly with cords, led me from house to house, that I might tell them
to whom this or the other house belonged. Thus I was also led to my own
house, there I saw the copper water-can lying on the floor, in which had
been placed my ready money, three hundred thalers, and I thought, hadst
thou known that the birds and the foxes were in the way, thou wouldst
have remained outside. Now because I would not betray any one, they put
upon my head my own cap, which was lying on the ground in my house, and
gave me a blow on the head with a cutlass, so that the blood ran down to
my ears, but no hole was made in the cap, for it was of felt. Still
more; the same man wantonly drew the cutlass across my stomach, in order
to try whether I was invulnerable; he pressed tolerably hard, yet God
willed not that he should draw more blood from me. Twice in one hour,
namely, in Schneiderinn, at the farm of the tailor's wife Wittich, on
the dung-heap, and in the forest ranger's stable, they gave me the
Swedish drink mixed with dung water, whereby my teeth became all loose.
I defended myself as well as a prisoner could, when they forced a great
stick into my mouth. At last they led me along with cords, and said they
would hang me up: they brought me out to the Mühl Gate on the bridge;
then one of them took the cord wherewith my feet were bound together,
and another the cord on my left arm, and pitched me into the water,
holding the cord so that they might draw me up and down. Now whilst I
was groping around me in search of a support, I caught hold of a
hay-rake, which however gave way with me, and I could find no help
thereon; but by God's providence an opening was made for me, so that I
slipped under the bridge. Whenever I tried to hold on, they battered me
with these said hay-rakes, so that they snapped in two like a school
cane. When they were not only weary of their labour, but thought they
had done for me, as I should drown in the water, they let go both cords,
when I dived under the bridge like a frog, and no one could touch me.
Then I searched the pocket of my hosen and found a little knife, such as
could be closed, which they had not chosen to take, though they had
often searched me; I therefore cut the cord which bound my two feet, and
sprang down to the floor of the mill, where lay the wheels. The water
covered half my body; then the rogues threw sticks, brickbats, and
cudgels at me, in order to put an end to me completely. I was anxious to
work my way to the miller's back door, but could not, either because my
clothes being saturated with water held me back, or more likely, because
God would not permit me to die there. For as a drunken man reels to and
fro, thus did I, and came up on the other side at the back of the
brewery. When they perceived that I was about to get into the narrow
lane, they all ran into the town, collected more companions, and watched
at the tan-house to see whether I would come thither. But as I perceived
this, and was now left to myself, I remained lying in the water, and
placed my head under a thick willow bush, and rested in the water four
or five hours, till it was night and the town quiet; then I crept out
half dead, and could hardly breathe, on account of the blows I had had.
I went down to the tan-house and found that there was as yet no safety,
as there was one there cutting grass, and another picking hides out of
the tan-pits, and I almost stumbled upon them, so I was obliged to hide
there till late in the night; I went then over the conduit, always
following the course of the stream, and climbed over a willow stem by
which I reached the other side, towards Poppenhausen.

"When I came to the Poppenhausen or Einöder road, it was strewed here
and there with linen, which the soldiers had thrown away or lost, but I
could not stoop to pick anything up. I came at last to Poppenhausen, and
found no one at home but Claus Hön, whose wife was lying-in; he was
obliged to cut the clothes from off my body, for I was swollen, and he
put aside the wet clothes to be dried. He also lent me a shirt, and then
examined my head, which was of all colours from the blows I had
received; afterwards my back and arms became quite black and blue. The
following day my parishioner bade me go away, for he feared they might
lie in wait for me, and that he should get into trouble on my account.
So with his assistance I put on my wet clothes, and went quite slowly to
Lindenau, always through the densest thicket, and kept on the other side
in the Lindenau garden, from which I could see the village. At last I
discovered some people going into a house; I went thither, but they
would not admit me, for they were too much afraid, but finally, when
they saw through the window that it was I, their pastor, who had come,
they admitted me, and I remained with them some days; for there was
quartered there one who was a Lindenauer, which helped a little. But I
met with a new misfortune. When those who were quartered here went to
the castle of Einöd with the Lindenauers, to fetch away what could yet
be found of their goods, the magistrate, the smith, and I were keeping
guard the while on the tower; as we were all three performing this duty,
certain horsemen came into the village, they saw us on the tower, went
straight up to it, and found us there together. As they ascended the
stairs we discovered from their blustering and talking that they were
troopers, so, in bad plight as I was, I endeavoured, alas! to climb. I
clambered up into the belfry and curled myself like a cat behind the
clock; but one of the thieves climbed up at the same time and found me.
My parishioners said I was their schoolmaster, and entreated for me, as
I had already been badly beaten by the soldiers. It was however of no
avail. They insisted on this schoolmaster descending. The magistrate
went first, after him a trooper, the smith followed, then another
trooper, and lastly I followed, lingering. Now when they all came out
through the door of the church, I remained within, bolted the little
door, and ran out of the other, and crept into a turnip pit. God help
me! How woeful it was for me to be obliged to stoop and lie on all-fours
for a whole hour! Thus I was saved, but my dear fellow-watchers were
taken to a mill and obliged to fill the flour sacks.

"On the Friday before Whitsuntide I came with many citizens to Coburg. A
thief had carried off my shoes, and left me a pair of old bad ones
instead; I had nothing else to wear for almost a week, and both soles
had fallen out, and when it became necessary to take to one's heels, the
shoes turned round hindforemost, so that often I could not help laughing
outright. Thus I came to Coburg. The news of my torments had reached
Coburg some days before, together with the report that I had been
killed; when therefore I came myself, the citizens and my old
acquaintance were much astonished. Dr. Kesler, general superintendent,
_item_, consul Körner, invited me several times during the Whitsuntide
festival, and for a whole month the Coburgers showed great kindness to
me, my wife, and children, which I lauded in print on St. John's day.

"Ah, how great was the grief and misery to be seen and heard in all the
surrounding small towns at that time! the inhabitants of Eisfeldt,
Heldburg, and Neustadt, together with the villagers, had to make shift
miserably in the town. Asking and begging was no shame. Yet I did not
wish to burden too much my good host, Herr Hoffman the apothecary. I
went out into the wide world with the pastor of Walburg, Eisentraut, for
three weeks, _victum quærendi gratia_, to Culmbach, Bayreuth,
Hirschheid, Altorf, and Nuremberg, and again back to Coburg. I then
found that my wife had returned to Poppenhausen, accompanied again by
the Hasische trooper, but there was nothing to eat or reap there. What
God had provided me with on my journey, I was obliged to carry to the
town hall and give to the soldiers, and the children were well-nigh
dying of hunger. They had not been able to buy bran enough for bread. My
superintendent, Herr Grams, died from the effects of the Swedish drink,
at the castle four or five weeks after this turbulent time.

"Now as exactions and extortions still continued, I could get no
stipend, and yet had to assist in the superintendence of the parish of
Heldburg, as well as my own, I went _cum testimonio et consilio_ of Dr.
Kesler, and also with letters of recommendation to Duke Albert, to
Eisenach, and represented my poverty in divers ways to the Consistory. I
got a presentment and other recommendations to their Princely
Highnesses, the two brothers, that I might obtain advancement in their
dominions. So I went from Eisenach to Gotha, just as our honoured prince
and lord, Duke Ernest, fixed his residence at the Kaufhaus: for I was
present when they paid him homage at Gotha. The royal Consistory soon
offered to me the parish of Notleben; but as the Notlebers were at
strife with their old pastor, and there was to be a month's delay to
carry on their contest, Dr. Glass persuaded me in the interim to go with
my recommendation to Weimar, and to collect somewhat for my poor family.
My wanderings, however, lasted till the year 1641. I returned on Tuesday
the 18th of January to Gotha, and found the cure of that parish still
vacant for me, which I undertook with the greatest humility and
thankfulness, and preached my first sermon on the parable of the
vineyard, from the 20th of Matthew. But I not only lived in great
insecurity at Notleben, as one had daily to think of flight, but had
also many disputes with the peasantry, who in church and school affairs
had always a hankering after Erfurt, and to whom all royal ordinances
with respect to the catechism were odious. I, the pastor, had to bear
this from the council and peasants, and as all the stipend was paid in
kind, and I was neither a tutor, nor had any other means whereby I could
get on well, I humbly sought for a change of cure. When, therefore, our
honoured lord, after the division of property, obtained the parish of
Erock and the village of Heubach, he offered to me to become pastor
there, which I had expected more than a year before. Thus in 1647, I in
all humility accepted this removal, and preached my trial sermon on
Judica Sunday, in the presence of the parishioners and commissaries. I
received the call on the following day, and thus under God's providence
brought hither my wife and child. This was my fourth piece of church
preferment, where for my own part I desire, God willing, to live and
die; but my wife wishes herself away, in a better place in the plains,
on account of the difficulty of getting servants. I leave it in the
hands of God and my superiors."

Thus far extends what is preserved of Bötzinger's biography. He finally
found rest at Heubach, and administered his office there for
six-and-twenty years. He died in 1673, at the age of seventy-four, after
having led for forty-seven years a life which cannot be designated as
peaceful. Heubach was a new parish which had been formed at Gotha by
Duke Ernest the Good, and Bötzinger was the first pastor. He was obliged
to dwell in the royal shooting lodge, which had been built by Duke
Casimir in the forest, for grouse shooting. In the neighbouring
forester's house lived an insolent forester; the country was in a wild
state, little inhabited, and the people, corrupted by the war, led a
lawless forest life. It appears that the new pastor was not particularly
welcome to these denizens of the woods, the forester especially was his
vehement opponent, and the pastor secretly complained, in Latin
distiches which he inscribed in the church records, to his successor, of
the bitter sufferings which this servant of the woods occasioned him. He
in a brotherly way warned his successor against the wickedness of the
man and his bad wife. But in spite of this contention, it may be
concluded that this long-tormented sufferer was not altogether unhappy,
and a harmless self-contemplation is to be perceived in his Latin
verses. When at last he died, laudatory poems by some of his noted
clerical brothers were written, as was then the custom; some of them are
extant both in Latin and German. Even Herr Andreas Bachmann, the court
preacher at Gotha, a distinguished man, yielded a tribute of respect to
his "Dear old, now deceased clerical brother;" it begins with the
following verses, which will conclude this chapter:--

Martin Bötzinger, God's servant, faithful and true,
Upright as Job--was long time pastor I ween;
A much tormented man with crosses not a few,
As will, in the record of his life, be seen.

CHAPTER IV.

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.--THE CLIPPERS OF MONEY, AND PUBLIC OPINION.

Monotonously did the death wail sound in the chronicles and records of
fellow-sufferers. Where thousands were saved, millions were ruined and
destroyed. The war was destructive of house, wealth, and life, alike in
town and country. Manifold was the work of the destroying forces, but a
higher force was unceasingly at work to ward off final ruin.

It is a marvellous circumstance, that in the same year in which the war
in Germany expired, the interest of the people in public affairs was so
far developed as to originate the first newspapers. In matters of faith,
moral feeling and the judgments of individuals had for a century worked,
but in politics it was only rarely and feebly that serious diversity of
opinion was ventured to be expressed by private individuals. It was just
when the recruiting drums of the princes were beating at every
muster-place that public opinion began its first political struggle in
the press. On an important social question, the intellectual leaders of
the people rose up against the immorality of their own Sovereigns. We
shall endeavour here briefly to exhibit the course of public opinion,
and show what was stirred up and carried away by it during the war. It
may more especially be discovered in the literature of the
flying-sheets, which contended for and against the Bohemian King,
condemned the _Kipper_ and _Wipper_, and did homage to the great
Gustavus Adolphus, but at last became itself, like the nation, meagre
and powerless.

It was after the beginning of the sixteenth century that the people
began to receive news through the press, in a double form. One of these
forms was a single sheet printed on one side, almost always ornamented
with a woodcut, and after the sixteenth century, with a copper-plate
engraving, under which the explanatory text was generally rendered in
verse. In these flying leaves were communicated the appearances in the
heavens, and comets; very soon also battles by land and sea,
portraitures of the celebrities of the day, and the like. Much of the
good humour, and coarse jests of the Reformation time are to be found in
them. The art of the wood carver was in constant activity, and we find
many characteristic peculiarities of the talents of the great painters
impressed upon it. The other form was that of pamphlets, especially in
quarto, frequently also ornamented with woodcuts. They gave information
of every novelty; coronations, battles, and newly discovered countries;
by them every striking event flitted through the country. After the
Reformation, they increased enormously in number. All printing-houses
gave birth to them under the titles of newspapers, advices, reports, and
couriers. Besides these, there were the small controversial writings of
the Reformers, sermons, discourses, and songs. Very soon also the
Princes began to make use of the invention of printing, to inform the
public of their quarrels, and to gain partisans. Private individuals
whose rights were injured contended with their opponents, whether city
magistrates or foreign rulers, in pamphlets. During the whole of the
sixteenth century the aim of the small, not theological, literature, was
first to impart news, and afterwards to serve the interests of
individuals or princes, or to make known the views of those in power.
The opinions of individuals upon political affairs were principally
conveyed in a form which was then considered particularly ingenious, as
pasquinades or dialogues. These small news sheets were innumerable, and
their spread was rapid; after the Reformation it became a separate
branch of industry. The booksellers, or as they were then called,
stationers, who offered these newspapers for sale in their shops and
stalls, and introduced them to the markets of foreign cities, made a
dangerous competition with the printers, bookbinders, and illuminators.
Important newspapers were everywhere pirated. Along the great trade and
post roads, more particularly of the Rhine and southern Germany, certain
trading and printing establishments made special gains from the
communication of the daily news; for example, Wendelin Borsch, at the
Tiler's Hut in Nuremberg, about 1571, Michael Enzinger at Cologne, at
the end of the century, and others. These sheets at first were published
very irregularly, but they already contained a correspondence from
different cities, in which not only political, but mercantile
intelligence was given.[32] At last, in 1612, appeared here and there
separate newspaper sheets in numbers, and in a certain degree of
continuity. Meanwhile it had been long the custom of the merchants to
make such communications to their mercantile friends with some
regularity, so that there already existed news-writers who were in the
habit of forwarding written newspapers. This method of spreading
intelligence had come to Germany from Italy. In Venice, from the year
1536, there were _Notizie Scritte_, written news in successive series,
which continued there till the French Revolution. There also, appeared
the first regular newspaper shortly before 1600, which it is stated took
the name of _Gazzetta_ from a little coin which was the cost of the
single numbers.

Soon after, the German newspapers began to appear regularly. In 1615 the
first weekly newspaper was published at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, by
Egenolf Emmel, bookseller and printer. In opposition to which, in 1616,
the Imperial deputy postmaster Johann van der Brighden, published a
competing paper called 'Political Notices.' From these two undertakings
resulted the oldest German newspapers, the 'Frankfort Journal,' and the
'Oberpostamts Zeitung.'

But these and other weekly papers were for a long time, only news sheets
in which opinions on the facts communicated were carefully withheld. The
great stream of public opinion still continued for two centuries to run
in the old direction; the flying leaves and occasional brochures.

At the beginning of the war even the distant readers were compelled to
be violent partisans. Everywhere appeared controversial writings,
opinions, councils, and deliberations. The nation was rent into large
parties by this intellectual strife, and it is instructive to see how
the writings of the disputants stand in exact relation to the success
which their party had achieved. Till the battle of the Weissen Berge
nine tenths of all the narratives and controversial writings are
Protestant; they reached full a thousand in number. Hatred to the
Jesuits blazed fiercely; bitter was the rancour against the Emperor, and
incessant were the cautions against the League. After Prague, Strasburg
was the centre of their warlike activity. Whilst at Prague the
libel-writer von Rörig, as _Huss-redivius_, made his voice heard
vehemently in many 'Political Discourses' against his adversary Sturm:
the _magisters_ of Strasburg, after the fashion of Boccalini, made
accusations against the same opponent, before Apollo and the high court
of Parnassus; but their Apollo had to deliver human and explicit
oracles. The answers in defence are cautious and uncertain, as during
the whole war the Catholic party were generally not a match for the
Protestants in the serious warfare of the pen. But the speedy flight of
the new King of Bohemia suddenly changed the physiognomy of the literary
market. The secret writings obtained as booty from the Bohemian party
were published by their opponents; and about these bulky quartos there
raged for years a battle of petty flying-sheets. Revengeful, and
joyfully triumphant, the Imperialists sounded their pæan. It is true
that in their brochures there was still some moderation, for they were
obliged to spare the Lutheran Saxons; but so much the more irritably did
they attack the enemy, in countless pictorial sheets and satirical
verses. Endless and merciless were the satires on the fugitive winter
King, he, the proud and witless one, with his wife and children, were
depicted in every kind of pitiful situation, seeking their bread,
departing in bad waggons, and digging a grave for themselves.

This strife was interrupted by another, which will ever be of high
interest. It was the storm of the German press against the "_Kipper_ and
_Wipper_."

Of all the terrors at the beginning of the war, nothing gave such vague
apprehension to the people, as the sudden depreciation of the coinage.
To the fancy of the suffering generation, the evil became so much the
greater, as in the gloomy frame of mind of that period it appeared to
occur suddenly, and everywhere roused the most frightful passions,
discord in families, and hatred and strife between debtors and
creditors, leaving behind, hunger, poverty, beggary, and immorality. It
made honourable citizens gamblers, drunkards, and profligates, it drove
preachers and schoolmasters from their offices, brought opulent families
to beggary, plunged every government into miserable confusion, and
threatened the dwellers in cities, in a thickly populated country, with
famine.

It was the third year of the war; its flames had already carried
destruction over Bohemia and the Palatinate, and the ruins were still
glowing, on which the Imperial troops erected the cross of the old
faith. A sultry atmosphere loured over the country; throughout the
empire, in every class, men armed themselves, and anxiety for the future
pervaded all. But intercourse with the provinces in which the war was at
first located, was then comparatively small. The countries exposed to
its fury were, with the exception of the Palatinate, provinces belonging
to the Emperor; and on the Elbe and lower Rhine, in Thuringia,
Franconia, and the territories of lower Saxony, it was still a question
whether the danger was approaching home. In August, 1621, the peasant
had the prospect of a moderate harvest; in trade and commerce there was
some degree of stagnation, but there was much of that excited eagerness
which is the natural offspring of a great defensive movement, and manly
youths were more allured than intimidated by the wild conduct of the
soldiery. It had indeed been long remarked, that there was something
unusual about the money which circulated in the country. The good heavy
Imperial coin became more and more scarce, in its place much new money
was current, badly coined, and of a red colour. The increasing rise in
the price of foreign goods appeared still more strange. Everything
became dearer. Whoever wished to make a present to a godchild, or to pay
foreign tradesmen, had to give an increasing _agio_ for his old pure
Joachim's thaler. But in the local trade, betwixt town and country, the
extensive new coinage was taken without hesitation, indeed it was
exchanged or bartered with an increased activity. The mass of the people
did not observe that the different kinds of coin with which it was the
custom to pay, became in their hands, worthless lead; but the sharper
ones, who had an inkling of the state of things, became, for the most
part, accomplices in the dishonest usury of the Princes. It may be
distinctly perceived how the people came to a knowledge of their
situation, and we still feel dismayed at the sudden terror, anguish, and
despair of the masses, and are struck by the anxieties and manly
indignation of the thoughtful; and in reading the old narratives, we
still feel somewhat of the indignation with which the guilty were
regarded. When we consider the many wonderful errors of public opinion
at that time, and the well-meaning zeal of individuals who gave good
counsel, we may be permitted in this period of calamity and humiliation,
to feel a proud satisfaction at the sagacity with which even then, some
men of the people discovered the ground of the evil, and, in one of the
most difficult national questions, found the right answer, and by it a
remedy, at least for the worst misfortunes. Before we attempt to give a
picture of the "_Kipper_ and _Wipper_" years, we must make some remarks
on the coining of that period.

In the olden time, all technical dexterity was environed with dignity,
secrecy, and an apparatus of forms. Nothing is more characteristic of
the peculiarity of the German nature, than its virtuosoship; even the
most monotonous handicraft was ennobled by an abundance of lively
additions. As soon as the spirit of the artisan was excited by the
genial pleasure of creating, his imagination was occupied with images
and symbols, and he turned his skill dexterously to high, nay even to
holy things. What we have described as applicable to all the handicrafts
of the middle ages, was so especially to the art of coining. A feeling
of his self-importance was strong in the coiner; the work itself, the
handling of the precious metals fresh from the fire, was considered
ennobling. The obscure chemical processes, which were surrounded,
through alchemy, with a wilderness of fantastic forms, had a far more
imposing effect upon the workers, than can be understood by the rational
fabricators of our century. To this was added the responsibility of the
service. When the coiner took the assay weight out of its beautiful
capsule, and placed the little acorn cup on the artistically worked
assay balance, in order to weigh the remnant in it, he did this with a
certain consciousness of superiority over his fellow-citizens.[33] When
he purified the silver assay from lead in the cupel, and the liquid
silver first overflowed, shining with delicate prismatic colours, and
then, the variegated stream being rent, the bright gleam of the silver
passed like lightning through the molten mass, this silver gleam filled
him with reverential astonishment, and he felt himself in the midst of
the mysterious creations of the spirits of nature, which, whilst he
feared, he was yet able to control by the art of his handicraft, as far
as his knowledge reached. After that period, in the order of things, the
coiners formed themselves into a close corporation, with masters,
associates, and apprentices, and held jealously to their privileges.
Whoever was desirous of stamping the Holy Roman Imperial coin was first
obliged to give proof of his free and honourable lineage, to do lowly
service for four years, during this period to wear, according to custom,
a fool's cap, and to allow himself to be punished and beaten when
inexpert or in the wrong; then at last he was admitted to the business
of coining, and entered as an associate in the brotherhood of Imperial
coiners.

But these strict regulations, which were again confirmed to the
brotherhood by the Emperor Maximilian II., in 1571, had even then ceased
to have the effect of making the corporation honourable and upright.
Equally inefficient were the attempts at control, by the decisions of
the Imperial Diet and the Sovereigns. At the inspection of every piece
of coin the master of the mint had with him a warden, who proved the
texture and weight of the coin. The ten Circles of the Empire held
yearly approbation days, in order, mutually, to compare their coin and
to reject the bad; every Circle was to be represented by a
warden-general; for every Circle an appointed number of mints were
established, in which the lesser rulers were to have their money
specially coined: but all these regulations were only imperfectly
carried out.

There were undoubtedly some Sovereigns and mint-masters then in the
country who were faithful, but they were few in number; and generally a
mint-master, who was considered capable by a German Circle, and worked
in a legal mint, was concerned in many strange practices. It was
difficult to exercise control over these imperfect coining proceedings;
the temptations were great, and morality in general much lower than now.
From the Sovereign down to the understrapper and Jewish purveyor, every
one concerned in coining deceived the other. The Sovereign allowed the
master of the mint for a series of years to work and become rich; he
perhaps permitted in silence the coin of the country to be debased, in
order at the right moment to proceed against the guilty, from whom then
he squeezed out by pressure, like a sponge, all that they had sucked up
for many years drop by drop. It did not avail them that they had long
quitted the service, for after many years greedy justice would reach
them: but the mint-master, who was not in the convenient position of the
lion, to be able to secure his booty by a single stroke of the paw, was
in the habit of industriously overreaching his masters, the purveyors,
nay even his cashiers, the associates, and the apprentices, not to
mention the public. The other assistants did no better; every man's hand
was against the other, and the curse, which according to the proverb
lies on the gold of the German dwarf, appears in the seventeenth century
to have depraved all who transmuted the shining metal into money. The
common method of transacting the business was as follows.

The master of the mint purchased the metal, defrayed the costs of the
stamping, and paid a tax to the Sovereign for every Cologne mark which
he struck, which it appears amounted generally to about four good
groschen: but he had to pay dear for fine silver, and the wages and
other accessories were continually rising in price. If he paid the tax,
from one to two thousand marks, weekly to the lord of the mint, he
concealed from him the fifty marks which he had struck over and above,
and retained the tax upon them for himself; furthermore, he was a sharp
coiner, that is to say, he deducted from the money about half a grain in
the amount of silver required by the law; he always struck a hundred
marks in weight, two ounces too light, which was remarked by no one, and
when he knew that the money was to be sent directly into foreign
countries, especially to Poland, he was bolder in deducting from the
weight. His dealings with the purveyors who procured the metal for him,
were not more upright. There was carried on then, throughout the whole
of Germany, a secret traffic, which was severely prohibited by the law,
and traced with much sagacity by the gate-keepers of the cities, a
traffic in false money. What was acquired by the soldier as booty, or
stolen by the thief from the church, was smelted by the receivers of
stolen goods into flat cakes or conical masses, which in the language of
the trade were called "ingots" and "kings;" whatever was clipped from
the money in diminishing the proper quantity of silver, or had otherwise
to be carefully consigned under a false name, was poured out of the
smelting crucible over moist birchen-twigs, and thus granulated: but
besides this, by being incessantly bought up, the good coin was
exchanged for bad, the small money-changers, most of them wandering
Jews, journeyed from village to village far across the frontiers of the
German Empire, and collected, as the ragmen do now, their wares from the
soldiers, countrymen, and beggars. All the medals of distinguished
persons, all coats-of-arms and inscriptions, horse and man, wolves,
sheep and bears, thalers and hellers, the saints of Cologne and Treves,
and the medallions of the heretic Luther, were bought up for the mint,
collected and exchanged. The concealed wares were then packed into a
vessel with ginger, pepper, and tartar, and paid toll duty as white
lead, wrapped up in bales of cloth and frankincense. There were
travelling waggons with false bottoms, which were specially prepared for
such transports. A still better safeguard was an ecclesiastic as a
travelling companion; but the best of all was a trumpeter, who gave the
trader the appearance of being a prince's courier. If it happened that a
distinguished lord was travelling towards the same country, it was
expedient to bribe him, for he and his suite, their waggons and horses,
were never examined at the city gates. Sometimes the agent disguised
himself as a distinguished lord or soldier, and caused the burden to be
conveyed by the trooper's horses or his servants. Sometimes the
mint-master was obliged to travel to the frontier to meet the agent,
under the pretext of paying a visit to some friend. Then the costly
goods were carried far from the dwellings of men, across lonely heaths,
or through the clearings of a wood, from one hand to another, on a
merchant's parole.

Meanwhile the petty Jewish dealer carried at night, along byways over
the frontier, his wallet full of old groschen, in the twofold fear of
robbers and of the guardians of the law. The wallet, the broad-brimmed
hat, and the yellow cloth border to the coat, the mark of a Jew of the
Empire, was frequently seen at the mint. There existed between the
dealer and the mint-master a confidential business connection, certainly
not without a mental reservation; for it occasionally happened to the
Jew that false thalers were found in one of the hundred marks which he
delivered in thalers, or that the wallet together with the coin had
become moist during the journey, which added some half-ounces to their
weight, or that fine white sand became mingled with the granulated
silver, and was weighed with it. For this the mint-master indemnified
himself, by hanging the scales so that one side of the beam was shorter
than the other, by causing the scales to spring up and descend slowly,
notwithstanding the perpendicular position of the balance, in order to
make the wares some half-ounces lighter, or by falsifying the weights
altogether. What the masters did not do, the apprentices of the mint
ventured upon. However cautious the purveyor might be during the
smelting assay, they understood how to mix copper dust with the silver
already weighed, in order to make the assay worse than it really was.
Such was the state of the traffic even at those mints where there was
still some respect for the law.

Besides the licensed coiners, there were others in most of the ten
Circles, of easier conscience and bolder practice; not exactly false
coiners in our sense of the term, although this was carried on with
great recklessness; but nobles and corporations who had the right of
coining, and prized it highly as a source of income; for, contrary to
the Imperial decrees, which imposed upon them the duty of having their
money coined in one of the approved mints of the Circle, they coined
actively in their own territory. Sometimes they let their right of
coining for a year's rent, nay, they even disposed of their mints to
other princes as a speculation. These irregular coining places were
called hedge mints, and in them a systematic corruption of money took
place. No inquiry was made as to the right of the coiners; whoever knew
how to manage fire and metal, engaged in this kind of work. There was
little regard for the prescribed fineness of texture, and weight of the
money; it was coined with false stamps, and the head of the ruler, with
the date of a better period, were stamped on light coin; nay, in regular
false coining, the stamps of foreign mints were often counterfeited. The
brightness of the new coin was removed by tartar or lead water; and all
this took place under the protection of the Sovereign. The disposal of
the money thus coined required all the cunning and circumspection of the
agents, and a line of industry was in this way formed, which we may
presume occupied many intermediate hands. Thundering decrees had been
fulminated for seventy years at the Imperial Diets and Assemblages of
the circles, against the hedge mints, but without success. Indeed, after
the introduction of good Imperial money, they became more numerous and
active, for the work paid better.

Such was the state of things even before the year 1618. The sovereigns,
small and great, required more and more money. Then some of the Princes
of the Empire--the Brunswickers, alas! were among the first--began to
outdo the proceedings of the most notorious of the hedge mints; they
caused the coin of the country, both heavy and light, to be struck of a
bad mixture of silver and copper, instead of silver, and soon it was
only copper silvered. At last, as for example at Leipzig, a small
angular coin was issued by the city, no longer of copper, which was of
higher value, but of pure tin. This discovery of making money at little
cost spread like a pestilence. From both of the Circles of Saxony it
spread to those of the Rhine and Southern Germany. Hundreds of new mints
were established. Wherever a ruined tower appeared firm enough for a
forge and bellows, wherever there was abundance of wood for burning, and
a road to bring good money to the mint and carry away bad, there a band
of coiners nestled. Electors and nobles, ecclesiastical communities and
cities outvied each other in making copper money; even the people were
infected with it. For a century the art of making gold, and treasure
digging had occupied the fancies of the people; now the happy time
appeared to have arrived, when every fish-kettle could be turned into
silver in the coiners' scales. A mania for money-making began. Pure
silver and old silver gilt became continually and strikingly dearer in
mercantile traffic, so that at last it was necessary to pay four, five
or more new gulden for one old silver gulden, and the price of goods and
the necessaries of life slowly rose; but that signified little to the
multitude, so long as the new money, the production of which seemed to
increase without end, was willingly taken. The nation, already excited,
became at last madly intoxicated. Every one thought they had the
opportunity of becoming rich without labour; all applied themselves to
trafficking in money. The merchant had money dealings with the artisan,
the artisan with the peasant. A general craving, chaffering, and
overreaching prevailed. The modern swindling in funds and on 'Change,
gives only a weak notion of the proceedings of that time. Whoever had
debts hastened to pay them; whoever could get money from an
accommodating coiner, in exchange for an old brewing vessel,[34] could
buy therewith house and fields; whoever had to pay wages, salaries, or
fees, found it convenient to do so in plated copper. There was little
work done in the cities, and only for very high pay. Whoever had any old
thalers, gold gulden, or other good Imperial money lying in their chests
as a store in case of need, as was then the case with almost every one,
drew out his treasure and was delighted to exchange it for new money, as
the old thalers, in a most remarkable way, appeared to be worth four,
nay even six and ten times as much as formerly. That was a jolly time.
If wine and beer were dearer than usual, they were not so in the same
proportion as the old silver money. Part of the gains were jovially
spent in the public-house. Every one was disposed to give, in those
times. The Saxon cities readily agreed, at the Diet at Torgau, to a
great addition to the land tax, as money was to be obtained everywhere
in superfluity. People also were very ready to contract debts, for money
was offered everywhere, and business could be done with it on favourable
conditions; great obligations therefore were undertaken on all sides.
Thus a powerful stream carried away the people to destruction.

But a counter stream arose, first gentle, then continually stronger.
Those were first to complain who had to live on a fixed income, the
parish priests most loudly, the schoolmasters and poor misanthropes most
bitterly. Those who had formerly lived respectably on two hundred
gulden, good Imperial coin, now only received two hundred light gulden,
and if, as often undoubtedly happened, the salary of some were raised
about a quarter in amount, they could not even with this addition defray
half, nay even the fourth part, of the necessary expenses. Upon this
unprecedented occasion the ecclesiastics referred to the Bible, and
found there an indisputable objection to all hedge minting, and began to
preach from their pulpits against light money. The schoolmasters starved
in the villages as long as they could, then ran away and increased the
train of vagabonds, beggars, and soldiers; the servants next became
discontented. The wages, which averaged ten gulden a year, hardly
sufficed to pay for their shoes. In every house there were quarrels
between them and their masters and mistresses. Men and maid-servants ran
away, the men enlisted and the maids endeavoured to set up for
themselves. Meanwhile the youths dispersed from the schools and
universities, few parents among the citizens being sufficiently well off
to be able to support their sons entirely during the period of
education. There were however a multitude of scholarships founded by
benevolent people for poor students. The value of these now suddenly
vanished, the credit of the poor scholars in foreign towns was soon
exhausted, many found it impossible to maintain themselves; they sank
under poverty and the temptations of that bloody period. We may still
read in the autobiographies of many respectable theologians, what
distress they then suffered. One supported life in Vienna, by cutting
daily his master's tallies for a four-penny loaf; another was able to
earn eighteen batz[35] in the week, by giving lessons, the whole of
which he was obliged to spend on dry bread.

There was increasing discontent. First among the capitalists who lived
on the interest of the money which they had lent, which was then in
middle Germany five, or occasionally six, per cent. For a time they were
much envied as wealthy people, but now their receipts were often hardly
sufficient to maintain life. They had lent thousands of good Imperial
thalers, and now a creditor would pay them on the nail a thousand
thalers in new money. They demanded back their good old money; they
squabbled and laid their complaints before the courts; but the money
which they had received back bore the image of the Sovereign and the old
mark of value; it was legally stamped money, and the debtor could in
justice allege that he had received similar money, both as interest and
capital and for labour. Thus there arose numberless lawsuits; and the
lawyers were in great perplexity. At last the cities and even the
Sovereigns were embarrassed. They had willingly issued the new money,
and many of them had coined it recklessly. But now for all their taxes
and imposts they obtained only bad money, a hundred pounds of plated
copper instead of a hundred pounds of silver, at the same time
everything had become dear, even to them, and a portion of their
expenses had to be paid in good silver. Then the governments attempted
to assist themselves by new frauds. First they endeavoured to retain the
good money by compulsion; now they suddenly lowered the value of their
own money, and again threatened punishment and compulsion to all who
gave less value for it. But the false money still continued to sink
under the regulated value. Then some governments refused to take for the
payment of taxes and imposts, the money of their own country which they
themselves had coined. They declined taking back what they had stamped
in the last year. Now for the first time the people discovered the whole
danger of their position. A general storm broke loose against the new
money; it sank even in daily traffic to a tenth of its nominal value.
The new hedge mints were cried down as nests of the devil; the
mint-masters and their agents, the money-changers, and whoever else
dealt in money concerns, were the general objects of detestation. Then
it was that they obtained in Germany the popular names of _Kipper_ and
_Wipper_. These are Lower Saxon words: _kippen_ comes equally from the
fraudulent weighing, as from the clipping of the money; and _wippen_
from throwing the heavy money out of the scales.[36] Satirical songs
were sung about them; it was supposed that their names were heard in the
call of the quail, and the mob cried out after them "_kippe di wipp_,"
as they did "_hep_" after the Jews. In many places the people combined
together and stormed their dwellings. For many a year after the terrors
of the long war, it was considered a disgrace to have acquired money in
the _Kipper-time_. Everywhere disorders and tumults arose; the bakers
would no longer bake, and their shops were destroyed; the butchers would
no longer slaughter, on account of the prescribed tax; the miners,
soldiers, and students raged about in a state of wild uproar; the city
communities, deep in debt, became bankrupt, as for example the wealthy
Leipzig. The old joints of the burgher societies cracked and threatened
to burst asunder. The small literature urged on and excited the temper
of the public mind, and was itself still further excited by the
increasing discontent. The street songs began it, and the pictorial
flying-sheets followed. The _Kippers_ were unweariedly portrayed with
the flames of hell round their heads, their feet standing on an insecure
ball, surrounded by numerous gloomy emblems, amongst which the cord and
the lurking raven were not absent; or in their mints collecting and
carrying off money, and in contrast to them the poor, begging; the
different classes were depicted, soldiers, citizens, widows and orphans,
paying to the money-changers their hard earnings; the jaws of hell
appeared open, and the changers were assiduously shoved down by devils;
all this was adorned, according to the taste of the times, with
allegorical figures and Latin devices, made comprehensible to every one
by indignant couplets in German.

As among the people, so also among the educated, a fierce storm began to
rage. The parish priests were loud in their invectives and
denunciations, not only from the pulpit but also in flying-sheets. A
brochure literature began, which swelled up like a sea. One of the first
that was written against the new money was by W. Andreas Lampe, pastor
at Halle. In a powerful treatise, 'On the last brood and fruit of the
devil, Leipzig, 1621,' he proved, by numerous citations from the Old and
New Testament, that all trades and professions in the world, even that
of an executioner, were by divine ordinance; but the _Kipper_ was of the
devil, whereupon he characterizes in some cutting passages the mischief
which they had caused. He had to suffer severe trials, and though he
loyally spared the authorities, yet he was threatened with proceedings,
so that he found it necessary to obtain from the sheriffs' court at
Halle a justification. He was soon followed by many of his clerical
brethren. The controversial writings of these ecclesiastics appear to us
clumsy productions; but it is well to examine them with attention, for
the Protestant priesthood are always representatives of the cultivation
and the rectitude of the people.

The preachers exorcised the evil one, and the theological faculty soon
followed with the heavy artillery of their Latin arguments, and how
bitter was the priestly anger, was shown for example by the consistory
of Wittemberg, when they refused the Lord's Supper and honourable burial
to the Kippers. Lastly we have the lawyers with their questions,
informations, detailed opinions on coining and recapitulations. The
answers which they gave in thick brochures were almost always very
diffuse, and their arguments frequently subtile; still they were
necessary, for the disputes concerning _meum_ and _tuum_ between
creditor and debtor appeared interminable, and numberless lawsuits
threatened to prolong insupportably the sufferings of the people. The
principal subjects of investigation were, whether those who had lent
good money were to be repaid capital and interest in light money; and
again, whether those who had lent light money had a claim for the
repayment of the full capital in good money. It must be remarked here
that, in many cases which the law and the acuteness of lawyers did not
reach, the dispute was ended by that true feeling of equity which was
inherent in the people. For when the governments were generally bad, and
legal justice was very costly and difficult to be obtained, much had to
be accomplished by the practical sense of individuals. A little flying
leaf, in which is related how the sound common sense of the village
magistrate administered justice, was certainly not less useful than a
massive half-Latin, half-German "_Informatio_."

In the flood of paper, which gives us information concerning the
excitement of that period, there are certain sheets which more
especially arrest our attention--the utterances of educated and
experienced men, who know how to tell shortly and effectively in a
popular form, from whence it all arose. Some of these flying-sheets,
written at different periods of the Thirty years' war, have been
preserved to us, in which we may even now behold with admiration, both
energy of character, power of language, and genuine statesmanlike
discernment. In vain do we inquire for the name of the author. We will
only mention here one of these writings. Its title is, 'Expurgatio, or
Vindication of the poor _Kipper_ and _Wipper_, given by Kniphardum
Wipperium, 1622. Fragfurt.'

The author has chosen the valiant Lampe as the object of his attack, as
the cautious zeal of the Saxon ecclesiastic whose distinguished
colleagues were accused of being Wippers--for example, the notorious
court preacher Hoe, the subservient tool of the Elector--had excited the
indignation of a powerful mind. A manly judgment, and a very just
democratic tone appears in the strong expressions of this writing. We
may judge of its peculiar tenour from the following passages:--

"I have never yet seen a single penny, and much less an inferior coin,
on which was to be found the names, arms, or stamp of _Kipper_ and
_Wipper_, still less any inscription from the new quail call,
_kippediwipp_. But one may truly see thereupon a well-known stamp or
image, and the _Kipper_ or _Wipper_ will not appear even in the smallest
letter of the alphabet.

"But if Herr Magister does not rightly understand the matter, let him
ask who has bought the old saucepans at the highest price, in order to
assist the coining; having done so, Herr Magister will truly learn who
has coined the copper and tin money. For truly so many old pans in which
so much good gruel or millet pap has been made, and so many coppers in
which so much good beer has been brewed, are melted down and coined, and
this not by the vulgar _Kipper_, but by the _Arch kipper_. For the
others have no regale to coin, and if they, like the blood and deer
hounds, have scented and hunted out such things, they have done so by
the command of others, and thus are not to be so severely condemned as
those (let them call themselves what they may) who have the regalie, and
misuse it to the perceptible damage of the German States.

"No one now-a-days will bell the cat, or, like John the Baptist, tell
the truth to Herod. Every one heaps abuse upon the poor rogues, the
_Kippers_ and _Wippers_, who nevertheless do not carry on this business
by their own authority, for all that they do takes place with the
knowledge, consent, and approbation of the government. And alas, they
have now-a-days many competitors. For as soon as any one gets a penny or
a groschen that is a little better than another, he forthwith makes with
it usurious profit. Therefore, as experience teaches, it comes to pass
as follows: the doctors abandon their invalids and think far more of
usury than of Hippocrates and Galen; the lawyers forget their legal
documents, lay aside their practice, and taking usury in hand, let who
will peruse Bartholus and Balbus. The same is also done by other men of
learning, who study arithmetic more than rhetoric and philosophy; the
merchants, shop-keepers, and other traders acquire now-a-days their
greatest gains by their hardwares which are marked by the mint stamp.

"From this we may perceive that the 'unhanged, thievish,
oath-forgetting, dishonourable,' _Kippers_ and _Wippers_, though not
indeed to be quite exculpated, are not so much to be condemned as if
they were the _causa principalis_ of the ruin of the German States. I
have, alas! assuredly great fears, that if once there is a delivery to
the devil or hangman, the _Kippers_ and _Wippers_, changers and usurers,
Jews and Jew associates, helpers and helpers' helpers, one thief with
another, will all be hurled off to the devil, or be hung up at the same
time together, like yonder host with his companions. Yet with a
difference. For their principals and patrons will justly have the
prerogative and pre-eminence, and indeed some of them have been already
sent there beforehand. The others will shortly follow to the
above-mentioned place, and it will then avail nothing on this journey
downward, whether one treats them with _carmina_ or _crimina_, whether
one passes judgment on them as criminals, or gives them laudatory
poems--_facilis descensus Averni_--they will easily find the way, for
they need no good fortune for that; the devil will couple them all with
one cord, be the rogues ever so big. _Fiat_."

It is not improbable that a similar view of their social prospects in
another world was impressed upon the rulers from many quarters. At all
events, even they discovered that they could only be saved by the most
speedy help; nothing would avail them but the reduction and hasty
withdrawal of the new coinage, and a return to the good old Imperial
coin. Thus the first fears of the princes and cities caused them to
depreciate their new money, and to make use of these verdicts in order
to express their abhorrence--not of very old date--of the bad coin, and
they forthwith had the coin stamped honourably of due weight and alloy,
as prescribed by the Imperial law. In order to put a stop to the
excessive increase of prices, they hastened to put forth a tariff of
goods and wages, which decided the highest price to be permitted. It is
clear that this latter remedy could not be of more lasting use than the
famous edict of Diocletian, thirteen hundred years before. The
compulsion which, for example, it exercised over the city weekly
markets, day labourers, and guilds, was only a temporary help for
restoring the overflowing stream to its old bed.

This state of intoxication, terror, and fury was followed by a dreary
reaction. Men gazed on one another as after a great pestilence. Those
who had rested secure in their opulence had sunk into ruin. Many
worthless adventurers now strutted, as persons of distinction, in velvet
and silk. The whole nation had become poorer. There had not been any
great war for a long time, and many millions in silver and gold, the
savings of the inferior classes, had been inherited in city and village
from father to son; the greater part of these savings had vanished in
the bad times; it had been squandered on carousals, frittered away on
trifles, and at last expended for daily food. But this was not the
greatest evil; it was a still greater, that at this time the citizen,
and countryman had been forcibly torn from the path of their honest
daily labour. Frivolity, an unsettled existence, and a reckless egotism,
had taken possession of them. The destroying powers of war had sent
forth their evil spirits to loosen the firm links of burgher society,
and to accustom a peaceful, upright, and laborious people to the
sufferings and mal-practices of an army which shortly overran all
Germany.

The period from 1621 to 1623 was henceforth called the "_Kipper and
Wipper_" time. The confusion, the excitement, the trafficking, and the
flying-sheet literature lasted till the year 1625. The lessons which the
princes had learnt from the consequences of their flagitious actions did
not avail them against later temptations. Even at the end of the
seventeenth century it seems to have been impossible for them entirely
to avoid hedge mints, and the continual recurrence of a depreciation of
money.

Whilst Tilly was conquering Lower Saxony, and Wallenstein made great
havoc in Northern Germany, small literature flowed in an under-current.
After every engagement, and every capture of a city, there appeared
copper engravings, with a text which described the position of the
troops and the appearance of the city; irregular newspapers, and songs
of lament conveyed the information of the advance of the Imperialists,
and the destruction of the Mansfelders. In the midst of all this the
people were dismayed by terrible decrees of the Emperor, who now from
his secure position threw over the evangelicals, or compelled them by
force to return to his Church, in spite of the fruitless intercessions
of the Elector of Saxony. The Elector at last authorized the publication
of a defence of the Augsburg confession, against the attacks of the
Catholic theologians; this comprehensive work, called, 'The necessary
Defence of the Apple of the Eye,' written in 1628, called forth
immediately a theological war; both opponents and allies hastened in
crowds to the field. 'Spectacles for the Evangelical Apple of the Eye;'
'A sharp round Eye on the Romish Pope;' 'Who has struck the Calf in the
Eye? The Catholic Oculist or Coucher;' 'Venetian Spectacles on Lutheran
Nose,' &c. These are specimens of the defiant titles of the most
readable of the controversial writings. But this literary strife was
drowned in the burst of loud outcries against Wallenstein, which pierced
from Pomerania through all the German States, on account of the battle
near Stralsund, and his shameful conduct towards the Pomeranian Duke and
his country, and finally the horrible ill treatment of the men and women
of Pasewalk. Again these lamentations changed into a shout of joy from
all the Protestants. Again hope and confidence revived; this time it was
a man, whom the nation, with the genuine German longing to love and
honour, welcomed with shouts of jubilee. What had been wanting to the
Germans for a century, came to them from the North, an idol and a hero.
But he was a foreigner.

Much of that halo of light still surrounds the figure of Gustavus
Adolphus, which distinguished him in the eyes of his cotemporaries so
immeasurably above all other generals and princes. It is not his
victories, nor his knightly death, nor the circumstance that he appeared
as the last help to a despairing people, which makes him the one
prominent figure in the long struggle. It was the magic of his great
nature, as he rode over the field of battle, firm, self-contained, and
as confident as unerring; from head to foot he was dignity, decision,
and nervous energy. If one examines more nearly, one is astonished at
the strong contrasts which combined in this character to form an
admirable unity. No General was more systematic, fertile in plans, or
greater in the science of war. Discipline in the army, order in the
commissariat, a firm basis, and secure lines of retreat in every
strategical operation, these were the requisites he brought with him to
the conduct of the German War. But even he, the powerful prince of war,
was driven by an irresistible necessity from his good system, but with
the whole power of his being he incessantly stemmed the tide of the wild
marauding war that raged around him. And yet this same systematic man
bore within him a rash spirit of daring against the greatest hazards;
his bearing in the battle was wonderfully elevated, like that of a noble
battle steed. His eyes lighted up, his figure became more lofty, and a
smile played on his countenance. Again, how wonderful appears to men,
the union in him of frank honesty and wary policy, of upright piety and
worldly wisdom, of high-minded self-sacrifice and reckless ambition, of
heartfelt humanity and stern severity! And all this was enlivened by an
inward confidence and freedom of mind, which enabled him to look in a
humorous point of view on the distracted condition of the decaying
Princes of the country. The irresistible power which he exercised over
all who came under his influence, consisted principally in the
freshness of his nature, his surpassing good humour, and where it was
necessary, an ironical bonhomie. The way in which he managed the proud
and wavering Princes, and the hesitating cities of the Protestant party,
was not to be surpassed; he was never weary of exciting them to war, and
alliance; he ever reverted to the same theme, whether to the Envoy of
the Brandenburger, or when flattering the Nurembergers, or chiding the
Frankforters.

He was closely allied, both by race and faith, to the Northern Germans;
but he was a foreigner. This was thoroughly and constantly felt by the
Princes. It was not alone distrust of his superior power which, till the
bitterest necessity compelled them to union, kept aloof from him the
irresolute, but it was the discovery in him of a new master; they
revolted at the idea of this mighty non-German power, which so suddenly
and threateningly arose in the empire. There was still to be found in a
few of them somewhat of Luther's national idea of the empire. They had
no hesitation in negotiating with France, Denmark, the Netherlands, nay
with the unreliable Bethlem Gabor; all these were outside the Empire.
Within its boundaries there was the fanatical Emperor and his
insupportable General; they were new people to them, who might pass away
as rapidly as they had become great; but the sovereignty of the German
Empire was old, and they were the pillars of it. This conception was no
longer in accordance with the highest policy, for the German Emperor had
become the most mortal enemy of the German Empire. But such a feeling is
not deserving of contempt; and the nation as well as most of the
Princes, felt to the heart's core that their quarrel with the Emperor
was in fact a domestic one, in which foreigners should have no concern.
But the people, blinded by their delight in the dazzling heroism of the
Protestant King, lost sight of these considerations. For two years
public opinion paid homage to him, as it has never done since, except to
the Great Frederic of Prussia. Every word, every little anecdote was
carried from city to city, and loud acclamations greeted every success
of his arms. It was not only the zealous Protestants who thus felt; even
in the Catholic armies and in the states of the League, the scorn was
quickly silenced which had been called forth by the landing of the "Snow
King," and the number of his admirers continually increased. Many
characteristic traits of him are preserved to us; almost every
conversation that he had with Germans, gives an opportunity of
discovering something of his nature. We will give here a short
conversation, after his landing in Pomerania, recorded by a clever
negotiator.

The Elector of Brandenburg had sent his plenipotentiary, Von
Wilmersdorff, to persuade the King to conclude an armistice with the
Emperor; he further wished to negotiate a peace between them, although
Wallenstein had already deprived him of his dominions, and the Emperor
had shown him every kind of disregard. The conversation of the King with
the Envoy gives a good picture of his method of negotiating. He is here
concise, firm, and straightforward, in spite of some mental reservation;
and so perfectly self-possessed that he can allow his lively temperament
to break forth without danger. The Envoy relates as follows:--

"After his Kingly Majesty had listened graciously to me, though when I
came to the proposition of an armistice he rather smiled, he, no one
being present, answered me circumstantially.

"'I had expected a different kind of embassy from my loving cousin; that
is to say, that he would rather have come to meet me and united himself
with me for his own welfare; and not that my loving cousin should be so
weak as to lose this opportunity so providentially sent by God. My
loving cousin will not comprehend the clear and evident intentions of
his enemies; he does not discern the difference between pretexts and
truth, nor consider that when this pretence shall cease, that is to say,
when they have no longer anything more to fear from me, another will
soon be found to establish himself in my loving cousin's country.

"'I had not expected that my loving cousin would have been so much
terrified at the war as to remain inactive notwithstanding all the
consequences to himself. Or does not my cousin yet know, that the
intention of the Emperor and his allies is not to desist till the
evangelical religion is entirely rooted out of the empire? my loving
cousin must be prepared either to deny his religion or abandon his
country. Does he think that anything else can be obtained by prayers,
entreaties, or the like means? For God's sake let him reflect a little,
and for once take _mascula consilia_. You see how this excellent prince
the Duke of Pomerania was in the most innocent way,--having really
committed no offence but only peaceably drunk his beer,--brought into
the most lamentable condition, and how wonderfully he was saved under
God's providence, _fato quodam necessario_--for he was constrained to do
so--by making terms with me. What he did from necessity my loving cousin
may do willingly.

"'I cannot withdraw, _jacta est alea, transivimus Rubiconem_. I do not
seek my own advantage in this business; I gain nought but the security
of my kingdom; beyond this I have nothing but expenses, trouble, labour,
and danger to body and soul. They have occasioned me enough; in the
first place they have twice sent help to my enemies the Poles, and
endeavoured to drive me away; then they have endeavoured to possess
themselves of the harbours of the Baltic, whereby I could well perceive
what their intentions towards me were. My loving cousin the Elector is
in a similar case, and it is now time that he should open his eyes and
give up somewhat of his easy life, that he may no longer be a
Stadtholder of the Emperor, nay even an Imperial servant in his own
country: "Qui se fait brebis le loup le mange."

"'This is now precisely the best opportunity, when your country is free
from Imperial soldiers, to garrison and defend your fortresses. If you
will not do this, deliver over one to me, if it be only Küstrin. I will
defend it, and you may then remain in the inactivity which your Prince
so dearly loves.

"'What other will you do? For I declare to you distinctly, I will not
hear of neutrality, my loving cousin must be either friend or foe. When
I come to your frontier you must show yourselves either cold or warm.
This is a struggle between God and the devil; if my loving cousin will
hold to God, let him unite with me; but if he would rather hold to the
devil, he must henceforth fight against me, _tertium non dabitur_, of
that he may be assured.

"'Take this commission upon you to inform my loving cousin secretly of
it, for I have none with me whom I can spare to send to him. If my
loving cousin will treat with me, I will see if I can go to him myself;
but with his present arrangements I will have nothing to do.

"'My loving cousin trusts neither in God nor to his good friends. It has
gone ill with him therefore in Prussia and this country. I am the
devoted servant of my loving cousin, and love him from my heart: my
sword shall be at his service, and it shall preserve him in his
sovereignty and to his people, but he must do his part also.

"'My loving cousin has great interest in this dukedom of Pomerania; this
will I also defend for his advantage, but on the same condition as in
the book of Ruth the next inheritor is commanded to take Ruth for his
wife, so must my loving cousin take to him this Ruth; that is, unite
himself with me in this righteous business if he wishes to inherit the
country. If not, I here declare that he shall never obtain it.

"'I am not disinclined to peace, and have conformed myself to it
contentedly. I know well that the chances of war are doubtful; I have
experienced that, in the many years in which I have carried on war with
various fortune. But as I have now, by God's grace, come so far, no one
can counsel me to withdraw, not even the Emperor himself if he were to
make use of his reason.

"'I might perhaps allow of an armistice for a month. It may appear
fitting to me that my loving cousin should mediate. But he must place
himself in a position, arms in hand, otherwise all his mediation will
avail nothing. Some of the Hanse towns are ready to unite with me. I
only wait for some one in the Empire to put himself prominently at the
head. What might not the electors of Saxony and Brandenburg together
with these cities, accomplish? Would to God that there were a Maurice!'

"Thereupon I replied that I had no commands from his Electoral Highness
to confer with his Majesty, touching an armed alliance. But in my poor
opinion, I doubted much whether his Electoral Highness would be able to
come to an understanding without detriment to his honour and truth,
_salvo honore et fide sua_.

"Then his Majesty interposed promptly: 'Yes, they will honour you when
they have deprived you of your land and people. The Imperialists will
keep faith with you as they have kept the capitulation.'

"I: 'It is necessary to look to the future, and consider how all will
fall to ruin if the undertaking does not prosper.'

"The King: 'That will happen if you remain inactive, and would have done
so already if I had not come. My loving cousin ought to do as I have
done, and commend the result to God. I have not lain on a bed for
fourteen days. I might have spared myself this trouble and sat at home
with my wife if I had had no greater considerations.'

"I: 'As your Kingly Majesty is content that his Electoral Highness
should become mediator, you must at least allow his Electoral Highness
to remain neutral.'

"The King: 'Yes, till I come to his country. Such an idea is mere chaff,
which the wind raises and blows away. _What kind of a thing is that
Neutrality? I do not understand it!_'

"I: 'Yet your Kingly Majesty understood it well in Prussia, where you
yourself suggested it to his Electoral Highness and to the city of
Dantzic.'

"The King: 'Not to the Elector, but certainly to the city of Dantzic,
for it was to my advantage.'

"After this he returned again to the subject of the Duke of Pomerania,
saying that the good prince had been well content with him. He would
have restored him Stralsund, Rügen, Usedom, Wollin, and all the rest.
The Duke had desired that his Majesty should be his father. 'But I,'
said his Majesty, 'answered, I would rather be his son, as he has no
children.'

"Thereupon I answered: 'Yes, Kingly Majesty, that might very well be, if
his Electoral Highness could only maintain the law of primogeniture in
Pomerania.'

"The King: 'Yes, that may be very easily maintained by my loving cousin;
but he must defend it, and not, like Esau, sell it for a mess of
pottage.'"

Thus far goes the narrative.

When the great King, the lord of half Germany, sank into the dust in
battle, the wail of lamentation broke forth in all the Protestant
territories. Funeral services were performed in the towns and country,
endless elegies poured forth; even the enemy concealed their joy under a
manly sympathy, which at that time was seldom accorded to opponents.

His death was considered as a national misfortune; the deliverer and the
saviour of the people was lost: we also, whether Catholic or Protestant,
should not only regard with heartfelt sympathy that pure hero life,
which in the prime of its strength was so suddenly extinguished, but we
should also contemplate with the deepest gratitude the influence of the
King upon the German war; for he had, in a time of desperation, defended
that which Luther had attained for the whole nation,--freedom of soul,
and capacity for the development of national strength against the most
fearful enemy of the German national existence, against a crushing
despotism in Church and State. But we must also observe concerning him,
that the fate which he met strikes us as more peculiarly tragical
because he drew it upon himself. History makes us acquainted with some
characters which, after mighty deeds, are suddenly struck down at the
height of their fame by a rapid change of fate in the midst of powerful
but unaccomplished conception. Such heroes have a popular mixture of
qualities of soul, which make them the privileged favourites both of
posterity and art. Such was the case with the almost fabulous hero, the
great Alexander; and thus it was, in a more limited sphere, with smaller
means, with the Swedish King Gustavus Adolphus: but however accidental
the fever or the bullet which carried them off may appear to us, their
destruction arose from their own greatness. The conqueror of Asia had
become an Asiatic despot before he died; the deliverer of Germany was
shot by an Imperial mercenary when he was rushing through the dust of
the battle-field, not like a General of the seventeenth century, but
like a "Viking" of the olden time, who fought their battles in wild
excitement under the protection of the battle-maidens of Odin. Often
already had the incautious heroism of the King led him into rash daring
and useless danger, and long had his faithful adherents feared that he
would at some time meet his end thus. It was a wise policy which led him
to establish himself on the German coast, in order to secure to his
Sweden the dominion of the Baltic, also to draw the seaports to his
interests, and to desire firm points of support on the Oder, Elbe, and
Weser. But what duty did he owe to the German Empire, whose own Emperor
wished to suppress the national life and popular development by Roman
money, and calling thither hordes of soldiers from half Europe? When
Gustavus Adolphus conceived the idea of making himself lord paramount
over the German Princes, when he proceeded to form an hereditary power
for himself in Germany, he was no longer the great cotemporary of
Richelieu, but again the descendant of an old Norman chieftain. It is
possible that the power of the man, during a longer life and after many
victories, might have brought under his sway, with or without an
Imperial throne, the greater part of Germany; but that Sweden, the
foundation of his power, was not in a position to exercise a lasting
supremacy over Germany, a small distant country over a larger, must have
been obvious even then to the weakest politician. The King might still
for some years longer have sacrificed the peasant sons of Sweden on the
German battle-fields, and corrupted the Swedish nobility by German
plunder; but he could not build up an enduring dynasty for both people,
whatever his genius might have accomplished for a time. Men of ordinary
powers would soon have restored things to their natural condition. We
are therefore of opinion, that he died just when his lofty desires were
beginning to contend against a fundamental law of the new state life,
and we may assume that even a longer life of success would not have made
much alteration in our position. When he died, his natural heir in
Germany was already twelve years of age: this heir was Frederic William,
the great Elector of Brandenburg. Gustavus Adolphus was the last but one
of the northern princes to whom the old Scandinavian expedition to the
south proved fatal. Charles XII., dying before Friedrichshall, was the
last.

As the funeral lament died away in Germany, there began a reaction in
public opinion against the foreigners. The Catholic faction had, during
the whole war, the doubtful advantage that their quarrels and private
dissensions were not brought to light by the press, but their Protestant
opponents were broken into parties. It was more especially after Saxony,
in 1635, had endeavoured, at Prague, to make an inglorious
reconciliation with the Emperor by a separate peace, that there arose
both in the north and south an Imperial and a Swedish party, and much
weak dissension besides. The French endeavoured, but without success, to
gain by means of the press, adherents on the Rhine. Bernhard von Weimar
found warm admirers, who foresaw in him the successor of Gustavus
Adolphus. He possessed great talents as a General, and some of the
winning qualities of the great King; but he was only in one respect his
successor, that he carried on in the most dangerous way the too great
political daring of his instructor. He wished to make use of, and at the
same time deceive, a foreign power which was greater and stronger than
himself: it was an unequal struggle, and he, as the weaker party, was
soon put aside by France, and these foreigners possessed themselves of
his political legacy, his fortress and his army.

While love and hate were thus divided in this gloomy period, there arose
among the better portion of the nation a characteristic patriotism,
which the German people, in the midst of their great need and
sufferings, opposed to the egotistic interests of the rulers who helped
to destroy each other. There no longer existed any party to which a wise
man could from his heart wish success. Differences of faith had
diminished, and the soldiers complained, without scruple, of confession.
Then began for the first time a new political system, called a
constitution founded on reason, in opposition to the reckless
selfishness of the rulers. But even this constitutional principle, the
basis of which was the advantage of the whole, as it was then
understood, was still without greatness of conception or any deep moral
purport; and there was no repugnance to the employment of the worst
means in carrying it out. Still it was an advance. Even the peaceful
citizen, after eighteen years of troubles, was obliged to take an
interest in this political system. The character of the ruling powers
and their interests became everywhere a subject of deliberation. Every
one was terrified out of his provincial narrowness of mind, and had
urgent reasons for interesting themselves in the fate of foreign
countries. Thousands of fugitives, the most powerful members of the
community, had scattered themselves over distant provinces, the same
misfortunes had befallen them also. Thus, amidst the horrors of war, was
developed in Germany a feeling of distrust of their rulers, a longing
for a better national condition. It was a great but dearly bought
advance of public opinion; it may be discerned more particularly in the
political literature after the peace of Prague. A specimen of this
tendency is here introduced from a small flying-sheet, which appeared in
1636 under the title of 'The German Brutus: that is, a letter thrown
before the public.'

"You Swedes complain that Germany is ungrateful, that it drives you away
with violence, that the good deeds, done with God's power by Joshua, are
forgotten, the alliance no longer thought of, in short, that you are
less valued, like an old worn-out horse, or decrepit hound, both of
which, when no longer useful, get such thanks as the world gives. Thus
you are treated with great injustice before God and the world.

"Be of good comfort: there are many remaining who wish you well from
their heart, who pray for you, and show their devotion to you in every
possible way. A country where such people are to be found cannot be
accused of ingratitude; and that there are yet many thousand such
people, even your enemies know right well. But that selfishness, secret
envy, hidden counsels, and clandestine negotiations are stirred up
against you, must not be ascribed to the whole of this praiseworthy
German nation, but only to the causes which have led to such results;
for you have on your part shown a double amount of selfishness.

"In the first place, in raising at your pleasure the toll on the Baltic;
for I have been told by honest trustworthy seafaring folk, that you have
exacted from people, not only from fifteen to thirty, but up to forty,
nay, even to fifty out of a hundred, and have troubled all hearts by
this rapacity; and as no improvement has taken place, but commerce has
been thereby miserably straitened, and many honest people have been
lamentably brought to beggary, the minds of men being thereby much
embittered, your best friends began at first to condemn you secretly,
and at last through their falling fortunes were made your worst enemies.
Would you throw the blame on the toll gatherers? They are your servants.
It is a well-known rule of law: what I do by my servant is as though
done by myself. You appear to me exactly like him who carried off a pair
of shoes secretly and offered them afterwards to the holy Benno.

"The states and cities of the Empire, so long as they were in your
hands, contributed fully and sufficiently to your maintenance; many, nay
too many, to say the least of it, as a proof of their fidelity, have
lost soul and body, wealth and life, nay all their privileges, and, in a
great measure, religion itself. Ratisbon testifies to this. Augsburg
laments over it. All grieve together over it. You have allowed the old
regiments to dissolve, have completed no companies, nor paid either new
or old, notwithstanding you have demanded, and in fact received large
sums of money from many Diets; I say nothing of what you have extorted
from your enemies in their own countries. How has this money been spent?
In superfluous pomp and luxury which is hateful to every one. We have
observed this silently, and made a virtue of necessity. The children of
Israel, when they had intercourse with the daughters of their enemies,
and afterwards boasted of their victory, and tormented their brethren of
Judah with the hardest yoke of bondage, were both times severely
punished by God. And shall it fare better with you who have exercised
more than Turkish cruelty in many evangelical places? The corn from the
monastery of Magdeburg, the Dukedom of Brunswick and other places, has
been thrashed out and carried off in heaps from the country, sold at a
very high price, and the money spent for your own use, nothing given to
the poor soldiers; the country people, harassed to death, are dying of
hunger; and many fortresses, from avarice, either not supplied with
provisions, or not amply provided with powder and shot, and, in short,
general mismanagement. Now we see ourselves everywhere abandoned by
fortune, so that at last we discover there is no money in hand, and no
people to be got, as those who were available have run away, and the
remainder will no longer be restrained by martial law. Dear friends,
think you of the saying of Boccalini: 'When the prince leads the life of
Lucifer, what wonder that the subjects become devils!'

"Our politicians know well that the Electors hold kingly rank in the
Empire. But who has exalted himself above them with kingly magnificence,
a great retinue and boundless expense, is it not your chief
(Oxenstiern)? Do you think that this has not been complained of at every
court? His Kingly Majesty of Christian memory never did the like. From
these and countless other reasons the Princes, states, and cities have
become first secretly, and then publicly offended with you; to this may
be added a conduct towards the established inhabitants which they cannot
well bear, when foreigners place themselves higher than their native
princes.

"You say that electoral Saxony should have made peace by force of arms.
Let us leave that uncertain. It is known to every one that certain
persons have helped to shove the cart into the mud, and afterwards left
it there. If electoral Saxony has been wrong, you with your procedures
are not less guilty. In short, every one, be he who he may, has sought
his own advantage; therefore Magdeburg lies in ashes, Wismar is in
ruins, Augsburg is bound with the fetters of servitude, Nuremberg is in
peril of death, Ulm is in quotidian fever, Strasburg has passed to the
French, Frankfort has the jaundice, and the whole Empire is consumed.
The enemy have beaten with rods, but you have chastised with scorpions.
The Wallensteiners inflicted wounds, and you physicians have applied
drawing plasters as a remedy instead of oil, have corrupted the blood
and fastened yourselves on like a crab; such a crab must either be cut
out by force, or satisfied daily by inordinate sums of money. The last
is out of our power, the first we do not wish to do to you, but cannot
help it. If God thus harasses you it is your own fault. Meanwhile, do
you think that God has a flaxen beard, and will allow himself to be led
by the nose? Oh, no, He sees well that you shelter yourselves under the
name of freedom, that you make use of the cloak of the gospel, and at
the same time live as Turks.

"You cry out much about the Spanish monarchy. I have no fears of it.
Give me one of the best chemists who is sufficiently scientific to know
how to mingle earth and ores, so that they will hold together firm and
infrangible, and then let us see whether we have to fear the Spanish
monarchy. But I am afraid that France will be to us Germans, the broken
reed of Egypt, which will pierce the hand of whoever leans on it. All
empires have their fixed time appointed by God, and a boundary across
which they cannot pass. First they arise, then grow like boys; some
improve as youths, remain for a time at a standstill in their manhood,
then decline, become old, languish and at last die; nay, are so utterly
annihilated, that one scarcely knows that they have existed. This course
of things cannot be prevented by any human wisdom. The wise man sees
this, and prepares himself beforehand; the fool does not believe it, and
is ruined, like the surviving Generals of Alexander the Great, who so
long divided his conquests, till the Romans became their masters. And
truly the Empire has great need to rid herself at last of foreign
physicians.

"I have been severe, but a steel axe is necessary to sever such a hard
knot, one cannot cut with a fur coat.

"It is asked what will be the issue? It rests with God. Have you had too
little bloodshed? Let God be the judge, and fly ye from his wrath.
Although the Church still suffers, it is not yet dead. You cannot
complain that you have gained nothing for the money you have spent and
the dangers you have undergone. You have brought copper out of your
country, but carried silver and gold back to it. Sweden, before this
war, was of wood thatched with straw, now it is of stone, and splendidly
adorned, and that you have obtained from the abducted vessels of Egypt.
This no one would grudge you if you would only thank God yourselves for
it. The Germans have indeed been excited to rise against their Emperor,
but they will take no one who is not of their race and language. If the
house of Austria has done evil, God will truly search it out. As
concerns the French, I know well that God will, through them, punish
Germany; for we have daily imitated in manners, ceremonies, demeanour,
and entertainments, in language and clothing, together with music, this
nation of apish behaviour and dress, and frivolous manners. How can we
expect better than to fall into their hands? But the Frenchman will not
therefore become our Emperor. To him belongs the Lily, the Eagle to the
Germans, the East to the Turks, and the West to the Spaniards. None
among them can reach higher.

"I must hope that it will not be taken amiss of me, that I have so
roundly described these transactions. But frankness suits a German well.
Would to God that any one had in good time thus placed the matter before
you. Now we can indeed complain, but help, none either will or can give.
God alone will and can help us; to Him we must pray that He may at last
have compassion on us, and turn the hearts of the high potentates to
love and long-wished-for peace."

Here ends the flying-sheet. The author, without putting sympathy with
the Imperialists in the foreground, evidently belongs less to the
Swedish party than we do now. Undoubtedly the Swedish soldiers and
officers had become merciless devils, like the Imperialists, and, like
them, they ruined the country and people. But it was not their
exorbitant demands which hindered the peace, but the injustice of the
Emperor, who still continued to raise the execrable pretension to subdue
the life and freedom of the nation to his interest. Had it been possible
for the Hapsburgers to assure freedom of faith, and the independence of
the Imperial tribunals, almost all the German princes would have
succumbed to him to drive away the foreigners. But the struggle stood
thus: either the nation must be crushed, and all the ideas suppressed,
which had grown up in the German soil for one hundred and forty years,
or the pretensions of the Imperial House must be certainly and
fundamentally overcome: The last was impossible to the Germans without
the help of Sweden. Thus on a retrospect of those years, every one will
be well disposed to Sweden, who does not consider it a mere accident
that well-known men of later times, like Lessing, Goethe, Schiller,
Kant, Fichte, Hegel, and Humboldt did not blossom out of the country in
which hundreds of thousands were driven from Church and school, by the
Jesuits of Ferdinand II. But at that period the patriot undoubtedly felt
the weakness of the Empire more than all the fearful misery of the
people. And great ground there was for anxiety about the future. From
this point of view this brochure is to us the first expression of that
feeling which still, in the present day, unites hundreds of thousands of
Germans. That love of Fatherland took root in the oppressed souls of our
ancestors during the Thirty years' war, which has not yet attained to
political life by a unity of constitutions. Such a feeling indeed only
existed then in the minds of the noblest. But we must honour those who,
in a century poor in hope, left in their teaching and writings, as an
inheritance to their descendants, the idea of a German Empire.

After Banner's devastating expedition all was quiet in Germany. Almost
all the news and State records which the war had left, flowed from the
press. In the last years thousands of printed sheets were filled with
the negotiations for peace. Finally the peace was announced to the poor
people in large placards.

CHAPTER V.

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.--THE CITIES.

When the war broke out, the cities were the armed guardians of German
trade, which was carried on with wealth and bustle, in narrow streets
between high houses. Almost every city, with the exception of the
smallest market towns, was shut out from the open country by walls,
gates, and moats. The approaches were narrow and easy to defend; there
were often double walls, and in many cases the old towers still
overtopped the battlements and gates. Many of the more important of
these middle-age fortifications had been strengthened in the course of
the century, the bastions of stone and brick-work, as well as strong
single towers, were mounted with heavy artillery; and frequently the old
castle of some landed proprietor, or the house of some former magistrate
or count appointed by the Emperor, were fortified. They were not
fortresses in our sense, but they could, if the walls were thick and the
citizens stanch, resist even a great army, at least for a long time.
Thus Nördlingen maintained itself in 1634 for eighteen days, against the
united Imperial armies of King Ferdinand, Gallas, and
Piccolomini--forming together more than 60,000 men: the citizens
repulsed seven assaults, with only five hundred men, Swedish
auxiliaries. For a defence like this, earth sconces were thrown out as
outworks, and rapidly united by trenches and palisades. Many places,
however, far more than at present, were real fortresses. Their chief
strength consisted in their outworks, which were planned by Flemish
science. It had long been known that the balls of carronades were more
destructive to stone and breast-works than to earth-works.

In the larger cities the cleanliness of the streets was much attended
to; they were paved, even in the carriage ways; the pavement was raised
in the centre for carrying away the water; the chief market-place, as
for example in Leipzig, was already paved with stone. Great efforts had
long been made to procure for the cities a certain and abundant supply
of drinking-water; under the streets ran wooden conduits; stone cisterns
and fountains often decorated with statues, stood in the market-places
and principal streets. The streets were not as yet lighted; whoever went
out by night required torches or lanterns; later, however, torches were
forbidden; but at the corner houses were fixed metal fire-pans, in
which, in case of uproar or fire at night, pitch rings and resinous wood
were burnt. It was the custom on the breaking out of a fire to allow the
water to run from the cisterns or the fountains to the streets which
were endangered. For this purpose flood-gates were hung, and it was the
duty of particular trades--in Leipzig, the innkeepers--to dam up the
water with these flood-gates at the burning-places; at the same time
from dung that was heaped up, they formed a traverse. The street police
and patroles had been improved in the course of the last sixty years.
The Elector Augustus of Saxony had organized this department of
administration with no little skill. His numerous ordinances were used
as models by the whole Empire, according to which the princes and cities
regulated their new social life.

The chief market was on Sunday the favourite resort of the men. There,
after the sermon, stood the citizens and journeymen in their festival
attire, chattering, interchanging news, and conferring together on
business. In all commercial cities the merchants had a special room
where they met, which was even then called the Bourse. On the tower of
the Council House, over the clock, there was always a gallery, from
which the warder kept a look-out over the city, and where the city piper
blew the trombone and cornet.

The city communities kept beer and wine cellars for the citizens, in
which the price of the retailed drink was carefully fixed; there were
special drinking-rooms for persons of distinction to hold agreeable
intercourse. In the old Imperial cities, the patricians had generally,
like the guilds, their especial club-houses or rooms, and the luxury of
such a society was then greater in proportion than now. There were also
numerous hotels, which, in Leipzig, were already famed for their
grandeur, and splendidly arranged. Even the apothecaries were under
regulations; they had special rules and prices; they sold many spices
and delicacies, and whatever else was agreeable to the palate. Bath
rooms were considered greater necessaries than now. Even in the country
there was seldom a little farm-house without its bath-house, and there
was a bath-room in every large house in the city. The poor citizens went
to the barbers, who acted as surgeons, and kept bagnios. But besides
these the cities maintained large public baths, in which, gratis, or for
a very small payment, warm and cold bathing could be had with every
convenience. This primitive German custom was almost abandoned during
the war, and is not yet restored to its old extent.

In more important cities the houses of the inner town, in 1618, were for
the most part built of stone, three and more stories high, and roofed
with tiles; the rooms in the houses were often noted for their
cleanliness, decoration, and elegance; the walls were generally adorned
with worked and embroidered carpets, even of velvet, and with beautiful
costly inlaid wainscoting and other decorations; and this not only in
the large old commercial cities, but also in some that were in more
youthful vigour. The household gear was elegant and carefully collected.
There was as yet no such thing as porcelain in use. Rich plate was only
found at the courts of great princes, and in a few wealthy merchant
families. In choice pieces of the noble metals, the artistic work of the
goldsmith was of more value than its weight. Among the opulent citizens,
the place of silver and porcelain was supplied by pewter; it was
displayed in great abundance, shining with a bright polish; it was the
pride of the housewife, and together with it were placed fine glasses
and pottery from foreign countries, often painted and ornamented with
either pious or waggish inscriptions. On the other hand the dress and
adornments of the men were far more brilliant and costly than now. The
feeling of the middle ages was still prevalent, a tendency of the mind
for outward display and stately representations directly opposed to
ours, and nothing tended so much to preserve this inclination, as the
endeavours of the authorities to meet it, by regulating even the outward
appearance of individuals, and giving to each class of citizens their
own peculiar position. The endless sumptuary laws about dress gave it a
disproportionate importance; it fostered more than anything else vanity
and an inordinate desire in each to raise himself above his position. It
appears to us a ludicrous struggle, which the worthiest magistrates
maintained for four centuries up to the French Revolution, against all
the caprices and excesses of the fashion, and always without success.

Surrounded by these forms and regulations, lived a rich, vigorous,
laborious, and wealthy people; the citizens held jealously to the
privileges and dignity of their cities, they liked to exhibit their
riches, capacity, and enterprise among their fellow-citizens. Handicraft
and trade were still very prosperous. It is true, that in wholesale
commerce with foreign countries Germany had already lost much. The
splendour of the Hanse towns had faded. The great commercial houses of
Augsburg and Nuremberg even then existed, only as heirs of the great
riches of their fathers. Italians, French, and above all, English and
Flemish, had become dangerous rivals, the Swedish, Danish, and Dutch
flags floated on the Baltic more triumphantly than those of Lubeck and
other Baltic ports, and the commerce with the two Indies ran in new
currents and into foreign marts. But the German herring fishery was
still of great importance, and the vast Sclave lands of the East were
still an open market to the commerce of the country. But throughout the
whole width of the Empire industry flourished, and a less profitable but
sounder export of the products of the country had produced a general and
moderate degree of wealth. The manufactures of wool and leather, and
linen, harness, and armour with the ornamental industry of Nuremberg
were eagerly desired by foreign countries. The chief cause of
disturbance was the insecurity of the ratio of value. Almost every town
had then its special branch of industry, solidly developed under the
restrictions and control of guilds. Pottery, cloths, leather work,
mining, and metal work, gave to individual places a peculiar character,
and even to smaller ones a reputation which reached through the country
and excited in the citizens a well-justified pride. But in all, scarcely
excepting the greatest, agriculture was deemed of more importance than
now, not only in the suburbs and farms of the city domains, but also
within the towns; many citizens lived upon the produce of their fields.
In the smaller towns most persons possessed portions of the town lands,
but the richer had other property besides. Therefore there were many
more beasts of burden and of draught than now, and the housewife
rejoiced having her own corn-fields, from which she made her own bread,
and if she was skilful, prepared fine pastry according to the custom of
the country. The cities had a great share also in the cultivation of the
vine, which reached from the north down to Lower Saxony; the right of
brewing beer was considered a valuable privilege by some houses; almost
every place brewed beer of its own kind, numberless are the local names
of these primitive beverages; much value was attached to its having a
strong, sweet, and wine flavour, and oily substance; highly esteemed
beer was sent to great distances.

The people derived more pleasure from their sensations than they do now,
were louder and more unconstrained in their mirth. The luxury of
banquets, especially of family feasts, was legally regulated according
to the rank of the citizens, and he was not allowed to diminish it. The
banquets were arranged in courses as now in England, and in every course
a number of similar dishes. Already, oysters were sent out as far as
they could bear the journey, and sometimes, after the introduction of
French cookery, were formed into delicate sauces; caviare was well
known, and at the harvest feasts Leipzig larks were a favourite dish. In
the popular kitchens, besides the Indian spices, they had the favourite
root of the middle ages, saffron, to colour with; beautifully ornamented
show dishes were highly prized, sometimes even eatable dishes were gilt,
and at tables of pretension the most distinguished confection was
marchpane.

The citizens eagerly sought every opportunity for social enjoyment. The
carnival mummeries were general in Northern Germany, when masks swarmed
through the streets; the favourite costumes were those of Turks, Moors,
and Indians. When during the war the Council of Leipzig prohibited
masks, they made their appearance armed with spears and pistols, and
there were tumults with the city watchers. Sledge parties were not less
popular, and sometimes they also were in costume. Public dances were
less frequent than now, even at the marriage and artisan feasts they
were looked upon with mistrust, as it was difficult to restrain the
recklessness of wild boys. They wished to dance without mantles; they
lifted up, swung, and twirled about their partners, which was strictly
forbidden, and the thronging of the gaping domestics into the saloon was
displeasing to the authorities. At twilight all dancing amusements were
to cease.

The larger cities had lists where the sons of the patricians held their
knightly exercise and ran at the ring, also shooting galleries, and
trenches for crossbow and rifle practice. The shooting festivities were
a great source of enjoyment throughout the country, and on these
occasions booths, tents, and cook-shops were erected. The people also
took a lively interest in the festivals of particular guilds, and almost
every town had its own public feast; for example, Erfurt had yearly
prize races for the poorer classes; the men ran for stockings and the
women for fur cloaks. Tennis was a favourite game of the young citizens,
which unfortunately in the troubles of the century almost disappeared.
There were special tennis courts, and a tennis-court master, of the
town. If any gentlemen of distinction came into the town, a place in the
market was strewed with sand, and a playground marked off with pegs and
cords. There these distinguished persons played, and the citizens
watched with pleasure from the windows, to see how a young Prince of
Hesse threw the ball, and how one of Anhalt did his best. At the great
yearly markets, for more than a century, Fortune's urn was a favourite
game. Sometimes it was undertaken by the town itself, but generally it
was granted to some speculator. How much the people were interested in
this, we learn from the fact that the town chronicles frequently
reported the particulars concerning it. Thus, in 1624, at Michaelmas, at
Leipzig a Fortune's urn of seventeen thousand gulden was prepared; each
ticket cost eighteen pfennige; there were seventeen blanks to one prize;
the highest prize was three hundred and fifty gulden, and there were
three hundred thousand blanks. The students at last became angry at the
number of blanks; they attacked and broke down the lottery booth. The
pleasure of the people in spectacles was greater than now, at least more
easily satisfied; processions and city solemnities were frequent; plays
undoubtedly were still a rare enjoyment, in these the children of the
citizens had always the pleasure of representing the characters
themselves, as bands of travelling players were still new and rare. The
clerical body was already unfavourably disposed to what were called
profane pieces, therefore ecclesiastical subjects and allegories with
moral tendencies were always interspersed with burlesque scenes, and
great was the number of the actors. At the yearly markets the play
booths were more abundant than now. At the Easter fair at Leipzig in
1630, was to be seen, amongst other things, a father with six children
who performed beautifully on the lute and violin, a woman who could sew,
write, and convey her food to her mouth with her feet, a child of a year
old quite covered with hair and with a beard; and of strange animals,
there were two marmoset monkeys, a porpoise, and a spoonbill, and, as
now, these monsters were recommended to the people by large pictures.
Besides these there were rope-dancers, fire-eaters, jugglers, acrobats,
and numerous ballad singers and vendors.

But what gave the greatest feeling of independence to the citizen in
1618 was his martial aptitude--almost every one had some practice in the
use of weapons. Every large city had an arsenal; even the heavy
artillery on the fortifications were served by the citizens, who, as a
body, were under ordinary circumstances superior to the young companies
of besieging soldiers. Magdeburg would have made a stronger resistance,
if feeling of duty and discipline had not already become weaker among
the citizens than in former sieges, in one of which the maiden of the
City Arms so valiantly defended her garland.

Besides the city train bands, there was in most of the Circles of the
Empire a regular militia for the defence of the country. About every
tenth man in the city or country was drawn, regularly armed, paid during
service, and appointed for the internal defence of the frontiers of the
country. The beginning of the Landwehr dates from the sixteenth century.
This regulation was recommended by military theorists as most efficient,
and from time to time it was renewed. It was introduced by the States in
Saxony in 1612, and renewed in 1618; there were to be altogether in the
Electorate nine thousand men. The privates were to receive a daily pay
of four groschen, and the serjeants ten and a half, and the cost was
distributed among the houses. But this militia was found very useless in
the war. The discipline was much too lax; the industrious citizen
endeavoured to withdraw himself when danger did not threaten his own
city; the consequence was, that many unsettled people were scouring the
country in arms. If they were required by the community to defend the
ploughs in the field against roving marauders, they demanded a special
gratification, or they evaded it, and very soon they became more a
plague than a benefit to their own country.

What ruin the war brought upon the towns may be learned from every town
chronicle. First, the disorders of the _Kipper_ time inflicted deep
wounds on their morality and prosperity. Then came the sufferings that
even distant war brought upon the citizens, the scarcity and dearness of
provisions. Everything became so insecure that nothing was thought of
but the enjoyment of the day. Rough and wild was the love of pleasure;
and foreign modes, which had been learned from the travelled courtiers
and soldiers became prevalent. From 1626 dandyism began in Germany after
the French fashion; the _Messieurs à la mode_ strutted about, molesting
every one on the paved footpaths of the streets. They had short pointed
beards, long hair in frizzled locks, or cut short on one side, and on
the other hanging on the shoulder in a queue or lock, a large flapped
hat, spurs on their heels, a sword on the left side, dresses slashed and
jagged, a coxcombical bearing, and added to all this, a corrupt language
full of French words. The women were not behindhand; they began to carry
foreign masks before their faces, and feather fans in their hands; they
wore whalebones in their dresses, and repudiated sables, gold and silver
stuffs, and, above all--what appeared very remarkable--silver, and at
last, indeed, white lace. This conduct raised the indignation of the
authorities and pastors, as being fantastic and immoral. To us it
appears as the characteristic evil of a time when the old independence
of the German citizen was crushed.

When an army approached a town, the traffic with the country almost
entirely ceased, the gates were carefully watched, and the citizens
maintained themselves on the provisions that had been collected. Then
began the levying of contributions, the passage and quartering of
friendly armies, with all its terrors. Still worse was the passage of
the enemy. They uselessly endeavoured to purchase safety--it was a
favour if the enemy did not set fire to the town woods or cut them down
for sale, or carry off the town library on his baggage waggon;
everything that was inviting to plunder, such as the organ or church
pictures, had to be ransomed, even to the church bells, which, according
to the custom of war, belonged to the artillery. The cities were not in
a position to satisfy the demands of the Generals, so the most
considerable of the citizens were dragged off as hostages till the sum
exacted was paid.

If a town was considered strong enough to resist the enemy's army, it
was always filled with fugitives at the approach of the enemy, the
number of whom was so great that the citizens could not think of
providing for them. There came to Dresden, for example, in 1637, after
the capture of Torgau in the course of three days, from the 7th to the
9th of May, twelve thousand waggons with fugitive country people. The
enemy surrounded the over-filled place; round the walls the battle
raged, and within, not less voracious, hunger, misery and sickness. All
the fugitives who were capable of bearing arms were employed in severe
siege service; the nobility also of the neighbourhood sometimes
assisted. If the siege lingered long, the high prices were followed by
shameless usury, the millers ground only for the rich, and the bakers
made exorbitant demands. The pictures of famine, such as was then
experienced in many towns, are too horrible to dwell upon. When at
Nördlingen a fortified tower was taken by the besiegers, the citizens
themselves burnt it down, hungry women fell upon the half-roasted bodies
of the enemy and carried pieces home for their children.

But if a town was taken by storm it experienced the fate of Magdeburg;
the mowing down of masses, the dishonouring of women, horrible torments
and mutilations; and, added to all this, pestilence. To what an extent
pestilence then raged in the cities is scarcely credible; it frequently
carried off more than half the inhabitants. In 1626 and the following
years, it depopulated wide districts; from 1631 to 1634 it returned
again, and still worse in 1636.

At all events it gave to each town for years plenty of space, and
proportionate peace; and the places--not very numerous--which were only
once destroyed in the course of the war, were able to recover
themselves. But the most fearful cases of all, were those where the same
calamities were two, three, and four times repeated. Leipzig was
besieged five times, and Magdeburg six, and most of the smaller towns
were more frequently filled with foreign soldiers; thus both large and
small towns were equally ruined.

But this was not all; over wide territories raged a plague of quite
another kind,--religious persecution,--which was practised by the
Imperial party wherever it established itself. The army was followed
everywhere by crowds of proselytizers, Jesuits, and mendicant monks on
foot. These performed their office by the help of the soldiers. Wherever
the Roman Catholics had a footing, the leaders of the Protestant party,
and above all the shepherds of souls, were swept away, more especially
in the provinces which were the Emperor's own domains. Much had been
done there before the war, but still in the beginning of the war in
upper Austria, Moravia, Bohemia, and Silesia, the active intelligence of
the country and the greater part of the community were evangelical.
Their general character was improved. Whoever, after imprisonment and
torture, would not give up his faith was obliged to abandon the country,
and many, many thousands did so. The citizens and country people were
driven in troops by the soldiers to confession. It was considered a
favour when the fugitives were allowed a short insufficient delay for
the sale of their movable goods.

The fate of a small town in one of these provinces, the only one which
was restored at a later period to the spiritual life of Germany, is here
given, not on account of the monotony of misery, but because other
characteristic points of the old burgher life are displayed.

Where the Riesengebirge descend into the Silesian plain, in a fruitful
valley on the shores of the Bober, lies the old town of Löwenberg, one
of the first places in Silesia which was brought under the regulations
of the German law; it had already in the middle ages become a powerful
community, and numbered in 1617, in the city and suburbs, 738 houses and
at least 6500 inhabitants.[37] It rose stately, with its strong walls,
moats, and gate-towers, amidst woods and meadows; it had in its centre,
like almost all the German cities in Silesia, a large market-place,
called the 'Ring,' which included the council-house and fourteen
privileged inns and licensed houses of traffic; the houses within the
town were of stone, high gables projected over the streets, and they
were from four to five stories high. Originally the under story had been
built with trellised porches; these covered passages, however, had been
removed sixty years before; on the under floor the houses had a large
hall, and a strong vault, behind these a spacious room, in which was the
baking oven, and over this a wooden gallery which occupied the back
portion of the room, a staircase led up to it; the fore-part of the room
was the sleeping-room of the family, and the gallery was the
eating-room. On the floor above was a good apartment wainscoted with
wood work, all the rest were chambers and lofts for wares, superabundant
furniture, corn and wool. For Löwenberg was a celebrated
cloth-manufacturing town; in the year 1617, three hundred cloth
factories fabricated 13,702 pieces of cloth, and traders carried their
strong work far into Bohemia and the Empire, but especially into Poland.
The city seal, a lion in the town gate, was of pure gold.

In 1629, the town had already suffered much from the war. The citizens,
demoralized and tortured, had lost the greater portion of their old
spirit. Lichtenstein's dragoon regiment--Imperialists--were quartered in
the neighbouring city, and supported the proselytizing Jesuits by sword
and pistol. The burgesses of the town of Löwenberg, dreading their
arrival, were obliged to dismiss their old pastors; they separated from
them with tears, the populace followed them weeping to their dwellings,
bearing with them their last parting gifts as an expiation. The Jesuits
succeeded them; the night before they came, a horned owl took up its
abode in the church tower, to the terror of the citizens, and alarmed
the town all night long by its hootings. The Jesuits preached after
their fashion daily, promising freedom from all contributions, and from
the infliction of billeting, and special favour and privileges from the
Emperor; but to the refractory temporal destruction. They went so far,
that the intimidated burgesses were driven to the determination of
accepting confirmation; most of the men of the community took the Lord's
Supper according to the Roman Catholic custom, unblessed by the cup. The
more steadfast of the citizens, however, were compelled to go away in
misery. Hardly had the Jesuits left the town, when the people fell back
again, the citizens rushed to the neighbouring villages, where there
were still evangelical pastors, and were there married and baptized;
their churches standing empty under a Roman Catholic priest. There were
new threatenings, and new deeds of violence. The upright burgomaster
Schubert was carried off to severe imprisonment, but the Council now
declared boldly that they would die for the Augsburg Confession; the
burgesses pressed round the governor of the province in wild tumult. The
executioners of the Emperor, "_the beatifiers_" rode through the gates;
great part of the citizens flew with their wives and children out of the
town; all the villages were full of exiles, who were brought back with
violence by the soldiers and apostate citizens, and put into prison till
they could produce certificates of confession; those who fled further,
were driven into Saxony. A new Council was now established--as was the
custom in those times--of unworthy and disreputable men. The houses
abandoned by the citizens were plundered; many waggons heavily laden
with furniture were bought of Roman Catholic neighbours, by the
soldiers, and carried off. The new Council lived in a shameless manner.
The King's judge--an apostate Löwenberger advocate--and the Senators,
ill treated the secret Protestants, and endeavoured to enrich themselves
from the town property. Two hundred and fifty citizens lived in exile
with their families; one side of the market-place was entirely
uninhabited, long grass grew there, and cattle pastured upon it. In the
winter, hunger and cold drove the women and children at last back to the
ruined houses. The leading spirit of the new Council was one Julius, who
had been a Franciscan, a desperate fellow, not at all like a monk, who
wore under his capoche golden bracelets. Then a Roman Catholic priest,
Exelmann, son of an evangelical preacher, was established there. But
however crushed and dispersed the citizens were, the offices of the
priest and the new town council were not undisputed. All the authorities
of the town were not yet under constraint. How the opposition resisted,
will be learned from the narration of a cotemporary, which was printed
by the industrious Sutorius in his history of Löwenberg, 1782.

"On the ninth of April, 1631, early in the morning, the following
gentlemen met at the council-house: first, the priest, secondly, the
King's judge, who was Elias Seiler, an advocate; thirdly, George Mümer,
a woollen wiseacre and cloth factor; fourthly, Schwob Franze, also a
cloth factor; fifthly, Dr. Melchior Hübner, who had been a miller's man,
and a broken down baker; sixthly, Master Daniel Seiler, a joiner;
seventhly, Peter Beyer, the town-clerk; all these took possession of the
councillors' chairs. The worshipful burgomaster was ill of the gout.
Then the priest who had the upper hand in the council made a proposal in
the following words: 'My beloved children in the Church, hearing that
you intend sending an embassage to the court of his Kingly[38] Majesty
at Vienna, I and the worthy King's judge have, on mature consideration,
come to the conclusion, that before you break up it would be well for
you to compel all the women to adopt our religion. You would thereby
obtain for yourselves great favour at court. Also I will not fail to
give you letters of recommendation, to my highly esteemed honourable
cousin Herr Pater Lemmermann, now confessor to his Kingly Majesty, who
certainly has much influence in all secret deliberations, representing
to him how indefatigable and zealous you have been, and have brought the
women into the right way, so that all you who are now here together may
receive a special gratulation. Therefore proceed zealously; if they are
not willing, you have towers and prisons enough to compel them.'

"On this proposition votes were taken all round, and first the King's
judge spoke: 'Yea, gentlemen, as I am willing to undertake such a
journey for the advantage of the town, it seems good to me that this
project should be carried out with zeal and earnestness. If they are not
willing, let the most distinguished of them be put in confinement. I
wager that the others will soon give in. They will come and beg that
they may be let out. Many will be glad that their wives run away and
they be quit of them. If we have been able to bring the men into the
right path, why should we not be able to deal with these little brutes?'

"Herr Mümer, 'the woollen wiseacre,' said: 'I have been a widower six
weeks; I can well tell what cross a man must bear when his conscience is
moved on account of his wife day and night. It would truly be good if
man and wife had one faith and one paternoster; as concerns the Ten
Commandments, it is not so pressing. It would also be good that the
women should do like us, as they enjoy our income, and become
councillors' wives. Only I fear it will be difficult to manage. I would
almost rather consult with the honourable captain-general of the
province hereupon, how he would deal with his own wife. One should be
able to act with better effect when one has a decided command thereunto.
I could never have succeeded with my wife!'

"Now Schwob Franze said: 'Gentlemen, my wife, as you know, died a few
days ago, so that I am now free and a widower; I have also somewhat to
say on this matter, as I have been plagued by my bad wife concerning the
Papacy. Nevertheless I know not how to handle this business rightly.
There are many beautiful women and widows among the Lutheran heretics.
Would it be well, and could one make up one's mind to confine, or drive
them all away at once? Gentlemen, you may do it if it seems good to
you. I am of the same opinion as my honourable colleague, Mümer. If I
marry to-day or to-morrow, my wife must have the like faith with me, or
hold her tongue upon the same.'

"Hereupon Dr. Melchior began: 'Gentlemen, God's sacrament, im-m-imprison
them all together till they assent; le-le-let none out, though they
should all rot alike in prison. I yesterday thrashed my domestic plague
concerning this. The de-e-vil ta-a-ta-ake me, she must do it or I will
drive her entirely away.'

"Master Daniel Seiler said: 'My high and most gracious gentlemen, you
can proceed in such a good work with force alone. The captain-general of
the province can give us no commands herein; let him see to himself how
he can bring his heretical wife into the right way, who is no small
vexation to him, and a mirror to our wives. Therefore I beg of you
proceed with speed against the women.'

"The honourable town-clerk Peter Beyer's vote, was as follows:
'Gentlemen, I know not what to say in this matter. I have a notable
shrew, who snaps about her like the devil. I cannot trust myself to be
able to restrain her. If you can do it, try. But I advise, that we
should begin to speak kindly with the women. Let benches be placed in
the council-room, desire them to sit them down, and see whether it be
possible to convert them by good words, or afterwards by threats.
Perhaps they will take it into consideration.'

"Hereupon the priest and the King's judge came to a conclusion. They
said: 'The time is short, much delay cannot be given; it is a saying
here, eat or die.'

"So the King's judge spoke to the town-clerk saying: 'Are the women
without?' He answered: 'No, there are as yet none there.' Then the judge
said: 'Go, and you will find them either at my house or with Frau
Geneussin.' The town-clerk found no one at the house of the King's
judge, but at that of Frau Geneussin there were about fifteen. To these
he said: 'His reverence the priest, together with his honour the King's
judge, and the honourable council, send greeting to the ladies, and beg
that they will come to the council-house, where the gentlemen are
assembled.'

"Then the wife of the King's judge answered: 'Yea, yea, greet them in
return, and we will come soon.' So the women went two and two, the
judge's and burgomaster's wives foremost, and ascended the stairs of the
council-house, but the other women who had collected at the bread tables
or elsewhere, or in houses, came after them in great numbers, by troops.
Now when the servant had announced to the council that the women were
there, the King's judge said: 'Let them in.' The servant replied: 'Sir,
there will not be room here for them all; I believe that there are five
hundred of them together. The council-house is full of them, part of
them are already sitting on the musicians' stools.'

"Then the priest began: 'Indeed, we must pause awhile, this is not well.
I only intended at first that the most distinguished wives, such as
those of the council, the justices, and jurymen should be called. Ay,
ay, what have you done?' The servant answered: 'Your reverence must be
informed, that yesterday the King's judge commanded that all the women
who had not been converted, or would not be so, should be summoned, and
to begin with his wife; this I have done, and because it was rather
late, I told most of those whom I met that they should notify this to
the others, that they were to come on the morrow without fail on pain of
punishment. I believe I have done no wrong.'

"The priest spoke again: 'Ay, ay, gentlemen, gentlemen, this is not
well. I know not how we shall manage to be rid of a portion of these
women.'

"Thereupon the King's judge said to the priest: 'Let your reverence be
content; we will arrange the business, and in the beginning we will only
call in the women of distinction. When they see that they must really
give in or be imprisoned, the others will soon withdraw themselves and
run away.'

"It was therefore determined, and made known to the servant, that the
above-mentioned ladies only should enter.

"Now when the servant announced this, the wife of the King's judge
began: 'We will by no means allow ourselves to be separated; where I
remain, there shall my train remain also. Say that we only beg they will
allow us to enter.' The servant reported this again to the council. Then
the King's judge waxed wrath and said with great vehemence: 'Go out
again and tell these simple women that they must not show themselves
disobedient and refractory, or they will learn how they will be
treated.' Then the servant went out again and delivered the command
seriously, but the good-wives held to their former opinion, and said
that they wished to know why they had been summoned, that none would
separate from the others; as it fared with one so should it fare with
all. On this there was great confusion and murmuring among the women,
which was heard by the gentlemen in the council-room.

"When the servant returned with this answer, they were sore afraid, and
would rather have seen the women I know not where. They therefore
determined unanimously to send out his honour the town-clerk, that he
might persuade them with earnest yet friendly words, that the most
distinguished of the women should enter, and the others return home, and
none should suffer. But it was all in vain. The women remained firm not
to separate from one another. And the judge's wife began, and said to
the town-clerk: 'Nay, nay, dear friend, do you think we are so simple,
and do not perceive the trick by which you would compel and force us
poor women, against our conscience, to change our faith? My husband and
the priest have not been consorting together all these days for nothing;
they have been joined together almost day and night; assuredly they have
either boiled or cooked a devil, which they may eat up themselves; I
shall not enter there. Where I remain, there will my train and following
remain also.' She turned herself round to the others and said: 'Women,
is this your will?' Then once more there were loud exclamations from the
women: 'Yea, yea, let it be so; we will all hold together as one man.'

"Hereupon his honour the town-clerk was much affrighted; he went hastily
back to the council, and reported woefully the state of affairs, adding,
that the council was in no small danger, for he had observed that almost
every woman had a large bunch of keys hanging at her side.[39] Upon this
their courage utterly and entirely evaporated; they hung their heads and
were at their wits' end; one wished himself here, another out there. Dr.
Melchior took heart and said to the priest: '_Potz-Sacrament!_ Most
reverend sir, if I had now but two hundred musketeers, I would soon mow
down the whole pa-pa-pack, even those who would fell down on their
knees.'

"At last his honour the town-clerk bethought himself of a device.
'Gentlemen, I know a way by which we can descend and escape from the
women. If the gentlemen will close both doors of the council-house, we
will silently make off with ourselves by the under council-room, through
the doors of the tower; thus they will not be aware what has become of
us. But I do not know where the keys of the tower are to be found.' This
good counsel pleased them all well, and the keys were sought for
carefully, but meanwhile the town-clerk was called in, and commanded to
signify to the women, that they should have a little patience. And the
town-clerk was to see how one could slip round to the front, and the
other to the back door, that they might suddenly run out and close the
doors behind them.

"This plan succeeded with the good-wives, of whom two hundred and
sixty-three were thus imprisoned. The town-clerk speedily opened the
tower gates, which had not been done for several years, and running back
exclaimed: 'Away, gentlemen, away, the coast is clear; but silence, for
God's sake silence, that the women may not become aware of it, otherwise
there will be the devil to pay.'

"Thereupon they ran away as fast as they could, part of them without
hats or gloves; some ran home, others to a neighbour's, each, where in
his hurry he thought he should be secure. All could confess to a state
of frightful terror. The priest ran at full trot up the church lane,
looking more behind than before him, to see whether the women were
following and would shake their keys at him during mass; he closed the
parsonage-house behind him, as the town-clerk had done the
council-house. He was so exhausted that he could neither eat nor drink;
both his ladies had enough to do to cool him.

"Now when the imprisoned women, most of whom sat by the window, heard
the rumour which was noised about the town, that the honourable
gentlemen had so cunningly gotten off, the wife of the King's judge ran
to the council-door, unlatched it, and called out with great amazement:
'The devil has carried away the rogues; see, there lies a hat, a
pocket-handkerchief and a glove, and all the doors are open. Come, let
us sit in council ourselves and send for our husbands; they shall come
on pain of punishment, and hear our behests.' Thereupon there was great
screaming and laughter amongst the wives, so that they might be heard
over the whole 'Ring.'

"At last the women divided into small parties by tens and twelves, they
pitied their husbands, children, and babies, who would have nothing to
eat. So they agreed, by means of certain women who were outside the
door, and desirous of joining the prisoners, to beg the King's judge to
free them, and to notify to them wherefore they had that day been
summoned to the council-house.

"In the meanwhile, however, the King's judge discovered, that he had
returned from the council-house a wiser man than when he had entered it
in the morning, and it struck him that all husbands might not be so evil
disposed towards their wives as he was. He saw also a tolerable
concourse of children and mob collecting round the council-house, who
were disposed to carry food and drink to the women; nay, some good
friends had already prepared a whole quarter cask of beer for the
refreshment of the dear women. Besides this also, a number of men had
collected together, desiring to know what their wives had done, that
they should be thus locked up. Then the King's judge took heart again,
and invited the gentlemen _cito citissime_ to his house for a necessary
conference. The four gentlemen of the council and the town-clerk were
found, but with great difficulty; but the priest had thoroughly
concealed himself, and sent to excuse himself on account of his
exhaustion and his need of rest. But it was determined to send another
embassage to him, to call to his mind that he must appear without fail,
as he had occasioned this transaction.

"Meanwhile the usher of the council came running to the council-house,
at whose bidding no one knows, and called through the closed door to his
wife, who was in conclave, and said to her: 'Tell the other women that
the gentlemen have reassembled at the house of the King's judge; they
will soon send out and open the council-house, that every one may return
home.' Thereupon the judge's wife answered: 'Yea, we will willingly have
patience, as we are quite comfortable here; but tell them they ought to
inform us why we were summoned and confined without trial.'

"The priest at last allowed himself to be prevailed on, and came to the
judge's house. They all began by complaining bitterly of their
exhaustion on account of the great anguish and danger they had
undergone, therefore a refreshing drink of wine was speedily passed
round amongst them; but what plans they afterwards made I have not been
able to gather distinctly, because all passed standing, and there was no
protocol concerning it. But certain it is, that as is usual with such
ragamuffins, the biters were bitten, and one threw dirt into the face of
the other. At last, however, they became unanimous to send an embassage
to the imprisoned ladies, to release them from the _cito_, and to
bespeak them in all friendship, that they might be induced to quit the
council-house. The persons empowered for this embassage were Herr Mümer,
Master Daniel, and Herr Notarius.

"When these arrived the doors were immediately opened, and the envoys
entered into the midst of the circle of women.

"Then began the town-clerk thus: 'Honourable, very honourable,
excellent, and most especially gracious and dear ladies! his reverence
the priest, together with his honour the King's judge and very wise
council, send greeting to the ladies assembled; they greatly wonder that
the women have so ill conceived and misunderstood their intentions; and
as they have so earnestly desired to know wherefore this has happened,
the aforesaid gentlemen have sent us to explain this in all truth.
First, as now the holy week is approaching, in which there will be held
by the Church special preachings on the Holy Sacrament, it has been
thought advisable to admonish the women christianly and faithfully, to
present themselves zealously thereat. Secondly, it is requested that at
the approaching Easter festival the women will likewise present
themselves collectively and show their benevolence, as his reverence the
priest's dues will be so poor in amount, owing to the small number of
citizens present.'

"After this harangue of the town-clerk, Master Daniel the joiner,
wishing to improve the matter, said: 'My very gracious ladies! Let it be
understood by the women that this is a friendly conference, and that no
constraint will be used; for it is not customary with my masters and the
very wise council to hang a man before they have caught him.'

"At this inconsiderate and incautious speech, which did not in the least
serve the council, Herr Mümer and Herr Notarius pushed him away; but
among the assembled wives there was great laughter and uproar. 'Yea!
yea! we understand well enough now; they compare us to people who are to
be hanged. What fellows you are, one with the other! Oh you faithless
rogues! you usurious corn-dealers! you woollen thieves! Thereupon the
judge's wife called out: 'Silence! silence, you women!' and said to
Master Daniel: 'Hear, dear brother-in-law, you do not understand the
matter, and are also too few to compel us against our conscience. Oh,
how God will punish you, and my husband also, who so openly acts against
his conscience! Your dear deceased father, a dignified Lutheran
ecclesiastic, taught you both very differently. Now you say you are good
Roman Catholics. Your new faith is necessary for your roguish tricks;
when you are drunk you speak shamelessly enough of the mother of God
herself, and when you go to your bad women you speak of yourselves as
the brothers of the Virgin Mary. Oh, if your gains were taken away from
you, which you make from your offices and the common property of the
town, and consume again in eating and drinking; if you were obliged to
resume your joiners' trade again, and work vigorously to keep yourselves
warm, how soon you would give up your Popery. May God punish you! Never
shall you deprive us of our faith, you yourselves will yet be hanged on
that account.'

"The burgomaster's wife said: 'If you had nothing else to say to us, the
priest might have done that from the pulpit, and it would not have been
necessary to confine us on that account. It is not thus I could be
compelled to go to church. Under our former pastors and preachers it was
a great pleasure to me to go to church, for I received there comfort
from the word of God; now I am only scandalized and troubled when I go
there. So that it cries out to God in heaven. As concerns the Easter
offerings, every one is free; he who has to give may do so.' Hereupon
the other women screamed out loudly: 'Yea, we will give to the priest,
the devil, as his due.' The honourable envoys were terrified at such
discourse, and begged to be allowed to withdraw, and said not a word
further, but departed.

"Now when the honourable envoys returned to the King's judge, the priest
and the other gentlemen had already gone away; they made their report,
and also went home. The women were now released from their arrest. But
this affair worked seriously in the head of the King's judge; he took it
to heart that he had been so ignominiously led astray by his ideas, and
feared that the upshot would bring him to eternal ridicule. He paced up
and down the room, murmuring to himself; at last he said: 'Give me
somewhat to eat.' When the table was spread, and dinner served up by his
maid-servant and children,--a dish of crab, a piece of white bread and
cheese and butter,--the worthy gentleman waxed wrath, took first the
good bread, then the tin butter-mould with the butter, and threw them
out of the window into the market-place; he threw the crab also all
about the room, and seized upon the sausage which was also on the table,
which the children would gladly have had, being hungry, as they had
eaten nothing the whole day. Nay, he was so furious that he ran out of
the room, dashing down the dishes and saucepans, and all that came to
his hand, so that a great concourse of neighbours was brought together.
After that, he ran up to his room and went on calling out and conducting
himself as if it was full of people. The following morning he rose
betimes and stole away, having delivered over his office to Dr.
Melchior.

"That day the other gentlemen rested till towards evening; then the
priest sent for the beadle, and commanded him to summon in his name and
that of Dr. Melchior, as the vice King's judge, the wife of the
burgomaster and the frau Geneussin to come to him at the parsonage early
in the morning after mass. This the beadle did. The burgomaster's wife
answered: 'Yea, yea, I will come, but I will first tell my lord.' But
when the beadle came to Frau Geneussin, and announced the same to her,
her son-in-law was with her, Herr Krekler, who was afterwards
burgomaster, who thus answered for her: 'Are the priest and Dr. Melchior
your masters? Are they the masters of my honoured mother-in-law? Reply
that she will not come without the commands of the burgomaster.' This
the beadle told to the burgomaster, who reflected thereupon, and at last
said: 'For my part they may go, I am content, so the blame cannot be
laid upon me.'

"On Friday morning, at the appointed hour, the wife of the burgomaster
went to the priest and likewise the judge's wife, who however was not
summoned, together with Frau Geneussin. Then the priest began to speak
with them in the most friendly way; he begged them very politely to
conform and accept the only holy religion which could make them blessed,
as their lords had done. They would see what comfort they would find in
it, and how well it would fare with them. To this the women forthwith
replied: 'No, we were otherwise instructed by our parents, and former
preachers; according to that we find ourselves right comfortable. We
cannot reconcile ourselves to your religion.' Thereupon the priest said:
'You women may come to church or to me as oft as you please, when you
have anxieties or scruples, and I will assuredly instruct you
assiduously.' The women answered: 'Your reverence need not give yourself
any trouble on our account, as we will not do so.' 'Ay,' said the
priest, 'then set the other women a good example, and at least go to
church and mass, and do not be a cause of offence to others who have
already declared that they would go if the women went.' The women
replied: 'We will not do it ourselves, but we will not prevent others
from doing so; these are matters of conscience whereof none can judge
but God.' Now when the priest saw that all was in vain, he entreated
them thus: 'Ay, ay, yet at least tell the other women that you have
begged for, and also obtained, fourteen days for consideration.' Then
answered the women almost with indignation: 'No, dear sir, we were not
taught to lie by our parents, and we will not learn it from you; we beg
you will excuse us.' So they departed therefrom.

"But whilst the three women were with the priest, a great multitude of
women collected together with marvellous rapidity, many more than on the
first occasion. Herr Schwob Franze perceiving this, came running panting
with haste to the burgomaster and said: 'Sir, I pray you for God's sake
have a care, and prevent the priest from meddling with the women; they
have assembled together again in a great multitude, the whole of the
bread-market and all the houses in Kirchgasse are full of them; God help
us, they will slay us, together with the priest. I made the best of my
way out from them.'

"The good burgomaster was so ill in bed that he could neither move hand
nor foot. He sent hastily to the priest and told him in plain German
what a hazardous business he had begun, the like of which had never been
heard of in any town. If he were to meet with any annoyance from the
women the fault would be his own.

"Thereupon the priest said: 'Ah no! Herr Burgomaster, let not your
worship be thus angered. I see that I have been led astray by that
inconsiderate man Dr. Melchior, who represented the matter quite
otherwise. I beg that your worship will signify to the women, that they
may return to their homes; assuredly what has happened shall not happen
again, of that I hereby assure your worship.' When the women heard this,
and that nothing further had happened to the ladies, as has been related
above, the women were well content, went home and laid aside their
bundles and bunches of keys, nevertheless, not out of reach, that they
might have them at hand day or night in case of need."

Here ends the old narrative. The priest was obliged the following year
to leave Löwenberg ignominiously, as he would not desist from his
scandalous proceedings. Amongst other things he had a public chop and
beer-house erected for the old Silesian beer. The spiteful Dr. Melchior
became afterwards in desperation a soldier, and was hanged at Prague.
And the valiant women,--we hope they took refuge with their husbands at
Breslau or in Poland.

After 1632, the town decayed more and more every year, now under Swedish
or Imperial, now under Evangelical, or Roman Catholic ministers; in
1639, the town contained only forty citizens, and had a debt of a ton
and a half of gold; in 1641, the citizens themselves unroofed their
houses in order not to pay taxes, and dwelt in thatched huts. When the
peace came, the town was almost entirely in ruins. Eight years later, in
1656, there were again one hundred and twenty-one citizens in Löwenberg
and about eight hundred and fifty inhabitants; eighty-seven per cent, of
the population had perished.

CHAPTER VI.

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.--THE PEACE.

The peace was signed; the ambassadors had solemnized the ratification by
shaking hands, and trumpeters rode about the streets announcing the
happy event.

At Nuremberg the Imperialists and the Swedes held a peace banquet in the
great saloon of the council-house; the lofty vaulted hall was
splendidly lighted; betwixt the chandeliers hung down thirty kinds of
flowers and real fruits, bound together with gold tinsel; four choirs
were stationed for festive music, and the six classes of invited guests
were assembled in six different rooms. On the table stood two prodigious
show dishes, a triumphal arch, and a hexagonal mound covered with
mythological and allegorical figures with Latin and German devices. The
banquet was served up in four courses, in each course were a hundred and
fifty dishes, then came the fruits in silver dishes, and on real dwarf
trees by which the whole table was covered; amidst all this, fine
frankincense was burnt, which produced a very agreeable odour.
Afterwards the upper leaves of the table were taken away by pieces, then
the table was covered again with napkins, and plates strewed over wish
flowers made of sugar, and now came the confectionery: among these there
were gigantic marchpanes on two silver shells, each of which weighed ten
pounds. And when the health of his Imperial Majesty of Vienna and his
Kindly Majesty of Sweden was drank, together with the prosperity of the
peace which had been concluded, fifteen large and small pieces were
discharged from the citadel. When this peace banquet had lasted far on
into the night, the Field-marshals and Generals present, wished on
parting to play once more at being soldiers. They caused arms to be
brought into the hall, chose the two ambassadors as captains; his
Illustrious and Serene Highness Herr Carl Gustav, Count Palatine on the
Rhine, afterwards King of Sweden, and his Excellency General
Piccolomini; but for a corporal they chose Field-Marshal Wrangel; and
all the Generals, colonels, and lieutenant-colonels were made
musketeers. Thus these gentlemen marched round the table, fired a salvo,
went in good order to the citadel, and there fired off the pieces many
times. On their return they were playfully discharged by Colonel Kraft
and dismissed the service, as now there was to be peace for ever. Two
oxen were slaughtered for the poor, and there was a great distribution
of bread, also for six hours red and white wine flowed from a lion's
jaw. For thirty years had tears and blood flowed from a greater lion's
jaw.

Like the honourable ambassadors, the people prepared a festive
celebration in every town, nay in every half-destroyed village. How
great was the effect of the intelligence of peace on the German nation
may be learned from some affecting details. To the old country people
the peace appeared as a return of their youth; they looked back to the
rich harvests of their childhood, thickly populated villages, the merry
Sundays under the hewed-down village lindens, and the happy hours which
they had passed with their ruined and deceased relations and companions.
They saw themselves happier, more manly, and better than they had been
during thirty years of misery and degradation. But the youth of the
country--a hard war-engendered demoralized race--discovered in it the
approach of a wonderful time which appeared to them like a legend from a
distant country. The time when on every acre of field, the thick yellow
ears of corn would wave in the wind; when in every stall the cows would
low, and in every sty a fat pig would be lying; when they themselves
should drive with two horses in the fields, merrily cracking their
whips, and when there would be no enemy's soldiers to snatch rough
caresses from their sisters or sweethearts; when they would no longer
have to lie in wait in the bushes, with pitchforks and rusty muskets,
for the stragglers, nor to sit as fugitives in the dismal gloom of the
wood by the graves of the slain; when the village roofs would be without
holes, and the farm-yards without ruined barns; when the howl of the
wolf would not be heard every night at the yard gate; when their village
churches would again have glass windows, and beautiful bells; when in
the soiled choir of the church, there should arise a new altar with a
silk cover, a silver crucifix and a gilt chalice; and when one day the
young lads would again lead their brides to the altar, bearing the
virgin wreaths in their hair. A passionate, almost painful joy
palpitated through all hearts; even the wildest brood of the war, the
soldiery, were seized with it. The stern rulers themselves, the Princes
and their ambassadors, felt that this great boon of peace would be the
salvation of Germany. The festival was celebrated with the greatest
fervour and solemnity of which the people were capable. From the same
circle of village recollections from which examples have already been
taken, the following description of a festival is placed, in
juxtaposition to that of the Princes and Field-marshals.

Döllstedt, a fine village in the dukedom of Gotha, had suffered
severely. In 1636 the Hatzfeld corps had fallen upon the place, had
committed great damage, plundered the church, burnt and broken off the
woodwork, as had been prophesied by the pastor Herr Deckner shortly
before. "This dear man," thus writes his successor, the pastor, Herr
Trümper, "had rebuked his flock with righteous zeal on account of their
sins; but they had laughed at his rebukes and warnings, had treated him
with anger and ingratitude, and as he lamented in 1634, with weeping
eyes, had cut down his hops from the poles, and carried off the corn
from his fields. Thus he could only proclaim to them God's righteous
judgment on such hardened hearts. Not only publicly from the pulpit, but
also a few hours before his blessed departure, he had thus lamented:
'Ah! thou poor Döllstedt! it will go ill with thee after my decease!'
Thereupon he turned, with the assistance of the attendants, towards the
church, and raised his weary head, struggling ineffectually with death,
as if he wished once more, from the corner of his room, to see the
church, in the service of which his life had been passed, and said: 'Ah!
thou dear, dear church! How will it fare with thee after my death? They
will sweep thee up with a besom.'"

His prophecy was fulfilled. The village in 1636 had to liquidate war
damages to the amount 5500 of gulden, and between 1627 and 1637 it
amounted altogether to 29,595 gulden, so that the inhabitants by degrees
disappeared and the place remained quite desolate; in 1636 there were
only two married couples in the village. In the year 1641, after Banner
and, again in the winter, the French had been quartered in it, half an
acre of corn was sown, and there were four couples dwelling there. By
the zealous care of Duke Ernest the Good, of Gotha, the deserted
villages in his country were comparatively quickly occupied by men. In
1650, therefore, the jubilee and peace festival could be solemnized in
Döllstedt. The description of it is given, as it is recorded in the
church books, by the then Pastor Trümper.

"On the 19th of August, at four o'clock in the morning, we, together
with our coadjutors and some of the householders of Gotha, mounted our
tower, and celebrated with music our morning prayer. Towards six
o'clock, as happened the preceding day at one o'clock; they began to
ring the bells for a quarter of an hour, and again, for the same length
of time, at half after seven. Meanwhile, the whole population, man and
woman, young and old, except those who assisted at the ringing,
assembled before the gate: 1st, the women-folk stood on one side; before
them was a figure of Peace, which the noble maidens had dressed up
beautifully, in a lovely green silk dress and other decorations; on her
head was placed a beautiful green wreath intermingled with gold
spangles, and in her hand a green branch. 2nd. On the other side towards
the village stood the men, and in front of them Justice in a beautiful
white garment, with a green wreath round her head, and bearing in her
hands a naked sword and gold scales. 3rd. Towards the fields on the same
side, stood the young men with guns, and some with naked swords, and
before them Mars, dressed as a soldier, and bearing in his hands a
crossbow. 4th. In the middle near me, stood the scholars, householders,
and the coadjutors. Then did the recollection come across me, of how
often we had been obliged to quit our homes and flee from our gates, our
eyes overflowing with tears, and when the storm was passed, had returned
home again with joy, notwithstanding that we found all devastated,
ruined, and turned topsy-turvy. Now we thought it fitting thus to honour
our dear God, going out in front of our gates, and as He had preserved
us from the like devastation and necessity for flight and escape, by the
gracious boon of the noble and long-desired peace, we desired now to go
to his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise, and
would for that raise our voices with one accord and sing: 'To God alone
most high be honour, &c.' 5th. Whilst these strophes were being chanted,
Peace and Justice approached one another nearer and nearer. At the
words: 'All feuds are now at an end,' those who held naked swords
sheathed them, and those who had guns fired some salvos and turned
themselves round. Peace beckoned to some who had been hereto appointed;
these took from Mars, who appeared to defend himself his crossbow, and
broke it in twain; Peace and Justice met together and kissed each other.
6th. Thereupon the chanting, which had been begun, was continued, and we
prepared to go. Before the scholars, went Andreas Ehrhardt, adorned to
the utmost, with a staff in his hand wound round with green garlands.
Then followed the scholars with green wreaths on their heads and green
branches in their hands, and they wore short white garments; then came
the assistants and musicians; after these, I, the Pastor, together with
the Herr Pastor of Vargula, who had come to me. After us came the
maidens, the little ones in front, and the taller ones behind, all
adorned to the utmost, and green wreaths on their heads. After these
went Peace, and behind her the boys, who carried a basket of rolls and a
dish of apples, which were afterwards distributed among the children;
item, all kinds of fruits of the field.

"These were followed by the noble maidens, together with their
relations, whom they had bidden; after them nobles from Seebach, Saxony,
and others who had accompanied them. After these came Justice, and
behind her, magistrates and assessors, all bearing white staves in their
hands, twined with green garlands. Then followed the Ensign Christian
Heum, in his best attire, with a staff in his hand, on which he leant,
but it was encircled with a green garland. Afterwards came the men in
pairs with green bouquets in their hands; the men were followed by Mars
bound, then the young lads with their guns reversed. There followed the
Sergeant-major Herr Dietrich Grün in his finery, with a staff in his
hand like the Ensign; and after him the women-folk, all also in pairs in
their order, and all passed singing through the village to the church.
When the aforesaid song was finished we sang, 'Now Praise the Lord, my
soul.'

"In the church there was preaching and singing conformable to the royal
ordinance. After the service was completed, we went in the former order
from the church to the Platz in front of the inn; there the men on one
side, and the women on the other, in half-circles, closed in, forming a
fine wide circle, and during their progress they sang, 'Now rejoice
together, dear Christians.' When the circle was formed I gave thanks to
all collectively, that they had not only, according to the proclamation
of the high and mighty princely government, obediently observed this
solemnity, but also had gone out at my desire, all together, noble and
humble alike, to the gates, and had followed me in such beautiful order
to church, &c., and I admonished them to attend again zealously the
afternoon service. And truly, as I said that it would be well for every
one to come from their houses to church in the afternoon, they did all
reassemble as before in front of the inn; Peace and Justice also were
there again in their dress, but Mars had disappeared. When I was
informed of this, I went during the last peal of the bells with the
scholars, the coadjutors, and the householders out by the back gate
through the church lane to the church, when every one again, as before,
followed me into the church. There we then sang, 'Now let us sing unto
the Lord,' &c. From the church we returned in the same order, again
singing, 'Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,' &c., to the above-mentioned
place, where I again gave thanks both to strangers and townspeople, with
heartfelt wishes for peace. And here the six groschen, rolls, and ripe
apples were distributed among the children."

It is known that the great peace came very slowly, like the recovery
from a mortal illness. The years from 1648 to 1650, from the conclusion
of the peace to the celebration of the festival, were among the most
grievous of that iron time; exorbitant war taxes were imposed, the
armies of the different countries lay encamped in the provinces till
they could be paid off, the oppression which they exercised on the
unhappy inhabitants was so fearful, that a despairing cry arose from the
people, which mingled itself with the wrangling of the negotiating
parties. To this was added a plague of another kind; the whole country
swarmed with a rabble that had no masters; bands of discharged soldiers
with the camp followers, troops of beggars, and great hordes of robbers,
roved about from one territory to another; they quartered themselves by
force on those villages which were still inhabited, and established
themselves in the deserted huts. The villagers also, provided with bad
weapons and disused to labour, thought it sometimes more satisfactory to
rob, than to till the fields, and made secret roving expeditions into
the neighbouring territories, the Evangelical into the Catholic
countries, and _vice versâ_. The foreign children of a lawless race, the
gipsies, had increased in number and audacity; fantastically dressed,
with heavily laden carts, stolen horses, and naked children, they
encamped in great numbers round the stone trough of the village green:
whenever the ruler was powerful and the officials active, the wild
rovers were encountered with energy. The villagers of the dukedom of
Gotha were still obliged, in 1649, to keep watch from the church towers,
to guard the bridges and fords, and to give an alarm whenever they
perceived any of these marching bands. A well-regulated system of police
was the first sign of that new feeling of responsibility which the
governments had acquired: every one who wished to settle down was
encouraged to do so. Whoever was established, had to render an account
of how much land he had cultivated, of the condition of his house and
farm, and whether he had any cattle. New registers of the farms and
inhabitants were prepared, new taxes on money and on natural products
were imposed; and by the severe pressure of these, the villagers were
compelled to labour. The villages were gradually reinhabited; many
families who had fled to the towns during the war repaired their
devastated farms; others returned from the mountains or foreign
countries; disbanded soldiers and camp followers sometimes bought fields
and empty houses with the remainder of their booty, or returned to their
native villages. There was much marrying and baptizing.

But the exhaustion of the people was still lamentably great. The arable
land, much of which had lain fallow, was sown without the necessary
manure; not a little remained overrun with wild underwood and weeds, and
long continued as osier land. The ruined districts were sometimes bought
by the neighbouring villages, and in some places two or three small
communities united themselves together.

For many years after the war, the appearance of the villages was most
comfortless; one may perceive that this was the case in Thuringia, from
the transactions with the Government. The householders of Siebleben and
some other communities round Gotha, had held, from the middle ages, the
right of having timber free from the wooded hills. In 1650, the
government demanded from them, for the exercise of this right, a small
tax upon oats: some of the communities excused themselves, as they were
too poor to be able to think of rebuilding their damaged houses. Ten
years after, the community of Siebleben had forty boys who paid small
school fees, and the yearly offering in the church amounted to more than
fourteen gulden. A portion of this offering was spent in alms to
strangers, and it is perceptible, from the carefully kept accounts, what
a stream of beggars of all kinds passed through the country; disbanded
soldiers, cripples, the sick and aged; amongst them were lepers with
certificates from their infirmaries, also exiles from Bohemia and
Hungary, who had left their homes on account of their religion, banished
noblemen from England, Ireland, and Poland, persons collecting money
for the ransom of their relatives from Turkish imprisonment, travellers
who had been plundered by highwaymen, and others, such as a blind
pastor from Denmark with five children; the strangers came prepared
with testimonials. The governments, however, were unwearied in their
efforts against harbouring such vagrants.

Much has been written concerning the devastation of the war; but the
great work is still wanting, that would concentrate the statistical
notices which have been preserved in all the different territories:
however enormous the labour may be, it must be undertaken, for it is
only from this irrefragable computation, that the full greatness of the
calamity can be understood. The details hitherto known scarcely amount
to a probable valuation of the loss which Germany suffered in men,
beasts of burden, and productive power. The following inferences only
attempt to express the views of an individual, which a few examples will
support.

The condition of the provinces of Thuringia and Franconia is not ill
adapted for a comparison of the past with the present; neither of them
were more afflicted by the visitation of war than other countries; the
state of cultivation of both provinces, up to the present time, answers
pretty accurately to the general average of German industry and
agriculture: neither of them are on the whole rich: both were hilly
countries, without large rivers, or any considerable coal strata, with
low lands, of which only certain tracts were distinguished by especial
fertility, and were up to modern times devoted to agriculture, garden
culture, and small mining industry. Thus this portion of Germany had
known no powerful stream of human enterprise or capital, nor, on the
other hand, was it the theatre of the destructive wars of Louis XIV.'s
time, and the rulers, especially the grandson of Frederic the Wise, were
even in the worst times tolerably sparing of the national strength.

There have been preserved to us from these districts, amongst other
things, accurate statistical notices of twenty communities, which once
were in the Hennebergen domain; but now, with the exception of one that
is Bavarian, belong to Saxe Meiningen. It is nowhere mentioned, and from
their condition need not be concluded, that the devastation in them had
been greater than in other portions of the province. The government in
1649 ordered an accurate report to be given of the number of inhabited
houses, barns, and head of cattle that existed when the worst sufferings
of the war began in 1634. According to the reports delivered by the
magistrates of the places, there had perished in the twenty communities
more than eighty-two per cent, of families, eighty-five per cent, of
horses, more than eighty-three of goats, and eighty-two of cows, and
more than sixty-three per cent. of houses. The remaining houses were
described as in many places damaged and in ruins, the still surviving
horses as lame and blind, and the fields and meadows as devastated and
much overgrown with underwood; but the sheep were everywhere altogether
destroyed.[40]

It is a bloody and terrible tale which these numbers tell us. More than
four fifths of the population, far more than four fifths of their
property were destroyed. And in what a condition was the remainder!

Precisely similar was the fate of the smaller provincial towns, as far
as one can see from the preserved data. We will give only one example
from the same province. The old church records of Ummerstadt, an
agricultural town near Coburg, famed, from olden times, throughout the
country for its good pottery, report as follows:--"Although in the year
1632 the whole country, as also the said little town, was very populous,
so that it alone contained more than one hundred and fifty citizens, and
up to eight hundred souls, yet from the ever-continuing war troubles,
and the constant quartering of troops, the people became in such wise
enervated, that from great and incessant fear, a pestilence sent upon us
by the all-powerful and righteous God, carried off as many as five
hundred men in the years 1635 and 1636; on account of this lamentable
and miserable condition of the time, no children were born into the
world in the course of two years. Those whose lives were still prolonged
by God Almighty, have from hunger, the dearness of the times, and the
scarcity of precious bread, eaten and lived upon bran, oil-cakes, and
linseed husks, and many also have died of it; many also have been
dispersed over all countries, most of whom have never again seen their
dear fatherland. In the year 1640, during the Saalfeldt encampment,
Ummerstadt became a city of the dead or of shadows; for during eighteen
weeks no man dared to appear therein, and all that remained was
destroyed. Therefore the population became quite thin, and there were
not more than a hundred souls forthcoming." In 1850 the place had eight
hundred and ninety-three inhabitants.

Still more striking is another observation, which may be made from the
tables of the Meiningen villages. It is only in our century that the
number of men and cattle of all kinds has again reached the height which
it had already attained in 1634. Nay, the number of houses was still in
1849 less than in 1634, although, there the inmates of the smallest
village houses, even the poorest, still anxiously endeavour to preserve
their own dwellings. It is true that there is a trifling increase of the
number of inhabitants in 1849 over that in 1634; but even this increase
is dubious when we consider that the number of inhabitants in 1634 had
probably already experienced a diminution from sixteen years of war.
Thus we are assuredly justified in concluding that two centuries were
necessary, at least for this tract of Germany, to restore the population
and productive power of the country to its former standard. These
assumptions are supported by other observations. The agriculture of the
country, before the Thirty years' war, nay even the relative proportion
of the value of corn to that of silver, at a time when the export of
corn was only exceptional, lead to the same conclusions.

It is true that during the last two centuries, agriculture, owing to the
mighty effects of foreign traffic, has developed itself in an entirely
new direction. The countryman also now cultivates field vegetables,
clover, and other herbage for fodder, which were unknown before the
Thirty years' war, and agricultural produce is more lucrative for an
equal amount of population. Perhaps our ancestors lived in a poorer
style, and farmed less. We can compare the stock of cattle. The number
of cattle kept now in the villages is precisely the same as before the
war; they have still the short, thick, curly-woolled Spanish herds,
which used to be reared in the pens of the peasants; the old wool fell
in long locks; but judging from the value of the cloth and stuffs woven
from it, and the price of sheep at that time, it must have been good.

On the other hand, the stock of horses has diminished by three fourths
in comparison with 1634. This striking circumstance can only be thus
explained: that the traditions of the troopers of the middle ages
exercised an influence even upon agriculture; that the rearing of horses
was more profitable than now, on account of the bad roads which made a
distant transport of corn impossible, whilst the lowing of cattle in the
narrow farm-yards of the towns was so general that the sale of milk and
butter paid little; and finally, that a larger portion of the country
people were better able to maintain teams. The breaking up of the ground
was then, as may be seen from the old farm books in Thuringia,
somewhat--but not considerably--less than now. In the present day the
number of goats and of cattle belonging to small farmers has increased,
as also the number of oxen, which probably in Middle and Southern
Germany are now finer and higher bred than formerly. This is a decided
progress of the present day. But on the whole, reckoning the amount of
fodder required, the number of beasts which are maintained with
advantage is very inconsiderably larger at present than in 1634.

Thus Germany, in comparison with its happier neighbours in England and
the Low Countries, was thrown back about two hundred years.

Still greater were the changes which the war made in the intellectual
life of the nation. Above all among the country people. Many old customs
passed away, life became aimless and full of suffering. In the place of
the old household gear the rudest forms of modern furniture were
introduced; the artistic chalices, and old fonts, and almost all the
adornments of the churches, had disappeared, and were succeeded by a
tasteless poverty in the village churches, which still continues. For
more than a century after the war the peasant vegetated, penned in,
almost as much as his herds, whilst his pastor watched him as a
shepherd, and he was shorn by the landed proprietors and rulers of his
country. There was a long period of gloomy suffering. The price of corn
in the depopulated country was, for fifty years after the war, even
lower than before. But the burdens upon landed property rose so high,
that for a long time, land together with house and farm, bore little
value, and sometimes were offered in vain as acquittance for service and
imposts. Severer than ever was the pressure of vassalage, worst of all
in the former Sclave countries, in which the peasantry were kept down by
a numerous nobility. With respect to their marriages, they were placed
under an unnatural and compulsory guardianship; strict care was taken
that the son of the countryman should not evade by flight the servitude
which was to weigh down his future. He could not travel without a
written permission; even ship and raft masters were forbidden under
severe penalties to take such fugitives into their service.

Much to be lamented is the injury to civilization which took place in
the devastated cities, especially the return to luxury, love of
pleasure, and coarse sensuality, the want of common sense and
independence, the cringing towards superiors and heartlessness towards
inferiors. They are the ancient sufferings of a decaying race. That the
self-government of cities was more and more infringed upon by the
princes, was frequently fortunate, for the administrators were too often
deficient in judgment and feeling of duty.

The new constitution of governments which had arisen during the war,
laid its iron hands on town and country. The old territories of the
German empire were changed into despotic bureaucratic states. The ruler
governed through his officials, and kept a standing army against his
enemies; to maintain his "state," that is, his courtiers, officials and
soldiers, was the task of the people. But to make this possible, it was
necessary to promote carefully the increase of the population, and the
greater tax-paying capacity of the subject. Some princes, especially the
Brandenburgers, did this in a liberal spirit, and thus in this dark
period, by increasing the power of their new state, laid the foundation
of the greatness of their houses. Others indeed lavished the popular
strength, in coarse imitation of French demoralization.

It was a mortal crisis through which Germany had passed, and dearly was
the peace bought. But that which was most important had been preserved,
the continuity of German development, the continuance of the great
inward process, by which the German nation raised itself from the
bondage of the middle ages to a higher civilization.

The long struggle, politically considered, was a defensive war of the
Protestant party against the intolerance of the old faith and the
attacks of the Imperial power. This defensive struggle had begun by an
ill-timed offensive movement in Bohemia. The head of the House of
Hapsburg had law and right on his side, so long as he only put down this
movement. His opponents put themselves in the position of
revolutionists, which could only be vindicated by success. But from the
day when the Emperor made use of his victory to suppress by means of
Jesuits and soldiers the sovereignty of the German princes, and the old
rights of the cities, he became in his turn the political offender whose
bold venture was repulsed by the last efforts of the nation. But here we
must take a higher point of view, from which the proceedings of
Ferdinand II. appear still more insupportable. Just a hundred years
before his reign, all the good spirits of the German nation fought on
the side of the Emperor, when he, in opposition to existing rights and
old usages, had founded a German Church and German state. Since that,
the family of Charles V. had for a century, a short time excepted, done
much by laborious scheming, or listless indifference, to destroy the
last source of this new life, independence of spirit, thought and faith:
it was for a century, a short time excepted, the opponent of the
national German life; it had its Spanish and Italian alliances, and had
arrayed the Romish Jesuits against the indigenous civilization of the
nation, aided, alas! by some of the German princes. It was by such means
that it had endeavoured to become great in Germany, and in the same
spirit, an overzealous Emperor called forth the bloody decision. On his
head, not on the German people or Princes, lies the guilt of this
endless war. The Protestant chiefs, with the exception of the lesser
rulers, only sought to submit and make peace with their Emperor. It was
only for a few years they were led into open war, by the arrogance of
Wallenstein, the scorn of Vienna, and the warlike pressure of Gustavus
Adolphus; the alliance of the great electoral houses of Saxony and
Brandenburg with Sweden did not last four years; at the first
opportunity they receded, and during the last period of the war,
neutrality was their strongest policy.

The princes obtained by the peace the object of their defensive
opposition; the extravagant designs of the Imperial Court were crushed.
Germany was free. Yes, free! Devastated and powerless, with its western
frontier for a century the fighting-ground and spoil of France, it had
still to bear the outpouring of an accumulated measure of humiliation
and shame. But whoever would now clench their hands at this, let them
beware of raising them against the Westphalian peace. The consequences
that followed, the laying in ashes of the Palatinate, the seizure of
Strasburg, the loss of Alsace and Lorraine, were not owing to this
peace. The cause of all this, was long before the Thirty years' war; it
had been foreseen by patriotic men long beforehand. Since the Smalkaldic
war the sovereignty of the German Princes, and the independence of
portions of the empire, were the only guarantee for a national
progressive civilization. One may deeply lament, but can easily
understand this. Now at last this independence had been legally
established by streams of blood. Whoever considers the year 1813,--the
first kindling of the people since 1648,--as full of glory; whoever has
at any time ennobled himself by a sense of duty and enlarged moral
sentiments, acquired from the severe teaching of Kant and his followers;
whoever has at any time derived pleasure from the highest that man is
capable of understanding, and from the nature and souls of his own and
foreign people; whoever has at any time felt with transport the beauty
of the new German poetry, the Nathan, Faust, and Guillaume Tell; whoever
has taken a heartfelt participation in the free life of our science and
arts, in the great discoveries of our natural philosophers, and in the
powerful development of German industry and agriculture, must remember,
that with the peace of Münster and Osnaburg began the period in which
the political foundation of the development of a higher life was in a
great measure secured.

The war had nevertheless consequences which we must still deeply
deplore; it has long severed the third of Germany from intellectual
communion of spirit with their kindred races. The German hereditary
possessions of the Imperial family have ever since been united in a
special state. Powerfully and incessantly has the foreign principle
worked which there prevails. For a long time the depressed nation
scarcely felt the loss. In Germany the opposition between Romanism and
Protestantism had been weakened, and in the following century it was in
a great measure overcome. Even those territories which were compelled by
their rulers to maintain their old faith, had participated in the slow
and laborious progress which had been made since the peace. It is not to
be denied that the Protestant countries long remained the leaders, but
in spite of much opposition, those of the old faith followed the new
stream, and the results of increasing civilization flowed in brotherly
union from one soul to another; joy and suffering were in general
mutual, and as the political requirements and wishes of the Protestant
and Roman Catholics were the same, the feeling of intellectual unity
became gradually more active. It was otherwise in the distant countries
which Ferdinand II. and his successors had bequeathed as conquered
property. The losses which the German races had experienced were great,
but the injury to the Austrian nationalities was incomparably greater.
To them had happened what must now appear, to any one who examines
accurately, most terrible. Almost the whole national civilization, which
in spite of all hindrances had been developed for more than a century,
was expelled with an iron rod. The mass of the people remained; their
leaders--opulent landed proprietors of the old indigenous race, manly
patriots, men of distinguished character and learning, and intelligent
pastors, were driven into exile. The exiles have never been counted, who
perished of hunger, and the horrors of war; those also who settled in
foreign countries can scarcely be reckoned. Undoubtedly their collective
number amounted to hundreds of thousands. It is thanks to the Bohemian
exiles, that Electoral Saxony recovered its loss in men and capital
quicker than other countries. Yet it is not the numbers, however great,
which give a true representation of the loss. For those who fell into
calamity on account of their faith and political convictions were the
noblest spirits, the leaders of the people, the representatives of the
highest civilization of the time. But it was not the loss of them alone
that made the Emperor's dominions so weak and dormant; the millions also
that remained behind were crushed. Driven by every low motive, by rough
violence or the prospect of earthly advantage, from one faith to
another, they had lost all self-respect and the last ideal which even
the most commonplace man preserves, the feeling that he has a place in
his heart that cannot be bought. Everywhere throughout Germany in the
worst times after the war, there were thousands who were fortified by
the feeling that they also, like their fathers and neighbours, had
resisted armed conversion to the death. In the converted Austrian
territories of the Emperor, this feeling was rare. For almost a century
and a half the Bohemian and German races vegetated in a dreary dream
life. The Bohemian countryman hung the various saints of the restored
church by the side of his pictures of Huss and Zisko, but he kept a holy
lamp burning before the old heretic; the citizen of Vienna and Olmutz
accustomed himself to speak of the Empire and Germany as of a foreign
land; he accommodated himself to Hungarians, Italians, and Croats, but
at the same time he remained a stranger in the new state in which he was
now domiciled. Little did he care for the categorical imperative,
imposed by the new worldly wisdom; later he learned that Schiller was a
German poet. Only then did a new spring begin for the Germans, in which
freedom of mind and beauty of soul were sought for as the highest aim of
earthly life; when the new study of antiquity inspired them with
enthusiasm, when the genius of Goethe irradiated the court of Weimar,
then sounded from dormant Austria, the deepest and most mysterious of
arts, a fullness of melody. There also the spirit of the people had
found touching expression in Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.

CHAPTER VII.

ROGUES AND ADVENTURERS.

The war had fearfully loosened the joints of burgher society. The old
orderly and disciplined character of Germans appeared almost lost.
Countless was the number of unfortunates who having lost house and farm,
maintenance and family, wandered homeless through inhospitable foreign
countries; and not less numerous were the troops of reprobates who had
habituated themselves to live by fraud, extortion, and robbery.
Excitement had become a necessity to the whole living race, for thirty
years the vagrant rabble of all Europe had chosen Germany as their
head-quarters.

Thus it happened that after the peace the doings of the fortune hunters,
adventurers, and rogues increased to an extraordinary extent. A contrast
of weakness and roughness is, in the following century, a special
characteristic of the needy, careworn family life, into which the spirit
of the German people had contracted itself. Some particulars of this
wild life will be here related, which will denote the gradual changes it
underwent. For like the German devils, the children of the devil have
also their history, and their race is more ancient than the Christian
faith.

People are hardly aware of the intimate connection between German life
and Roman antiquity. Not only did the traditions of the Roman empire,
Christianity, Roman law, and the Latin language become parts of the
German civilization, but still more extensively were the numerous little
peculiarities of the Roman world preserved in the middle ages. German
agriculture acquired from the Romans the greater part of its implements,
also wheat, barley, and much of the remaining produce. The most ancient
of our finer kinds of fruit are of Roman origin, equally so our wine,
many garden flowers, and almost all our vegetables; also the oldest
woollen fabrics, cotton and silk stuffs, and all the oldest machines, as
for example, watermills, and the first mining and foundry works;
likewise innumerable other things, even to the oldest forms of our
dress, house utensils, chairs, tables, cupboards, and even the panels of
our folding doors. And if it were possible to measure how much in our
life is gathered from antiquity, or from primitive German invention, we
should still, after the lapse of fifteen centuries, find so much that is
Roman in our fields, gardens, and houses, on our bodies, nay, even in
our souls, that one may well have a right to inquire whether our
primeval ancestors were more under the protection of Father Jove or of
the wild Woden.

Thus amongst numberless others, the despised race of Gladiators,
Histrions, and Thymelei--or jesters, were preserved throughout the storm
of migration, and spread from Rome among the barbarian races. They
introduced amongst the bloody hordes of Vandals the dissolute Roman
pantomime; they stood before the huts of the Frank chiefs, and piped and
played foreign melodies, which had perhaps once come with the orgies of
the Asiatic gods to Rome; they intermingled with the Gothic
congregation, which poured out of the newly built church into the
churchyard, and there opened their chests in order to show a monkey in a
red jacket as a foreign prodigy, or produced the grotesque figures of
old Latin puppets, the _maccus_, _bucco_, _papus_, and whatever else the
ancient fathers called our jack-puddings, for the amusement of the young
parishioners, who opened wide their large blue eyes at these foreign
wonders. Meanwhile other members of the band of jugglers offered on
payment, to execute gymnastic games before the warriors of the
community, which they performed with sharp weapons and all the artifices
and cunning of the Roman circus; then these foolhardy men formed a ring
and carried on with passionate eagerness, for the sake of pay, the
dangerous hazards of the combat, which the spectators admired the more,
the bloodier it became, whilst they held the unfortunates, who thus
struggled for money, in no greater consideration than a couple of wolves
or hungry dogs. But for the distinguished spectators there were other
more enticing artists. Women also roved with the men amongst the German
tribes, dexterous and bold, dancers, singers, and actresses, in
brilliant cavalcades. When they shook the Greek tambourine or the
Asiatic castanets, in the licentious mazes of the bacchanalian dance,
they were generally irresistible to the German barons, but were
extremely offensive to serious people. In the year 554 a Frank king
interposed with his authority against the nuisance of these foreign
_rovers_, and the worthy Hinkmar, paternally warned his priests also
against these women, whose foreign sounding designation was expressed by
the true-hearted monk with a very well-known but bitter word.

To these foreign jugglers were speedily added numerous German recruits.
The German races had had wandering singers from the primitive times,
bearers of news, spreaders of epic songs and poems. These also moved
from farm to farm, highly welcome in the large houses of persons of
distinction, honoured guests, trusted messengers, who often received
from their hosts a more affectionate reward than golden bracelets or new
dresses. They had once upon a time sung to the harp by the fireside, of
the adventurous expedition of the thunder god to the world of giants,
and of the tragic fall of the Nibelungen, then of Attila's battle, and
the wonders of southern lands. But to the new Christian faith, this
treasure of old native songs was obnoxious. The high-minded Charlemagne
made a collection of the heroic songs of the German race, but his Popish
son Louis hated and despised them. These songs undoubtedly were so
thoroughly heathen, that the Church had reason to remonstrate against
them in synodical resolutions and episcopal decrees. Together with them,
the race of singers who carried and spread them, fell into disfavour
with the church. The songs did not however cease, but the singers sank
to a lower scale, and finally a portion of them at least fell into the
class of vagrants, and the people were accustomed to hear the fairest
heritage of their past from the lips of despised players.

Another heritage also from German heathendom fell to these strollers.
Even before the time of Tacitus there were simple dramatic processions
in Germany; on the great feast days of the German gods, there already
appeared the humorous ideas of the pious German regarding his world of
deities, associating with them comic processions of mummers, the figures
of goblins and giants, gray winter and green spring, the bear of Donar,
and probably the magic white horse of Woden, which in the oldest form of
dramatic play opposed each other either in mimic combat, or for their
rights. The wandering jugglers, with great facility, added these German
masks to the grotesque Roman figures which they had brought into the
country; and in the churchyard of the new Christian congregation, the
bear of the bacchanalian Asen bellowed beside the followers of the Roman
god of wine, and the satyr with his goats' feet and horns.

Thus this race of wanderers soon Germanized themselves, and during the
whole of the middle ages roved about amongst the people--in the eye of
the law homeless and lawless. The Church continued to rouse suspicion
against these strollers by repeated decrees; the clergy would on no
account see or listen to such rabble, nay, they were denied the right of
taking a part in the Christian sacraments. The old law books allowed
hired pugilists to kill each other without penance, like stray dogs; or
what was almost worse, they granted to the injured vagrant only the
mockery of a sham penance. If a stroller was struck by a sword or knife,
he could only return the thrust or blow upon the shadow of his injurers
on the wall.

This ignominious treatment contrasted strongly with the favour which
these strollers generally enjoyed. Singly, or in bands, they went
through the country, and streamed together by hundreds at the great
court and Church fêtes. Then, it was the general custom to distribute
among them food, drink, clothes, and money. It was thought advisable to
treat them well, as they were well known to be tale-bearers, and would
publish in satirical songs throughout the whole country the scandalous
conduct of the niggardly man, with a vindictiveness which was sharpened
by the feeling that such revenge was the best means of making themselves
feared. It was rarely that a prince like Henry II., or a pious bishop,
ventured to send away these bands from their fêtes without a reward.
Almost everywhere, till quite into the fifteenth century, they were to
be found wherever a large assemblage of men sought for amusement. They
sang ballads, satirical songs and love songs, and related heroic tales
and legends from foreign lands, on the stove-bench of the peasant, in
tins ante-room of the burgher, or the hall of the castle. From the
latter its lord is absent perhaps on a crusade, and his wife and
servants listen anxiously to the fables and lies of the wandering
player. To-day he is the narrator of foreign tales of marvel, and
to-morrow the clandestine messenger betwixt two lovers; then he again
enters for a time the service of knightly minne-singers, whose
minne-songs he accompanies with his music, and undertakes to spread them
through the country, as a journal does now; or he dresses himself up
more strikingly than usual, takes his bauble in his hand, places a
fool's cap on his head, and goes as travelling fool to some nobleman, or
follower of some distinguished ecclesiastic.

Wherever his fellows collected together in numbers, at courtly
residences and tournaments, or in churchyards at great saints' feasts,
he quickly pitched his tent and booth by the side of those of traders
and pedlers, and began his arts; rope-dancing, jongleur exercises,
sham-fights, dramatic representations in masks, shows of curiosities,
songs, masked artistic dances, and playing for dances and festive
processions. In the churchyard itself, or within the boundaries of some
castle, were heard the sounds of noisy pleasure; and the sun-burnt women
of the band slipped secretly through side doors into the castle or the
priests' house.

Only some of the practices of these vagrants deserve special mention.
The influence which these musicians exercised on the progress of epic
and lyrical popular poetry, has been already mentioned; it is even now
discerned in heroic poetry, for the players often endeavoured to
introduce fellows of their own class into the old poetry, and took care
that they should play no contemptible rôle. Thus in the Nibelungen, the
brilliant form of the hero Volker the fiddler, is the representation of
a musician; similar figures, grotesque in appearance, but rougher and
coarser, hectored in the later poems and popular legends, as for example
the monk Ilsan in the Rosengarten.

But it was not only in the German epos, that the strollers smuggled in,
beautiful copies of their own life; despised as they were, they
contrived, with all the insolence of their craft, to introduce
themselves into the nave and choir of the church, though almost excluded
from its holy rites. For even in the first strict ecclesiastical
beginnings of the German dramas, they crept into the holy plays of the
Easter festivals. Already in the beginning of the middle ages the
history of the crucifixion and resurrection had assumed a dramatic
colouring; alternate songs between Christ and his disciples, Pilate and
the Jews, were sung by the clergy in the church choir; a great crucifix
was reverently deposited in an artificial grave in the crypt, and
afterwards there was a solemn announcement, on Easter morning, of the
resurrection, songs of praise by the whole congregation, and the
consecration of psalms. They began early to bring forward more
prominently, individual rôles in dramatic songs, to put speeches as well
as songs into their mouths, and to distinguish the chief rôles by
suitable dress and particular attributes. On other Church festivals the
same was done with the legends of the saints, and already in the twelfth
century whole pieces were dramatically performed in the German churches,
first of all in Latin, by the clergy in the choir. But in the thirteenth
century the German language made its way into the dialogue; then the
pieces became longer, the number of rôles increased, the laity began to
join in it, the dialogues became familiar, sometimes facetious, and
contrasted wonderfully with the occasional Latin songs and responses,
which were maintained in the midst of them, and which also gradually
became German. The personages in the Biblical plays still appear under
the same comic figures, with the coarse jokes and street wit which the
roving people had introduced into the churchyards. Generally the fool
entered as servant of a quack. From the oldest times these strollers had
carried about with them through the country, secret remedies, especially
such as were suspicious to the Church, primitive Roman superstitions,
ancient German forms of exorcism, and others also which were more
noxious and dangerous. At the great Church festivals and markets, there
were always doctors' booths, in which miraculous remedies and cures were
offered for sale to the believing multitudes. These booths also of the
wandering doctors are older than the Augustine age; they are to be seen
depicted on the Greek vases, and came to Germany through Italy, with the
grotesque masks of the doctors themselves and their attendant buffoons,
and were the most profitable trade of the strollers. These doctors and
their servants were introduced as interludes to the spiritual plays,
with long spun out episodes of the holy traffic, in which ribaldry and
drubbing are not wanting.

But the strollers introduced another popular person into the holy plays,
the devil, probably his first appearance in the church. Long had this
spirit of hell spit out fire under the tents of the churchyard, and
wagged his tail, and probably he had often been beaten and cheated, to
the delight of the spectators, by clever players, before he assisted in
the thirteenth century as a much-suffering fellow-actor, in the holy
Easter dramas, to the edification of the pious parishioners.

Such was the active industry carried on by these strollers through the
middle ages. Serving every class and every tendency of the times, coarse
in manners and morals, as privileged jesters both cherished and ill
treated, they were probably united amongst themselves in firm
fellowship, with secret tokens of recognition; they were distinguished
by their outward attire, and chiefly by fantastic finery, and by the
absence of long hair and beard, the honourable adornment of privileged
people, which they were forbidden to wear.

In the fifteenth century the severity of the laws against them were
relaxed, for the whole life of all classes had become more frivolous,
daring, and reckless; an inordinate longing after enjoyment, an
excessive pleasure in burlesque jesting, in music and dancing, in
singing and mimic representations, was general in the wealthy towns.
Thus many of the race of strollers contrived to make their peace with
the burgher society. They became domestic fools in the courts of
princes, the merry-andrews of the towns, associates of the town pipers,
and players to the bands of Landsknechte.

But besides the players and their followers, there appeared along the
roads of the armies, and in the hiding-places of the woods, other
children of misfortune less harmless and far more awful to the people,
first of all the gipsies.

The gipsies, from their language and the scanty historical records that
there are of them, appear to be a race of northern border Indians, who
lost their home, and their connection with their Indian relatives, at a
time when the transformation of the ancient Sanscrit into the modern and
popular languages had already begun. In their wanderings towards the
west, which had gone on for centuries, they must have lived in continual
intercourse with Arabians, Persians, and Greeks, for the language of
these people has had a marked influence on their own. They were
possibly, about the year 430 but more probably about 940, in Persia.
They appeared about the twelfth century as Ishmaelites and braziers,[41]
in Upper Germany. They were settled in the fourteenth century in
Cypress, and in the year 1370, as bondsmen is Wallachia. The name of
Zingaro or Zitano, is a corruption from their language; they still call
themselves Scindians, dwellers on the banks of the Indus; their own
statement also, that they came from Little Egypt, may be correct, as
Little Egypt appears then to have denoted, not the valley of the Nile,
but the frontier lands of Asia.

In the year 1417, they came in great hordes, with laughable pretensions
and grotesque processions, from Hungary, into Germany, and shortly
afterwards into Switzerland, France, and Italy. A band of three hundred
grown-up persons, without counting the children, proceeded as far as the
Baltic, under the command of a duke and count, on horseback and on foot;
the women and children sitting with the baggage on the carts. They were
dressed like comedians, and had sporting dogs with them as a sign of
noble birth; but when they really hunted, they did so without dogs, and
without noise. They showed recommendations and safe-conducts from
princes and nobles, and also from the Emperor Sigismund. They asserted
that their bishops had commanded them to wander for seven years through
the world. But they were great swindlers, and passed their nights in the
open air, for better opportunities of stealing. In 1418, they appeared
in many parts of Germany, and the same year went under the command of
Duke Michael, from Little Egypt into Switzerland. A rendezvous of many
hordes seems to have taken place before Zurich. They numbered according
to the lowest computation a thousand heads. They had two dukes and two
knights, and pretended to have been driven from Egypt by the Turks: they
carried much money in their pockets, and maintained that they had
received it from their own people at home: they ate and drank well, and
also paid well, but they have never shown themselves again like this.
From thence they appear to have turned to France and Italy; in 1422, a
band of them came under a duke from Egypt to Bologna and Forli. They
stated that the King of Hungary had compelled about 4000 of them to be
baptized, and had slain the remainder; the baptized had been condemned
to the penance of seven years' wandering. They wished to go to Rome to
visit the Pope. In 1427, the same band, probably, appeared before Paris
with two dukes. They asserted that they had letters and a blessing from
the Pope. The Pope had held council concerning them, and had decided
that they were to wander through the world seven years, without lying on
a bed; then he would send them to a fine country. For five years they
had journeyed about, and their king and queen had died during their
wanderings, &c. These were followed by other bands.

In 1424, a new horde appeared before Ratisbon, with letters of safe
conduct from the Emperor Sigismund, one of which was dated Zips, 1423,
and was published by the chroniclers. In 1438, another horde passed
through Bohemia, Austria, and Bavaria; this time they were under a petty
king, Zindelo; they also asserted that they came from Egypt, and
declared that they were commanded by God to wander for seven years,
because their forefathers had refused hospitality to the mother of God
and the child Jesus, on their flight into Egypt.

In hordes like these they spread themselves, during the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries, over the whole of Europe. In spite of their
frivolous finery and cunning lies, there were very few places in which
they succeeded in deceiving men. They proved, indeed, everywhere to be
wicked heathens, magicians, fortune-tellers, and most shameless thieves.
They split themselves into small bands during their distant travels;
their leaders, whom they had honoured with all the feudal titles, in
order to give themselves consideration, disappeared. They themselves
were thoroughly decimated by their wandering lives, and the persecutions
of the local inhabitants.

Their language gives the best explanation of their past. The original
homogeneousness of the gipsy language is distinctly visible amidst the
various changes which it has gone through in many countries. It appears
to be the mode of speech of a single and special Indian race. The gipsy
is apparently not the descendant of a mixed Indian people, or of a
single low caste of Indians, but of a distinct race of people. The men
call themselves everywhere, _rom_; and in contradiction to the western
nations, also _calo_, black: their wives, _romni_, and their language
_romany-tschib_. The names which their race have had in different
countries are numerous and various.

Their language is in its origin and internal structure a genuine
daughter of the distinguished Sanscrit, but it has become for many
centuries like a beggar and thief; it has lost much of its beauty, its
elegance, and its resemblance to its mother and sisters; instead of
which it has appropriated something to itself from every country in
which these people have tarried in their wanderings, and its dress
appears covered with the tatters of all nations, so that it is only here
and there that the genuine gold threads are still visible. The race have
lost a great portion of their own words, more especially those, that
express ideas which they could not preserve in their paltry miserable
life in foreign countries. They have lost the Indian expression for
parrot, elephant, and lion, also for the tiger and buffalo snake, but
sugar--_gûlo_, silk--_pahr_, and grapes--_drakh_, they call by their
Indian, and wine--_mohl_, by its Persian name. Nay, they have also lost
the Indian words for many current terms: they no longer call the sparrow
by its Indian name: no fish, and hardly any plants; but undoubtedly they
retain those of many large and small animals, amongst others _dschu_,
the louse. But in all countries, new representations, images, and ideas
offered themselves, and too lazy and careless to form words of their
own, they took those of every foreign language and adapted them to the
necessities of their own tongue. The result was, that even the gipsies
who were in bands, being without firm union, were split in pieces among
the various people, so that what they still possessed did not remain
common to all, and there arose in every country a peculiar gipsy idiom,
in which old recollections were mixed up with the language of the
country, in an original way. Finally the _rom_ appropriated to himself
almost everywhere, besides the common language of the country that of
the rogues, the thieves' dialect, to which he imparted, in friendly
exchange, words from his own language. In Germany he understood
gibberish, or _Jenisch_; in Bohemia, _Hantyrka_; in French, _Argôt_; in
England, Slang; and in Spain, _Germania_.

It is instructive to observe how their hereditary language became
corrupted; for the decadence of one language, through the overpowering
influence of another, proceeds according to fixed laws. First, foreign
words penetrate in a mass, because foreign cultivation has an imposing
effect; next the formation of sentences is taken from the foreign
language, because the mind of the people accustoms itself to think after
the method of the foreigners; and thirdly, they forget their own
inflections; then the language becomes a heap of ruins, a weather-beaten
organism, like a corroded mass of rock which crumbles away into sand or
gravel. The gipsy language has gone through the first and second stages
of decadence, and the third also in Spain.

The life of this race in Germany was far from comfortable. As their
hands were against the property of every one, so did the popular hatred
work against their lives. Charles V. commanded them to be banished, and
the new police ordinances of the Princes allowed them no indulgence. Yet
they were able to gain money from the country people by soothsaying and
secret arts, by doctoring man and beast, or as horse-dealers and
pedlers. Often, united with bands of robbers, they carried on a new
service during the long war, as camp followers. Wallenstein made use of
them as spies, as did the Swedes also later. The women made themselves
agreeable to the officers and common soldiers. The cunning men of the
band sold amulets and shod horses.

After the war they went about through the country audaciously, the
terror of the countryman. In 1663 a band of more than two hundred of
them invaded Thuringia, where they distributed themselves, and were
considered as very malevolent, because it was reported of them that they
reconnoitred the country probably for an enemy. They had in fact become
a great plague throughout the country, and the law thundered against
them with characteristic recklessness. Orders were issued everywhere for
their banishment; they were considered as spies of the Turks, and as
magicians, and were made outlaws; even after the year 1700, in a small
Rhenish principality, a gipsy woman and her child were brought in
amongst other wild game which had been slain. A band again broke into
Thuringia in the eighteenth century, and a law in 1722 declared all the
men outlawed. In Prussia, in 1710, an edict was promulgated, commanding
the alarm to be sounded, and the community to be summoned together
against them, whenever they should make their appearance. On the
frontiers, gallows were erected with this inscription: "The punishment
for thieves and gipsy rabble, both men and women." As late as the year
1725 all the gipsies in the Prussian states, over eighteen years of age,
were to be hanged whether they had a passport or not. Even in 1748
Frederick the Great renewed this strong edict. The conduct of the
civilized nineteenth century forms a pleasing contrast to this. In 1830
at Friedrichslohra in Thuringia, a philanthropic endeavour was made, and
warmly promoted by the government, to reform a band of about one hundred
men, by the maintenance of the adults and education of the children. The
attempt was continued for seven years, and completely failed.

The name of Stroller disappeared, and the occupation of these
possessionless rovers became to a certain degree free from the old
defect; but the great society of swindlers maintained a certain
organization. Their language also remained. The gibberish, of which many
specimens remain to us from the latter end of the middle ages, shows
already, before the demoralization of the people by the Hussite war, a
full development of old German rogues' idioms. It consists for the
greater part of Hebrew words as used by persons who were not themselves
Jews; together with these are mingled some of the honoured treasures of
the German language, beautiful old words, and again significant
inventions of figurative expressions, for the sake of concealing the
true sense of the speech by a deceptive figure: thus, windgap for
mantle, broadfoot for goose. Few of their words lead us to expect an
elevated disposition; the rough humour of desperadoes breaks out from
many of them. The practice, like the language of these rogues, developed
itself in greater refinement. The usual form in which the resident
inhabitants were plundered was begging. The works of holiness of the old
Church--an irrational alms-giving--had spread throughout Christendom an
unwieldy mass of mendicancy. In the first century of German Christendom
it is the subject of complaint of pious ecclesiastics. In churchyards
and in public places lay the beggars, exposing horrible wounds, which
were often artistically inflicted; they sometimes went naked through the
country with a club, afterwards clothed, and with many weapons, and
begged at every homestead for their children, or for the honour of their
saints, or as slaves escaped from the Turkish galleys, for a vow, or for
only a pound of wax, a silver cross, or a mass vestment. They begged
also towards the erection of a church, producing letters and seals; they
had much at heart to obtain special napkins for the priest, linen for
the altar cloth, and broken plate for the chalice; they rolled about as
epileptics, holding soap lather in their mouths. In like manner did the
women wander about, some pretending to give birth to monsters (as for
example a toad) which lived in solitude as miraculous creatures, and
daily required a pound of meat. When a great festival was held they
flocked together in troops. They formed a dangerous company, and even
iron severity could scarcely keep them under restraint. Basle appears to
have been one of their secret meeting-places; they had there their own
special place of justice, and the famed "_Liber Vagatorum_" also, seems
to have originated in that neighbourhood. This book, written by an
unknown hand about 1500, contains, in rogues' language, a careful
enumeration of the rogue classes and their tricks, and at the end a
vocabulary of jargon. It was often printed; and Pamphilus Gengenbach of
Basle rendered it into rhyme. It pleased Luther so well that he also
reprinted the clever little book, after one of the oldest impressions.

To the order of beggars belong also the travelling scholars, who, as
treasure diggers and exorcists, made successful attacks on the savings
of the peasants and on the provisions in their chimneys. "They desired
to become priests," then they came from Rome with shaven crowns and
collected for a surplice; or they were necromancers, then they wore a
yellow train to their coats and came from the Frau Venusberg; when they
entered a house they exclaimed, "Here comes a travelling scholar, a
master of seven liberal sciences, an exorciser of the devil, and from
hail storms, fire, and monsters;" and thereupon they made "experiments."
Together with them came disbanded Landsknechte, often associated with
the dark race of outlaws, who worked with armed hand against the life
and property of the resident inhabitants.

Throughout the whole of the middle ages it was impossible to eradicate
the robbers. After the time of Luther they became incendiaries, more
particularly from 1540 to 1542. A foreign rabble appeared suddenly in
middle Germany, especially in the domains of the Protestant chiefs, the
Elector of Saxony and Landgrave of Hesse. They burned Cassel, Nordheim,
Gôttingen, Goslor, Brunswick, and Magdeburg. Eimbech was burned to the
ground with three hundred and fifty men, and a portion of Nordhausen;
villages and barns were everywhere set on fire; bold incendiary letters
stirred up the people, and at last also the princes. The report became
general that the Roman Catholic party had hired more than three hundred
incendiaries, and the Pope, Paul III., had counselled Duke Henry the
younger, of Brunswick, to send the rabble to Saxony and Hesse.
Undoubtedly much wickedness was laid to the credit of the unscrupulous
Duke; but it was then the interest of Pope Paul III. to treat the
Protestants with forbearance, for earnest endeavours were being made on
both sides for a great reconciliation, and preparation was made for it
at Rome, by sending the Cardinal Contarini to the great religious
conference at Ratisbon. The terror, however, and anger of the Germans
was great and enduring. Everywhere the incendiaries were tracked,
everywhere their traces were found, crowds of rabble were imprisoned,
tried for their lives, and executed. Luther publicly denounced Duke
Henry as guilty of these reckless outrages; the Elector and Landgrave
accused him of incendiarism at the Diet before the Emperor; and in vain
did he, in his most vehement manner, defend himself and his adherents.
It is true that his guilt was pronounced by the Emperor as unproved; but
then he was desirous, above all, of internal peace and help against the
Turks. In the public opinion, however, the stain on the prince's
reputation remained. It is impossible to discover how far the strollers
of that time were the guilty parties. The depositions of those arrested
are inaccurately given, and it cannot be decided how much of it was
dictated by torture. One thing is quite clear, they did not form into
any fixed bands, and their secret intercourse was carried on through the
medium of signs, which were scratched or cut on striking places, such as
inns, walls, doors, &c. These signs were partly primitive German
personal tokens, which, as house-marks, may still be found on the gables
of old buildings, but partly also in rogues' marks. Above all, there was
the characteristic sign of the Strollers, the arrow, once the signal
announcing enmity; the direction of his arrow shows the way which the
marker has taken; small perpendicular strokes on it, often with ciphers
above, give probably the number of persons. These signs are to be found
sometimes still on the trees and walls of the high-roads, and it
betokens now, as it did then, to the members of the band, that the
initiated has passed that way with his followers.

In addition to the indigenous rovers came also foreign ones; as in the
middle ages, a stream of Italian adventurers again flowed through
Germany. Together with the German player rose the cry of the Italian
orvietan (Venice treacle) vendor, and side by side with the Bohemian
bear were the camels of Pisa. The marvellous Venetian remedies and the
harlequin jacket, mask, and felt cap of the Italian fool wandered over
the Alps, and were added as new fooleries to our old stock.

The Italian, Garzoni, has given a lively picture of the proceedings of
these strollers in his book, 'Piazza Universale,' a description of all
the arts and handicrafts of his time. His work was translated in 1641,
into German by Matthäus Merian, under the title of 'General Theatre of
all Arts, Professions, and Handicrafts.' The description of the Italian
portrays also in its chief features the condition of Western Germany
after the war. The following extract is given according to Merian's
German translation:--

"The wandering comedians in their demeanour are uncivil asses and
ruffians, who consider that they have performed beautifully when they
have moved the mob to laughter by their coarse sayings. Their
_inventiones_ are such, that if the toads acted thus we might forgive
them, and they all tally together without rhyme or reason; they do not
care whether they are sufficiently polished and skilful so long as they
can only obtain money. Though they could easily curtail or cloak
whatever is coarse, they imagine that they give no satisfaction in their
business if it is not set forth in the coarsest manner; on this account
comedy and the whole comic art has fallen into the greatest contempt
with respectable people, and even the high comedians are banished from
certain places, are treated with contumely in public laws and statutes,
insulted and derided by the whole community. When these good people come
into a town they must not remain together, but must divide themselves
among divers inns; the Lady comes from Rome, the Magnificus from
Venice,[42] Ruffiana from Padua, the Zany from Bergamo, the Gratianus
from Bologna, and they must lurk about for certain days, till they have
begged and obtained permission if they wish to maintain themselves and
carry on their profession; they can with difficulty obtain lodgings
where they are known, every one being disgusted with their filth, as
they leave for a length of time a bad smell behind them.

"But when they come into a town and are permitted to perform their
tricks, they cause it to be made known by handbills, the beating of
drums, and other war sounds, that this or that great comedian has
arrived; then the woman goes after the drum dressed in man's clothes,
girt about with a sword, and thus the people are invited in every place:
'Whoever would see a beautiful comedian, let him come to this or that
place.' Thither come running all the curious people, and are admitted
for three or four kreutzers into a yard, where they find a platform
erected, and regular scenes. First there begins splendid music, just as
if a troop of asses were all braying together; then comes a Prologus,
making his appearance like a vagabond; afterwards come beautiful and
ill-adorned persons, who make such a cackling that every one begins to
find the time long, and if perchance any one laughs, it is more at the
simplicity of the spectators than because he finds somewhat laughable.
Then comes Magnificus, who is not worth three hellers; Zany, who truly
does his best, but waddles like a goose walking through deep mud; a
shameless Ruffiana, and also a lover, whom it would be disgusting to
listen to long; a Spaniard who knows not how to say more than _mi vida_,
or _mi corazon_; a pedant who jumbles all sorts of languages together;
and Buratinus, who knows no other gesture than that of twirling his hat
or his hood from one hand to the other. The best of them has so little
capacity as to be unfit either to boil or roast, so that the bystanders
all become weary, and laugh at themselves for having so long given heed
to such insane tricks. And assuredly they must be idle folk or
superlative fools to allow themselves to be caught there a second time;
the incapacity of the players in the first comedy they perform, is so
well known and cried down, that others of respectability are mistrusted
on their account.

"There are now-a-days many genuine dramatic performances in vogue at
almost all the market-places and fairs, namely the plays of Ceretani, of
orvietan vendors, and other similar fellows. They are called Ceretani in
Italy because it is presumed they have their origin and first
commencement in a small spot called Cereto, near Spoleto in Umbria, and
afterwards gradually attained such credit and consideration, that when
they were to be heard there was as great a concourse of people assembled
as were ever collected by the cleverest doctor of the liberal arts, nay
even by the best preacher who ever entered a pulpit. For the common
people run together in crowds, gaping with open mouth, listen to them
the whole day, forget all their cares, and God knows how difficult it
is,--even the peasants find it so,--to keep one's purse in such a
throng.

"When one sees these cheats take a whole lump of arsenic, sublimate, or
other poison, indiscriminately, that they may make proof by it of the
excellence of their orvietan, it should be known that, in the
summer-time before they came to the place, they have filled themselves
with lettuce dressed with so much vinegar and oil that they might swim
therein, and in winter they stuff themselves upon fat ox-brawn well
boiled. And this they do that they may by means of the fat of the brawn
and oiliness of the salad, with the coldness of their nature, obstruct
the internal passage of the body, and thus weaken the sharpness or heat
of the poison. They have besides this also a secure way of managing,
namely, before they enter the place they go to the nearest apothecary,
who generally in the towns is in or near the market; there they ask for
a box of arsenic, from which they select some small bits, and wrap them
in paper, begging the apothecary to deliver the same to them when they
send for it. Now when they have sufficiently extolled their wares, so
that nothing more remains but to make proof of them, they send out one
of the bystanders, in order that there may appear to be no fear of
deceit, to the apothecary, that he may obtain some arsenic for the money
which they give him. This said person runs forthwith, that there may be
no hindrance in such useful work, and as he goes, considers that though
he has been deceived a thousand times, he cannot be so this time, he
will see well to that. Meantime he comes to the apothecary, demands the
arsenic for his money, receives it, and runs with joy to the orvietan
vendor's table to see the marvel; this one holds meanwhile in his hand
little boxes, amongst them one wherein he puts the aforesaid arsenic, he
speaks and addresses the people for a time before he takes it, for in a
case of so much danger there must be no haste; meantime he changes the
aforesaid little box for another, wherein are small pieces of paste made
of sugar, meat, and saffron that they may appear like the former. These
he then eats with singular gestures as if he were much afraid, and the
peasants stand by open mouthed to see whether he will not soon burst
asunder; but he binds himself up firmly that this may not happen,
although he knows that there is no occasion for it; he afterwards takes
a piece as large as a chestnut of his orvietan or stuff, and all the
swelling disappears as if there had been no poison in question. 'This,
dear gentlemen, will be a precious orvietan to you.' Whereupon the
peasants undraw their purse strings, and thank God that they have such a
dear good man, and can obtain in their village such costly wares for so
little money.

"But who would venture to describe all the cunning practices whereby
these strollers contrive to make and collect money? For my own part I
fear I should never get to the end of it. Yet I cannot refrain from
describing some of their tricks.

"One rushes through the street, having with him a young girl dressed in
boy's clothes, who bounds about, jumping through a hoop like a monkey.
Then he begins to tell, in good Florentine, some remarkable jests or
pranks, and meanwhile the little maiden sets to work in every kind of
way, throws herself on all-fours, reaches the ring from out of the hoop,
then bends herself backwards, and picks up a coin from under the right
or left foot, with such graceful agility that the lads have pleasure in
looking at her. But finally he also can do nothing farther than to bring
out his wares, and offer the same for sale as well as he can.

"But those who boast themselves of being of the race of St. Paul, make
their appearance with much consequence, namely, with a great flying
banner, on one side of which stands St. Paul with his sword, but on the
other a heap of serpents, which are so painted that one fears to be
bitten by them. Then one of the party begins to relate their genealogy,
how St. Paul, in the island of Malta, was bitten by a viper without
injury, and how the same virtue was accorded to his descendants; then
they make divers trials, but always keep the upper hand, having a bond
and seal thereupon. Finally they lay hold of the boxes which are
standing on the table or bench, take out of one a salamander, two ells
long and an arm in thickness, from another a great snake, from another a
viper, and relate concerning each how they had caught it when the
peasant was reaping his corn, who would have been in great danger
therefrom, if they had not come to his relief. Thereupon the peasants
become so frightened that they dare not return home till they have had a
draught of the costly snake-powder, and bought still more to take home
to their wives and children, that they may be preserved from the bite of
snakes and other poisonous reptiles; and the game does not end herewith,
for they have still more boxes at hand, which they open, and take out of
one a rough viper, out of another a dead basilisk, out of another a
young crocodile brought from Egypt, an Indian lizard, a tarantula from
the Campagna, or somewhat of the like, whereby they frighten the
peasants, that they may buy the favour of the Holy Paul, which is
imparted to them by small written papers, for a consideration.

"Meanwhile, because the people are still assembled together, another
comes, spreads his mantle on the ground, places upon it a little dog
which can sing _ut_, _re_, _mi_, _fa_, _so_, _la_, _si_; it makes also
frolicksome somersaults, somewhat less than a monkey, barks at the
command of its master, who is very ill clad, howls when the Turkish
Emperor's name is mentioned, and makes a leap into the air when this or
that sweetheart is named; and finally, for it is done to obtain hellers,
his master hangs a little hat to his paw, and sends him round on his
hind feet to the bystanders, for travelling expenses, as he has a great
journey in prospect.

"The Parmesan also does not neglect the like opportunity with his goat,
which he brings to the _Platz_; he makes there a palisade, within which
it walks up and down, one foot behind the other, and sits up on a little
platform of hardly a hand's breadth, and licks the salt under its feet.
He makes it also go round upon its hind legs, with a long spear over its
shoulder, making fools of all beholders, who present it with pence for
food.

"Sometimes a bold rope-dancer is to be seen, who walks on the rope, till
at last he breaks his leg, or falls headlong; or a daring Turkish
juggler who lies on the ground, and allows himself to be struck on the
chest by a great hammer, as if he were an anvil; or by a jerk, tears up
a big pile which has been driven by force into the ground, whereby he
obtains a good sum for his journey to Mecca.

"Sometimes a baptized Jew makes his appearance, who bawls and cries out,
till at length he collects a few people, when he begins to preach about
his conversion; whereby one comes to this conclusion, that he has become
a crafty vagrant instead of a pious Christian.

"In short there is no market-place, either in village or town, where
some of these fellows are not to be found, who either perform divers
facetious juggling tricks, or sell various drugs.

"These are the tricks of charlatans, strollers, and jugglers, and other
idle people, whereby they get on in the world."

Here ends the narrative of Garzoni. Numberless light-footed people also
of the same class thronged into the German market towns. But besides the
old traders and jugglers, a new class of strollers had come into
Germany, harmless people of far higher interest for these days, the
wandering comedians. The first players that made a profession of their
performances came to Germany from England or the Netherlands, towards
the end of the sixteenth century. They were still accompanied with rope
dancers, jumpers, fencers, and horsebreakers; they still continued to
furnish the courts of princes and the market-places of great cities with
clowns and the favourite figure of jack-puddings, and soon after, the
French "Jean Posset," on bad boarded platforms still continued to excite
the uproarious laughter of the easily amused multitude. Shortly after,
the popular masques of the Italian theatre became familiar in the south
of Germany and on the Rhine. At the same time that the regular
circulation of newspapers commenced, the people received the rough
beginnings of art; the representation of human character and the secret
emotions of restless souls by the play of countenance, gestures, and the
deceptive illusion of action.

It is remarkable also, that almost precisely at the same period, the
first entertaining novels were written for the people. And these
spontaneously invented pictures of real life had reference to the
strolling people; for the adventures of vagrants, disbanded soldiers,
and in short all those who had travelled in foreign countries, and had
seen there an abundance of marvels, and undergone the most terrible
dangers with almost invulnerable bodies, were the heroes of these
imperfect creations of art. Shortly after the war, Christoph von
Grimmelshausen wrote 'Simplicissimus,' 'Springinsfeld,' 'Landstörzerin
Courage,' and the 'Wonderful Vogelnest,' the heroes of which are
gathered from strollers; these were followed by a flood of novels
describing the lives of rogues and of adventurers.

The war had rendered the existence of the settled population joyless,
their manners coarse, and their morals lax. And the craving for
excitement was general. Thus at first these modes of representation
allured, by bestowing what was wanting to this ungenial life. They
endeavoured with much detail to represent either an ideal life of
distinguished and refined persons, under entirely foreign conditions,
such as antique shepherds, and foreign princes without nationalities;
this was done by the highly educated; or they tried at least to ennoble
common life, by introducing into it abstractions not less coarse and
soulless, virtues and vices, mythological and allegorical figures; or
they caught endless materials from the lowest circles of life, to whom
they felt themselves superior, but in whose strange mode of life there
was something alluring: they depicted strollers or represented clowns
and fools; and this last development of art was the soundest. Thus these
rough families of jugglers, buffoons, and rogues were of the utmost
significance to the beginning of the drama, theatrical art, and novels.

But besides the numerous companies, who wandered about either modestly
on foot or in carts, vagrants of higher pretensions rode through the
country, some of them still more objectionable. To be able to
prognosticate the future, to gain dominion over the spirits of the
elements, to make gold, and to renew the vigour of youth in old age, had
for many centuries been the longing desire of the covetous and
inquisitive. Those who promised these things to the Germans were
generally Italians or other foreigners; or natives of the country, who
had, according to the old saying, been thrice to Rome. When the new zeal
for the restoration of the Church brought good and bad alike before the
tribunal of the inquisition in Italy, the emigration of those whose
lives were insecure must have been very numerous. It is probably from
the life of one of these charlatans that the adventures of Faust have
been gathered and formed into the old popular tale. After Luther's
death, it is evident that they penetrated into the courts of the German
princes. It was an adventurer of this kind, "Jerome Scotus," who, in
1593, at Coburg, estranged the unhappy Duchess Anna of Saxe Coburg from
her husband, and brought her into his own power by villainous means.
Vain were the endeavours of the Duke to obtain the extradition of Scotus
from Hamburg, where he lived long in princely luxury. Five-and-thirty
years before, the father of the Duke Johann Friedrich, the Middle-sized,
was long deluded by an impudent impostor, who gave herself out to be
Anne of Cleves (the wife who had been selected for Henry VIII. of
England), and promised him a great treasure of gold and jewels if he
chose to protect her. Another piece of credulity bore bitter fruits to
the same prince, for the influence which Wilhelm of Grumbach, the
haggard old wolf from the herd of the wild Albrecht of Brandenburg,
gained over the Duke, rested on his foolish prophecies concerning the
Electoral dignity and prodigious treasures. A poor weak-minded boy who
was maintained by Grumbach, had intercourse with angels who dwelt in the
air-hole of a cellar, and declared themselves ready to produce gold, and
bring to light a mine for the Duke. It may be perceived from judicial
records, that the little angels of the peasant child had a similarity,
unfavourable to their credibility, to our little old dwarfs.

There was at Berlin, about the time of Scotus, one Leonhard Turneysser,
a charlatan, more citizen-like in his occupation, who worked as gold
maker and prepared horoscopes; he escaped by flight the dismal fate,
which almost always overtook his fellows of the same vocation who did
not change their locality soon enough. The Emperor Rudolph also became a
great adept, and amalgamated in the gold crucible both his political
honour and his own Imperial throne. The princes of the seventeenth
century at least show the intense interest of dilettanti. During the war
the art of making gold became very desirable. At that period, therefore,
the adepts thronged to the armies; the more needy the times, the more
numerous and brilliant became the stories of alchemy. It was proposed by
an enthusiastic worshipper of Gustavus Adolphus, to make gold out of
lead; and in the presence of the Emperor Ferdinand III. many pounds of
gold were to be made, by one grain of red powder, from quicksilver; a
gigantic coin also was to be struck from the same metal. After the
peace, the adepts resided at all the courts; there were few dwellings
where the hearth and the retorts were not heated for secret operations.
But every one had to beware how he trifled with the reigning powers, as
the paws of the princely lions might be raised against him for his
destruction. Those who could not make gold were confined in prison, and
those who were under suspicion, yet could fabricate something, were
equally put in close confinement. The Italian Count Cajetan was hanged
in a gilded dress, on a gallows at Küstrin the beams of which were
adorned with cut gold; the German Rector von Klettenberg was beheaded at
Königstein, where fourteen years before, Böttiger was kept in strict
cloistral confinement, because he had produced innocent porcelain
instead of gold. There is no doubt that it was the case with the adepts
and astrologers, as it ever has been with the leaders of a prevailing
superstition, that they were themselves convinced of the truth of their
art; but they had strong doubts of their own knowledge, and they
deceived others as to their success, either because they were seeking
the means to attain to greater results, or because they wished to
appear, to the world, to understand what they considered of importance.
These however were not the worst of the lot.

The most mischievous of all were, perhaps, the skilful impostors, who
appeared in Germany, France, and England, with foreign titles of
distinction, shining with the glimmer of secret art, sometimes the
propagators of the most disgraceful vices, shadowy figures, who by their
worldly wisdom and the limited intercourse of nations were enabled to
bring themselves into notoriety. Their experience, their deceptions,
their secret successes, for a long period overpoweringly excited the
fancies of Germans. Even Goethe considered it worth his while to repair
to the spot and set on foot serious investigations as to the origin of
Cagliostro.

The changes in the moral diseases of that society, of which we are the
representatives, can be gradually traced. After the war astrology and
horoscopes fell into disuse. The princes sought for red powder, or the
unknown tincture, whilst the people dug for money pots. Dilettante
occupation with physical science introduced again to the people the
ancient divining rod, by which springs, murders, thefts, and always
concealed gold, were to be discovered. The superior classes again
realized in their own minds the ancient belief in mysterious men, who by
unknown proceedings, in unfathomable depths, had obtained the power of
giving supernatural duration of life, and had confidential intercourse
with the spirit world. Besides the honourable order of Freemasons, with
their Humanitarian tendencies, there arose more secret unions, wherein
the weak-minded of the time were enticed to a refined sensuality and
sickly mysticism, and an extensive apparatus of absurd secret teaching.

Since the end of the last century a vigorous dash of the waves of German
popular strength has washed away these diseased fantasies. The old race
of strollers too have diminished in number and influence. It is only
rarely that Bajazzo, with his pointed felt cap, bewitches the village
youth; the meagre neck of the camel no longer stretches itself to the
flowering trees of our village gardens, the black dog seldom rolls his
fiery eyes at buried chests of silver. Even the impostors have learned
to satisfy higher demands.

CHAPTER VIII.

ENGAGEMENT AND MARRIAGE AT COURT. (1661.)

It has ever been part of the German character to maintain propriety of
conduct in intercourse with others, to keep up a good appearance, to do
homage to superiors, and to require a respectful demeanour and address
from inferiors. The forms of intercourse were accurately defined, and
the number of significant turns of speech was not small, which
introduced every social arrangement, and like a boundary stone,
preserved the pathway of life. But the groundwork of all this old
precision was a sound self-respect, which gave to individuals a feeling
of certainty as to what was to be conceded or received, and therefore
civility was generally real. If there was any discord in his soul, the
German did not usually conceal it; and then he became so thoroughly
coarse, that he gained evil repute with all the western nations. It is
true, princes were accosted with much devotedness, words of submission
were used as now; but the prince and the citizen, the nobleman and the
artisan, met together as men, and a strong word or a warm feeling often
broke through the most courtly forms. This, however, changed after the
war. The old feeling of decorum was lost, the egotism of the unbridled
was harsh and wounding; the proper, but often narrow-minded pride of
citizen and nobleman was broken, and the simple patriarchal relation
between prince and subject was lost during thirty years of calamity and
distrust. Men had become more prudent, but weaker, and for the most part
worse.

But the beginning of a new state of society was visible. With all this
ruin Providence had mercifully sent a remedy. By many a roundabout way,
through French and Italian fashions, and after long wanderings in every
foreign nationality, the German mind was to be renewed. It was a
wonderful trial of durability, but it was necessary. Like Prince Tamino
in the magic play, the poor German soul passed through French water and
Italian fire; and from that period a weak flute-like tone sounds only
occasionally in our ears, telling us that the German character has not
yet sunk entirely under foreign phantasies.

It has been customary to consider the intellectual sway of Italy and
France, from Opiz to Lessing, as a great calamity. It is true, it has
given neither beauty nor strength to the German; but we are no longer in
the position of the great man who for a century struggled against French
taste. It was with him a duty to hate whatever caused a hindrance to the
wakening popular vigour. But we should at the same time remember that
this same foreign element protected the German from the extreme of
barbarism. Our imitation was very clumsy, and there was little worth in
the original; but it was to the countless bonds of international
intercourse that the Germans then clung, that they might not be utterly
lost. The moral restraints upon the wilfulness of individuals had been
broken, and the meagre externals gathered from abroad, of fashion,
respect, gallantry, and a taste for foreign refinements were the first
remedy. It was a new kind of discipline. Whoever wore a large wig, and
later, even powder in the hair, was obliged to hold his head elegantly
still, wild movements and violent running were impossible; if men were
not prevented by their own delicacy of feeling from boldly approaching
too near to women, a hoop and corset were a rampart for them; if the
courtesy of the heart was less, the duty of being gallant in
conversation was a benefit. In a circle where a coarse soldiers' song
had been preferred, a polished song from Damon to Daphne was a great
improvement, and even the fade cavalier, who cut his finger-nails in
society with a gilded knife, and threw himself down with a French
flourish, was by far more estimable in society than an unbridled
drunkard, who in his intoxication did the most unseemly things, and
could not open his mouth without an oath.

Those who assumed to be the élite in Germany soon fashioned their life
after the foreign model. Even during the war many foreign customs had
become naturalized; not only in court ceremonials and in the intercourse
with ambassadors, but also in the dress and manners of the citizens.
However great was the influence of France, that of Italy was not much
less. The service of the _cicisbeato_, and the "State" ceremonials, had
penetrated from Italy into France; the Roman court long remained the
highest model, in all questions of etiquette, to the diplomats of
Europe. Both countries took their share in holding sway over Germany. In
the south, Italy ruled till the eighteenth century, indeed in Vienna it
continued still longer to influence the aspect of the higher society;
but in the north, especially in the Protestant courts, the French model
prevailed, and this copy, like the other, was a clumsy one. But whilst
at the great courts, for example Vienna, the cavalier assumed at least
something of the impulsive versatility of the Italian; in the smaller
towns social intercourse was slow and prolix, carried on in endless
phrases, which appeared the more grotesque in proportion as the men were
coarse who endeavoured to set themselves off by the use of them.

Thus was the sunny path, along which men approached the chosen of their
hearts, charmingly strewn with the flowers of foreign manners. Whatever
of indigenous was retained, was adorned with laborious gallantry, and
became still more tedious. Before we attempt to give a specimen of
honourable German love, it will be fitting to disclose to the
sympathizing reader something of the style of courtly wooing and
marriage. Therefore the following gives the course of wooing of a
cavalier, about the year 1650:--

"When a person of condition at Vienna wishes to marry some one, he begs
of her parents to allow him to wait upon her, but he must already have
made her acquaintance, and know that she is well inclined towards him.
When this has been granted by her parents, the affair is already half
agreed upon, and he gives his servant a new livery, and dresses himself
in his best. Every day he must write to her early, and inquire what she
is doing, what she has dreamt of, when she will drive out, and where she
intends to dine. Besides this, he sends her a nosegay, for which
sometimes a ducat must be paid. Then she returns him an answer, and he
makes his appearance at her door at the right time, helps her into the
carriage, and rides next it with head uncovered, on the side where his
lady sits. When they arrive, he dismounts, opens the carriage door, and
again hands her out. In Austria they generally offer themselves as
guests to the houses of others. When he has learnt where his lady is to
dine, he offers himself also as guest, and does this half an hour
beforehand. When at table, he presents a finger-glass to his love alone,
even though there may be more distinguished ladies there; he offers, it
is true, the water to others, but none accept; his lady alone does not
refuse. Then he places her chair, waits upon and converses with her;
when she desires to have something to drink, he hands it to her on a
plate, which he holds under the glass whilst she is drinking; he places
fresh plates before her and takes the old away, and he always pledges
her health to his left hand neighbour. After dinner he again hands her
the finger-glass, for which reason he sits next her; he then removes her
chair, fetches her gloves, fan, and veil which she had left, and
presents them with a profound reverence. After the repast is over, the
hostess takes his lady with her to her room. There also he begs for
admittance, which is not refused him, and waits upon her in like manner.
From thence they go to vespers, and then in summer to the Prater, or in
winter in sledges with torches. This state of things continues for at
least three months.

"Now when these three months are over, the betrothal is celebrated, and
the marriage invitations are written. Then the bridegroom makes three
presents. First a silver casket, wherein are some pairs of silk
stockings, some pieces of silk stuffs, some pairs of gloves,
handkerchiefs, twelve fans, ribands, and laces. The second present
consists of silver ornaments; the third of jewels, bracelets, earrings,
and pendants of precious stones, or pearls for the neck. He also
presents a dress to his mistress's maid. Some send every day a new
present. Then he gives his servant again a new livery, engages more
servants for himself, and at least one page and two lackeys for his
future wife. Court ladies of high distinction, who drive with six
horses, do not bestow presents on their bridegroom, unless it be from
overflowing liberality; but others present a night-dress to their
beloved, their portrait in a small casket, and on the marriage day
linen; six shirts, six collars, six pocket-handkerchiefs, six pairs of
ruffles, and to every servant a shirt. The bride pays the expenses of
the eating and drinking at the marriage, and the bridegroom the cost of
the music.

"On the wedding-day the bridegroom drives, towards evening, in his own
carriage, or that of an intimate friend, dressed entirely in silver
brocade, just as the bride is dressed; he wears a wreath of diamonds
which are put together from the jewels of friends, and afterwards
returned. Behind him drive all the male wedding guests. He waits in the
church till the bride comes. Her bridal train is three ells long, borne
either by a boy of noble birth, or a young lady. The bridegroom goes to
meet her, helps her out of the carriage and leads her in, and thus they
are united together in matrimony. The wedding ring is generally of gold
and silver mixed, and plaited in the form of a laurel wreath; it has a
precious stone in it, in order to signify that their truth and love
shall be endless. Then they betake themselves to the marriage house,
where the feast is to be celebrated. After the meal the men take
forthwith their swords and mantles, and room is made for the dance, and
then come the two bridesmen. Each has a burning torch in his hand; they
make a bow to the bridegroom and the bride, and ask them to dance. Then
they both dance alone. The nearest relations are next asked, and so on
all the rest in succession. These dances of honour are performed to the
sound of trumpets and kettledrums. The cavaliers then lay aside their
swords and mantles, and all dance together. After the dance the
relations accompany the bride and bridegroom to their bedroom, there the
mother commends the bride to her husband with impressive words. Then all
go out."

Thus did the wealthy noble woo and wed at Vienna, which after the war
rapidly filled with landed proprietors who thoroughly enjoyed life. New
families were in possession of the confiscated properties, the Imperial
generals and faithful councillors had abundantly taken care of
themselves. A residence in the desolated country was wearisome, and many
great proprietors had no old family interest in their property. Besides
the Imperial nobles, sons of German princes and many of the old nobility
of the Empire thronged to the Imperial city, to seek diversion,
acquaintances, and fortune at court or in the army.

But in proportion as the devotion of the noble servant to his mistress
was great, the hope of a happy conjugal union was insecure. And the
prospect was not more favourable in the families of the great princes of
the Empire.

The rulers of Germany attained to a comfortable condition, after the
peace, sooner than others. Whatever could be done by the people, seemed
to be for their advantage. To the old taste for drinking, hunting, and
not always very seemly intercourse with women, was now added the
pleasure of having a body-guard who were drawn up in uniform before
their castles, and rode by their carriages along the roads. After the
war every great prince maintained a standing army; the old feudal lords
of the country had become Generals. It was in this century that the
great princely families of Germany, the Wettiners, the Hohenzollerns,
the Brunswickers, and the Wittelsbachers, gained their influential
position in European politics. Three of them obtained royal thrones,
those of Poland, Prussia, and England, and the head of the
Wittelsbachers for many years wore the diadem of the Roman Empire. Each
of these houses represents a great European dynasty. But however
different their fortunes may have been, they have also met with a
retributive fate. At the time of the Reformation, the Imperial throne
with supreme dominion over Germany was offered to the house of Wettiner;
the family, divided into two lines, did not listen to the high call. At
the battle of Linien, in 1547, it lost the leadership. A hundred years
later, the possibility of founding a powerful house was offered to the
Wittelsbacher, by the union of the Palatinate with the old Bavarian
province and Bohemia, which even the Hapsburgers have never attained to.
But one son of the house killed the other at the Weissen Berge. Only the
Hapsburgers and the Hohenzollerns have understood how to keep together.

The general misfortune of the German Princes was, that they found little
in their oppressed subjects to excite awe or regard. For the soul of man
is most easily fortified against encroaching passions when his worldly
position makes a strong resistance possible for those who surround him.
A firm feeling of duty is only formed under the pressure of strong law.
Whoever overrides it will find it easier to do great things, but
incomparably more difficult to do permanently what is right.

At an earlier period the life at courts was rough, often wild, now it
had become frivolous and dissolute. The combination of refined luxury
with coarse manners, and of strict etiquette with arbitrary will, makes
many of the characters of that time especially hateful.

The sons of Princes were now better educated. Latin was still the
language of diplomacy, to that was added Italian and French; and besides
all knightly arts--in so far as they still existed--military drills, and
above all, _politesse_, the new art which rendered men and women more
agreeable and obliging in society. Some knowledge of state affairs was
not rare, for there were still quarrels with neighbours to be brought
before the supreme court of judicature and the Imperial Aulic Council,
and solicitations to his Imperial Majesty, and complaints to the Diet,
without end or measure. But the person who exercised most quiet power in
the country was the lawyer, who was generally at the head of the
administration; and occasionally a power-loving court preacher.

The ladies also of the princely houses had the advantage of some degree
of instruction; many of them understood Latin, or at least were
acquainted with Virgil (from a bad translation into German
Alexandrines), and Boccaccio in the original. Quarrels about rank,
ceremonials, dress, the love affairs of their husbands, and perhaps
their own, formed the daily interest of their lives, together with
trivial intrigues and gossiping: the stronger minded conversed with the
clergy on cases of conscience, and sought for consolation in their hymn
book, and occasionally also in their cookery book. But German literature
was little adapted to ennoble the feelings of women, and such as those
times did produce, seldom reached them in their elevated position; a
tasteless court poem, an Italian strophe, and sometimes a thick
historical or theological quarto sent by a submissive author in hopes of
receiving a present of money. The marriage of a princess was concluded
upon reasons of state, and it frequently happened that she was burdened
from the very first day with a dissolute husband. Undoubtedly not a few
of them were consigned to their royal vaults with most choice and solemn
pomp, on whom the sunshine of a deep heartfelt affection had never shone
during life: the care of their own household, and even that sweetest of
all cares, the education of their children, was taken from them by the
new court arrangements. Undoubtedly in many marriages, a good heart made
up for the deficiency of the education of that time; but scandalous
occurrences were frequent in the highest families at that period.

The domestic relations of these distinguished families belong also to
history, and much is very generally known of them. A picture of one of
these will here be made use of, in order to show that our generation
have no occasion to lose heart in contemplating it.

When the Imperial party, after the year 1620, persecuted the daughter of
the King of England, Elizabeth, wife of the Palatine, with satirical
pictures, they painted the proud princess, as going along the high road
with three children hanging on by her apron, or, as on the bare ground
eating pap from an earthenware platter. The second of these children
obtained, through the Westphalian peace, the eighth Electorate of the
German Empire. After many vicissitudes of fortune, after drinking the
bitter cup of banishment, and seeking in vain to recover his territory,
the new Elector, Karl Ludwig, looked down from the royal castle at
Heidelberg on the beautiful country, of which only a portion returned
into the possession of his line. His was not a nature which bore in
itself the guarantee of peace and happiness: it is true that in his
family he was considered jovial and good-humoured, but he was also
irritable, hasty, and passionate, covetous and full of pretension,
easily influenced, and without energy, inclined to venture rashly on
deeds of violence, and yet not firm enough to effect anything great. It
appears that he had derived from the blood of the Stuarts, besides a
high feeling of his own rank, much of the obstinacy of his ill-fated
uncle Charles. In the year 1650, he had married Charlotte, Princess of
Hesse, the daughter of that strong-minded woman, who, as Regent of her
country, had shown more energy than most men, and whose powerful
matronly countenance we still contemplate with pleasure, in the portrait
by Engelhard Schäffler. The mother described her own daughter to the
Elector as difficult to rule; the Electress was indeed passionate and
without moderation, and must often have disturbed domestic peace by her
frowardness and jealousy. A young lady of her court, Marie Susanne Loysa
von Degenfeld, daughter of one of the partisans of the Thirty years'
war, a person according to all accounts of great loveliness and much
gentleness, mixed with firmness, excited a passion in the Elector which
made him regardless of all considerations. After many angry quarrels he
divorced his wife and at once married his love, on whom the title of
"Raugräfin" was bestowed by the Imperial Court. The castoff Electress
turned in vain to the Emperor Leopold, to effect a reconciliation with
her husband. This petition is here given according to Lünig, from the
rolls of the German Empire, 1714.[43]

"We, by the grace of God, Charlotte, Electress, Countess Palatine of the
Rhine, born Landgravine of Hesse, offer to the most august Prince and
Sovereign of Sovereigns, Leopold, by the grace of God, father of the
fatherland, our most dutiful, obedient, and submissive greeting and
service.

"Although the manifold and weighty business of the Empire with which
your Imperial Majesty is troubled at this time, might well frighten us
from disquieting you with our private affairs, yet we presume with
profound humility to set before your Imperial Majesty our most pressing
distress, and the mighty injuries inflicted upon us at this time without
any fault on our part, because it is well known to us that your Imperial
Majesty is at all times assiduous in helping most graciously the injured
to their rights.

"It is not, I hope, unknown to your Imperial Majesty that we have, for
nearly eleven years, been united in matrimony with his Most Serene
Highness Prince Karl Ludwig, Count Palatine of the Rhine, Elector of the
Holy Empire. At that time his Princely Highness, in frequent discourse,
both before and after marriage, promised us by the highest oaths, an
ever-enduring faith and conjugal love; and we on our part did the like.
Being then animated by such reciprocal love, we have served his Highness
in all conjugal obedience to the best of our power, so far as our
womanly weakness permitted. We have also, by the grace of God, reared
two young princes and a daughter in all love, so that his Princely
Highness ought in justice to have abstained from divorcing himself from
us.

"We submissively beg your Imperial Majesty to understand that, after
three very severe confinements, we clearly traced by many tokens, no
slight alienation in the feelings of our lord and husband, which would
justly have given rise to suspicion in our minds, if our confiding
spirit had not attributed what was good and laudable to his Princely
Highness. For when we once, according to princely custom, presented his
Princely Highness with a beautiful Neapolitan dapple-gray colt with all
its appurtenances, he said to us: 'My treasure, we henceforth desire no
such presents, which diminish our treasury;' and the very same day he
presented the horse to one of the lowest of his nobles. This insult did
so grieve us that, with weeping eyes, we lamented it to our gentlewoman,
Maria Susanna von Degenfeld, of whose secret doings we had not at that
time the slightest idea. She thereupon made answer, 'That if at any time
she should meet with the like behaviour from her future consort, she
would refuse all cohabitation with him.' By these words she intended
nothing else than to incense us against our lord and master. Not long
after, a ring was purloined from us by the said von Degenfeld out of our
drawers. This must without doubt have been a concerted plan, for our
lord and husband had required this ring of us, and when we could not
find it, his Princely Highness was greatly irritated against us, and
thus broke out: 'You make me think strange things of you as concerns
this ring; I had thought you would have taken better care of it.'
Whereupon we answered, 'Ah! my treasure, foster no evil suspicions
against me; it has been purloined by some faithless person.' But his
Princely Highness continued: 'Who may this faithless person be? Perhaps
some young cavalier, on whose finger you may yourself have placed it.'
This caused us so much pain, that we were led to speak somewhat severely
to his Princely Highness, and said, 'No honest Prince would thus
calumniate me.' Whereupon he replied, 'Who gave you the right to upbraid
me as a dishonest Prince? If I hear aught further of this kind from you,
you shall be rewarded with a box on the ear!' Thereupon we did not
answer a word, but wept bitterly. But this von Degenfeld comforted us
deceitfully, and spoke thus: 'Make yourself happy, Electoral Highness,
and be not so much afflicted, it will soon be found again.' By these
words she then tranquillized us. But not long afterwards a very
noteworthy Latin epistle was put into our hand by a trusty servant,
which he had found accidentally in the chamber of our lord and husband,
the contents of which I cannot forbear enclosing. It is to this effect--

"'To the Most Serene Highness the Elector Palatine Karl Ludwig, Duke of
Bavaria, _dilecto meo_.

"'I can no longer oppose your Electoral Highness, nor any longer deceive
you as to my inclinations. _Vicisti jamque tua sum_, I unhappy one,

"'Maria Susanna, Baronissa a Degenfeld.'

"When, by God's Providence, we got this letter, we forthwith perused the
same with great consternation; but as we are not much versed in the
Latin tongue, we despatched the aforesaid trusty servant to the Most
Noble Lord, Johann Jacob Graf von Eberstein, our dear lord and cousin,
who was accidentally stopping at Heidelberg, bidding him come to us, and
beseeching him as a friend and cousin to lend us his aid in the
interpretation of the said note. This he honestly rendered us. It cannot
be told what great sorrow took possession of our hearts, when it became
evident in how unjustifiable and unprincely a way we had been dealt
with. So distracted, therefore, were we in mind, that we ventured so far
as to break open the coffer of the afore-mentioned Degenfeld, who was
not then present, and after earnest search found three abominable
letters of his Electoral Highness, likewise written in Latin, in which
he equally assures the Degenfeld of his love.

"Then we could sufficiently see that our lord and husband was minded to
renounce all truth and love towards us. This we wished at a fitting
opportunity to forestal, and give his Princely Highness to understand it
in a covert way.

"It then came to pass accidentally, that a week after, his Serene
Highness Friedrich, Lord Margrave of Baden, our dearly loved
brother-in-law and brother, together with his loving lady and wife, our
especially beloved cousin and sister, came from Durlach to Heidelberg to
visit us. Now once when we were sitting at table, his Princely Highness
the Lord Margrave, thus spoke to us: 'Wherefore, my lady sister,
wherefore so sorrowful?' To which we answered thus: 'My dear lord and
brother, perhaps there is truly reason for our sorrow.' Whereupon our
lord and husband turning quite red said, 'There is nothing new in my
lady and wife being angry without any cause.' We could not then, for our
honour's sake, leave such a speech unanswered, but replied, 'It is those
that prefer waiting women to wives who make me angry,' &c. Thereupon our
lord and husband was quite taken aback, turned pale with anger, and gave
us, in the presence of the said princely personages, such a severe box
on the ear, that on account of the vexatious nose-bleeding, brought on
by this, we were obliged to leave the table. But his Princely Highness
the Lord Margrave was mightily indignant thereat, and said to our lord
and master: '_Signore Electore, troppo è questo!_' Whereto our lord and
husband answered: '_Mio fratello, Signore Marchese, ma cosi ha voluto._'
But his Princely Highness the Lord Margrave spoke strongly to our lord
and husband, and said that if he could have supposed his inconsiderate
speech would have occasioned such discord, he would a thousand times
rather have been silent; and if our lord and husband did not become
reconciled to us before sunset, his Princely Highness was firmly
determined to leave Heidelberg at an early hour on the morrow, without
bidding him farewell. This worked so with my lord and husband that he
promised his Princely Highness to pay us a visit, in company with him
and his wife. This took place after the lapse of two hours, when our
husband thus addressed us in our chamber: 'Is my treasure still angry
with me?' We answered: 'I assure you, my treasure, that what happened at
table gave me sufficient reason to be angry; but on account of the
presence of my beloved lord and brother, and my lady and sister, to whom
our discord is displeasing, I will forgive it with all my heart.'
Thereupon our lord and master gave us his hand, and said, with a loving
kiss, 'This shall wipe out my past delinquency,' after which they
departed from our chamber. That night, however, we did not appear at
supper, but sent our bedchamber woman and lord steward to make our
excuses, as by reason of the necessary preparation of certain writings
we could not appear. But as our husband feared we might disclose to our
lord and brother what had before passed betwixt us, he came at ten
o'clock in the evening, accompanied by two pages, to my chamber, and did
there knock at the door. Now when we came to the door and found his
Princely Highness, we were not a little amazed at this unhoped-for
visit, and said: 'Why does my treasure visit us so late?' Thereupon his
Princely Highness answered kindly, and sent back both the pages. But as
at that moment those unseemly letters recurred to our memory, and as the
consideration that we were of such high princely parentage, made it
impossible to bear silently with such impropriety, we said: 'My lord and
husband, I am quite resolved to abide alone till your Princely Highness
resolves to deliver up a certain person into my hands, with full powers
to punish the same for her past wickedness.' Our lord and husband
answered: 'I should be glad at last to know who this person is; but I
imagine the offence is not so great as your Princely Highness interprets
it.' But we answered further: 'The offence is so great that the person
can only atone for it with their blood.' 'Nay, my treasure,' said our
husband, 'that verdict is too severe.' But we were minded to reveal
fully to his Princely Highness the cause of our long affliction; we
therefore took out of our pocket the letter which our servant had
brought, and began to read it in an audible voice. Hereupon our lord and
husband laughed and said: 'All a mere jest; my treasure knows right well
that the Fräulein von Degenfeld has from her youth been assiduous in
studying the Latin tongue, therefore I wished to try whether she was
sufficiently versed in it, to answer in the aforesaid language a note
prepared by me for the purpose. This she executed in the like jesting
way; and we are determined to support her on account of her innocence.'
We did not choose to wrangle with his Princely Highness, but said: 'We
have long known how to distinguish between jest and earnest. If it
please my treasure to furnish me with full proof that it was a jest I
will gladly be content.' Hereupon our lord and husband answered: 'Why is
so much proof required? Your Princely Highness is a woman, and has
better means of examining the innocence of Degenfeld than I, in whom it
would not be quite seemly. But I see well that innocent lady has lost
all grace and favour with you. As, however, it is already very late, I
wish my treasure to inform me whether it please her to be reconciled
with me here?' We answered to this: 'I feel myself bound by virtue of my
once given troth not to gainsay you in this.' But our lord and husband,
with a hearty embrace, protested by all that was noble and holy, that,
with the exception of this note, he had not trespassed against us, and
promised yet once more, never henceforth to misbehave towards us, if we,
on the other hand, would again render due obedience to his Princely
Highness. All this we promised, hoping henceforth to live in peaceful
wedlock, which perhaps might have come to pass if the devil had not sown
his tares.

"For, three days after, when his Serene Highness the Lord Margrave of
Baden had departed, a patent came to Heidelberg from your Imperial
Majesty's illustrious Lord Father, Ferdinand of ever-blessed memory,
whereby our lord and husband was summoned to the Imperial Diet at
Ratisbon, whereto we with our lord and husband betook ourselves at the
appointed time.

"We deem it unnecessary to relate what great contumely we there suffered
from our lord and husband, as your Imperial Majesty beheld it for the
most part with your own eyes. This caused us to tarry yet a long time at
Ratisbon after the departure of his Princely Highness. But when, after
the lapse of a few weeks, we returned again to Heidelberg, we signified
in a friendly way through one of the nobles to our lord and husband,
that we were minded to greet his Princely Highness. But our lord and
husband said with great displeasure to the said nobleman: 'Tell the bold
Landgravine,' thus it pleased his Princely Highness to call us, 'I will
have nothing to do with any one so pernicious to the country.'

"Now when this was notified to us we did not venture to accost his
Princely Highness, but straightway went through the adjoining saloon to
our chamber. But scarcely had we entered therein, when forty of the
Swiss guard had already established themselves in our antechamber, who
were commanded to keep guard over us, and not let us go out till they
received farther orders from his Princely Highness.

"Then did we learn with great anguish of heart that we, a freeborn
princess, had been made a prisoner. We knew not what to do, for we could
not write to our lord brother the Landgrave of Hesse Cassel, because we
had no confidential person left to us whom we could despatch. We had
thus no opportunity of effecting anything, for whenever our servants
came to or went from us, they were always searched by the guard. On this
account we resolved to write ourselves to our lord and husband, and to
entreat his Princely Highness to release us from this most intolerable
durance. We drew up therefore the following petition to his Princely
Highness, and sent the same by a noble youth to his Princely Highness
while at table.

"'Most Serene Highness, and dear Lord.

"'How great annoyance I have suffered during the time which it has
pleased your Princely Highness to place a prodigious garrison before my
chamber, is not to be described. It moves me to remind your Princely
Highness, that if you so behave to me, a poor princess, you will have to
answer for it before God and the whole world. It would be well moreover
to bethink you, whether it is praiseworthy to keep guard over one single
weak woman, with forty well-armed halberdiers, which might be
sufficiently accomplished by two or three. I cannot imagine what offence
I have committed to deserve such harsh procedure. I therefore entreat
your Princely Highness, for God's sake to set me at liberty. For during
this time I have not been able to sleep three hours by reason of the
noisy blustering and clatter of these indiscreet Swiss.

"'Your Princely Highness's faithful unto death,

"'Charlotta Palatine of the Rhine.'

"After our husband had read this writing, he commanded that all the
Swiss saving four should be withdrawn, which was done forthwith, to our
great content. But his Princely Highness sent us a letter, to the
following tenour.

"'To Charlotta, born Landgravine of Hesse.

"'It surprises me much that you should venture to ask why I have put you
under surveillance. You cannot deny that on my return from Ratisbon to
Heidelberg, I urgently commanded you to follow me without fail the next
day. But you did not do so till some weeks later, and during this period
you spent so much money, that our subjects, who were sufficiently
ruined without this, will for a long time have much, to endure. You also
know well how you disgraced me at Ratisbon by your hunting parties, and
how--because I in my just indignation, on account of your past frivolity
of conduct and wanton indecorum of dress in the presence of the
assembled Diet, have put you only under slight restraint--you have for
the past half-year refused to live with me as a wife. This culpable
conduct has entirely released me from all bonds of wedlock; and I am
fully resolved to separate myself completely from you by a public act.
This, my purpose, has moved me to assure myself of your person, that you
may not as a fugitive, by exasperating your brother and other friends,
bring evil on my country. Finally, if you will keep quiet and retired,
and will consent to the divorce, I promise you on my Electoral faith,
that I will not only entirely free you from restraint, but will assign
you an income which will enable you to maintain yourself right royally.
Thus saying, and expecting a decisive declaration from you,

"'I remain your loving cousin,

"'The Elector.'

"When this writing was put into our hands, we were in such great
affliction we did not know how to decide. At last we sent a noble
bedchamber woman to our lord and husband, commanding her to signify to
his Princely Highness that we were disposed to consent willingly to all
his desires, except as concerning the divorce. For this, being an affair
of conscience, must be well considered. I begged him therefore for a
little time for deliberation. Undoubtedly if his Princely Highness
should please to accomplish a divorce by his own power, we were much too
weak to hinder him. But we thought we had never given his Princely
Highness any sufficient reason for repudiating us.

"The bedchamber woman delivered this in the best way she could. But our
lord and husband thus answered: 'Fair lady, tell your mistress we are
now minded to give her henceforth more freedom, and to withdraw the four
Swiss entirely from her apartment. It shall also be permitted to her to
walk below in the garden if agreeable to her; and she may rest assured
that I will find means to content her, but she must not think of writing
to her lord brother concerning our purposes. She must also agree to the
divorce, for I am minded to marry another.'

"The noble maiden had scarcely given us this answer, when the four Swiss
were with all speed withdrawn from our apartment, and we went the same
evening to breathe the fresh air in the garden. The day following our
lord and husband journeyed to the castle at Ladenburg. In the evening,
about five o'clock, the noble Count von Eberstein, our loving lord and
cousin, came to us. He told us that the von Degenfeld had been
sojourning already three months at the Castle of Ladenburg, and that our
lord and husband had betaken himself thither every week during our
absence; nay he had caused a special road to be made that he might the
sooner reach it. Then we first discovered what had been the aim of our
lord and husband, and we lamented our misfortune with many tears.

"A week after, our lord and husband sent us a note, the contents of
which ran literally thus:--

"'Most Serene Highness,

"'I wish to inform your Highness in a few words, that in consequence of
our afore-mentioned divorce, I have again engaged myself in marriage
with the noble Lady, Marie Susanna von Degenfeld. I therefore hope that
your Highness will be therewith content, as it cannot now be altered.
For I have already sent for our dear and trusty Samuel Heyland, preacher
of the Lutheran community of our city of Heidelberg, to unite us in
Christian wedlock. But as I know well that your Highness has begotten me
three royal children, it becomes me to furnish your Highness with a
princely allowance for the rest of your life. Therefore we grant unto
your Highness the power to make use at your good pleasure of the half of
the castle of Heidelberg, and you may receive from our lord treasurer
sufficient money for your maintenance; only you must reconcile yourself
to my present wife, and inflict no injury upon her, that I may not have
occasion to withdraw my favour from your Highness.

"'I remain your Highness's graciously until death,

"'Your Highness's Elector.

"'Ladenburg, April 15, 1652.'

"My answer was as follows:--

"'Most august Prince and high-born Lord,

"'From your Princely Highness's letter I have learnt with the greatest
consternation that your Princely Highness is minded now to cast me off
entirely, and never more to recognize me as your wife. I will commend my
cause, woeful as it is, to God, the righteous judge. I will henceforth
consider myself as a widow; whose husband still lives, led astray by a
wanton worthless person, and drawn away from his lawful wife.

"'For the ample maintenance which your Princely Highness has ordered for
me, I render you hearty thanks. I will also be careful so to behave
myself to your Princely Highness's concubine that she shall have no
cause to complain. Further, a nobleman from Stuttgart is here, who
reports that in ten days his Serene Highness Prince Eberhard von
Würtemberg, our dearly beloved lord cousin and brother, together with
the lady his wife, are coming to visit us at Heidelberg. So your
Princely Highness will undoubtedly come here, and arrange that they
shall have right princely accommodation.

"'Datum Heidelberg, the 16th of April, 1657.

"'Your Princely Highness's until death, but now deeply afflicted
lawful Electress of the Rhine.'

"After three days our lord and husband returned, bringing with him the
von Degenfeld, under the escort of a hundred newly enlisted dragoons.
Then indeed were we cut to the heart when we saw our former
waiting-woman usurping our place and presented to every one as
Electress, yet could not venture to say the least word against her. We
kept a separate table, and had our own servants, and a body-guard of
twenty cuirassiers appointed for our own selves.

"At last we bethought us we would once more endeavour to mollify our
lord and husband. We sent for the two Princes our sons, and the Princess
our daughter, dressed ourselves and the children in our best, and waited
near the hall-door till our lord and husband rose from dinner and came
out. Then we, together with our beloved children, prostrated ourselves
before his Princely Highness, hoping thereby to mollify him. For if his
Princely Highness would not recognize us as his lawful wife, our dearly
beloved children after his death might be considered as bastards.

"Our children wept aloud, as did also the whole surrounding court, for
it would have melted a heart of stone. Our lord and husband let us thus
kneel, and stood in deep thought, not knowing at the moment what to say.
His Princely Highness's eyes were filled with tears. Meanwhile the
mistress von Degenfeld came from within, saw us thus kneeling, and spoke
audaciously to our lord and husband. '_Signore Elettore, servate la
parola di promessa._' At these words our lord and husband clasped his
hands over his head, and went away sighing. We however could no longer
look over such iniquity, but ran into our chamber and seized a loaded
pistol, determined to send a ball through the heart of this wanton,
godless disturber of conjugal rights, this von Degenfeld. But when we
came to her, and were on the point of discharging the pistol, it was
taken away from us by the noble Count and Lord Wolf Julius von
Hohenlohe, and discharged out of a window. But when our lord and husband
heard this shot, he ran hastily out of his apartment, and asked who had
fired. We said: 'Ah, dear treasure, I did it, with the intention of
revenging your Princely Highness's honour on this monster.' But our lord
and husband replied: 'Charlotta, Charlotta, cease these doings, if you
would not be sent away forthwith from hence.' But we went off without
making reply.

"Four days after a postilion came with a report that his Serene Highness
of Würtemberg would arrive within two hours. Thereupon our lord and
husband sent to notify to us that his Princely Highness, with Mistress
von Degenfeld, would go to meet the said Lord Duke. But we were to
receive his Princely Highness at the castle. And thus it was. Three days
were spent in all kinds of pastimes, in honour of the said Lord Duke,
but we lived neglected, and were not once asked to dinner,
notwithstanding the urgent entreaties of our much-loved lord and brother
Duke Eberhard and his wife.

"At last we caused a repast to be prepared in our apartment, and invited
thereto both these princely personages, as also our lord and husband,
and our eldest son Prince Karolus. All these came except our lord and
husband, who indeed at the intercession of the Duke would have been
willing to come. But his Princely Highness was prevented by Mistress von
Degenfeld, who, as we afterwards learnt, urged his Princely Highness
with hard words, saying, she would no longer allow his Princely Highness
to live with her, if he went to us.

"Our lord and husband said also to our Prince Karolus: 'Go thither and
help your mother to entertain the guests, and tell her from me, that at
this present I am prevented from visiting her by ill health, but by
God's providence might be enabled to do so another time.'

"We discoursed during the repast with both the Princely personages on
the best way of dealing with our affairs, but their Princely Highnesses
advised us not to undertake anything against the life of this von
Degenfeld, since we might thereby make our evil fate worse. Our lord
brother, Duke Eberhard, took our hand, and promised that his Princely
Highness would exert himself to the utmost to unite us again, but his
Princely Highness would especially, immediately on his return home,
write urgently to his vassal, Gustavus von Degenfeld, brother of the
said Archmistress, to require the return of his sister home. If he did
not do this, he would take his feoff from him, and bestow it on another.
Meanwhile I was to supplicate your Imperial Majesty, most humbly, to
move in this matter, and unite us again by your most gracious mediation.

"We cannot refrain also from adding that our lord and husband has not in
any other way injured us by word or deed these three years, and we hope
his Princely Highness will favourably receive such Imperial
intercession, and again be gracious to us, a much oppressed and
afflicted Princess, and not prostrate us entirely under this heavy
cross.

"Therefore we most humbly submit ourselves, praying fervently to God
Almighty that He may grant your Imperial Majesty continual health, long
life, a happy reign, victory over your enemies, and all prosperity.

"Datum Heidelberg, July 26, 1661. Your Imperial Majesty's most humble
and obedient servant, Charlotta Countess Palatine of the Rhine, born
Landgravine of Hesse."

Here the letter closes. We can scarcely feel any warm sympathy with
either of the contending parties. The husband appears thoroughly
unworthy: we find vulgar threats, violence, and ill-usage, a perfidious
attempt to deceive his wife, abject baseness in the evening visit, and
intimidation by the clash of arms, and worse than all, was the manner of
his divorce and re-marriage. The Church constitution of the Protestants
remained an unfinished edifice, the rulers were but too much inclined to
give themselves dispensations and licences as superior bishops. And of
the Electress also! What can we say? How gladly would we sympathize with
the deeply wounded wife and mother; but she appears at best not very
lovable; she also was violent, insolent, strong in pouting, complaining,
and weak at the moment when everything depended on her defence of her
just rights. To say nothing of the remarkable scene at the Diet, her
disobedience in remaining behind, gave the Elector, at all events
according to the ideas of that time, a right to think of divorce. Not
all that is most repugnant in this miserable history should be laid to
the charge of the individuals; much of what offends us was then usual.
The respect for women was small, the familiar intercourse of the camp
was a jealously guarded right of royal ladies, the evening visit of the
husband, an honour which was not concealed from the court. But however
much may be laid to the account of the manners of the times, there still
remains so much individual imperfection as to leave a painful impression
on the reader.

The Electress outlived both her husband and her rival. Soon after this
letter, by the mediation of the Brandenburg court a contract of
separation was concluded by the married couple, which assured to the
Electress a yearly income of eight thousand thalers, with the right of
spending it where she pleased. She resided afterwards at Cassel, and
lived to see her rival give birth to fourteen children. Later she took
the most benevolent interest in these children; and her own daughter,
the celebrated Charlotte Elizabeth Duchess of Orleans, mother of the
Regent of France, was bound by ties of the most intimate friendship with
one of the young Raugravines. We may thank this female friendship for
the beautiful letters of the Princess Charlotte Elizabeth, which are not
only important for the history of that period, but also valuable, as
showing how a prudent, intellectual and honourable German lady remained
uncorrupted in the impure atmosphere of a Parisian court. The mother of
the profligate Regent of France was all her life long a true German.
She speaks with warm affection of her father, and with filial respect of
her mother.

CHAPTER IX.

OF THE HOMES OF GERMAN CITIZENS. (1675-1681-1683.)

While foreign guests, courtesy and ceremonial were doing their best to
restrain the aftergrowth of a lawless time in the upper classes, the
German citizen was aided by the innate character of his nation, its need
of order and discipline, its industry and feeling of duty. The marriage
tie and family life, his home and his employment were restored to him as
of old. The wooing still proceeded after the old German fashion, the
matrimonial agent still played his part, and the betrothal presents of
the bride and bridegroom were still recorded with their accurate worth
in money. Nay, the wooing had become still more formal, even the mode of
expression was prescribed. The lover had to think over his address to
the maiden carefully; where his own inventive powers were deficient, he
was assisted by the indispensable compliment book, the treasured morsel
of the library. The same style was adopted by the modest young lady;
even where the marriage had been settled for her, it was considered
desirable that she should not at once consent; nay, the strictest
decorum required that she should at first refuse, or at least ask time
for consideration. Then the lover made his addresses a little more
ardent, in rather a higher strain, and then the interdict was withdrawn,
and she was permitted to say, Yes. But they were not pedants, they felt
that long speeches in these cases were pedantic, and that both parties
who were contemplating matrimony, should express themselves in few
words; the lover had to introduce his proposal somewhat thus:
"Mademoiselle! Forgive me kindly, I pray you, for taking a liberty of
which I myself am ashamed; yet my confidence in your kindness emboldens
me so much, that I cannot refrain from acquainting you with the
resolution I have taken, of changing my present condition," &c. Then the
well-conducted young lady had to answer after this fashion: "Monsieur! I
can hardly believe that what it has pleased you to propose to me is
spoken in earnest, for I well know how little charm I possess to please
so agreeable a person," &c. It had all been previously arranged by the
matrimonial agent, they both knew what would be the result, but decorum
required of the citizen, as courtesy did of the noble, that he should
openly express his wishes by a proceeding which should make his
resolution irrevocable. Of the agitation of the man, or the
heart-beating of the maiden, we find nothing recorded; we hope that both
were happy, when they had gone through the trying scene, he without
faltering, she without an outburst of tears.

In the year 1644, Friedrich Lucä, son of a professor at the Gymnasium,
was born in the capital of the Silesian principality of Brieg. He
studied as a Calvinist, first in Heidelberg, then in the Netherlands and
Frankfort on the Oder, returned after many travels and adventures to his
native city, became the court preacher at Brieg, and, after the death of
the last Piasten Duke at Liegnitz, and the occupation of the country by
the Austrians, was appointed pastor and court preacher at Cassel. He
died after an active life, rich in honours, in 1708. As a copious
historical writer, he was appreciated, but also severely criticised by
his contemporaries. He corresponded with Leibnitz, and some interesting
letters to him from that great man are still preserved to us. He wrote
also an autobiography, which has been piously preserved in his family
for five generations, and was published by one of his descendants. ('The
Chronicle of Friedrich Lucä. A picture of the time, and its manners,'
published by Dr. Friedrich Lucä. Frankfort a. M. Brünner, 1354.) We will
here give Friedrich Lucä's account of his wooing. This event, so replete
with excitement, took place the year he was preacher at Liegnitz.

"Meanwhile, when my mind was least intent on thoughts of matrimony, and
the other proposals made to me had been unheeded, a foreign lady,
Elizabeth Mercer, whom I had never seen or heard of all my life long,
made known to me her intention of receiving the holy sacrament from me
privately, as she could not wait till it was again publicly given, it
having been so only a short time before. The said lady had come hither
with the noble General Schlepusch and his most dear wife, from Bremen,
and resided at their noble country mansion Klein-Polewitz, a mile and a
half from Liegnitz.

"On Sunday, the maiden presented herself at divine service, and after
the performance of the same, came from the church to my house, and the
holy communion being devoutly concluded, I took occasion to discourse
with her concerning the condition of the Church at Bremen, as also to
thank her for two capons which she had sent me for my kitchen, and then
I dismissed her with the Lord's blessing. In this my first interview
however with the maiden, I had not only perceived in her a refined and
seemly demeanour towards me, and discovered a beautiful conformity of
mind with mine, but I found in the effervescence of my feelings, and
emotions of my heart, an evident token that the spirit of love had been
somehow remarkably busy with me, for during my whole life I had never
experienced such an ardent affection for any maiden.

"This my heartfelt but chaste love, I concealed firmly within my breast,
and let no living soul know aught concerning it. The thought of this
maiden accompanied me every evening to my rest, and rose up with me in
the morning. Sometimes I spoke of her to my housekeeper, who was a
well-bred and discreet woman, and she, without adverting to the motive
of my discourse, extolled the maiden highly to me, and the like did also
my sexton. I tormented myself now with secret love thoughts for a length
of time, but at last spoke out my mind, thinking to myself: 'Why should
thy soul afflict itself fruitlessly concerning a stranger maiden, who
will again leave the country, and who will never fall to thy lot?'

"Half a year after, the good maiden Mercer had entirely passed from my
remembrance, but the already forgotten maiden sent me an amiable
greeting through the page of the Lord Baron Schlepusch, and signified to
me that she was minded to communicate again. This message renewed the
old wounds of my heart, and therefore I made inquiries of the page at
some length concerning the maiden, with respect to one thing and
another; but could learn little or nothing from him. I then sent an
invitation to dinner on the Sunday through my sexton, to the Mistress
Mercer, but this she did not accept, excusing herself by saying that
she was accustomed to fast the whole of the day on which she
communicated. Thus on Sunday, the maiden, all unconscious of my loving
thoughts, came after church to my house. I gave her then, as before, the
communion, and discoursed with her to the same effect on all kinds of
subjects, to give her thereby some diversion. I would gladly in such
discourse have learnt some particulars as to whether she were noble, and
would like to remain in Silesia, but I could not ask such things this
time. After a while the maiden rose to leave my house; and as she
imagined I had a spouse, commended herself to her. I explained to her
forthwith that I was a bachelor, having no wife. During this discourse,
my sexton as well as my housekeeper were present, and to them, as to
myself, the demeanour of the maiden had always given the greatest
contentment, yet they did not fathom my intent.

"Now did my trouble begin again. After maturely reflecting upon the
matter, I could think of no means whereby I might learn the lineage and
circumstances of the maiden, whom I always looked upon as a noble
person, for I did not deem it expedient to open myself to any one.
Meanwhile, I met one day, Herr Tobias Pirner, the pastor at Nickelstadt,
a pious, honourable, and upright man, although of the Lutheran
confession. Now as I knew that the wife of General Schlepusch, whose
husband had lately died and been buried with great pomp in the church at
Liegnitz, went every Sunday, together with the maiden, to attend divine
service in the Lutheran church at Nickelstadt, I begged of this Herr
Pirner, in a way that made it in no wise remarkable on my part, to
inquire concerning the lineage and other circumstances of the Mistress
Mercer. He undertook this, and promised me the following week a report
thereupon. Herr Pirner faithfully fulfilled his engagement, and at the
end of the week reported to me in _optima forma_, what he had learnt
from the _Frau Generalin_. Mistress Mercer was the daughter of Mr.
Balthaser Mercer, formerly parliamentary assessor at Edinburgh, in
Scotland, who had many times been sent to England by King Charles I. on
weighty commissions, and once on a mission to Hamburg, where he was
decorated with a golden medal of honour. Her mother, also called
Elizabeth, was of noble lineage, born a Kennewy of Scotland. When in
1644 perilous troubles broke forth in England, her honoured father and
also her brother, the court preacher Robert Mercer, as they had been
favourites of the decapitated King, fled the kingdom with the whole
family, from fear of Cromwell and his party; he went with all belonging
to him to Bremen, where he lived on his own means, which were pretty
considerable, till his happy end in 1650, leaving his widow, a pious,
godly matron, with three sons and three daughters. The sons had gone
forth into the world, one to India, another to the Canary Islands; of
the daughters the eldest was married in London to a nephew of Cromwell,
of the noble family of Cleipold, and the youngest to a merchant named
Uckermann at Wanfried in Hess, the second was my love. In the year 1660
her lady mother also died in Bremen, and was laid beside her honoured
father in the church of St. Stephen, after which Mistress Elizabeth had
lived for a while with the widow of Herr Doctor Schnellen. Meanwhile she
became acquainted with the _Frau_ Schlepusch, who lived at her property
Schönbeck, near Bremen, and when soon after, the General Schlepusch and
his wife departed for Silesia, they took her with them as a playfellow
for their young daughter, to Klein-Polewitz, where she was always held
in good esteem.

"This report and intelligence increased the ardour of my love for her,
especially as I now knew that she was indeed of distinguished family,
but not of noble extraction, and also because Herr Pirner had highly
commended the maiden on account of her godly behaviour, piety, prudence,
and many domestic qualities; and the _Frau Generalin_ had no hesitation
in trusting her with the whole conduct of the household, during her many
journeys to and fro. Now my whole heart being filled to overflowing with
a stream of chaste love, I poured it out for the first time to this
honourable man, and revealed to his discretion what else I would not
have disclosed to any man in the whole world, namely, that if it were
possible, and provided it were the will of God, I desired to make
Mistress Mercer my wife, and I begged of him to lend me his faithful aid
in this important affair, and help to promote my good purpose.

"The good man was willing to esteem it the greatest honour to perform
this service for me; he devoted his heart to the work, and gave
expression to my intentions, first to the _Frau Generalin_. Meanwhile I
exchanged letters with him, and soon entertained good hopes. _In summa_,
the affair advanced in a short time in the most satisfactory manner, so
that nothing remained but for me to visit her in person. One Monday
morning, having first sought aid of the Lord, I proceeded on horseback
to Nickelstadt, called for the Herr Pirner there, and went with him to
Klein-Polewitz, which lay about a quarter of a mile from thence. The
son-in-law of the _Frau Generalin_, Herr Heinrich von Poser, the royal
receiver-general of taxes in the principality of Jauer and Schweidnitz,
received us in the baronial mansion, conducted us with great politeness
to the dining-room, where he entertained us with various discourse, like
a highly-talented and well-educated cavalier. Soon afterwards the _Frau
Generalin_ sent for me to her room, and welcomed me with much civility,
receiving my compliments in return most favourably. My proposals
contented her right well, and she gave me good hope that my desires
would meet with a happy issue. In the mean time the table was spread,
and the _Frau Generalin_ with her maiden daughter, and Herr von Poser
with his spouse, made their appearance, followed by good Mistress
Mercer, who received me most courteously. During dinner every variety of
lively discourse was carried on, and my love was the true centre to
which all were attracted. When dinner was ended, the whole company
absented themselves, and left me and my love alone in the dining-room.
On this occasion I opened my heart to her, and begged for her sympathy,
hoping she might in some degree reciprocate my chaste love, and allow
herself to be persuaded, under God's providence, to be united with me in
wedlock. Now as generally in love affairs a maiden's No is as good as
Yes, so I considered my love's first uttered No as Yes, and was not
thereby alarmed, but pursued my intent. Meanwhile, however, the _Frau
Generalin_ and the Herr von Poser passed to and fro, and teased us poor
lovers with polite jests. At last our love could no longer hide itself
under compliments, but burst forth like the moon from behind dark
clouds, and we exclaimed, 'Yes, I am thine, and thou art mine!' And now
we called together the _Frau Generalin_, the Herr Poser, and he who was
my rightful wooer, who then, as assistants and witnesses, confirmed our
verbal Yes, by joining together our hands. As a pledge of my affection,
I hereupon presented my love with a small Bible handsomely embossed with
silver, and a ring with ten diamonds, which had been made for me at
Breslau for fifty-three imperial thalers. But my treasure entered into a
contest of love with me, presenting me with a ring with one diamond,
which, on account of its size, was estimated at ninety imperial thalers.
Now when the affair had in such wise come to an arrangement, we sat down
again to table in the evening, and supped together with gladness of
heart, till at nightfall I and Herr Pirner were conducted to two
comfortable bedchambers. The following morning I expressed to _Frau
Generalin_ my thankfulness for all the honour she had shown me, took
leave of my love and all present, and returned with Herr Pirner to
Nickelstadt, and from thence back to Liegnitz. From there I corresponded
weekly with my love, visited her every Sunday after the performance of
divine service, at Polewitz; treated her each time with a special
present, and finally fixed with her upon St. Elizabeth's day, namely the
19th of November, 1675, for the conclusion of our nuptials.

"After this fashion did our courtship continue almost five weeks; then
as the appointed nuptial day was approaching, and everything necessary
had been procured, and the wedding guests invited, and more especially
as my former colleague at Brieg, Herr Dares, whom I had requested to
unite us, had arrived at Klein-Polewitz, the _Frau Generalin_ sent two
coaches, the one with six, the other with four horses, to Liegnitz to
fetch me and my guests; but as these coaches could not bring all, the
Captain General, Herr von Schweinichen lent me one, item the Abbess of
Nonnenklosters, item the city councillor, nay one with four horses,
together with certain calèches, whereupon, by God's will, I with my
guests repaired to Polewitz. After the marriage sermon, in which Herr
Dares introduced the names Friedrich and Elizabeth very ingeniously and
emblematically, the wedding took place by the light of burning torches,
about six o'clock in the evening in the large dining-room, whereunto I
was conducted by the Royal Councillors Herr Kurchen and Herr Caspar
Braun, and my love by Herr von Poser and Herr von Eicke, brother to the
_Frau Generalin_. Before the wedding, Fräulein von Schlepusch had
presented me with the wreath, and I had given her in return a beautiful
gold ring. As soon as the marriage was completed we sat down to supper,
which had been provided by my love at our cost, and were all very blithe
and merry. In such fashion did we entertain our guests for the space of
three days with the greatest gaiety and contentment; and it all ended in
confidential union and harmony. On the fourth day, accompanied by Herr
Rath Knichen and his wife, I brought home my love to Liegnitz in the
coach of the _Frau Generalin_, drawn by six horses."

Here we conclude the narrative of the happy husband; he had won by his
wooing a most excellent housewife. In the midst of flowery expressions
the reader will perhaps discern here the deep emotions of an honourable
heart.

But the mode of expressing the feelings of the heart was altered. When a
century before, Felix Platter related the beginning of his love for his
maiden, he expresses his feeling in these simple words: "I began to love
her much;" Lucä, on the other hand, already expresses himself thus:
"That the stream of chaste love filled his heart to overflowing." The
bride of the Glauburger still decorously addressed her bridegroom in her
letters as "Dearly beloved Junker;" but now in a tender epistle from a
wife to her husband, she accosts him as "Most beautiful angel." In other
European nations also, we find the same false refinement; with them also
the finest feelings were overloaded with ornament. Through the foreign
and classical poets this style had been brought into Germany, partly a
bad kind of renaissance, which had originated in an unskilful imitation
of the ancients. But nevertheless it satisfied a real need of the heart;
men wished to raise themselves and those they loved, out of the common
realities of life into a purer atmosphere: as angels, they placed them
in the golden halo of the Christian heaven; as goddesses, in the ancient
Olympus; as Chloe, in the sweet perfumed air of the Idylls. In the same
childish effort to make themselves honourable, dignified, and great,
they wore peruques, introduced ridiculous titles, believed in the
philosopher's stone, and entered into secret societies; and whoever
would write a history of the German mind might well call this a period
of ardent aspirations. These aspirations were not altogether estimable,
by turns they became vague, childish, fanatical, stupid, sentimental,
and at last dissolute; but beneath might always be discovered the
feeling that there was something wanting in German life. Was it a higher
morality? Was it gaiety? Perhaps it was the grace of God? The beautiful
or the frivolous? Or perhaps that was wanting to the people, which the
princes had long possessed, political life. With the broken window-panes
of the Thirty years' war, and the choice phrases of the young officers
who banqueted in the tent of General Hatzfeld, this period of aspiration
began; it reached its highest point in the fine minds which gathered
round Goethe, and in the brothers who embraced in the east, and it ended
perhaps with the war of freedom, or amidst the alarms of 1848.

The home life of the respectable citizen of the seventeenth century was
as strictly regulated as was his wooing, prudent and circumspect, even
in the most minute particulars. His energies were occupied in strenuous
labour from morning to evening, which afforded him a secret
satisfaction. Thoughtful and meditative, the artisan sat over his work,
and sought to derive pleasure from the labour of his hands. The workman
was still full of anxiety, but the beautiful product of his hands was
precious to him. Most of the great inventions of modern times were
thought out in the workshops of German citizens, though they may indeed
sometimes have been first brought into practical use in foreign
countries. Scarcely was the war ended when the workshops were again in
full activity, the hammer sounded, the weavers' shuttle flew, the joiner
sought to collect beautiful veined woods, in order to inlay wardrobes
and writing-tables with ornamental arabesques. Even the poor little
scribe began again to enjoy the use of his pen; he encircled his
characters with beautiful flourishes, and looked with heartfelt pride
on his far-famed Saxon _ductus_. The scholar also was occupied
incessantly with thick quartos; but the full bloom of German literature
had not yet arrived. Everywhere, indeed, interest was aroused in
collecting materials and details, and the industry and knowledge of
individuals appears prodigious. But they knew not how to work out these
details, it was pre-eminently a period of collection. Historical
documents, the legal usages of nations, the old works of theologians,
the lives of the saints, and stores of words of all languages were
compiled in massive works, the inquiring mind lost itself in the
insignificant, without comprehending how to give life to individual
learning. It wrote upon antique ink-horns and shoes it reckoned
accurately the length and breadth of Noah's ark, and examined
conscientiously the length of the spear of the old Landsknecht Goliah.
Thus we find that industry did not obtain the full benefit of its
labour; yet it assisted much in training the genius of our great
astronomer Leibnitz; it also helped to give an ideal purpose to man, a
spirit for which he might live.

The war had inflicted much injury on the artisan, and it was first in
domestic life that he began to recover from the effects of it. The
weaker minds withdrew entirely into their homes, for there was little
satisfaction in public life, and their means of defence were diminished.
There was now peace, and the old gates of the battered city walls grated
on their hinges, but trivial quarrels distracted the council-table, and
envious tittle-tattle and malignant calumny embittered every hour of the
year to those stronger minds that exerted themselves for the public
good. A morbid terror of publicity prevailed. When in the beginning of
the eighteenth century the first weekly advertisers sprang up, and the
Council of Frankfort-on-Main conceded to the undertakers of it, a weekly
list of baptisms, marriages, and deaths, there was a general burst of
displeasure; it was considered insupportable that such private concerns
should be made public. So completely had the German become a private
character.

There were few cities then in Germany on whose social life we can dwell
with satisfaction. Hamburg is perhaps the best specimen that can be
given. Even there war and its consequences had caused great devastation,
but the fresh air that blew from the wide ocean through the streets of
the honest citizens of a free town, soon invigorated their energies.
Their self-government, and position as a small state in union with
foreign powers, preserved their community from extreme
narrow-mindedness, and it appears that in the period of laxity and
weakness that followed the Thirty years' war, they became by their
energetic conduct the principal gainers. Land traffic with the interior
of Germany, as also nautical commerce across the North Sea and Atlantic
Ocean, recovered their elasticity soon after the termination of the war.
Hamburg envoys and agents negotiated with the States-general, and at the
court of Cromwell. The Hamburgers possessed not only a merchant fleet,
but also a small navy. Their two frigates were, more than once, a terror
to the pirates of the Mediterranean and of the German Ocean. They
convoyed, now Greenland and Archangel navigators, now great fleets of
from forty to fifty merchantmen, to Oporto, Lisbon, Cadiz, Malta, and
Leghorn, in short, wherever there were Hamburg settlements.

This commerce, inferior as it may be to that of the present day, was
perhaps, in proportion to that of other German seaports of the
seventeenth century, more important than now. The young Hamburgers went
then to the seaports of the German and Atlantic Ocean, and of the
Mediterranean, as they now do to America, and founded there commercial
houses on their own account. Thus was formed in Hamburg a
cosmopolitanism which is still characteristic of that great city. But it
was undoubtedly more difficult for that generation to conform themselves
to foreign customs, than for the present. It was not devotion to the
German empire, but an attachment to the customs of their daily life and
family ties, which made the Hamburgers then, as now, rarely consider a
foreign country as their fixed home. When they had passed a course of
years abroad, in profitable activity, they hastened home, in order to
form a household with a German wife. The warm patriotism and the prudent
pliancy to foreign customs, which are peculiar to the citizens of small
republics, were produced by this kind of life, and also the love of
enterprise, and the enlarged views, which were seldom to be found then
in the courts of Princes in the interior. Thus the family of a Hamburg
patrician of that period shows a number of interesting peculiarities
which are well worth dwelling upon.

Such a family was that of the Burgomaster Johann Schulte, whose race
still survives on the female side. Johann Schulte (who lived 1621-1697),
was of ancient family, he had studied at Rostock, Strasburg, and Basle,
had travelled, and married whilst secretary to the city council, and had
then acted as envoy from Hamburg to Cromwell. He became burgomaster in
1668, was a worthy gentleman of great moderation of character,
experienced in all worldly affairs as well as in the government of his
good city, a happy husband and father. Some letters are preserved from
him to his son, who in 1680 entered into partnership in a Lisbon house.
These letters contain many instructive details. But most interesting, is
the pleasing insight we get into the family life at that period; the
terms the father was on with his children, the heartiness of the feeling
on both sides; in the father the quiet dignity, and wisdom of the much
experienced man, with a strong feeling of his distinguished position,
and in all the members of the family a firm bond of union, which, in
spite of all the inevitable disputes within the circle, formed an
impenetrable barrier to all without.

A journey to Lisbon, and a separation of many years from the paternal
house, was then a great affair. When the son, after his departure amid
the tears and pious blessings and good wishes of parents and sisters,
was detained by contrary winds at Cuxhaven, his father lost no time in
sending him "a small prayer book; item, a book called 'The Merry Club,'
and Gottfried Schulze's Chronicle, also a box of cream of tartar, and a
blue stone pitcher with tamarinds, and preserved lemon-peel for
sea-sickness." The son during his voyage, called to mind that he owed
his brother three marks and six shillings, and anxiously entreated his
mother to withdraw that sum for him from the eight thalers he had left
in her keeping. The father liberally responded, that the eight thalers
should be kept for him undiminished, that his mother would make no
difficulty about three marks. After the son was established at Lisbon,
regular supplies were sent of Zerbster and Hamburg beer, butter, and
smoked meats, as also prescriptions for illnesses, and whatever else the
care of the mother could procure for the absent son; he on the other
hand sent oranges back, and casks of wine. The father accurately
reported the changes which had occurred in the family, and among the
citizens of the good city of Hamburg, and zealously laboured to send his
son, commissions from his Hamburg friends. Soon the son confessed to his
parents from that foreign land, that he loved a maiden at Hamburg;
naturally one of the acquaintances of the family, and the father
sympathized in this love affair, but always treated it as a matter of
serious negotiation, which was to be cautiously and tenderly dealt with.
It is clearly the object of the father to put off the wooing and
proposal till his son had been some years abroad, and with diplomatic
tact he meets his son's wishes just far enough to retain his confidence.

What however is perhaps most characteristic of that period, is the
advice given by the father to the son as to the necessity of adapting
himself to the usages of foreign countries. The son is a pious zealous
Protestant, whose conscience was much disquieted at having to live among
strict Roman Catholics, and to join the practices so repugnant to him of
Roman Catholic countries. What the father writes to him on this subject,
is here given from the first letters, with the slight alterations
necessary to make them intelligible.

"Dear Son,

"It is a week to-day since the last meeting of the Council, under my
government, for this year, and I sent in the afternoon to the post-house
to inquire whether the Spanish letters had arrived, and received for
answer, No. The following day, at noon on Saturday, Herr Brindts sent
his servant with your letter of the 11/22 of this month. As far as
concerns your letter, we are in the first place all rejoiced that,
thanks to God, you are in good health, which is a great mercy; and then
that you are well pleased with your partners, and on this account
likewise you should thank the Lord, that you have met in a foreign
country with such honourable and well-disposed men. God grant that you
may henceforth pass your time with all contentment, in peace and
harmony, and also in a sound and prosperous condition till it pleases
God to restore you to your country. Nevertheless, in reading your letter
I have remarked that your place of residence, Lisbon, and its
inhabitants, both clerical and lay, are not altogether suited to you,
and you do not find yourself quite right in your present position, owing
to which I discover in you some traces of impatience. It cannot be
otherwise than that the change from Hamburg to Lisbon, the difference
between the inhabitants of one and the other, their customs and
behaviour, and many other things, should strike you with amazement, nay,
even with consternation and anger; but you must remember that there and
in other places, you have had many predecessors in like case, with whom
it has fared the same, and to whom the great change in everything,
especially in religious matters, has appeared very surprising.

"According to the Latin adage, _post nubila Phœbus_, that is, bad
weather is followed by brighter and more agreeable sunshine, which may
the most benign God in his mercy fulfil to you, and grant that, as you
met with and endured great dangers and bodily weakness by sea, the time
which you may spend in Portugal may sweeten and brighten the former sour
and bitter days, and that you may by degrees forget those bad days, and
be comforted and rejoice in the good ones, which may the Almighty in his
mercy constantly grant and bestow upon you. Amen.

"Brother-in-law Gerdt Buermeister (who loves you as his child) told me
to-day, that many things would indeed appear surprising to you on your
first arrival at Lisbon, especially the seeing on all sides the forms of
white, black, and gray monks and other persons; but it would be only
three or four months, before you would become accustomed to this and
other things. Now it is certainly true that one gets habituated in time
to everything. I was for four years constantly at Strasburg, and got so
accustomed to it that it became alike to me whether I lived at Strasburg
or Hamburg, and was never disturbed about anything.

"Believe me and others, you will find equally that a short time and a
little patience will alter and improve all. I trust in God, therefore,
that I shall in the course of eight or ten weeks receive from you more
satisfactory letters, especially as you gradually make progress in the
language. Brother-in-law Gerdt Buermeister says that he was twelve years
old when he arrived at Lisbon, and he could not sufficiently describe
his dissatisfaction; and whenever he descried the monks he thought they
were devils; he would also have poured water on them from above, but
would have got into difficulties thereby: he says, that when he was
obliged to go out he felt terrified, but he soon overcame his fears. As
regards religion, you must be judicious, and as much as possible avoid
all hypocrisy, and never enter into discourse with your partner, nor
with any one, on religious topics, but continue yourself at fitting
times to read thereon, and also pray to God with devotion morning and
evening, and put your firm trust in Him, that as He has so wonderfully
called you to that place, He will also be, and ever remain your gracious
Father and protector under all apparent crosses.

"You state that you have already once sinned from necessity, when the
consecrated host was carried past--or as it is otherwise called the
venerabile--and ask whether you have well done to pray for yourself, and
whether the good God will hear and forgive you this sin. I cannot
forbear relating to you on this occasion what befel me at Maintz: when,
in 1641, I journeyed from Hamburg to Strasburg, and was obliged to
remain quiet at Frankfort for a fortnight during the fair, I went to
Maintz, which is four miles from thence. It so happened I was there a
Sunday, on which a special feast was kept by the Roman Catholics; so I
ascertained in which church the Elector was to attend mass, betook
myself there, and found in the church many devout people on their knees.
Some had their _rosarium_ or rosaries in their hands, and said the Ave
Maria and Lord's prayer, others smote their breasts with their hands
like the penitent publican, and repented of their sins. I thus in some
sort inspected the people, and thought their devotion commendable, and
wished also that such good devotion in outward demeanour in the church
could be found among us Lutherans. Meanwhile the Elector came, and
entered into the choir. I, as an inquisitive young man, pressed in
together with him, and as I was well dressed, having round me a scarlet
mantle, the halberdiers allowed me to pass, supposing me to be a young
nobleman. In the mean time the Herr von Andlaw chanted the mass in
_pontificalibus_, that is he had a bishop's hat or cap on his head, and
a bishop's staff in his hand. I had good thoughts as I looked on all
these ceremonies, and all was as yet well. But when the Herr von Andlaw
raised the consecrated cup, then all knelt down who were standing by me,
I did the same, and said a Paternoster. To this I was led by my
curiosity, but you were led unavoidably, and I trust in God that He will
forgive me and you this fault. Besides this once, I have been in the
Roman Catholic church frequently in France, and especially at Orleans on
a Sunday afternoon, and have heard good music, but have never found my
limbs tremble as you write that you have experienced. One should not be
like a timid hare, but maintain always a constant steadfast heart. You
mention that in Lisbon there are many priests, and also many churches
and monasteries. Well! let it be so, that is nothing to you; however
many priests there may be there they will not bite you, only take heed
to yourself. No one can compel you to go to mass or into the church, and
if at Easter you can obtain a ticket from an ecclesiastic, as if you had
confessed and communicated, you have no farther need to care about the
priests. But if you see the priests at a distance coming towards you
with the consecrated host, use all caution and turn into a byway, or go
into a house.

"You write to me also, that many are already envious of you, and that
Frick and Amsing are amongst the number. My son! who is without envious
rivals? The more a person prospers, the more there are who envy them.
Therefore the Dutch say: _idt is beter, beniedt als beklaegt, als idt
man onsen lieven Heer behaegt._ What think you of the many who envy me,
but whereof I know only a few, most of them I know not. On that account
one has to pray in the Litany: 'That it may please the Lord to forgive
our enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and turn their hearts.' I
should have been glad to see that when Frick and Amsing invited you
twice you had gone to them. You write that they would have
cross-questioned you. But you are not such a child that they could have
cross-questioned you, particularly as you could undoubtedly tell them
what you chose, and what they ought to know. You write also that Frick
did not take off his hat to you; now you are younger than Frick, and
thus it behoved you to greet him first. You tell me also that Amsing
gave good words with his mouth, while gall was in his heart; to that I
answer, that one must set a thief to catch a thief; give always good
words to all, be they ecclesiastics or laymen, and keep to yourself your
own thoughts, that is the way of the world.

"It is particularly satisfactory to us to find from your letter that you
hope soon to make progress in the Portuguese language, which will cause
you great contentment, and although on account of your deficiency in
that language, you cannot yet give any special help and assistance in
buying and selling, yet you can keep the books, and be assiduous in
setting down and registering everything.

"Admonish your young Heinrich to fear God, and to that end to pray and
read, and make him read to you in your room on the forenoon of Sunday
from the _Molleri postilla_.

"Your mother has spoken to Gunther Andreas, and told him he must take
heed, and when a vessel is noted up at the exchange to be laden for
Lisbon, send a ton of beer by it. You have in your mother's hands not
eight marks, ten shillings, but eight good rix-dollars, which I have
before written to you. And if the eight rix-dollars are already gone, a
ton of beer will not signify. You have always as much or more in hand.
We will also, God willing, send you a present of fresh smoked Elbe
salmon, for I have already had two salmon in the smoke three days, one
of which we have destined for you. The salmon fishery promises fair,
though as yet a pound costs one mark.

"Last Monday we held our Peter's, and yesterday our Matthias's
collation, when I had a convenient opportunity to recommend you and your
brother-partner to Herr Brümmelman. The same reported to me that he had
received letters from you, and the good honest man opened his mind to me
thoroughly, and told me that he would answer you by this post, also that
I need not doubt God would bless you and your brother-partner, and you
would have no cause to complain. God grant you health, patience, and a
constant cheerful spirit, also pleasure in and love for your business
and work of superintendence. A common proverb says: _ora et labora_, and
let God be your councillor. This do, and throw all your cares on the
Lord, and it will be well with you. Wherewith I conclude for this time,
as I brought to a close yesterday my seventh year of administration, and
by God's grace and favour have concluded it; and together with the
friendly greetings of all your dear belongings, I faithfully commend you
to the secure protection of the great God, and remains always

"Your kindly affectionate father,

"Johann Schulte, Lt.

"Hamburg, Feb. 25, 1681.

"P.S. I have mentioned, in my letter of the 14th of January, if I am not
mistaken, that the pleasant fellow Heinrich Mein served up to us and the
ship's company a rarity, a dish of fish which had been cooked in Lisbon.
Now you might intend sending me a gift of the like in future, but do not
do it, it would cost you trouble and money, and I care not much about
it. Vale.

"P.S. Your lady mother sends you most kindly greeting from herself, and
is glad to find, _par curiosité_, that you here and there mention in
your letters what kind of weather you have, and what vegetables and
fruit you get in succession; you may also touch lightly upon what meat
and fish or vegetables you eat. And you should look to it that you eat
wholesome food, and above all not too much. Here indeed the Elbe is
open, and there is tolerably mild weather; we have good Elbe and sea
fish, only we have deep muddy roads, and a foggy thick atmosphere,
whilst with you doubtless all is now green and gay and everything in
blossom.

"P.S. As the price of letters to Spain and Portugal runs somewhat higher
than to other places, I write, contrary to my usual habit and manner,
somewhat small and _compresser_. Write small and light letters, but
tolerably long ones, and _menagire_ also herein. Vale."

Thus far the cautious Burgomaster Johann Schulte. He had the pleasure of
seeing his son return safe from the land of monks, and united after
many family negotiations to the maiden of his choice.

Labour undoubtedly makes men firm and enduring, and it more especially
serves the egotistic interests of men of sound capacity; but to any one
whose vocation it is to be employed for the benefit of others, the
service will be consecrated by a feeling of duty. Every employment which
is capable of maintaining life gives man also a position. The journeyman
is the official of his master, the housewife has the office of the keys,
and every work develops even in the smallest circle a domain of moral
duties. The German has never been deficient in a feeling of the duties
of home and of his trade. There always have been citizens who were not
only ready to die for their city, but who have sometimes passed a life
of self-sacrifice for it. The Reformation elevated the feeling of duty
to a higher domain of earthly action and the self-denial and
self-sacrifice of the pious shepherd of souls should always be highly
esteemed; but on closer observation, we perceive that the foundation of
this more elevated feeling of duty was more especially of a religious
nature. It was the command of God which men sought to obey; where the
Scripture did not command with powerful voice, the feeling for the
universal good was not so strongly developed, and the perception of the
duties of their own position was uncertain.

It is instructive to notice that it was the armies brought together by
the war which first raised the citizen's idea of the duties of his
calling. The soldier's feeling of honour not only developed itself in a
noble esprit de corps, but became the source gradually of official
honour in the citizen. First of all it gave him honour in the eyes of
others when he fulfilled his duty, but also it afforded himself internal
satisfaction and a just pride. Thus after the fidelity of the middle
ages and the piety of the Reformation there arose a new domain of moral
requirements. There was more of feeling than of the result of thought in
it, but it was still an advance; though at first indeed only among the
best.

Two years after the paternal admonitions of Herr Burgomaster Schulte to
his son, at a little distance south of Lisbon, the life of a Hamburger
was put an end to by a fearful catastrophe. The account of it is given
in an old narrative.

Berend Jacob Carpfanger was one of the captains at Hamburg. He was born
in that city in 1623; he got his schooling, as was the custom, in the
merchant service; he early became a member of the admiralty, and at last
as captain of convoys, commander of one of the vessels of war which had
to defend the merchantmen against pirates. These marine officers of the
city, besides having to exercise the highest official control in their
fleet, had to perform diplomatic negotiations in the harbours, and
sometimes were sent for the same purpose to foreign courts. It was
necessary for them to have some practice in business, and to know how to
associate with great lords, so as to maintain the honour and fame of
their city. Carpfanger was considered in his city an elegant, smart man,
who knew better than most how to conduct himself. He had an earnest
countenance, almost melancholy, a high forehead, large eyes, and a chin
and mouth of great power. His health appeared rather less strong than
was desirable in a seaman. He had given proof that he understood how to
conduct a sea-fight, and had often been in bloody actions. For the
Barbary pirates still continued their depredations both on sea and land.
Not only in galleys, but in large frigates did these birds of prey bear
down upon the swarm of commercial vessels. It was just at that period
that the 'Hund' was the terror of European seas. Far over the channel,
from Gibraltar onwards, on the great ocean, nay, on the coasts of the
Northern Sea, his swift vessels made their appearance; dreadful were the
harbour tales of their temerity, violence, and bloodthirstiness. In the
year 1662, a squadron of eight Hamburg merchantmen had become the booty
of these "barbarians."

In 1674, the burgomaster of the admiralty girded the silver sword on
Captain Carpfanger, and handed to him the admiral's staff. Then the
seaman swore before the senate, that he would manfully defend the fleet
intrusted to him, and sacrifice everything, body and soul, rather than
abandon his ship.

During the ten years that passed after that, up to his death, he made an
annual voyage, starting with his fleet in the Spring and returning home
in August. He had many severe struggles with storm and waves, and often
complained how unfavourable the elements were to him.

Thus he went to Cadiz and Malaga, to the Northern frozen ocean, and to
Lisbon. From an expedition to Greenland, his fleet of fifty vessels
brought home a booty of five hundred and fifty whales. Once when
returning home he was attacked at the north of the Elbe by five French
privateers; in the course of a twelve hours' fight he sent two to the
bottom by his shot, and they sank before his eyes with every man and
mouse on board, the remainder escaped to the open sea. He was also
engaged with the Brandenburg privateers. It happened that the admiral's
red flag of Hamburg floated on the gaff of the Besan threateningly
against the red eagle of Brandenburg; for in 1679 the great Elector was
not favourably disposed towards the Hamburgers, and his little vessels
of war had already captured many of theirs. The opponents met, but
Carpfanger had strict instructions to keep on the defensive, therefore
it came to a good issue. The large ship inspired the Brandenburgers with
respect; they sent the long-boat with two officers to salute him, and
"in order to inspect the arrangements of the ship." The Hamburger
regaled them with wine in his cabin, and then they politely took leave.
Their vessel fired a salute, which Carpfanger answered with equal
courtesy, and then both sailed away.

Again the captain on one of his voyages met with a fleet of Spanish
galleons in fight with Turkish pirates. The combat was taking an
unfavourable turn for the Spaniards; some heavy galleons had been cut
out and overpowered by the pirates. Carpfanger attacked the pirates, and
by a broadside freed the Spanish vessels. He was on this account invited
to the court of Charles II., and presented by the king with a golden
chain of honour.

When in August he exchanged the winds and waves for the narrow streets
of the old city, even there little rest was allowed him. First there
were disputes with the senate about expenses, a writing of reports, the
vindication of particular arrangements which did not appear clear to the
gentlemen of the council-table, or injured some private interest, and
all the vexations of the counting office which are so hateful to the
seaman. For there is no lack of petty trading spirit in old Hamburg. In
the winter of 1680, his dear wife died in the prime of life.

Again and again he convoyed merchantmen to Cadiz and Malaga: in 1683 he
commanded the frigate 'The Arms of Hamburg.' The passage had been
lengthened by a storm, and a leaking vessel in the fleet, but it had
already been made known at the Hamburg Exchange that the captain was
about to return from Spain _viâ_ the Isle of Wight. Then there came
instead of him, sorrowful tidings. These will be here given; it is an
example of the old method by which news was rapidly spread.

"Sorrowful tidings from Cadiz in Spain.

"From Cadiz 12/22 October.

"Good and dear friend,

"I could have wished that this my letter might have awakened joy rather
than occasioned sorrow. But when we mortal men are in the highest tide
of happiness, and think of nought but gladness, misfortune hovers over
our heads.

"Such, alas! contrary to all expectation, has been the case with me and
all who together with me came in the convoyship 'The Arms of Hamburg.'

"On October 10/20, I and our chief officers, as also the noble captain's
son and his cousin, had the honour of taking supper with our noble
captain. When it was about eight o'clock and we were on the point of
rising from table, our cabin-watch brought the sad tidings that there
was fire in the hold of our ship. Thereupon our noble captain and we all
sprang up terrified from the table and hastened to the spot, where we
found all the cordage in the hold already in full blaze. By the order of
the captain, buckets and water-casks were speedily brought; much water
was poured on it, and some holes opened because this place was not
easily reached; all this in hopes of extinguishing the fire. Our people,
especially the soldiers, who were valiantly urged on by their commander,
worked assiduously, but all in vain, for no diminution could be
perceived in the fire, but only increase. Divers guns were fired as
signals of distress, in order to procure help, but fruitlessly, as the
other vessels afterwards pretended they did not know what such firing
signified.

"Thus the captain was obliged to send our lieutenant in the small cutter
to the surrounding vessels, to acquaint them with our unhappy condition,
to entreat the aid of their cutters and boats, and procure some
pump-hose. They came, it is true, but stopped at a distance; for the
fire was very near the place where the powder, which used to lie in the
fore-part of the ship, was kept, and it was impossible, on account of
the great heat, to bring it away; so every one feared that the ship, and
we all, one with another, should be blown up, if the flames were to
reach it. On this account many of the seamen gave up the work, and
retreated into the boats and the large cutter behind the ship, or made
away in foreign boats, however much we implored of these not to carry
off our people.

"To those in our boat and great cutter, the captain called out from the
cabin window, that they should remember the oath they had sworn to him
and the magistracy, and not abandon him, but return on board, as at
present there was no danger, and by God's help the fire might be
extinguished.

"These certainly obeyed the command, and began to work again earnestly,
but it all was of no avail for the fire increased more and more. After
working assiduously but fruitlessly for two hours, the lieutenant and
shipmaster, as also the other officers, went to the captain, and
informed him that, alas! there was no more help, that it was impossible
to save the good ship, and it was now high time to save themselves, if
they did not intend to be burned in the ship or blown up with it. For
between the fire and the powder there was now only a plank of a
finger-breadth remaining. But the captain, who still thought to preserve
the ship, and prized his honour more than life and everything in the
world, answered that he would not leave the ship, but would live and die
therein. His son fell on his knees before him, and besought him for
God's sake to think better of it, and seek to preserve his life. To whom
he replied: 'Away with you, I know better what is intrusted to me.'

"Thereupon he commanded the quartermaster to place this his son,
together with his cousin, in another vessel, which was then done. He
would not allow the least bit of his own property to be removed, that
the men might not be disheartened thereby.

"Meanwhile it was suggested by some that it would be best to cut a hole
in the ship and let her go to the bottom; to this however the captain
would not consent, but said he had still hopes of saving her. Others
advised to cut the cable and strand the ship. This was at last agreed
to, and the order given to cut the cable. But just as this was about to
be done, when the mizen and foremast were on the point of falling, and
the people were still sitting on the fore-yard, the powder in the
fore-part of the ship caught fire. The force of it however being broken
by the pouring in of a large body of water it only blew up with a whizz.
The fire burnt through the deck almost to the foremast, and as a stiff
east wind blew above, and the vessel lay to the wind, it ran up the mast
into the shrouds and sails, and in a moment over the whole ship.

"When the people who were still in the vessel saw this, they sought to
fly with pitiful shrieks. Some ran to the cabin, hoping to find safety
there; others to the gun-room. At the door of this last, the
lieutenant, by order of the captain, had placed himself, together with a
soldier with a loaded gun, to prevent any one from running through the
room into the large cutter, which lay fastened just behind it. The
lieutenant was pressed through the door, and thus obliged to betake
himself to the cutter, followed forthwith by a throng of people: many
sprang into the boat. As this however, was already pushed off, because
the fire from behind burnt quite over, and as it appeared likely that
the fire would reach the powder at the back of the ship, and all who
were around and near it would be blown up, the poor men who were still
in the ship, and did not wish to be burnt, determined to abandon
themselves to the waves, and sprang into the water. It would have melted
a heart of stone to have heard the cries and shrieks of these miserable
men, driven about in shoals in the water, so that nothing but heads
could be seen. Now whilst the fire was driven by the wind from the
fore-part to the stem with great power, its violence increasing with its
duration, I stood in the cabin with divers persons round the captain;
they moaned and wept before him, and at the same time exhorted him,
saying there was no time now to remain any longer.

"I went from them to the window, to see whether there was yet a boat at
hand, and found that the large cutter was still fastened to the ship. I
took my resolution, and commending my life to God, sprang through the
cabin window into the boat; which succeeded so well that I was saved
therein without suffering any damage. As I turned my back to the
captain, he, with the persons remaining by him, among whom were the
commander and some soldiers and seamen, went out of the door. I thought
they were seeking to save themselves, as indeed they were willing to do;
for I perceived that they went to the great blaze with the intention of
forcing the captain into a boat. But finding none, as the flames were
already over their heads they left the captain and sprang overboard.

"As soon as I was in the large cutter, the lieutenant became visible; I
asked him whether the captain was out of the ship, he answered that a
Dutch captain had saved him. Now when we thought we were assured
thereof, we loosened the cutter in all haste, for there were many people
swimming about in the water, seeking to save themselves therein; and the
cutter was almost dragged down by them, as many clung to its side. It
was also to be feared that we should be blown up when the flames reached
the powder.

"When we had gone about a cable's length from the ship, many pieces of
it fell asunder by reason of the heat of the fire; and the grenades
sprang one after another. The fire, at last, towards one o'clock,
reached the powder in the powder room, and with one hollow clap the
stern of the vessel blew up; whereupon the remaining portion, with all
that was still therein, went to the bottom, after the good ship had been
burning about five hours.

"Meanwhile we came with our cutter to another ship lying in the bay, and
put out the people who had been saved, with the exception of the
necessary rowers; with whom the lieutenant, during the remaining portion
of the night, sought sorrowfully after the noble captain among all the
vessels in the bay. But in vain, as he was nowhere to be found.

"On the following day, about ten in the forenoon, notice was given by
the English cutter of Captain Thompson's ship, that the body of our
captain, alas! had been driven on to their boat's cable, and had been
rescued by them.

"Thereupon, the now deceased good man was forthwith brought from the
vessel of the said Captain Thompson, and as was fitting, was clothed in
clean linen, for which Captain Thompson was paid with gratitude.

"Of all the men who lost their lives by this great misfortune (of seamen
two-and-forty, of soldiers two-and-twenty), the deceased noble captain
was the first that was found. Preparations were forthwith made for his
funeral, and when everything needful was provided, on Saturday the 13th
of this month, he was consigned to the grave according to Christian
usages, here behind the Puntales, in the place where it is the custom to
bury those of foreign nations. Our _Domine_ first preached a fine
funeral discourse; the body was convoyed by some twenty cutters, wherein
were many distinguished captains and merchants; in each the flags were
half mast high, as a sign of mourning; in like manner all the English,
Dutch, and Hamburg ships lying here, testified their condolence by
hoisting their flags and Jacks half-mast high, amid the firing of guns,
whereof above three hundred were heard.

"Who caused this fearful fire and misfortune, or by what negligence it
originated, is unknown. The boatswain's son, who had been in the hold,
and had to watch the lamp which usually burnt there, stated that he had
gone from the hold upon deck, in order to speak to another youth, and on
his return to the hold, found it in flames. God preserve other ships
from a like misfortune, and comfort the widows and orphans of those who
have been lost."

Here we conclude the news from Cadiz. According to another account the
captain walked alone about his ship up to the last; others declare that
they saw him at an open port-hole, raising his clasped hands to heaven;
and according to others, he last of all committed himself to the waves,
either to be preserved or to sink as God willed it; and it is no wonder
that the weakly old gentleman, after the mental and bodily exertions of
the last hours, should have gone to the bottom. A great marvel had been
observed by the sailors: three doves had for several hours hovered over
the burning ship, to the time of its blowing up.[44] King Charles II. of
Spain caused a monument to be erected on the grave of the Hamburg
seaman; which, according to consular records, was only destroyed in the
Spanish war, the beginning of this century.

We rejoice that the deceased kept his oath. The honour of his calling
demanded his death, and he died. For it is better that once in a while,
a brave, honest, and able man, though he were still able to save
himself, should go down with his good ship, than that mariners should in
the hour of danger want a model of enduring energy. He died as became a
sailor, silent and collected; he laconically dismissed his own son; his
whole soul was in his employment. May the German citizen never come to
such a pass as to consider the deed of this man, strange and unheard of.
In the inland provinces also, many hundreds of peaceable citizens since
his time have died in the performance of their duty to the utmost of
their power, and beyond it; pastors in the midst of contagion, doctors
in the lazar house, and helpful citizens in dangers from fire. And we
hope that the reader will discern that this is the path of duty, and the
general rule with us.

And still our hearts heave with the thought that in the same year in
which Strasburg was so ignominiously lost, a fellow-countryman felt even
as we should feel, namely, that there is not much cause for
astonishment, and no occasion for crying and moaning, when any one dies
in the performance of duty. And his memory should be honoured both by
those who traverse the sea, and those who never hear its roar. The
German had much degenerated after 1648, but he yet deserved a better
life; for he still understood how to die for an idea.

CHAPTER X.

GERMAN LIFE AT THE BATHS IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

Civilization was undoubtedly, in spite of war and devastation, making
continual progress, for it was not as in ancient times carried on by one
people alone, but by large families of nations; and the blessing of this
higher development in Germany first elevated the life of individuals.
The century of the Reformation had increased the individual independence
of men, and developed what was spontaneous and characteristic in various
directions. After the war, the gap between the classes became greater;
not only was there a difference in their dress, but in their social
manners, their language and mode of life; each class endeavoured to
close its ranks against that which was just beneath it. But this,
however objectionable, was the first result of political progress. At
one time the great classes of princes, nobles, citizens and peasants,
lived in established relations to one another. The religious movement
had created a social ferment, which was a bond of union between the
cities and country aristocracy: now during the war all classes had been
shaken together; a large portion of the nobility had been driven into
the cities, and the impoverished landed proprietor sought a place in the
service of the new state, or in the city community. Undoubtedly there
lay within this the beginning of a higher life, but the old pretensions
did not on that account immediately disappear; the less was the inward
ground for social separation, the more carefully were outward
distinctions preserved.

Servility towards persons of distinction became general; it extended
from outward marks of courtesy, such as addressing them by their titles,
to the actual sentiment. It was considered an honour by the citizen's
daughter to receive compliments from a cavalier, and he expressed his
bold addresses more smoothly, than her neighbour the poor pedantic
_Magister_, or the awkward merchant's son.

The social intercourse also of the citizens amongst each other, was
deteriorated by foreign manners. In the past century, the style of
expression when at their ease, was not particularly delicate; but at
that time it was considered thoroughly harmless, and had therefore not
endangered the morality of the women. Now many honourable old words were
proscribed, and in their place _double entendres_ were prevalent; to be
bold and skilful in words, not to speak out what was unseemly, but to
signify it cleverly, became the fashion; and the women and maidens soon
learnt to give a smart answer. The choice pleasantries, the attacks and
repartees that we find in the small compendiums of civilities, which
were for the use of the unassuming citizen, are so pitiable that they
will not be given here.

But there was no want of hearty cheerfulness: the young people long
continued to play the familiar games which are now confined to children;
they journeyed to Jerusalem, and played at blindman's-buff, which, under
the appearance of accident, gave fine opportunities of venturing on
liberties; games of forfeits with witty fines appear not to have been
usual yet, but sarcastic verses and riddles were in vogue; if at table
there was liver served with the roast or fish, rhymes were made upon it
by turns, no trifling affair, for it was necessary to produce something
neat, and a dunderhead or a simpleton exposed himself dreadfully.
Conversation was considered a serious matter, for which one should be
well prepared; anecdotes and remarkable occurrences were with that view
read beforehand, and he was highly esteemed who could introduce
pertinently some pretty German verse.

After the war, dancing was frequent in family circles in the evening;
and waltzing was the favourite dance with the citizens: before the lady
was led to the dance she was greeted with a small speech, and if she
were married or a bride, the bridegroom was so likewise: then the dancer
had to lead her, so that her finger lay lightly on his. In the dance he
was not to spring about, nor to oblige her to make unnecessary springs,
which might toss her dress up to her girdle, nor was he to tear her
dress with his spurs. After the dance there was another short speech and
answer. Finally he was to take her home, and in doing so it was
necessary to be on his guard that there was no rival lurking for him
with a cudgel, as was often the case. When arrived at the dwelling, he
had first to make his excuses to the parents for having, by escorting
her, allowed his homage to be perceived, and then to the lady, whom he
commended to the gracious protection of the Most High, and tenderly
signified that he would wish to kiss her pillow.

It is not easy to form any true idea of the old society from the general
literature, for the numerous writers of comedies and novels give us
mostly caricatures; they find their account in bringing everything down
to a low level. It is for this reason, therefore, that the unbiassed
records of cotemporaries are so instructive.

In the olden time there were as now, baths to which all those resorted
who wished for social amusement; and the bath life shows at least the
forms of easy intercourse away from home; therefore a number of small
pictures will be given here from the baths of Zurich, the most famous of
all the German baths at the conclusion of the middle ages. The doings of
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries will be better explained by
comparing with them, the former period of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries.

Switzerland was by the peace of Westphalia entirely detached from the
Empire; but the political separation had not led the German burgher life
into foreign channels. The unity of mind remained, more than once have
the literary men, the poets and artists of Switzerland, had an important
share in the development of the German mind. Even now is this inward
unity undiminished, and Germans and Swiss alike have reason to
congratulate themselves on it. After the great war, the Swiss had
honestly participated in the pleasures and sorrows of the German; they
also had suffered by the war, and were in political troubles; a
narrow-minded patrician government oppressed the country; there also,
energy, public spirit and conscience, had been weakened.

The following narrative paints the state of things at Baden, and equally
portrays the Bath life of Germans in the interior of the Empire.

Bath Life in the year 1417.

The Florentine, Francis Poggio (1380-1459), one of the great Italians
who spread the Humanitarian literature throughout their native country,
then held the office of Papal secretary; in this capacity he was
actively employed at the Council of Constance, and visited Baden from
thence. He describes his impressions of travel in an elegant Latin
letter to his friend, the learned Nicolo Nicoli; he himself was then an
ecclesiastic. In order to understand thoroughly how much the reformation
of the Church, which took place a century later, was brought about by
the excited moral feeling of the people, we should pay attention to the
cool, haughty freedom of tone of the following letter. Poggio was a
great scholar and a prudent statesman; he was one of the most refined
among the highly cultivated Italians; nay, more, he had a fierce, manly
spirit, and was always exhorting his literary friends to seriousness.
But with his classical literature he had also adopted the spirit of a
distinguished Roman of the time of Tiberius, and it makes a disagreeable
impression to find how mildly and good-humouredly the secretary of the
Pope, the priest, the scholar, the offshoot of the civilization of his
time, viewed the profligacy of both ecclesiastics and laity. His letter,
which follows here, is abbreviated in some places:--

"Baden itself affords the mind little or no diversion; but has in all
other respects such extraordinary charm, that I could often dream that
Venus had come from Cypress, for whatever the world contains of beauty
has assembled here, and so much do they uphold the customs of this
goddess, so fully do you find again her manners and dissoluteness, that
little as they may have read the speech of Heliogabalus, they appear to
be perfectly instructed by Nature herself.

"About a quarter of an hour's drive from the town, on the other side of
the river, there is a beautiful village, established for the use of the
baths; in the middle of the village is a large _platz_, surrounded by
splendid inns, which contain a multitude of people. Each house has its
own bath, which can only be made use of by those who reside there. The
number of public and private baths amounts altogether to full thirty.
Two special places, open on all sides, are appointed for the lowest
classes of the people; and the common crowd, men, women, boys, and
unmarried maidens, and the dregs of all that collect together here, make
use of them. In these baths there is a partition wall, dividing the two
sexes, but this is only put up for the sake of peace; and it is amusing
to see how, at the same time, decrepit old beldames and young maidens
descend into it naked, before all eyes, and expose their charms to the
gaze of the men. More than once I have laughed at this splendid
spectacle; it has brought to my mind the games of Flora at Rome, and I
have much admired their simplicity who do not in the least see or think
anything wrong in it.

"The special baths at the inns are beautifully adorned, and common to
both sexes. It is true they are divided by a wainscot, but divers open
windows have been introduced therein, through which they can drink with,
speak to, see, and touch each other, as frequently happens. Besides
this, there are galleries above, where the men meet and chatter
together, for every one is free to enter the bath of another, and to
tarry there, in order to look about, and joke and enliven his spirits,
by seeing beautiful women nude when they go in and come out. No guard
watches the avenues here; no door, and, above all, no thought of
impropriety hinders them. In many baths both sexes have access to the
bath by the same entrance, and it not unfrequently comes to pass, that a
man meets a naked woman, and the reverse. Nevertheless, the men bind a
cloth round their loins, and the women have a linen dress on, but this
is open either in the middle or on the side, so that neither neck, nor
breast, nor shoulders are covered. The women eat frequently in the bath
itself, of dishes contributed by all, which are placed on a table
floating upon the water, whereto the men naturally resort. In the house
where I bathed, I also was invited to such a feast; I gave my
contribution, but went away, although they did urge me much to stay. And
truly not from shyness, which we here consider as stupid and boorish,
but because I did not understand the language, for it appeared to me
absurd that an Italian, ignorant of German, should pass a whole day
amongst lovely, fair ladies, in a bath, dumb and speechless, merely
eating and drinking. Two of my friends however, who were present, ate,
drank and toyed, spoke to the ladies through an interpreter, fanned
them, and in short enjoyed themselves much. My friends were clothed in a
linen dress, such as the men wear here when they are invited to a
ladies' bath. I saw all from the gallery, their manners and customs,
their good eating, and their free and easy intercourse. It is wonderful
to see in what innocence they live, and with what frank confidence they
regard the men; the liberties which foreigners presume to take with
their ladies does not strike their attention; they interpret everything
well. In Plato's Republic, according to whose rules everything was to be
in common, they would have behaved themselves excellently, as they
already, without knowing his teaching, are so inclined to belong to his
sect.

"Many visit daily three or four of these baths, and pass there the
greatest part of the day, in singing, drinking, nay in waltzing, and
they play the lute if they are not seated deep in the water. But there
can be nothing more charming than to see budding maidens, or those in
full bloom, with pretty kindly faces, in figure and deportment like
goddesses, strike the lute, then they throw their flowing dress a little
back in the water, and each appears like a Venus. It is the custom of
the women to beg for alms jestingly from the men who view them from
above; one throws to them, especially to the pretty ones, small coins,
which they catch with their hands or with the outspread linen dress,
whilst one pushes away the other, and in this game all their charms were
frequently unveiled. In like manner one threw them down twined wreaths
of divers flowers, with which they adorned their heads while they sat in
the bath.

"I bathed only twice a day, but attracted by the rich opportunity of
such a spectacle and such fun, I spent the remaining time in visits to
other baths, and threw coin and wreaths like the others.

"Then the playing of flutes, the tinkling on the guitar and singing
resounded everywhere; there was no time either for reading or thinking;
to have been here the only wise one would have been the greatest folly,
especially for one who will be no self-tormentor, and to whom nothing
human is strange. I was deprived of the highest enjoyment, the main
point, the interchange of speech. So there remained nothing for me but
to feast my eyes on the fair ones, to follow them, to conduct them to
the games, and to escort them back again. There was also such
opportunity for near intercourse, and so great freedom therein, that one
needed not to trouble oneself about regulating it.

"Besides this varied enjoyment, there was yet another of not less charm.
Behind the courtyards, near the river, lies a large meadow shaded by
many trees. Here every one comes after dinner and diverts himself with
singing dancing, and sundry games. The most part played at ball, but not
after our fashion, but the men and women throw to one another, each to
the one he likes best, a ball, wherein are many bells. All run to catch
it; whoever gets it, wins, and throws it again to his love: all stretch
out their hands again to catch it, and whoever succeeds make pretence as
if they would throw it now to one person now to another. Many other
sports I pass over for brevity's sake. I have recounted this to you, in
order to show how completely they are the disciples of Epicurus.

"But the most striking thing is the countless multitude of nobles and
plebeians, who collect here from the most distant parts, not so much for
health as for pleasure. All lovers and spendthrifts, all pleasure
seekers, stream together here, for the satisfaction of their desires.
Many women feign bodily ailments, whilst it is really their heart that
is affected; therefore one sees numberless pretty women, without
husbands and relations, with two maid-servants and a man, or with some
old beldame of the family who is more easily deceived than bribed. All
the women come attired to their utmost with smart dresses, gold, silver,
and precious stones, not as if for the baths, but as though it were for
the grandest wedding. There are here also virgins of Vesta, or rather of
Flora; besides, abbots, monks, lay-brothers, and ecclesiastics, and
these live more dissolutely than the others, some of them also live with
the women, adorn their hair with wreaths, and forget all religion. All
have the same object, to fly from melancholy and seek cheerfulness, and
to think of nothing but a merry life of enjoyment; they do not wish to
take the property of others, but to impart their own freely. And it is
remarkable that among the great number, almost thousands of men of
different manners and such a drunken set, no discord arises, no tumults,
no partisanship, no conspiracies, and no swearing. The men allow their
wives to be toyed with, and see them pairing off with entire strangers,
but it does not discompose or surprise them; they think it is all in an
honest and housewifely way.

"How different are these manners from ours! We put the worst
construction upon everything: we find a pleasure in slander and calumny;
the slightest suspicion is sufficient for us, and equivalent to a clear
transgression. I often envy the composure of the people here, and curse
our perversity, always restlessly seeking, and restlessly desiring. We
compass heaven, earth, and ocean, to procure money, are contented with
no gain, satisfied with no profit. We are continually in fear of future
disaster, and are cast down by unceasing mischances and anxieties, and
in order to preserve ourselves from being unhappy, we never cease to be
so. But here they live for the day, contented with a little; every day
is a festival, they desire no great riches, which would be of no use to
them, but they enjoy what they have, and fear not the future. If they
meet with misfortune they bear it with good courage. But enough, it is
not my purpose to praise them and blame ourselves. I wish this letter to
be lively in order that you, my distant friend, may find in it some
portion of the amusement I have enjoyed at the baths."

Here we have the elegant representation of the Italian statesman. The
fifteenth century was truly a time of luxury and refined enjoyment, but
what the foreigner relates is not so bad as the way in which he relates
it.

The Reformation came. It exercised an influence even on the frivolous
people who visited the baths. Life became more earnest and thoughtful,
and the superintendence exercised by the authorities and pastors more
strict. The number of married persons became greater, for it was one of
the favourite tenets of the Protestant opposition, to promote marriage
and domestic discipline. Much fewer became the number of those prelates
and their ladies, monks and roving women, who were not joined in lawful
matrimony. Thus after the time of Luther and Zwinglius, towards the end
of the sixteenth century, we have a very different description of the
baths of Baden, written by an honest German, the doctor of medicine
Pantaleon, a Basle man, rector of the high school and of the
philosophical faculty. Here follow some characteristic fragments.

"Bath life, 1580.--The free bath, called also burgher bath, is under the
open heaven. It is so long and broad, that above a hundred men can bathe
therein at a time. It is bordered round about with stone pavement, and
many seats are disposed therein. One corner, a fourth part of the bath,
is closed in by a wooden lattice, arranged for the accommodation of the
women. But as the women in general come there, some are wont to go to
the larger bath. In this every one, stranger or native, may bathe
gratis, and divert himself for as long or short a time as he likes. On
Saturday, especially, the people from the city and country come in
crowds, and husbands and wives desire to have their pastime, and to
beautify themselves. But herein one is much surprised, that they in such
wise misuse cupping; for every one will be cupped, and they think for
the most part that they have not bathed if they have not had as many
lancets stock in them as the bristles of a hedgehog. And yet it would be
far more useful to them to obtain a little additional blood.

"Poor people come oft to the baths of St. Verena, especially in May,
some hundreds together. But they must first look about for an inn, that
they may have some sort of home and not be about in the streets, and
there are three or four inns near the baths. The poor are daily
maintained by the alms of pious people. They place their bowls in a
circle on the wall round the bath, and remain sitting in the bath, and
no one may point out his bowl. Then money, bread, wine, soup, meat, or
other things are put in the bowls, and no one knows to whom they belong.
Great hoards are sometimes collected; the warder who has his little
house near the bath, distributes the gifts in due order, and exhorts the
poor to pray and be thankful. After that, each takes what is in his
bowl, and goes out. But as also there are oft mixed up among the honest,
many bad rogues and idlers who will not work, but take the bread out of
the mouths of others who are in need, it would be useful, were each poor
person who is desirous to obtain alms, to bring a certificate from his
magistrate that he is in need of it, and that the alms will be well
applied. Many bad rogues would then be ashamed. If the poor do aught
that is contrary to order and discipline, they are punished by the
warder, and placed in the lock-up that stands below, near the house
called the Lock and Key. When their month's stay at the bath is ended,
they receive a dismissal from the warder; nay he desires them, according
to the nature of their illness, to go away, to make room for others.
They must attend to him also, under pain of severe punishment.

"The 'Stadthof' is a large cheerful inn, adorned with many beautiful
rooms, saloons, and chambers. There are two large kitchens, one of which
belongs to the landlord, who provides the guests with all kinds of
meals, or with single dishes, according to every one's need. In the
other, there is a special cook, for all those who buy their own food,
and wish to have it cooked to their own fancy, for this is allowed to
every one. In this house there are eight good baths, of which five are
in common, the remaining three are let out to certain persons by the
week for a fixed sum of money, with the chambers belonging thereto. The
first is the gentlemen's bath, in which men, both noble and others,
ecclesiastics and laymen, young and old, Catholic or Evangelical, come
together without any disputes or quarrels, friendly and peaceably.

"This bath is almost the same height as the court, and whosoever sits
therein, can look out through the doors into the court, and behold every
one. Whoever wishes to use these baths, pays on entrance two
_doppelvierer_,[45] or one _angster_,[46] and three _kreuzers_. Moreover
the members of the bath community give breakfast at six o'clock every
morning by turns, one much, another little, according as they wish to
distinguish themselves. Although much eating and drinking is not good
with the baths, yet it oft happens that many who sit three or four hours
in the bath, need a little soup, and cannot go on without somewhat to
drink. Yet it were well for some rule to be established, that each
person should not have more than a quart of wine; this would give the
baths a better repute, and they could not then openly write and put in
print, that here is a tippling bath wherein drunken matins are sung. For
the members of the bath community can unite to settle these matters
according to their pleasure. They pray before and after breakfast, and
return thanks to the host in a pleasant song, hoping that he may live
long in all honour, till he gives another breakfast. After that they
nominate him whose turn it is to be the next host, place a garland on
him, and threaten him in a song that they will come to him the morrow
with fifes and drums. But on Sundays and great festivals they
discontinue their breakfasts and songs.

"At this bath a mayor is chosen by the majority of the bath community,
likewise a governor, treasurer, chaplain, apparator, bailiff, and
executioner, who after breakfast sit in judgment, in order to put an end
to or punish any offences against order and discipline, which may have
been committed in this or the other baths of the house. Each member of
the bath community must also put his left hand on the mayor's staff, and
swear to obey him. The fines which fall in, they give to the poor, or
for wine, or they spend it amongst one another. Thus passes the morning
in pastime. When any one has finished bathing, he takes a friendly
leave, and gives an honourable farewell present.

"The second bath is the women's bath, in which divers honourable women
and maidens meet together. In this the women also choose, every day, in
turn a hostess, have a cheerful breakfast, thank the hostess, and with a
wreath and pleasant song select another, as in the gentlemen's baths.
They have also a special treasurer who keeps their money and presents in
the treasury, which they spend in a friendly way together. But if
anything unseemly or worthy of punishment takes place, they bring it
before the mayor and court of the gentlemen, that some decision may be
pronounced thereupon, according to old custom.

"In the third bath--the kettle--come all kinds of people, women and men,
as many as fifty people together; they are modest and friendly with one
another, and eat what they can, and what pleases them. These also are
subject to the court of the gentlemen's bath. Any one also, out of the
gentlemen's or ladies' bath, may go into the kettle. On the other hand,
those in the kettle bath, may not go into the others, unless they pay
their share of the breakfasts. This bath has a very salutary effect, and
the lame and paralytic are often brought here, who soon become vigorous
and straight, and are able of themselves to go away, as in the year
1577, happened to a maiden from Waldshut, who did not over-eat herself,
and bathed according to due order.

"The Margraves' bath was let out to special persons. The serene and
right honourable Jörg Friedrich, Margrave of Brandenburg, who there
bathed in person in 1575, was painted sitting therein on a horse. When I
think of this bath, I cannot help laughing at a wonderful pleasantry
that took place therein, and which is worth relating. In the aforesaid
year a burgomaster and honourable councillor of the praiseworthy and
far-famed city of Zurich, had sent a handsome bath present to the right
honourable the Prince of Brandenburg, of wine and oats, and commanded
Herr Heinrich Lochmann, the Banneret of Zurich, to present and deliver
this. Now when he appeared with the present at Baden, it happened that
the Prince was somewhat heated and weakened by the bath, so that for
some days he could not appear at table, but kept quiet in his bedroom or
in the bath. Meanwhile he commanded Duke Johann of Liegnitz and his
councillors, to receive the foreign guests and provide them well. Now
what they had made good cheer, and the Banneret was desirous to see the
Prince, it was signified to him that the Prince received no one at
present, but kept in his bedroom or the bath. Then the Banneret swore
and vowed by his honour that he would be received by the Prince, and
would on the morrow before he departed, if it could not be done
otherwise, enter the bath with boots and spurs, and offer the Prince his
hand, that he might tell his superiors he had seen the Prince. Now as I
had sat at the table with him, and had been invited in the morning to
bathe alone with the Prince. I respectfully signified to him what
conversation had been carried on at supper, and what the Banneret
threatened him with. I at the same time told the Prince of the great age
of the Banneret, and his upright, valiant spirit, and begged of his
Princely Grace, in case it should so happen, not to take it
ungraciously. We sat thus together two hours, and spoke with one another
of divers matters, when lo! there comes my good Lochmann, who like an
old simple associate, wished the Prince good day, waded in his boots and
spurs through the water, and offered the Prince his hand. I remarked
that the Prince changed colour. Thereupon the Banneret stepped back and
begged the Prince to forgive him, as he had done it with good intent,
that he might tell his superiors of the benignity and friendliness of
the Prince. Then did the Prince, like a wise and eloquent gentleman,
thank first the Banneret's superiors, and then also himself for the
gift, and commended himself also to the favour of the men of Zurich.
Thus he forgave him this boldness, which had proceeded from a good
true-hearted spirit, and drank to his good friendship in a large goblet
of wine. I received the goblet from the Prince and handed it to the
Banneret, who pledged the Prince and drank to me from the goblet. He
thereupon parted from the Prince quite humbly and joyfully."

Such is the narrative of the prudent Pantaleon. He is not like Poggio, a
stranger who frankly, and in a spirit of curiosity, describes foreign
manners, who perhaps had every wish to draw a friendly picture of the
life at the baths, and who belonged to a nation which, as Poggio himself
says, is surprised at nothing. But in the same degree as his character
and conceptions differ from those of the Italian, so does the aspect of
the baths appear altered in the century of the Reformation. A greater
earnestness, prayer, and an organized self-police are not to be
mistaken. The last, especially at that time, a general German idea,
deserves attention. The state authorities also had taken the bath life
under their supervision. Gifts were presented to the bath travellers in
the sixteenth century, as they still continued to make presents on their
departure to those who remained behind. As these gifts fostered vanity
and luxury to an extravagant excess, the governments took serious steps
to put a stop to them.

In the century of the Thirty years' war and of Louis XIV. much of the
self-control and political feeling of the men, and piety of the women
which had been perceptible at the baths, as a consequence of the
Reformation, was lost. Switzerland suffered like Germany. The government
was narrow-minded and tyrannical, and among the subjects there was a
deficiency of self-respect, an aping of foreigners and of French
manners. Again did enjoyment at the baths become dissolute. But even
this is different from the frivolous, wanton behaviour of the fifteenth
century. The citizens thought it an honour to court the adventurous
cavalier from foreign parts, and to be his parasite; the coquetry of the
women also was more forward and common, and their almost unblushing
connection with the foreign bath visitors showed an empty heart, and too
often a great absence of modesty. There is a characteristic account of
these famous baths at this period also, by a frivolous Frenchman, De
Merveilleux, preserved by a branch of the German family Wunderlish.
'Amusements des Bains de Bade,' &c., London, 1739.

Life at the Baths at the end of the Seventeenth Century.

"Much had been told us of the splendid entrance of the French Ambassador
at Baden during the Swiss Diet.[47] We hoped to find a princely court,
but the present Ambassador in no respect resembles his predecessor. He
has no pages; the Count de Luc had six, as they tell me, as many
secretaries, and a like number of gentlemen of the bedchamber. The
present man has a secretary, who they assure me has been a servant, and
no gentleman of the bedchamber. His predecessor kept open table of fifty
covers, with three courses, and thus dined and supped every morning and
evening, in order to show honour to the Swiss. The present one has his
table laid with a kind of _déjeuner à la fourchette_, soup, roast,
entremets, and dessert, but no variety; every day the same, and nothing
good or hot. Instead of one silver dish they would give one, six of
pewter. The foreigners and the Swiss do not seem content with this.

"But what does this signify to us? We live with our Bernerins; and have
good living. They would gladly get rid of some of Bacchus's favourites
from their town; amongst them the son of a delegate, we will endeavour
to get him away if we can.

"We go little into the city; all people of distinction go to the
promenade, where there is pleasant intercourse. As many towns have Swiss
fashions, which are not similar to the French, such as the dress of the
women of Basle, Lucerne, Zurich, and other distant cantons, it gives one
the impression of a right gay masquerade, when all the visitors at the
baths are assembled for a dance. The Swiss men and women are much given
to gallantry. The ladies of Zurich have little opportunity of amusing
themselves, except at the bath season at Baden, and they understand how
to use this opportunity to the utmost. But if the French Ambassador is
not at Baden or does not keep open table, there is not very much
amusement. Every Swiss of any importance, is accustomed to have good
repasts at the Ambassador's yearly at Baden, so that they are much
dissatisfied with the comparison of the present with the past. The
mothers tell their daughters of the pleasures they had in former times
at the baths, and the young maidens are thereby incited to endeavour to
procure some likewise. They labour to this end to the best of their
powers, and the foreign cavaliers who know how to take advantage of the
simplicity of these young city maidens, find themselves well off. For
they are the daughters of magisterial persons, who have plenty of means
to spend in Baden, and their marriages with the sons of their country
are as good as settled, with such at least as speculate on places in the
state, which are conferred principally by the fathers of these maidens;
and thus it comes to pass that these little flirtations at the baths,
cause no disturbance in the arrangement which has been made concerning
their marriage.

"We had the honour of an invitation from the minister, he invited us to
a dinner with many ladies. Among others were two Mademoiselles S----,
from Schaffhausen, daughters of good families. One of them has wounded
more than one cavalier. There was much good entertainment that day; nay,
there was even some table plate won in a lottery. The ambassador found
Mademoiselle S---- charming, and held her on his knee almost the whole
evening of the ball, though he was suffering with his foot. The dance
had one effect on the demoiselles which astonished us much. When they
had danced very vigorously, and were very warm, lice made their
appearance on the locks of their beautiful hair. That was rather
unpleasant; but the maidens had such beautiful skins that it became
quite a pleasure to take off the vermin as soon as they became visible.
The waters of Baden have the effect of producing these with young
people; therefore the Germans apply powder after powder but without
combing themselves properly.

"These demoiselles were not the only beauties of this ball; there were
many pretty women there with their husbands and adorers. The Zurich
ladies also would gladly have been there, but they were not allowed to
visit the house of the French Ambassador, as their canton was averse to
the renewal of the alliance with the King; nay, it was a transgression
for a Zuricher even to enter the French hotel, therefore their wives and
daughters only took a walk in the Ambassador's garden, who did not fail
to betake himself there in an arm-chair on account of his bad foot.
Every one on entering made him a reverence, and that procured him the
pleasure of giving a kiss to each of these pretty city ladies, both
mothers and daughters."

Here we conclude the narrative. These insipid and absurd proceedings
ceased gradually towards the end of the last century. Even before the
fever of the French revolution had seized the nations of Europe, the
forms of social intercourse had changed, and still more so the feelings
of men. The burgher life was still insipid, stiff, and _philliströs_;
but the need of new ideas and deeper excitement had become general. Even
the adventurers and cavaliers could no longer impose upon the credulity
of their cotemporaries, by their old frivolity; it was necessary for
them to be to some extent performers of prodigies, in order to get hold
of the purses of others.

The Germans meanwhile, had found other places of amusement. The
pleasure-seeking youths wandered to Spa and Pyrmont; hardly any now but
the citizens of Switzerland assembled at the baths of Zurich. In
conclusion, the society at Baden, as it was at the end of the last
century, is thus shortly described.

Life at the Baths at the end of the Eighteenth Century.

"The magistracy stand in high esteem with the citizens, and endeavour to
maintain this by the most formal behaviour. Owing to this adherence to
forms, a journey to Baden was at that period a great state transaction.
Farewell visits were first made to relations and acquaintances. The
distinguished people of Zurich ordered, as early as possible, the
quarters where they were to be accommodated in Hinterhof, that they
might not be mixed up with the common burgher class, who then put up at
the Stadthof. The wealthy artisans whom one met with there, were still
greeted by the title of 'master,' and generally in the second person;
and the patrician families kept exclusively together. Immediately after
an arrival visits of ceremony were paid, each one made deep obeisance to
the other, and observed strictly the customary etiquette. There was more
solemnity than frivolity, and the freer proceedings of the young people
were considered as deviations from the rule. They always showed
themselves also at the baths, dressed to the best of their power,
according to their condition in life, and even the négligé was carefully
chosen, and showed the quality of the person. The gentlemen appeared in
the morning in dressing-gowns of woollen damask, out of the wide sleeves
of which, ruffles of fine cambric fell over the hands, and the
_Badehren_ (bath mantles) of both sexes were trimmed with lace, and
after the bath, in order to be dried, were spread out ostentatiously as
a show, on the bars before the windows of the rooms. In Zurich they
restricted the advance of expenditure by moral laws, prudent considering
the period, but frequently carried to exaggeration. The material was
accurately prescribed in which both sexes were allowed to be dressed.
The women especially were kept under strict observation, and they were
forbidden to wear blond, fringes, thread or silk lace, except on their
caps; all openwork embroidery, all dresses of gauze, and all trimmings,
except of the same material as the dress. The ordinance on dress says
further: 'Married women may be allowed to curl their hair, but over the
curls there must be nothing fastened but a simple silk ribbon;
consequently the wearing of so-called tocquets, and of all feathers and
other ornaments for the hair, were altogether forbidden; farther, the
wearing of all enamel work and of portraits painted in miniature or
other representations.' The men were forbidden not only all upper
garments of silk or velvet, but even a lining of the like material;
farther, all gold or silver stuffs and lacing, and all gallooned or
embroidered horse covers and housings, except at the quarter musterings;
and to both sexes most especially all real or mock jewels on a penalty
of fifty pounds. The tribunal, appointed by the government, which drew
up these laws, and was charged to administer them, was called
_Reformation_. Meanwhile the power of the _Reformation_ did not extend
beyond the frontier of the canton, although in one special article they
endeavoured to stretch the mandate to those Zurichers who lived in other
parts of the confederation, and especially in Baden. Here alone nothing
was prescribed, and they indemnified themselves for restraint elsewhere,
by adorning themselves with just those things which were forbidden at
home. Many proud ladies and gentlemen, procured themselves objects of
luxury for a visit to the baths of a few weeks, which were quite useless
to them for the remainder of the year, and displayed themselves therein,
in defiance of any reformers who chanced to be present. Gallooned
dresses, which had once been worn in foreign parts, were here brought to
light again out of the chests wherein they had been preserved, unused
for years. The few jewels inherited from great-grandmothers were taken
out of their cases to ornament the ears, neck, and stomacher; and in
delicately holding a cup of coffee, the little finger was stretched to
the utmost, that the ring, brilliant with diamonds, rubies, or emeralds,
might glitter before the eye. In great pomp, like the dressed-up altar
figures, they passed along the dirty courts and alleys to admire and be
admired; but in order that their attire might not be injured, they
seldom went further in this beautiful country than to the meadows or to
the play. It was a period of stiff buffoonery! That the young people of
both sexes, often left alone together till late in the night, danced
more perhaps than now-a-days; that the gentlemen sometimes sacrificed
largely to Bacchus; and that all, after their fashion, enjoyed
themselves right well, may easily be understood. People of rank, some
already smartly attired, others in choice morning dresses, assembled
usually before dinner in the Hinterhofe, round a small stone table
called the _Täfeli_, where they usually returned again after the repast.
Here they gossiped good-humouredly on everything far and wide; no news
was left untouched, and many witty and delicate allegorical jests were
ventured upon and listened to. The return from Baden took place
generally in a very slow formal manner. After manifold long, wordy and
drawling compliments, and farewell formularies, packed at last in the
lumbering coach, they go; step by step, slowly, still making salutations
right and left from the coach door, up to the Halde."

Now Baden has become a respectable, modest, summer residence, little
different from fifty other similar institutions. Still however one may
observe, not in Baden itself, but at other baths in Switzerland, the
ancient arrangement that persons of the same sex may bathe together in a
bath, amusing themselves without constraint; and not long ago at the
Leuker baths there were galleries round the baths, from which many
strangers might watch the bathers. But everywhere the proceedings of
men, even in these works of idleness, take another form; and the
garlanded maidens of Poggio, the costly suppers of the time of
Pantaleon, and the frivolous patrician daughters, who, in defiance of
father and bridegroom, went about from bath to bath with foreign
cavaliers, have vanished, and forgotten is the tedious ceremonial by
which particular classes were closed to one another.

CHAPTER XI.

JESUITS AND JEWS. (about 1693.)

The Churches in Germany, both Roman Catholic and Protestant, suffered
from the weakness of the nation. Both had to pass through struggles and
sufferings, which threatened destruction to every exclusive Church
system; they became too narrow to embrace the whole spiritual and
intellectual life of men. Since the war, men had gradually felt the need
of toleration. With the Protestants, Luther's principle again revived,
that only inward conviction could bring men into the Church. It was
later, that the old Church yielded a grumbling toleration. Science had
discovered, amongst other things, that in spite of some passages of Holy
Scripture, the sun does not turn round our earth, but our earth round
the sun. Unwillingly did the Church receive this, after the discovery
had occasioned her many a heart's pang.

The Protestant Church had fewer difficulties to overcome, but the
aristocratic structure of the Roman Catholic Church, again so firmly
united, and supported by great political interests, would naturally find
it far more difficult to yield to necessity.

Whoever should wish to write a history of the religious conscience of
Germans, would have to examine how it was, that after the war there
arose in both confessions, precisely at the same time, a reaction of the
heart against the ruling parties, which in spite of the difference of
dogmas, shows a great similarity in the representations of this
tendency. The need of elevation of soul, in a period which was poor in
feeling, made the Protestant Spener, and the Catholic Spee and Scheffler
into pietists, and mystics. It is true, the restraining power of the
Protestant Church could no longer check the development of
individuality. Through it the scientific man could easily satisfy
himself, when he came, from the study of history, from observation of
the heavens, from the secret of numbers, and through the weighing and
measuring of the powers of the elements, to a new representation of the
world of creation, and thereby to new views of the being of the Godhead.
Thus the genius of the great Leibnitz was the growth of the Protestant
Church. Any one also whose fancy took a wild flight, or to whom deep
thought and meditation disclosed some peculiar aspect of the Deity,
might easily release himself from Church-communion with his
fellow-citizens, and unite himself perhaps with congenial spirits in
some special community. Thus did Böhme, and the eccentric Kuhlmann,
Zinzendorf, and Herrnhuter. This was incomparably more difficult in the
Roman Catholic Church. Whoever attempted to go his own way, had to
experience the anger of a strict mistress, and rarely did a powerful
mind break loose from the restraint.

But the ruling majority of ecclesiastics had even in the old Church lost
much of their energy. The warlike champion of the restored Church, the
order of Jesuits, had itself suffered in its greatness; it had become
powerful and rich, the connection between the provinces and Rome had
been loosened, the independence of individual houses was greater, and
the curse had fallen on it which pursues the prosperous. It became
pre-eminently the representative of modern courtly splendour in church
and school. Even in earlier times the order had not disdained brilliant
displays, nor to enter into the feelings of the great world, but then it
had been like the prophet Daniel, who only wore the Persian dress in
order to serve his God among the heathen; now Daniel had become a
satrap. Through the Westphalian peace, the great mission work of the
order was limited. Still however, did it continue skilfully to draw
within its circle the souls of individuals, whoever was rich or
distinguished was firmly ensnared. Its main object was not the salvation
of souls, but the fame which would accrue to the order. The greatest
amount of work was done in the Emperor's territory. Wherever heresy
still flickered, the lay authorities assisted. But one race, more
stubborn and stiff-necked than the sons of the Hussites, or the Moravian
brothers, incessantly excited the spirit of conversion in the order, it
was the Jews.

Already in the time of the Romans, the Jews may have dwelt within the
colonies on the Rhine, near the temple of Jupiter of golden Maintz, and
the baths of the proud Agrippina; they afterwards established themselves
within the German cities. In respect to German law they were as
foreigners; they were placed under the protection of the Emperor, who
transferred his power over them to the Archbishop of Maintz, the
Chancellor of the Empire. As the Emperor's dear servitors, besides the
other taxes, they had to pay him and the princes a penny offering, which
was raised on Christmas-day. This tax, one of the sources of the
Emperor's revenue, should have been security for his protection, but it
became an opportunity for the worst oppression; and they were drawn upon
for contributions on every occasion that money was wanted. Their taxes
reached to an exorbitant height. On sudden money emergencies, or as an
act of favour, the Emperor sold, or gave away his right of taxation to
the Princes and cities; and the year's rent of three, four, or even one
hundred Jews, was a secure and important income. Thus it was a source of
gain to the Princes and Sovereigns to possess many Jews, from whom they
raised money to the utmost.

On the other hand it was an exclusive right of the Jews to lend out
money on interest for notes of hand or mortgages, which was strictly
forbidden to the Christians of the middle ages by the Pope and Emperor.
Thus naturally the whole of the money dealing came into the hands of the
Jews. And by the high interest which they received--especially on short
loans--they must rapidly have acquired great wealth. But this boundless
right was not secure against sudden attacks, both Pope and Emperor
sometimes took the liberty of giving the creditor a dispensation from
the payment of the interest, nay even of the capital.

Thus they became the financiers of the olden time in both great and
little traffic, the richest persons in the country, in spite of
monstrous imposts.

But this opulence stimulated still more the hate and covetousness of the
multitude. In the early part of the middle ages they appear to have been
seldom persecuted by Christian fanaticism. But after the Crusades, the
declining Church and the populace of the towns vied with each other in
seeking their lives and treasure. A tradition which continues up to the
present day was brought forward against them. They were supposed to
poison wells, to introduce the plague, to murder Christian children, use
their blood at their Passover, and feed on their hearts; and to whip the
consecrated host with rods, &c. Persecutions, plundering of houses, and
extensive murders were almost periodical. Christianity was forced upon
them by the sword, torments, and imprisonment, but usually in vain. No
warlike people ever withstood brutal violence, with more heroic courage
than this defenceless race. The most magnanimous examples of enduring
heroism are mentioned by Christian writers themselves. Thus it went on
during the whole of the middle ages, and still in the sixteenth century
we find the Sovereigns endeavouring to fill their empty coffers from the
money bags of the Jews, and the populace still storming their houses, as
in the wild Jewish outbreak at Frankfort-on-Main in 1614. Some great
scholars, physicians, and natural philosophers among them, acquired a
repute which spread through all the countries of Europe, inspiring even
Christians with involuntary respect, but these were rare exceptions.

Amidst all these adverse circumstances, the indestructible vital
energies of this people still continued, as we find them among the Jews
of the present day: privileged by the Emperor, helpless before the law
of the country, indispensable, yet deeply hated, desired, but cursed, in
daily danger of fire, robbery, and murder, yet the quiet, masters of the
property and welfare of hundreds, in an unnatural adventurous position,
and yet always steadily occupied, amidst the densest mass of Christians,
yet separated from them by iron boundaries, they lived a twofold life;
in presence of Christians they were cold, stubborn, patient, timid,
cringing, and servile, bowed down under the oppression of a thousand
years: yet all the pride of noble blood, great wealth, and superior
talent, the full glow of southern feeling, every kindly emotion and
every dark passion were to be found in that race.

After the Thirty years' war, the Jews obtained scarcely more protection
from the fury of the multitude, and their spiritual trials became
greater. If the Protestants, who were then weak and embarrassed, vexed
them more by repulsive arrogance than by their arts of proselytism, the
old Church was the more zealous. They were more prosperous in trade and
usury since the Westphalian peace, indeed a splendid prospect had opened
for them. The diminution of international wholesale business, the ruin
of old commercial houses at Nuremberg and Augsburg, the continued
depreciation of the coinage, the unceasing need of money, with the
territorial lords, small and great, was favourable to the multifarious
activity of the Jewish business, which found skilful instruments
throughout all Germany, and connections from Constantinople to Cadiz.
The importance to German trade of the close cohesion of the Jews amongst
themselves, at a period when bad roads, heavy tolls, and ignorant
legislation, placed the greatest limits upon commerce, is not yet
sufficiently appreciated. With unwearied energy, like ants, they
everywhere bored their secret way through the worm-eaten wood of the
German Empire: long before the letter post and system of goods carriers
had spread a great network over the whole circuit of the country, they
had quietly combined for these objects; poor chafferers and travelling
beggars, passed as trusty agents between Amsterdam and Frankfort, Prague
and Warsaw, with money and jewels under their rags, nay concealed within
their bodies. In the most dangerous times, in spite of prohibitions, the
defenceless Jew stole secretly through armies, from one German territory
into another; and he carried Kremnitzer ducats of full weight to
Frankfort, while he circulated light ones among the people. Here he
bought laces and new church vestments for his opponents, the
ecclesiastics; there he smuggled through an enemy's territory, to some
prince, arms and implements of war; then he guided and accompanied a
large transport of leather from the interior of Russia to the fair of
Leipzig, he alone being capable by flattery, money, and brandy, of
overmatching the covetousness of the Sclave nobles. Meanwhile, the most
opulent sat in the well-grated rooms of their Jewish town, concealing
securely, under lock and key, the bills of exchange, and mortgages of
the highest lords, they were great bankers, even according to our
present standard.

The Jews of that period were probably richer in proportion to the
Christians than now, and at all events, from the peculiarities of their
traffic, more indispensable. They had friendly protectors alike at the
Imperial court, in the harem of the Sultan, and in the secret chamber of
the Pope; they had an aristocracy of blood, which was still highly
respected by their fellow-believers, and at bridal feasts they wore with
pride, the jewels which some ancestor, long perhaps before the days of
Marco Polo, had brought from India, while exposing his life to manifold
dangers; or another had got by bartering, from the great Moorish king at
Granada. But in the streets the Jew still bore the degrading mark of the
unhonoured stranger; in the Empire, a yellow cockade on his coat, and in
Bohemia the stiff blue cravat; as in the middle ages he had worn the
yellow hat, and in Italy the red mantle. It is true he was the creditor
and employer of numerous Christians, but in most of the greater cities
he still lived closely confined to certain streets or portions of the
city. Few German Jewish communities were larger or more opulent than
that in Prague, and it was one of the oldest in Germany. Seldom does a
traveller neglect to visit the narrow streets of the Jewish quarter,
where the small houses, clustered together like the cells of a beehive,
enclosed at once the greatest riches and the greatest misery of the
country, and where the angel of death so long caused tears of gall to
trickle into the mouth of the believer, till every inch of earth in the
dismal churchyard became the ashes of men. At the end of the seventeenth
century, near six thousand industrious men dwelt there in a narrow
space; the great money lenders, as well as the poorest frippery dealers
and porters, all closely united in firm fellowship and common interests,
indispensable to the impoverished country, yet in continual warfare
against the customs, coarseness, and religious zeal of the newly
converted kingdom.

For the second generation were then living, of the new Bohemia, which
the Hapsburgers by scaffolds, expulsion, and fearful dragooning, had won
back after the battle of Weissen Berge. The old race of nobles was, for
the most part, rooted out; a new Imperial nobility drove in gilded
carriages through the black Hussite city; the old biblical learning had
wandered into foreign lands, or died away in the misery of the long war;
in the place of the chalice priests and the Bohemian preachers, were the
holy fathers and begging monks; where once Huss defended the teaching of
Wickliff, and Zisk rebuked the lukewarmness of the citizens of the old
town, the gilded statue of the queen of heaven now rose triumphant.
Little remained to the people of their past, except the dark stones of
Königsstadt, a rough populace, and a harsh piety.

There remains to us a little pamphlet of this time, for which we are
indebted to two of the Prague celebrities of the order of Jesuits, the
Fathers Eder and Christel, the first of whom, wrote it in Latin, and the
second translated it into German; both writers are otherwise known, the
second as a zealous but insipid German poet. From this writing the
following narrative is taken.

"Thus in a few years a hundred and seventy persons of the Jewish
persuasion, were purified in the saving waters of baptism, by one single
priest of our society, in the Academical church of Our Saviour, of the
college of the Society of Jesus.

"I will by the way, here shortly mention, the wonderful bias of a Jewish
child for the Christian faith. A Jewess in the Zinkower domain was in
the habit of carrying her little daughter in her arms; one day she
accidentally met a Catholic priest, to whom she proposed to show her
child, and taking the veil off its little face, boasted what a
finely-shaped child she had brought into the world. The priest took
advantage of this preposterous and unexpected confidence, to bless the
unveiled child with the sign of the holy cross, admonishing the mother
at the same time to bring up the said child in the love and fear of God,
but leaving all else in the hands of Divine Providence. And behold this
little Jewess had hardly began to walk, when she forthwith considered
herself a Christian, knelt with them when they knelt, sang with the
singers, went out with them into the meadows and woods, made hay,
plucked strawberries, and picked up wood with them; besides this, she
learnt of them the paternoster and the angel's salutation, as also to
say the belief; in short she made herself acquainted with Christian
doctrine, and desired earnestly to be baptized. The high-born and Right
Honorable Countess of Zinkow, in order to fulfil this maiden's desire,
to her great delight took her in her carriage to Prague, that she might
there, out of sight of her parents, more securely obtain the privilege
of baptism. But after the parents had discovered that their daughter,
who had for so long a time carefully kept her designs secret, had become
a Christian, they bitterly lamented it, and were very indignant with the
priest who had blessed her in her mother's arms with the sign of the
cross, for they ascribed to him all their daughter's inclination for
Christianity.

"But by what intrigues the perfidious Jews endeavoured to frustrate
every conversion, I have myself not long since had experience, when for
the first time, a disciple in the faith of the Jewish race, Samuel
Metzel, was placed under me for instruction. The father, who had four
children yet minors, was a true Israelite, out of the Egypt of the
Jewish town, and had endeavoured, much and zealously, to bring them all,
together with himself, out of bondage. But, behold! Rosina Metzelin, his
wife, who then had a great horror of the Christian faith, would not obey
him; and when she found that the four children were immediately
withdrawn from her, this robbery of her children, was, like the loss of
her young to a lioness, hard to bear. She summoned her husband before
the Episcopal consistory, where she sued for at least two of the four
purloined children, which she had given birth to, with great labour,
pain, and weariness, both before, at, and after the time. But the most
wise tribunal of the Archbishop, decided that all the children belonged
to the husband, who was shortly to be baptized. Then did the wife lament
piteously, indeed more exceedingly than can be told or believed; and as
she was afeard that her fifth offspring, which was yet unborn, would be
stolen from her after its birth, she endeavoured earnestly to conceal
from the Christians the time of her delivery. Therefore she determined
first of all to change her place of abode, as her present one was known
to her husband and children. But there is no striving against the Lord!
The father discovered it by means of his innocent little daughter, who
for some months had been constantly kept in a Christian lodging, and was
unwarily admitted by her mother into her concealed dwelling. On
receiving this information, I sought out the Imperial Judge of the
_Altstadt_ of Prague, who, without delay, despatched his clerk to the
house, to demand the new-born child from the woman, and (in case she
refused) from the Elder of the Jewish people, as belonging to the now
baptized father. But as these crafty Jews would not consent to deliver
up the child, a Christian midwife was ordered for the Jewish woman, that
the same might, by some womanly, pious contrivance, carry off the child
from the mother. This midwife was accompanied by certain prudent
matrons. The conductress was to be Ludmilla, well known for her great
godliness, wife of Wenzeslaus Wymbrsky, who had gone through the baptism
of water and blood. Her husband Wenzeslaus was, with this his wife and
five children, baptized in our church by his Eminence the Cardinal and
Archbishop of Prague in 1464. It was above all displeasing to the
furious Jews, to see thirteen men of other families, following the
example of Wenzeslaus, abjuring Judaism the same year. At last it became
insupportable to them that Wenzeslaus, by whose shop many Jews had daily
to pass to their frippery market, should publicly set up in it the image
of the crucified Saviour, and every Friday keep a burning lamp before
it. Therefore he was greatly hated by the Jewish rabble, and often
assailed with derision and scoffing. Now, once when he went, according
to his daily custom, to the Teynkirche, an hour before day, three armed
Jews fell on him, by whom he was mortally wounded with two poisoned
pistol-balls, so that on the fifth day thereafter, he devoutly departed
this life, without having been persuaded to name the murderers. The
ringleader was caught later, and condemned to the wheel, but acting as
his own executioner hanged himself with a rope. Now the widow of the
deceased man, Ludmilla, could not slip in, with the little troop of
pious women, unperceived, because the Hebrews with their sharp lynx-eyes
watched narrowly. At that moment, many of them combined together and
pushed their way into the room of the Jewish woman about to be
confined. But Ludmilla did not take alarm at their presence, nor at the
possible danger of death. She handed over the consecrated water she had
brought with her, to the midwife, calling upon her in strong language,
to deliver the woman and baptize the child. And so it took place, and
the nurse took the child and baptized it. But the woman who had been
confined sprang frantically from her bed, and with vehement cries, tore
the child violently from the hands of the midwife. Forthwith, the city
judge made his appearance with armed men, in order to separate the now
little Christian son from the mother. But as she, like a frantic one,
held the child so firmly clasped in her arms, that it was feared it
would be stifled in extricating it from her, the judicious judge of the
city contented himself with strictly forbidding the old Jews there
assembled, to make the child a Jew. Thereupon it was commanded, by his
Excellence, the Lord Count of the Empire, Von Sternberg, Chief Burgrave
of the Kingdom of Bohemia, that this fifth child should be delivered
over to the father. Not long after, the mother also, who had so
stubbornly adhered to Judaism, gave in, and was baptized.

"The father of the Jewish boy Simon Abeles, was Lazarus, and his
grandsire Moses Abeles who for many years had been Chief Rabbi of the
Jews. Whilst already of tender years, there had been discovered in this
boy a special leaning of the spirit towards Christianity. Whenever he
could, he separated himself from the Jewish youths, and associated with
the Christian boys, played with them, and gave them sweets which he had
collected from his father's table, in order to gain their good will. The
Jewish cravat, stiffened with blue starch, which the Jews wear round the
neck, thereby distinguishing themselves here in Bohemia from the
Christians, was quite repugnant to Simon. As the light of his reason
became brighter, he took every opportunity of learning the Christian
mysteries. It happened that he was many times sent by his father, who
was a glove dealer, on business to the house of Christopher Hoffman, a
Christian glover. There he tarried in contemplation of the sacred, not
the profane, pictures that hung on the walls, although the last were
more precious and remarkable as specimens of artistic painting, and he
inquired with curiosity of the Christian inmates, what was signified in
these pictures. When in reply they told him, that one was a
representation of Christ, another of the mother of Christ, the
miracle-working mother of God, by Buntzel, and another, the holy
Antonius of Padua, he exclaimed, from his heart, sighing: 'Oh, that I
could be a Christian!' Moreover, a Jew called Rebbe Liebmann bore
witness, that the boy sometimes passed whole nights among Christians,
and did not appear at his father's house.

"Now many maintained that this leaning to Christianity arose from a
supernatural source, and was produced by the baptismal sign, which had
been impressed upon him by a Christian, whilst he was in the cradle.
When later this report had been carefully investigated, it was certified
that a preceptor, Stephen Hiller, was once sent to Lazarus Abeles to
obtain payment of a debt, that he there found a child lying alone in the
cradle, and had, from deep impulse of heart, baptized him with the
elemental water which was at hand. On being examined by the consistory
of the Right Reverend the Archbishop, this preceptor, who is now
invested with a chaplaincy, said that he did not know whether the child
was the little son of Lazarus; nay, his supposition had been far
stronger, that it was the son of a Jewish tailor. From such evidence
this weighty point remained doubtful.

"After some years, the steadfast leaning of Simon's spirit to
Christianity, having so much increased that it began to be clearly
perceived at home, the astute boy, foreseeing well that his parents and
relations would spare no pains to put impediments in his way, was minded
to prevent this, by flying from his father's house and Jewish friends,
before the path was closed against him. Now while, on the 25th of July,
1693, Lazarus the father, kept the solemn day of rest in the Jewish
school, his son betook himself to a Christian house near the Jewish
town, which was inhabited by the newly baptized Jew, Kawka, and that
same evening summoned to him Johannes Santa, a Jew who many years before
had been converted with his whole family, of whom he had already heard a
good repute, as a zealous man and assiduous guide. For this man had, at
the risk of his life, brought away Jews who had a desire for the
Christian faith, and their newly baptized children from the Jewish town,
had placed them under instruction in our college of St. Clement, had
provided them with food, clothes, and lodging, and had for hours
together read spiritual books, especially the Life of Christ, with deep
devotion to such as could not read, and whose greatest pleasure it was
to see them cleansed in holy baptism. To him Simon honestly opened his
heart, and entreated that Johannes would take him to the college of the
Society of Jesus.

"There was no necessity for entreating, the man borrowed clothes of a
Christian youth, covered Simon's head, which was shorn after the Jewish
fashion, with a peruke, and conducted him across the Altstadter Platz to
the college. In the middle of the said Platz, stands the large
richly-gilded image of the holy mother of God, carved out of one stone.
Johannes explained to his Christian scholar, that this richly-gilded
image represented the Queen of heaven, the faithful mediator of
believers with God. This Simon listened to with great eagerness, took
off his hat without delay, bowed his whole body low, and commended
himself with pious sighs, to the blessed mother of God, as her foster
child. Hereupon he turned to his guide and thus addressed him: 'If my
father saw this, he would straightway kill me.' Thus they reached our
college between seven and eight o'clock in the evening. I was called to
the door, and Simon imparted to me his desires with marvellous
eloquence, and at the same time begged with such fervent zeal to be
instructed in the Christian faith, that I was much amazed. I presented
him the same evening to the Reverend Father Rector of the college. It
almost seemed as if this twelve-year-old boy behaved himself, as afore
time Jesus among the doctors, seeing that he answered various questions
with an eloquence, acuteness, and judgment which far surpassed his age.
When it was objected to him, that his arrival excited a suspicion that
he had committed some evil deed in the Jewish town, and sought a refuge
in the ecclesiastical house, Simon answered with cheerful countenance:
'If there is a suspicion of any misdeed, let the truth be searched out
by proclamation, as is usual in the Jew town. If I were conscious of any
evil deed, I should have more hope of remaining unpunished among the
Jews than among the Christians, for I am a grandson of Moses Abeles,
their chief Rabbi.' Then when it was suggested that he had come among
the Christians in order to wear a peruke, a little sword, and
fashionable dress, the boy made a face and said: 'I must confess that
for a long time, I have not worn the Jewish collar. Nevertheless, I do
not desire to shine among Christians in any fashionable clothes, and
will be content with my old rags.' After he had given this earnest
answer, he began to strip his hands of his gloves, to ungird his little
sword, to tear the peruke from his head, and to unhook the clean, little
upper coat, determined were it necessary to follow the destitute Jesus,
unclothed.

"By such unexpected answers and heroic resolution, he drew tears from
the eyes of all present. But when he was commanded to put his clothes on
again, he soon dressed himself, and declared in strong words, which he
oft repeated, that he withdrew from the Jews on account of their wicked
course of life, and associated himself with Christians to secure his
salvation, because he knew well it was impossible to be blessed without
faith. But when he was asked who had taught him, that faith was
necessary to gain eternal life, he answered seven or eight times: 'God,
God, God alone,' therewith he oft sighed and smote his breast with both
hands. Then he went first to one priest, then to another, kissed their
hands, fell on his knees to them, exclaiming: 'Fathers, abandon me not;
do not reject me, do not send me again among the Jews; instruct me
quickly, quickly and' (as if he had a foreboding, and saw the impending
evil floating before his eyes), 'baptize me quickly.' Now when Simon
received the assurance that he would be reckoned among the scholars in
the Christian faith, he clapped his hands, and jumped for joy. His whole
discourse was as mature and discreet, as ready and free from hesitation,
as if he had long beforehand reflected upon it in his mind, and learnt
it by heart from his tablets, so that one of the four priests present
turned with astonishment to another, and said in Latin: 'This boy has a
miraculous understanding, which if not supernatural, is yet truly beyond
his age.'

"Meanwhile, the darkness of night had come on. But as there was not
convenient sleeping room at present for this new little Nicodemus, he
was with much inward striving of my spirit, left again in that Christian
house from whence he had been brought hither, in order to spend the
night in peace with the newly baptized Jew, George Kawka. This one was
called to the door of the college, and the boy was intrusted to him,
with an express order to bring him again to the college at the earliest
hour on the following morning, that they might provide him with a secure
dwelling.

"In the interim, Lazarus became aware of the absence of his son. Not
finding him either with his friends nor among other Jews, and being a
person of sound judgment, it occurred to him that his son must have gone
over to the Christians. Early on Sunday Lazarus betook himself to the
Christian house of the glove-maker Hoffmann, whom he did not find at
home. He concealed the loss of his son and his sorrow, and begged the
glove-maker's wife Anna, instantly to call George Kawka there, because
he had some weighty business to transact with him who was his debtor.
After a long Hebrew conversation with Lazarus, George Kawka came in all
haste to the college, but to my great sorrow, unaccompanied by the
Christian disciple. He appeared painfully disquieted, but did not tell
me a word of his conference with the father, but only said that Simon
was not sufficiently secure in his dwelling, and that it was necessary
to take good heed, or he would be entrapped by the crafty devices of the
Jews. After a sharp reproof for not bringing the boy with him when in
such danger, according to my strict orders, I commanded him to go to the
house forthwith and bring the boy hither. This he promised but did not
perform. Now when George Kawka returned home, he pretended that he
wished to go to church, and Simon prayed of him, as though he foreboded
some impending treachery, with many words and tears, not to leave him
behind, as the Jews would without fail lie in wait for him that day, and
seize him in the house; but that he would take him with him to church
and so bring him to the college. Now when he with great sorrow of spirit
perceived that George Kawka only answered with subterfuges, he withdrew
himself again, after the departure of the same, into his hiding-place
under the roof.

"Hardly had George crossed the threshold, when Katherina Kanderowa, a
lodger, came from the country into her lodging-room, which was close to
Simon's hiding-place, and saw the boy in his little Jewish coat, which
he had again been obliged to put on. As therefore the said Katherina
understood from the Jews who were standing round the house-door that
they were seeking for the son of a Jew, who had fled from his father,
and as she did not know that Simon was a disciple of the Christian
faith, she drew him out of his corner, and dragged him down to the front
part of the house. When the father saw his son, he presented to this
woman thirty silver groschen, that she might thrust the boy, who was not
strong enough to free himself from her hands, over the threshold. The
boy called upon the Christians to support him against such violence, but
in vain, for two robust Jews seized upon him each by an arm, and bore
him along as if he floated through the air, to the Jew town and his
father's house. But the father went craftily step by step slowly behind,
in order to chat with the Christians, and make them believe that his son
had only fled to the Christians, in order to escape lawful and deserved
punishment. He easily persuaded the populace of this.

"But George Kawka betook himself after the end of this tragedy to me,
and related the lamentable kidnapping of Simon with many light worthless
excuses. But I spoke sharply to him, put clearly before his eyes, how
evident it was that he had played with the Jews under the rose, and
sternly charged him if he would not be made answerable before the
tribunal, for the treacherous betrayal of Simon, to use all means
without delay, and on the requisition of a Christian judge to recover
him from the hand, of the Jews, and deliver him up to the college. And
truly it appeared as if he obeyed the command faithfully and
assiduously. Ha searched the whole Jew town many days, and examined
almost all the houses, as was testified of him by the person who
accompanied and was associated with him. He thereby turned almost all
the suspicion of treachery from him; and as Simon was nowhere to be
found, he confirmed the report that he had secretly been removed to
Poland. At a later period, George Kawka himself was driven, by a bad
conscience to take refuge in Poland, and has remained invisible to this
day.

"But Simon was dragged with violence to his father's house, and after
that day, was never seen outside the threshold. After their arrival at
home, the father could no longer control his anger, and beat his son
with a stick so savagely, that the Jews present began already to fear
that he would kill him. They therefore locked up Simon in a room in
which lived Sarah Bresin, afterwards a witness. But the father
endeavoured to break open the door of the room by repeatedly running at
it with violence, and at last angrily left the house. When his anger was
a little allayed, the Jews gave up to him the severely-beaten boy,
advising to tame him by fasting. So Simon was locked up in another room.
There he passed seven painful months, in hunger and imprisonment, daily
loaded with curses and oft threatened with death. But when the father
saw that his son's spirit was inflexible, and that on the Saturday
before Shrove Sunday, Simon again, before all the family, declared
undauntedly, that he would be baptized; he determined to go to
extremities. And that affection might not restrain his hand, he chose
for assistant a Jew, Levi Kurtzhandl, a man of savage spirit and in the
vigour of youth, who had already before advised him to poison the boy.
Levi Kurtzhandl invited the boy into the room of his stepmother, and
held converse with him out of the Talmud, in order to convert him. But
when Simon persevered in his intentions, he was knocked down by Levi,
and dragged by him and the father into the next room; there both fell
upon him furiously, broke his neck, and drove his head violently against
the corner of a wooden chest, whereby the glorious soldier of Christ
received a last blow on the left side of the temple.

"Whilst this barbarity was going on, Lia, the stepmother of Simon,
together with the journeyman Rebbe Liebmann, were occupied in the next
room making gloves. On hearing the moaning of the boy, and the noise of
the murderers, she hastened into the room. There she saw the dead body
on the floor, and both the murderers on their knees by him. Thereupon
the woman was so frightened, that she fainted, and had to be restored to
her senses by Kurtzhandl pouring vinegar over her.

"After the deed, Hennele, Lazarus's cook, came back, who had been sent
out of the house with the little children. These, when supper-time was
approaching, inquired where Simon was. They were obliged to take an oath
to keep the affair secret; whereupon, their father himself told them
that he, with Levi Kurtzhandl, had deprived the boy of life as an
apostate from the law of Moses, after the example of the patriarch
Phineas.

"After that, Lazarus took counsel with Levi how to keep the crime
secret, not only from the Christians, but also from the Jews,
especially from the family of Burianer, who were very hostile to all
that belonged to the Abeles. Levi offered while it was yet night, to
carry the body of Simon to his own house, and bury it himself in the
cellar. But Lazarus feared lest some of the Burian adherents should
discover it. They therefore decided on having the corpse buried in the
public burial-ground of the Jews. And truly, the neck of the body was
discoloured with blood, but otherwise there was no open wound to be
seen, with the exception of a blow on the left temple of about the size
of a ducat; so Lazarus called his household together, instructed and
made them swear, that they would say unanimously that Simon had become
insane, and in that state had fallen against the corner of the chest,
whereby he had been mortally wounded on the left temple.

"On the following morning early, this glorious soldier of Christ was
buried in great secrecy by two Jews, Jerochem and Hirsches Kesserlas,
the coroners.

"After the burial of Simon, from his grave arose the first great
summoner, the worm of conscience, which began to gnaw the heart of the
godless Lazarus. Memory unceasingly persecuted his conscience, and the
fear of worldly punishment ever hovered before his eyes. This fear was
much increased by the journeyman glove-maker, Rebbe Liebmann. The same
had after the deed, straight left Abele's house and made off, and had
only again returned to his work after the burial. When Lazarus began to
relate the particulars, Rebbe interrupted him, protesting that he did
not desire to hear a word about the evil deed, as he had already heard
the whole of yesterday's tragedy, related by the Jewish children in the
public streets. This burst upon the astonished Lazarus like a thunder
clap; without delay he collected and packed up all his light goods, sold
his house in the Jew town, and resigned his hired shop in an
aristocratic house, in order to settle himself in Poland. He was already
prepared, on the following day, to take flight; but it was
providentially ordained that the noble landlord of the house, who had
leased the shop to him, was just then hindered by palsy in his hand from
signing the release himself.

"Meanwhile, on the 23rd of February, one Johel, a Jew, not evil-disposed
towards the Christians, went into the Jew town through the Sommer-thor,
where he met some children playing, who were relating to one another,
how Simon Abeles had three days before been fresh and healthy, and had
early yesterday been buried without any funeral pomp. Johel betook
himself without delay to the burial-ground, and found a freshly-raised
grave; reflected upon all the other circumstances and reports, and came
to the sensible conclusion that Lazarus was the murderer of his son.
This he confided forthwith to a writer of the royal government in great
secresy. After I had received intelligence thereof, and had earnestly
admonished the Jewish informer to give a faithful report; he wrote down
the following day all the lamentable particulars, in order to deliver
them to the most noble government. They commanded the body of Simon to
be disinterred, and to be closely examined by a doctor appointed for the
purpose; and finally to take into custody those who were suspected of
the deed, as also their accomplices. All this was set on foot cautiously
and without delay. The body was disinterred under an armed guard; the
Jews who had collected, and the Jewish doctor who was called in,
declared that a bad blow on the head, and lastly a fit of insanity, had
killed the boy. But the medical gentlemen gave their opinion, that many
indications, the broken neck and a small round wound on the temple,
showed that the boy had died from a violent blow.

"Thereupon Lazarus Abeles was brought to see the body of his son. He
turned pale and trembled, and was so confused that he remained silent,
and for a good while could not say anything intelligible, nor answer
anything distinctly. At last as the Herr Commissary continued urging him
to say whether he knew the body of the boy, he answered with bent head
and weak voice that it was the body of his son Simon; and when it was
further put to him what was the cause of the wound on the left temple,
he gave a confused and contradictory answer. He was therefore again
taken to prison, but the body of the boy was put into a Christian
coffin, and placed meanwhile in the cellar of the council-house. The
_Herren_ commissaries were unwearied in cross-questioning Christians and
Jews. But in spite of all indications, Lazarus, and the women who were
in special custody, Lia, his wife, and Hennele, his cook, were almost
unanimous in their evidence: Simon had not taken flight from his
father's house to become a Christian, but for a long time had been
affected with a disease of the head, and therefore kept in the house; at
last he had felt an extreme repugnance for food, had become subject to
violent fits of insanity, and thus had met with his death. All means of
extracting the truth were unavailing; Lazarus Abeles and the two only
witnesses then known of, remained obstinate.

"One afternoon, the honourable Franz Maximilian Baron von Klarstein, the
official commissary, was reflecting on this matter as he went home, and
ascended the steps of his house; when it suddenly seemed to him that he
received a violent blow on the side, he turned round crossly, when
behold there appeared to him on the landing which divided the steps from
one another, a boy standing, who bowed his head, and smiled sweetly with
cheerful countenance, clothed in a Jewish winding-sheet, wounded on the
left temple, and in size and age like Simon, as this gentleman had seen
him with his own eyes, on inspection of the body, when a lively image of
him had been impressed on his memory. The gentleman was amazed, and
whilst he was sitting at table with his wife and some guests, pondered
in his mind what this might signify. Then he heard the tapping of a
person's finger several times on the door of the dining-room. The
servant was sent out, and informed him that an unknown maiden desired
instantly to be admitted. Having entered, and being kindly accosted, the
little maiden of fourteen answered that her name was Sarah Bresin, that
she now dwelt among the Christians to be instructed in the Christian
faith, and had shortly before lived as servant to the tenant in the
house of Lazarus Abeles; there she had seen with her own eyes how
cruelly Lazarus had attacked his son Simon, because he had fled to the
Christians, in order to be baptized. Upon this and other evidence Sarah
was confronted with Lazarus; before whom she declared freely, with much
feeling and in forcible language, all that she knew. But Lazarus roundly
denied it all; and with frantic curses called down all the devils upon
her head. But when he returned to his prison, confusion and despair
seized his soul; he perceived that his denials would no longer help him
before the court, and determined by a last expedient to escape judicial
proceedings. Although both his legs and one hand were impeded by his
fetters, yet he contrived to wind the girdle, called a _Tephilim_,
wherewith the Jews bind their heads and arms during prayer, instead of a
cord, round the iron window grating, and strangled himself thereby. Thus
on the following morning, he was found strangled. For the Jews
erroneously consider it allowable to throttle themselves, and oft-times
do the like. Judgment was passed on his dead body.

"After his death his wife Lia and the servant-maid Hennele being
confronted with Sarah Bresin, made a public confession; the fugitive
journeyman glover, Rebbe Liebmann, was also produced and confessed. His
Princely Grace the Archbishop decided that Simon should be buried in the
Teynkirche, in the chapel of St. John the Baptist, by the baptismal
font, within a vault of polished marble, in a fine oak coffin covered
with red velvet, and guarded by a lock and three keys. Further, that the
coffin was to be borne to the burial place by innocent and noble youths
dressed in purple. The most noble Frau Silvia, born Gräfin Kinskey, wife
of his Excellency the Lord Count of the Empire, Schlick, had a double
costly dress prepared for this day, an under dress of white satin and an
upper one of red, interwoven with gold, trimmed with gold buttons and
adorned with gold lace-work; she provided also stockings of the like
material to cover the feet, and an exceedingly beautiful garland of gold
and silver lilies and roses to crown the head of the innocent martyr.

"Hardly had his most precious body been attired and laid in the costly
coffin, when the high nobility of both sexes arrived, and pressed with
godly impetuosity into the chapel, where all were amazed, and praised
the God of all marvels when they saw that the holy pledge (the body of
Simon) was unchanged five weeks after his death, that no exhalation of
odour could be discovered or perceived, and that from his death wounds
there dropped continually fresh rose-coloured blood. Wherefore persons
even of the highest consideration caught up this precious liquor with
their pocket-handkerchiefs. But others who were not provided with clean
handkerchiefs, or who could not get near enough for the great throng,
made their way to the old grave and tore away the bloody clippings which
lay therein. Afterwards the revered body was exposed to view on this and
the following day in the great hall of the council-house. But even there
it was exceeding difficult to approach it. At last on the 31st of March
the funeral was performed. An armed force in three ranks surrounded the
council-house for two whole hours; throughout the whole city resounded
the pealing bells of seventy churches. Meanwhile the synagogue and the
whole body of Jews were ready to swoon away with anguish, because they
feared the vengeance of the Christian populace would fell upon them. It
was indeed almost a miracle that no deed of violence was committed, for
in the past year, the Christians had more than once for the most
trifling reasons, fallen upon and plundered the frippery market and Jew
town, and had also, as is well known, attacked the Jews themselves,
severely injuring and even murdering some.

"When towards ten o'clock, the painters had finished a double
representation of the martyr Simon, the church ceremonies began. After
the coffin had been closed, the commissaries prepared to seal up the
keyhole, but as the paper which was to be sealed over the lock might be
injured, they desired to have a suitable silk ribbon, and when this
became known to the most noble persons present, they tore what they had
of such material from their heads, stomachers and arms. His Excellency
the Reichsgraf von Martinez also unbound the ribbon that was hanging
from his sword-hilt. But a ribbon of red satin was chosen for this
purpose, which the most noble and right honourable the Countess Kolowrat
had worn; this was cut in two and placed over the lock and sealed. After
this the martyr's coffin was covered with a costly red velvet pall
prepared for the occasion; in the middle of the funeral bier was a fine
picture of Our Lady, and on both sides angels with palm branches.
Sixteen good youths of noble descent bore the funeral bier on their
innocent shoulders; they wore red mantles with gold lace glittering on
them, and wreaths of silvered roses wound with red silk. Then the
pealing of bells sounded through all the three towns; the clouds
suddenly cleared from off the heavens; the multitude covered every roof,
and occupied every window; they had flocked together, not only from the
three neighbouring vine-clad mountains but from distant places and
cities.

"The city authorities led the host of the funeral train; after them
followed the lately baptized young Jews, adorned with red badges, before
whom two church banners of like material were borne. Next a countless
multitude of schoolboys from all the schools of the three towns, ranged
under eight purple flags; thirdly all the young students from the under
Latin schools. Fourthly above four hundred heads of the Latin
brotherhood from the schools, before whom was carried cross and banner
under a canopy with lighted wax tapers. They were followed by a fifth of
the higher student brotherhood of Our Lady; among them many doctors, and
assessors, and divers nobles of the Empire; before them also were borne
the cross and banner with the canopy, and in their hands they carried
burning wax tapers, and flaming white torches. Sixthly came the first
set of choristers, then the clergy in their vestments, then the second
set of choristers; after them the deacons, parish priests, and the very
reverend the prebendaries with the officiating priests, and beside them
went the city soldiers in long rows. Seventhly came the sixteen finely
attired youths bearing the glorious corpse of the martyr Simon. On both
sides of the coffin went twelve boys with burning red torches, dressed
in exquisitely beautiful purple linen. Eighthly following the coffin
came the most noble the President and Governor of Königreichs, all
holding red torches in their hands; they were followed by the most
distinguished nobility of both sexes in great numbers, and lastly a
countless multitude of God-fearing people.

"The accomplice of the murderer, Levi Hüsel Kurtzhandl, was the son of
wealthy parents at Prague; he was tall, and twenty years of age, with a
daring countenance, was passionate, had a bold eloquence and ready wit,
and was perfectly acquainted with the Talmud, which he had studied
eleven years. He had concealed himself with his Jewish bride nine miles
from Prague. After diligent inquiries, armed men were despatched there
who put him in irons, and brought him in a carriage to Prague on the
22nd of March. Although the commissaries, having formerly had similar
cases, doubted whether the least atom of truth could be extracted from
this flint, yet they confronted him with the witnesses. But
notwithstanding the affidavits of three witnesses, he acknowledged
nothing. He was threatened with the executioner and the rack, but that
had no more effect upon him than threatening a crab with drowning. For
he trusted he should be able to endure the rack, and so escape. Nay, he
was hardy enough to say, that this trial was carried on contrary to all
law and justice. Thus he was, according to law, condemned to the wheel
on the evidence of three witnesses, though without his own confession.

"He however hindered the execution of the sentence for seven months,
having by means of a Jewish relation brought the affair before his
Imperial Majesty Leopold. The proceedings were now delayed by Jewish
tricks, and so tardily carried on, that it might plainly be seen, that
the culprit was only seeking a delay of some years in order to obtain a
mitigation of punishment or to obviate it by a voluntary death. At last
the tribunal obtained an order that the accused should deliver in his
defence within fourteen days; his frivolous pleas were rejected, and the
sentence of the tribunal confirmed by his Imperial Majesty. He however
adhered to his declaration: 'I am innocent of the blood of the murdered
boy.' This he oft repeated before Father Johannes Brandstedter of the
Society of Jesus, an unwearied apostolical labourer, who met a blessed
death four days after Kurtzhandl, from the virulent poison he had
imbibed in the work of love by a sick bed. When he inquired of the
condemned whether he could meet death with resignation, and exhorted him
to the reception of the saving faith, Levi answered with a cheerful
aspect and without embarrassment: 'I care as little for death as for
this straw'--he held one in his hand, which he thereupon threw
away--'but as concerns the faith, we will now argue out of the holy
Scriptures which of us two holds the true faith. But the father must not
think he has a common simple man before him, for I studied the Talmud
for eleven years.'

"Thus began a controversy concerning the faith; the priest attacked the
Talmud with powerful theological evidence, and Levi apprehended
everything by the strong capacity of his understanding. At last he threw
his Jewish bible away from him, impatiently saying: 'Let it be as it
may, I abide by the faith in which I was born.' As on the following day
the obdurate youth began to harp upon the same string, the priest set
about the matter again in another way; he no longer spoke to him, but
turned to his fellow-prisoners, and read to them divers evidence from
the holy Scriptures, whereby he proved that the Messiah had already
come.

"This, Levi listened to quietly and thoughtfully, and although he gave
no indications of being inclined to the holy faith, yet it might be seen
by his countenance that he was not as averse to the presence of the
priest as yesterday. On the third day Levi, hardened as he might be in
other respects, yet desired that the father should return in the
afternoon, as his presence was a special comfort to him in his miserable
position. When the priest promised him this as an encouragement, the
stony heart appeared softened. In the afternoon, the father in his holy
simplicity placed such reliance on the Jew, that he removed all the
others, and remaining alone with him, kindly and urgently begged of him
to give both himself and him consolation, by relating at his pleasure,
as the greatest secret, truly and faithfully, what he knew of the death
of Simon. At this unexpected address Levi was quite amazed; he continued
long silent; but at last struck with the rare confidence shown by a
Christian priest in a Jew, he conceived a high esteem for his
uprightness, and persuaded by the father's promise of secresy, confessed
before him and one of his fellow-prisoners, with great signs of sorrow,
with bent shoulders and head hanging down on the left side, that he had,
at the instigation of the father Lazarus Abeles, laid violent hands on
Simon, and caused his death from zeal for the law of Moses.

"Upon receiving this confession the priest was exceeding joyful, and
strove with all his powers, by arguments and urgent entreaties, to
persuade him to turn himself magnanimously to God. But to this Levi
would not return any satisfactory answer; and when, as evening twilight
was creeping on, the priest prepared to go home, Levi raised his eyes to
heaven, and said with a deep sigh: 'Father, where shall I be at this
time to-morrow?' Whereto the priest replied: 'My son, in heaven, if you
embrace the Christian faith; but if you die in Judaism, in hell as a
hardened Jew.' Thereupon he in the most friendly way wished him a good
night and a blessed end, and went away.

"On the following day the priest found the condemned man dressed in
white linen for the impending tragedy, as if he had prepared himself to
be baptized. After a friendly greeting the father asked him in which
faith he had at last resolved to die? Hereunto Levi returned this
answer: 'I will die in the same faith in which Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob
died. And as in the olden time Abraham offered up his son, so will I
to-day sacrifice myself for my sins.' When the priest made a further
rejoinder, he said with a pleasant countenance and in a calm manner: 'I
humbly beg of you, father, not to trouble me any more about baptism, for
I will now pray from the Psalms and prepare myself for a happy death.'
Thereupon he began to repeat the Psalms, but without the girdle called a
_Tephilim_, although the Jews usually consider prayer without binding
the forehead and hands a sin. But he prayed with such contrition of
heart and such vehement beating of the breast, and penitential tears,
that his fellow-prisoners and all present were greatly astonished at his
remorse.

"After a prayer that had lasted more than two hours he gave himself up
quickly into the hands of the executioner, and thus accosted him with a
cheerful countenance: 'Do to me what God and my judges have commanded
you.' He then turned to his fellow-prisoners, took a friendly leave of
them, and humbly begged of them to forgive his past failings.

"After ten o'clock they took him, amidst the gaze of countless
multitudes, from the prison, and bound him in a hide, whereat he showed
no sign of impatience or displeasure. Only he sometimes raised his bound
hands in prayer to heaven. Thus was he dragged by a horse to the field
of action. When he perceived that the accompanying priest in the middle
of the Platz was in danger of being severely injured by a horse, he
begged with sympathizing voice that he might go in front to avoid the
danger."

Thus far the Jesuit's narrative. On the scaffold Levi made a manly
confession of his deed before all the people, with a request that the
witnesses who had only spoken the truth should no longer be kept in
prison. The details of the execution were particularly horrible; the
experienced executioner could not--so the writer states--break the
strong body of the criminal on the wheel. At last Levi called to the
priest by his side and asked him in a clear voice what he would promise
if he should consent to be baptized? When the father promised him,
besides forgiveness of all his sins, also a speedy death, Levi answered:
'I will be baptized.' The Church triumphant hastened to impart private
baptism, much disposed to attribute this unheard-of bodily strength and
calm of the malefactor to a special miracle of Divine Providence. Levi
repeated the prescribed formula with a strong voice, and received calmly
the now effective stroke of death.

This is the sorrowful history of Simon Abeles. Whoever judges the Jesuit
narrative impartially will discover in it something which the narrator
wishes to conceal; and whoever contemplates with horror the fanatical
murder, will nevertheless not spend much sympathy on the fanatical
priests. They tear the scarcely born child out of the arms of its
mother; they consider it a pious contrivance to steal the suckling
secretly from her, by means of spies and tale-bearers; by promises and
threatenings, and excitement of the imagination, they win hosts of
proselytes in baptism to their God, who is very unlike the God of the
gospel; with the skill of experienced managers, they make use of a
miserable murder, for the sake of bringing on the scene a real tragedy,
and of the dead body of a Jewish boy, in order by pomp and glitter and
enormous processions, and if possible by miracles, to recommend their
faith to both Christians and Jews. Their fanaticism, in alliance with
the burgher magistracy and the compliant law, stands in comparison with
that of a despised, persecuted, and impulsive race; cunning, violence,
malice and a corrupt morality, are to be discovered on both sides.

During yet two generations, the zeal of the Jesuits against the Jews
continued to work, the struggle of two foreign communities on German
ground. The one consisted of the sons of the old dwellers in the
wilderness, whose leader, the Lord Jehovah, brought them forth with
their flocks and herds, going before them in the fiery pillar, and
pouring his wrath on all who fell away from him. And opposed to these
were the followers of a Spanish nobleman, who had undertaken the
monstrous task of forming the souls of men like the wheels of a machine,
making all the highest intellectual powers serve the one single object,
of a priesthood to the one appointed officer of the great head of the
church militant, Jesus.

What were Loyola and his school to the ancient Abeles and to Levi
Kurtzhandl? How ancient was Loyola? Their fathers had slaughtered the
sacrificial victim three thousand years before the first Jesuit had
tortured a Jewish heart; their descendants, they were sure, would offer
sacrifice three thousand years later in the kingdom of Messiah, after
the last Jesuit had been collected to his mother Lilith. The fearful S.
J. which shone in gold on the stones of the college, how long would it
last? In the time of their grandfathers it had its origin, in the time
of their grandchildren it would be erased. What was this new device to
the seed of Abraham? An extravagance, a short plague of Egypt. Proudly
did the Roman Catholic church look back on seventeen hundred years of
victory and conquest, but more proudly did the despised Jew look upon
his past, which stretches back to the dawn of the world, for his faith
was seventeen hundred years old when Christ was baptized. Both the
judgment of the pious fathers of the Church and the pious Jews was
narrowed, and their comprehension of the Highest disturbed by old
traditions.

When Jehovah spoke to Moses on the mountain, his law became the
groundwork of a higher moral law, to the hordes in the desert; when
Jesus proclaimed to the apostles the gracious message of love, his
teaching was a holy treasure for the human race. Since then, the Jews
have continued unweariedly to solemnize their Passover; still do they
shun the meat of the swine, and swing the young cocks on atonement day;
but the foundation of their faith has long vanished, also their pastoral
state on the borders of the Syrian wilderness. For many centuries also,
the pious fathers of the Roman Catholic church have offered their holy
sacrifice daily; but they also, have already ceased to be the most
pre-eminent of those who live under the law of the new covenant. The
Bohemian peasant, who benevolently raised up the sick Jew on the high
road, without tormenting the soul of the stranger with efforts to
convert him, was more Christian than they; that man of science, who
risked his life under the anger of the Church, that he might understand
how the lightning was made by God, and the earth caused to revolve, was
more a proclaimer of the Eternal, than they; and that citizen who died
for his duty, in order to teach that the general weal is of more value
than that of individuals, was nearer the most perfect pattern, than
they. Among them also, undoubtedly, were many good high-minded men; the
Jesuit, Friedrich Spee, met his death in a pesthouse, like that sailor
in the flames. But those who thus lived, are precious to us because they
showed themselves to be good men; whether they were considered good
priests we know not. When this same Spee protested so vehemently against
the burning of witches, which his Church so zealously carried on, he
published his writings, without his name, in a Protestant place.

Since Moses, and since the first feast of Pentecost, the Lord had never
left himself without witnesses; he had given the nations of the earth a
new culture, had led them to a higher civilisation. He had given them a
new code of morals, he had unlocked the other half of the earth, he had
willed that the new spirit in men should be contained in the narrow
space of one book, which might pass from hand to hand, from one soul to
another, from one century to every succeeding one. Restlessly and
unceasingly did the Divine Spirit agitate and stir the hearts of men;
ever more mighty and more holy did these manifestations of the Eternal,
appear to men of powerful intellect; it was a different manifestation to
that of the old writings, it was also another word of God, another
aspect of the Eternal, which was discovered. Thus men now sought the God
of the human race, of the earth, of the universe, not only in the old
faith but also in science. Together with the Jesuits and Jews there was
Leibnitz.

This new culture has elevated the Jews; their fanaticism has vanished
since the Christian zeal which persecuted them has ceased, and the
descendants of that wandering Asiatic race have become our countrymen
and fellow combatants. But the ecclesiastical community of the Society
of Jesus, already once expelled, then revived again, remains to this day
what it was at the beginning of its emigration into Germany--alien to
the German life.

CHAPTER XII.

THE WASUNGER WAR. (1747.)

The great century of enlightenment began with blood and the thunder of
cannon. The Spanish war of succession raged on the western frontier,
within the distracted realm. Bavaria and Cologne fought under the ban of
the Empire, in alliance with Louis XIV. against the house of Hapsburg.

The constitution of the Empire had become weak. In the east the
Hohenzollerns already held a powerful position by the side of the
Hapsburgers; from the beginning of the century they had become kings
independent of the Empire, and the Electoral house of Saxony, had
shortly before obtained the insecure possession of the Polish Electoral
throne.

Condemned witches were still burnt on the funeral pile; the
ecclesiastics of three persuasions still carried on a wearisome strife;
the intolerance of the Church, the pressure of poverty, want of great
political interests, and the pitifulness of the small sovereigns and
their courts, still weighed upon the masses.

Ever wider became the separation of classes. Etiquette only permitted
the princes to have intercourse with the citizens in particular cases,
and under prescribed forms. It therefore occurred sometimes that a good
paternal ruler disguised himself as a private man, withdrew into a
chamber apart, put on his old dressing-gown, and took a pipe in his
mouth, in order to be enabled to have direct intercourse with his
citizens, and thus learn their wishes from themselves. During such hours
his princely dignity was, to a certain degree, suspended, but instantly
he quitted the room he was again within courtly interdict.

Yet it was just at this period that numerous mesalliances took place.
Among many of the higher nobility, wild nature broke through the
restraint of court usage, and more than once a city maiden had the
doubtful advantage of becoming the persecuted wife of a Prince of old
family. Seldom did the wife obtain from the Emperor the rights of equal
birth; the marriages were generally morganatic, and the children refused
the succession.

Among the German princes, the course of whose life was changed by a
union of this kind, was Anthony Ulrich, Duke of Saxe Meiningen; born in
1687, the youngest of three brothers, he became, according to the custom
of his house, joint ruler of the country, that is to say, the elder
brother exercised the rights of sovereignty, but the younger ones
received a portion of the revenues of the country. In his youth, this
prince had travelled; in the war of succession he had served through
some campaigns as an Imperial officer; and at the peace of Rastatt, he
quitted the army with the rank of Major-general. A fiery youth,
courteous and accomplished, affable as becomes young princes, not
without an interest in intellectual pursuits, he had, following the
prevailing fashion, zealously collected objects of art and natural
curiosities; with a lively disposition and chivalrous demeanour, he was
the favourite of the country which he only nominally ruled. Whatever
entered into his head, he carried on wilfully and recklessly, with an
iron perseverance which might have led him to great things. Then it
became his lot to fall in love with Philippine Cesar, the daughter of a
Hessian captain, lady of the bedchamber to his sister, the Abbess of
Gandersheim; he took her to Holland and married her.

For many years he did not avow his marriage. His life became unsettled;
he kept his wife concealed in Amsterdam, and strictly commanded his
servants to keep secret his place of residence; he received letters from
home in roundabout ways, and was always moving to and fro in the land of
his fathers. But when his wife became more precious to him, and sons
were born, the stubbornness of his nature was brought forth, he revealed
his marriage, and required of his family the recognition of it, and the
right of succession for his children.

The displeasure of his proud house now broke out. The recognition was
denied. Such a marriage was considered by the Court altogether
monstrous, but it was always doubtful whether the decisions of feudal
law were competent to declare this marriage invalid. Therefore the Dukes
of Saxony met together in 1717, and decided that all unequal unions in
their house were to be considered as only morganatic, and the children
were never to be allowed the rights of succession.[48]

Anthony Ulrich remained firm. He solicited the Imperial court, and
strove unweariedly against the council of the country, who took
advantage of this quarrel to diminish the revenues of the Duke. But his
nature was not easily bent. When in 1722, the last feudal tenant of
Altenstein, one Hund von Wenckheim lay dying, and the commissaries of
the government were standing by the death-bed to take possession of the
vacant fief, Anthony Ulrich rode suddenly into the court of the castle,
and in spite of the protest of the councillors, who were also his
servants, entered the chamber of the dying man, sang with him the
evening song and the penitential hymn, and passed the night, armed with
pistols and other weapons, in the castle. As soon as the vassal had
closed his eyes, he entered the room, and according to the old usage
took possession of the vacant fief, and seating himself in a red velvet
arm-chair, said: "I hereby take possession of my third share, without
prejudice to the two-thirds of my brothers." He then called in his
attendants as witnesses, and according to the prescribed usage, struck
his hand forcibly on the table, so that a jug upset, symbolical of the
movable property, and caused a chip to be cut out of the door of the
chamber of death, and of the dining-room. After this he swore into his
service all who had not fled; he then rode out, cut splinters from the
oak wood, and bits of turf from the meadows, as further tokens of having
taken possession, and went back to Meiningen. But when he returned to
the castle, he found the gates closed and guarded by grenadiers, and all
his threats and protestations were of no avail.

He afterwards wished to take his wife and children to one of his own
possessions, and lead a peaceable life at home. But such was not his
happy lot. His brothers obtained a decision from the Imperial high court
of judicature, according to which he was not to take his wife and
children into the country of his fathers, and if he should venture to do
so, he was never to usurp for them the title of princes. He now however
went himself to Vienna and so worked there, with the help of large sums
of money, and through the medium of his military acquaintances--the
Spanish minister, the Marquis of Perlas was his supporter--that the
Emperor Charles VI. raised his wife Philippine to the dignity of
Princess of the holy Roman Empire, and her sons and daughters to be
dukes and duchesses of Saxony, with all the privileges and rights,
_i.e._ those of the succession.

Against this, the whole house of Saxony, and those of Hohenzollern and
Hesse, who were interested by the settlement of succession, rose in
opposition. At first, however, Anthony Ulrich was victor. His eldest
brother died, and the second was a weak man. So he became in 1729, the
real ruler of the country. Then he brought his wife and eldest son under
the ducal roof at Meiningen. For eleven years the stubborn prince
rejoiced in having established his own will. But the struggle with his
house had embittered him; and added to restlessness and violence, a
litigious spirit had come over him. Peevish and endless were the
disputes about the government, and the discord with his brothers and his
favourites; the little country was divided into two parties; ministers
and officials threw themselves on the one or the other side, and
sometimes the machine of government stood still. The Duke lived
generally with his wife and children out of the country, at Vienna. The
legal proceedings with the agnates about the equality of birth, which
still continued, and vexatious quarrels with neighbours, gave him but a
gloomy satisfaction. He had gained no trifling knowledge of the forms of
public law, and conducted all his suits himself. They seem to have taken
up the greater part of his time.

But the victory was to be followed by a sad reverse. The new Emperor of
the house of Wittelsbacher, Charles VII., was with very evident
reference to Anthony Ulrich's affair, bound on oath not to legitimatize
any notorious mesalliances, and to declare the right of inheritance of
such children null and void. Therefore the rank given to the Duchess of
Meiningen and her children was repealed. Anthony Ulrich had recourse to
the Diet. But in vain. This also declared that his application must be
refused, and the Emperor Francis I. of Lorraine confirmed this decision.

It was a cruel stroke of destiny. The wife of the Duke had the good
fortune not to outlive the last Imperial decision; she died a few weeks
previous to it; whilst her husband was fruitlessly setting heaven and
earth in motion at Frankfort to ward off this fate. But the two parties
quarrelled even over her coffin. The brother, and co-ruler with the
Duke, refused to allow the corpse to be buried in the royal hereditary
vault, nay even denied her the usual tolling of the bells for royal
personages. Anthony Ulrich rushed furiously from Frankfort and commanded
the tolling and the burial in the royal vault. Orders and counter orders
crossed each other during several weeks; now the tolling began and now
it was stopped. As Anthony Ulrich, who had again hastened to Frankfort,
had commanded that the coffin should not be deposited anywhere but in
the royal burial place, it was kept in a room in the castle covered over
with sand; there it remained a year and a half, till in 1746, Anthony
Ulrich's last brother died. Then the Duke in order to give satisfaction
to his wife even in death, caused his brother's corpse after lying in
state, to be placed in the same room next his wife's coffin and like
hers to be covered over with sand. There the two coffins remained for a
year, when they were both quietly deposited at the same time in the
royal burial place.

Now Anthony Ulrich, once the youngest of his family, remained sole ruler
and the eldest of his race, but Meiningen was a source of annoyance to
him. He could not take his dear children home as Dukes, therefore he
went to them at Frankfort. His agnates could scarcely conceal the
impatience with which they awaited for his death in order to take
possession of the inheritance of the last of the Meiningens. He had
passed the greater part of his life in struggle with them; now he would
be revenged. Out of spite to them he married at the age of sixty-three a
Princess of Hesse-Philippsthal. He had ten children by his first wife
and eight by his second. He announced every fresh birth to the agnates
on a sheet of the largest royal folio.

He died at Frankfort-on-the-Main in 1763. Even in his last testament the
stubborn determination breaks forth, of bringing the two sons of his
first marriage into the country as co-heirs. All the children of the
first marriage died unmarried.

His was an unprofitable life, but it well deserves the sympathy of a
later generation. A strong passion disturbed his days up to his last
hours. Mixed with a great love, a stream of gall penetrated into his
heart, flowing unceasingly; his time, his money and all his talents were
spent in the most sorrowful of all struggles--in family disputes. His
brilliant youth gave great promise, yet how profitless to others, nay to
himself, was his whole manhood. In his old age he dwelt in a foreign
city, divided between his past and his new domestic life, to which he
could never get thoroughly accustomed. His spirit, once so lively and
active, and his unbending will, were so engrossed with his personal
affairs, that when he became the real ruler of his country he no longer
took an interest in doing his duty.

It was not unnatural that Anthony Ulrich should, from his own
experience, entertain a repugnance to the pretensions of the lower
nobility at court, and it was quite in accordance with his character, to
display his hatred when opportunities offered. This he did shortly after
the death of his first wife, to the bereaved court at Meiningen.

In the royal palace at Meiningen the _Frau Landjägermeisterin_, (wife of
the Grand Master of the chase), Christiane Auguste von Gleichen held the
highest rank. Among the other ladies who had a right to be there, was a
Fran von Pfaffenrath, born Countess Solms, but yet only the wife of a
councillor, who had only just been ennobled, and to whom she had been
married in a not very regular way, for her husband had been tutor in her
parents' house: she had eloped with him, and had after many troubles
accomplished a reconciliation with her mother, and obtained a diploma of
nobility for her husband. Now Duke Anthony Ulrich, who was residing at
Frankfort, protected her, because, as the court whispered, her sister
had the advantage of being in the good graces of the old gentleman.
Naturally, she ought only to have ranked according to the patent of her
husband, but alas! she raised pretensions because she was of high
nobility. When therefore in October 1746, the doors of the dining-room
were to be opened, and the page was standing ready to repeat grace, the
Master-of-the-Horse entered and said to the _Frau Landjägermeisterin_:
"His most Serene Highness has commanded that the Frau von Pfaffenrath
shall take rank before all other ladies." Frau von Gleichen answered
that she would never consent to that, but the Frau von Pfaffenrath had
placed herself favourably and took the precedence of the _Frau
Landjägermeisterin_ before she could prevent it. Yet this determined
lady was far from submitting tamely. She hastened round the table to the
Duke's cabinet minister, and declared to him, as became a lady of
character after such an insult: "If _Frau von_ Pfaffenrath again goes
before me to table, I will pull her back even to the sacrifice of her
hooped gown, and will say a few words which will be very disagreeable to
her." The cabinet minister was in a great embarrassment, for he knew the
resolute character of _Frau von_ Gleichen. At last he advised her to
rise from the table before grace, then she would at all events go out
first and so get the precedence. Thus the _Landjägermeisterin_
maintained her place, but she was much offended, and so was the whole
court, which split into two parties. This quarrel of the ladies made a
commotion in the whole of the holy Roman Empire, occasioned a campaign
between Gotha and Meiningen, and was only ended by Frederick the Great,
in a manner which reminds one of the fable of the lion which took the
royal share for himself.

_Frau von_ Gleichen appealed to the absent Duke for reparation. She only
received a strong and ungracious answer. Irritated at this, she made
inquiries into the former life of her enemy, and propagated an anonymous
writing, in which the love affairs of the Countess were described with
more energy than delicacy. The _Frau von_ Pfaffenrath complained of this
lampoon to the sovereign at Frankfort, and afterwards began a course of
proceedings against the _Frau Landjägermeisterin_ which even then was
considered harsh and cruel. She was called upon to crave pardon of the
_Frau von_ Pfaffenrath, on her knees entreating her most penitently for
forgiveness; and when she refused with these words: "I would die first,"
she was taken in arrest to the council-house and there guarded by two
musketeers; her husband also was put in an unhealthy prison. Unshaken by
such great sufferings the _Frau Landjägermeisterin_, in a beautiful
letter full of self-reliance and noble sentiments, petitioned the Duke
for her husband's freedom, her own dismission from the service of the
court, and permission to institute a legal defence against the
Pfaffenrath. All this was denied her. She was on the contrary carried by
two musketeers into the room of the Pfaffenrath in order to beg pardon,
and when she again refused, she was taken into the market-place of
Meiningen surrounded by a circle of soldiers, and the sheriff read aloud
a decree, in which it was proclaimed to the people, that the lampoon was
to be burnt before the eyes of the _Landjägermeisterin_ by the hangman,
and every one was forbidden, on pain of six weeks' imprisonment and a
fine of a hundred thalers, ever to speak again on the subject. The
letter was burnt by the hangman and _Frau von_ Gleichen again taken back
to prison.

But now the friends of the Gleichen brought a complaint before the
Imperial chamber. But the repeated mandates of the Chamber to Duke
Anthony Ulrich and his government, to give freedom to the Gleichens and
to proceed according to law, were not obeyed. After that Duke Friedrich
III. of Gotha, received a commission from the same tribunal to defend
_Frau von_ Gleichen and her husband from farther violence, and to
deliver them from imprisonment in Meiningen, yet keep them in honourable
custody. Duke Friedrich demanded the delivery of the prisoners from
Meiningen, but his commissioners were not admitted into the city, nor
his letter accepted; but it was signified to him, that if Gotha should
attempt to free them by force, there was plenty of powder and shot at
Meiningen. Betwixt Meiningen and Gotha there were endless quarrels and
great bitterness.

Thereupon Duke Friedrich of Gotha prepared himself for armed
intervention. He was a warlike Prince, who maintained a subsidiary force
of six thousand infantry and fifteen hundred horse in the Dutch and
Imperial service. He had, besides a large number of guns, a strong corps
of officers and several Generals. On the other hand the military
strength of Meiningen was small; it consisted almost entirely of the old
fortifications and unskilled militia. These were assembled, and
Meiningen was fortified as well as was possible in such haste. But it
was not destined that Meiningen itself should become the scene of
action, for the fury of war raged only about the town of Wasungen. It
was indeed a remarkable coincidence that this place should become the
theatre of war, for scandal says that it was considered the shield or
place of refuge of Meiningen; and in the country there is a lying story
about its councillors and a large gourd. The councillors mistook the
gourd for the egg of a foreign horse which was to be hatched for the
good of the town by the united powers of the councillors.

The struggle which then took place in the centre of Germany, between the
Thuringian states of Gotha and Meiningen, is known by the name of the
Wasunger war. In a military point of view it is of no importance, but is
characteristic of the period. All the misery in the German Empire, the
decaying state of the burgher life, the coarse immorality of the
politics of that time, the meannesses, pedantry, and helplessness of the
Imperial army, are shown to such an extent, that they might be a source
of amusement, if they did not give rise to a more serious and better
feeling, bringing to light the helplessness of the German Empire.

The narrative is here given by Lieutenant Rauch of Gotha, who took part
in the war. He speaks in his diary as follows:--

"Early on the 15th of February, precisely at one o'clock, our whole
division broke up from Tambach, and marched with burning torches through
the wood beyond the so-called Rosengarten, in order that we might enter
at break of day the Hessian village Flohe; we knew not whither we were
going. We continued our march through the city of Smalkalden up to
Middle Smalkalden.

"When the cavalry came to the Meiningen village Niederschmalkalden, a
Lieutenant, with about four-and-twenty militia men, stood right across
the road, and would not let us pass. Here all three corps were obliged
to halt. Major von Benkendorf, together with the Lieutenant-Colonel,
rode up to the Lieutenant who was commanding there; and the Major asked
him what he meant by not letting us pass, and whether this was not a
public road? The Lieutenant answered: 'Yes! it was a high road, but he
had orders not to let us pass. Major Benkendorf might say what he liked,
the Lieutenant would not listen to him.' The Major then took a letter
out of his pocket which he wished to show him; but neither would he take
that. Whereupon the Major said to the Lieutenant: if he would not let
him pass with his people he would force his way.

"The Lieutenant answered shortly, that we might do so, as he had not
sufficient force to prevent him. The Major rode immediately to the
guards, drew his sword, and approached the Lieutenant to see whether he
would consent to treat; but he would not stir from the spot. The Major
asked him once more, whether he would yield up the ground? But he
remained firm. Thereupon the Major gave his orders to the guard: March!
March! and broke through.

"While they were passing, it happened that one of the horses pushed
against the Meiningen Lieutenant and threw him down. But he soon
recovered himself, seized his weapon, and shot the serjeant-major of the
guards, Starke, and then took to flight. A horseman however, whose name
was Stähm, pursued him forthwith, and would have cut his head in two,
but the Lieutenant held his weapon obliquely over his head, so that the
horseman Stähm cut in half the powder sack on the barrel. But my good
old Lieutenant thought he would run further, and sprang over a ditch,
where the horseman might not be able to follow him, and thought he was
now safe. But the grenadier Hellbich fired and shot my old Lieutenant
Zimmermann behind the right ear as he ran, so that he fell suddenly to
the ground, and not a muscle quivered. The militia still standing there
looked on at the game; but the grenadiers fired some grenades among
them, and they then took to their heels and ran away.

"Meanwhile all the streets of the village had been barricaded with carts
and wagons; but the Mayor and the peasants seeing their old Lieutenant
lying dead, whom they had at all times considered as their bulwark, and
observing that some grenades had fallen into their gardens, were in
great terror, and began to ring the alarm bells that all the peasants
might speedily assemble.

"In a moment all the wagons and carts were moved out of the way so that
we might march. The militia had fled to the village of Schwallungen,
through which also we had to pass, and where again there was an officer
in command of thirty militia, to whom they reported what had taken place
in the village of Niederschmalkalden. So the officer, who was a
shoemaker by profession, when he heard this report from the fugitives,
took such of his men as would go with him and tore off to Wasungen
before he had even caught sight of us.

"When we came to the afore-mentioned village, we formed ourselves in
column, fixed our bayonets, and thought what will now take place? We
marched on, and when we came to the gate the officer and all the troops
had fled, and there to not a single man to make resistance. We marched
straight through with fixed bayonets; then we saw the portion that had
remained of the runaway shoemaker-Ensign's troop in their uniform, with
their cartridge boxes, peeping out of the windows.

"My good shoemaker-Ensign was off, and had posted himself and the men
who thus went out with him at the gate of Wasungen, where again a
Lieutenant, who was a good barber--as I knew by experience, having
myself been shaved by him--had posted himself, and was awaiting us. The
gate of Wasungen was firmly closed with strong double doors, but a
sentinel stood without; so Major von Benkendorf called to him that the
gate must be opened. But the sentinel excused himself, saying he could
not. The said Major asked him, 'Who is there besides?' He answered: 'The
Lieutenant.' The Major said he must call his Lieutenant; whereupon he
ran hastily and fetched him out. Then came up my good barber-Lieutenant;
the man was already well nigh dead of fright, and his face was whiter
than his shirt. The Major accosted him sharply, asking how it was that
the gates were fastened, and whether a public high road did not pass
through there? He answered, Yes! So Major von Benkendorf said he must
that instant open the gates, or we would do it ourselves. When he heard
this, being half dead with fright, he begged for pardon, saying it was
not he that could open the gates, but the councillors who had closed
them. The answer was, that he must forthwith produce the councillors.
Good gracious! was there ever any one more glad than the good barber,
who ran as if his head was burning; but meanwhile there was nothing seen
or heard of the shoemaker-Ensign.

"At last the councillors came.

"When I saw these men creeping out of the little gate, I thought, 'What
the devil! are these councillors? they are a fine lot!' The councillors
looked a little respectable, but the burgomaster was up to the knees
in cow-dung, and must have been fetched from clearing away the dung in
the stable. Hereupon, Major von Benkendorf asked whether they were the
councillors? They answered: 'Yes, and what did we desire?' The Major
asked whether this was not the highroad to Nuremberg? They said, 'Yes.'
'Why then were the gates closed and barricaded, and we not allowed to
pass through?' Then the president of the council answered: 'They were
commanded by their government not to let any troops pass through,
therefore they must keep the gates closed; they must do what their
master commanded them.' But Major von Benkendorf repeated his former
words, and said to them: 'They must open to us, and that quickly, for
that we must march further; and if they did not open, we would do it
ourselves.' The president of the council answered this, and said: 'We
might do as we liked, but he could not open the gates to us.' But the
dung-bespattered burgomaster then began: 'Nay! if you wish to march
further, you can do so by the back road.' I thought to myself, 'If thou
couldst but kill that cursed dirty fellow!' The Major then forthwith
called to me, and desired that all the carpenters of the whole division
should be summoned; which was done in a moment. Hereupon he asked once
more whether they would amicably open the gate? if not, he would have
them immediately hewn open. They might now see that we ourselves would
open the gates if they did not prefer preserving them whole.

"The Major thought they would resolve to open them, but they said they
would not, and we might do what we liked. Hereupon the Major called out:
'Proceed carpenters! hew the gates down!' Thereupon the carpenters set
to work. When the knocking and cracking began, it was well worth seeing
how the councillors, among whom was the Burgomaster, and the
frightened barber-Lieutenant, began to ran, as if carried off by the
devil. In a moment both gates were hewn down, and the whole detachment
marched with trumpets, drums, and fifes, into the city.

"As we marched in through the gates, the good barber-Lieutenant, and the
shoemaker-Ensign, with their men, presented arms, and saluted both the
officers of our detachment.

"Here we stopped, just as we were; everyone was hungry and thirsty. We
officers made the citizens fetch us something to drink, and stood
looking at and questioning one another. The snow was lying on the
ground, and our men began to be impatient. I went to the inn where the
Lieutenant-Colonel was in consultation with his officers; they were
deliberating, and I could not speak with them. The citizens were already
beginning to kindle their lights, and it did not appear how the affair
was to end.

"At last the Lieutenant-Colonel came and sent forthwith to the
councillors, who were already assembled in their council-room,
deliberating what report they should make to Meiningen concerning the
hewing down of their gates. But the president of the council had got
scent of it, so he kept apart, and left the others to themselves, for
all men could see that we could not go any further, as it was night. Now
as the president was away, no one would go to the Lieutenant-Colonel,
and each kept calling upon the other to go. At last one consented, and
said: 'Some one must go, let what will happen.' When therefore he came
to the Lieutenant-Colonel, it was represented to him that the town must
provide us with accommodation for the night, whether they liked or not.
The Lieutenant-Colonel also added, that we should march very early on
the morrow; that the citizens were not bound to give the smallest thing
to the soldiers, who had to live on their pay; therefore he need not
deliberate any more about it. The councillor begged to be excused, but
said he could do nothing himself, he must lay the matter before his
colleagues, and see what they were disposed to do.

"Hereupon I marched forth again with the good councillor to the
Schlundhouse, where the other councillors were sitting. When I entered
the room with the plenipotentiary, he delivered the Lieutenant-Colonel's
message to them, in his own words: 'That the Commander desired to have
night-quarters for his men, and that on the morrow at sunrise, they
would again march; that he could not help the citizens; they must do so
whether they chose or not; if they would not do it, they must tell
Lieutenant Rauch; in which case, he would quarter the soldiers in houses
according to the custom with troops; they would get what they wanted,
for soldiers must live on their pay. No citizen was bound to give them
anything but a warm room and a place of rest.'

"Now every one shall hear what passed amongst these councillors. The
first who began, said: 'I do not assent to this. Who asked them to wait
so long here? they might long ere now have marched away, if they had
chosen.' Another said: 'You are right, cousin Kurtz; I would rather tear
myself in pieces than consent.' The third then said: 'So, ho! first they
hew down our gates, and then, forsooth, they cannot go further, and
expect us to give them quarters: most decidedly not!' The fourth now
spoke: 'The honourable Commander seems to be an honest man, but let him
say what he will, there is no doubt that we must provide food for them,
for truly they bring nothing with them.' The fifth then began: 'That is
right, cousin Hopf: do you not remember how it fared with us when the
Imperial cavalry came? they behaved in like manner; and afterwards we
could not get rid of them, but were obliged to keep them with a good
grace.' The sixth said: 'This will never do; we cannot provide them with
quarters till we have received orders from our government, otherwise we
shall be punished.' The seventh spoke thus: 'Did I not tell you,
gentlemen, what would happen, by keeping these people so long outside?
Truly the President, Herr Läufer, has made off, and slips his head out
of the noose, leaving us to bear the brunt. Take heed; they say they
will be off to-morrow, but they have been marching yesterday and to-day,
and to-morrow they will make a day of rest, as they will need repose.
Rest assured that I am right; what think you, gentlemen? suppose we were
to send a messenger on horseback to Meiningen?'

"I had listened to all the discussions of the councillors, and now I
began, and said: 'Gentlemen, you come to no conclusion; I will inform my
Commander of it, let it fare with you as it may.' But he who had gone
with me to the Lieutenant-Colonel, begged me to wait but a little, and
they would just send to the treasurer and city clerk to confer with
them. Here the strife began again, none would go thither. At last one of
them allowed himself to be persuaded, but soon returned again, saying
they had both ridden off when we hewed down the gates. Then I said,
'Now, gentlemen, do what you like; I will not wait a moment longer.'

"Thereupon the eighth and last began to speak, he who had accompanied me
to the Lieutenant: 'Gentlemen, what shall we do; here they are, and you
have heard what the Commander says: if we will allot them no quarters,
he will let his soldiers go into whatsoever houses they please; if they
fill your houses it is no fault of mine. I go home to close mine. As
many as come to my share I will take; the others I will show to your
houses. You have heard of to-day's misfortunes. At Smalkalden, friend
Böhler's brother-in-law, Lieutenant Zimmermann, is dead; our gates have
been hewn down; below are the soldiers thundering out curses. Gentlemen,
let us billet them. The soldiers in the market-place say they only wish
they had shot the peasants who were with the Lieutenant. What a calamity
that would have been! They say also that more shall be shot; that one
shall not be the last. Thus you see that the same misfortune might come
upon us also. Ah! gentlemen, if we had but such a prince as he of Gotha
is! but ours troubles himself not about us; he lives comfortably at
Frankfort, and let what will come to us, he cares not. And who knows
wherefore this has begun? These soldiers assuredly have not come for a
pastime. One can learn nothing from them. And how soon one night will
pass, or even two! They are our border neighbours too; why should we not
give them a night's lodging?'

"They all agreed to this and sought for their old rate of tax; whereupon
I had to tell them the whole strength of our division.

"After that, I received an order to enjoin upon the soldiers, when they
received their billets, that they were not to undress themselves, but
were each of them to place his weapon by his bedside, and soon as a call
was heard, every soldier was instantly to join his commanding officer
fully armed, and if any one was found in a state of drunkenness, he was
to be punished by running the gauntlet of the whole division; therefore
an order was to be given directly to the assistant executioner, to cut
this very evening six hundred rods.

"None of the officers undressed themselves; for the most part they
remained in company together, in order to be alert on the morrow. When
morning approached, the citizens as well as the officers were listening
for the beating of the drum. They also had probably passed an unquiet
night; wherefore? because they were badly provided with beds, and had
given them up perhaps to the soldiers for a douceur. This one might
conclude, as in all the houses lights were to be seen throughout the
night. In the morning, instead of the call from the staff of the
grenadier guards, the reveille was beaten. Now, every soldier knows
well, that beating the reveille signifies remaining quiet, or a day of
rest; so we put our heads together to guess what this might mean. The
citizens, also, when they saw that the soldiers did not break up, and
prepare to march, laid their heads together likewise, and there was a
great amount of whispering among them. My host, himself a councillor,
came and asked me what was the meaning of our not marching further? I
could give him no information.

"Now the misery began; there was only food for him who had brought
bread. The citizens quarrelled with the soldiers, and asked why they had
not marched away yesterday or early to-day, and whither we had intended
to go? They told them the truth. It was such an uproar as is impossible
to describe. The poor citizens who possessed no goods or houses, fled,
and their dwellings were broken open by the soldiers, and one excess was
committed after another.

"Meanwhile, all the councillors and burgomasters were called to
Meiningen, where they were charged by their government, on pain of
punishment, to signify to the citizens that they were not to provide
anything for the Saxe-Gotha soldiers. The bakers were not to bake, nor
the butchers to slaughter the beasts; the innkeepers were not to prepare
any food, nor the brewers to brew. This the councillors actually
proclaimed to the citizens. And truly I was not able to get even
three-pennyworth of cheese. The citizens who were prudent people, begged
of us not to take it amiss of them; as we must accept good words instead
of what they would have given us. If I wanted bread I had to send to
Smalkalden for it, and give more pay to the messenger than for the
bread.

"Thus we remained there, expecting the Meiningens, who never came.
Meanwhile we found provisions; we got most of them from Smalkalden; the
beer was bought in the Hessian village of Tambach, and the Jews brought
us meat. At last the Wasungers became disloyal, turned round on their
magistrates and said: 'We have all the troubles, and the other states
the enjoyment; this does not suit us; we have promised to obey our
government, but then they should protect us. If they cannot rid us of
these people, we will bake, brew, and cook.' And from that hour they
began to do all. For many years the citizens had not brewed nor sold so
much beer as after this; every week three and four brews; bakers began
to bake, who had long shut up shop; the butchers did the like. Then the
wise councillors went off again to Meiningen and reported everything;
whereupon the citizens were again cited to the town house, on a penalty
of twenty gulden. But they were refractory and would not go, but sent
thither their barefooted children, and heeded no more commands. When
these wise councillors found this, they themselves began to brew.

"On the 22nd of May, on Whit Monday, 1747, an order must probably have
come from Major S---- of which we officers learnt nothing. Hereupon
there was a running and scampering to the Privy Councillor Flörcke at
the 'Bear,' which was quite astounding; now they ran in and now out. I
thought: 'What the devil is the matter?' yet I thought, if something is
passing, I shall hear of it. The citizens also began to inquire:
'Wherefore is all this running to the commander at the "Bear?"' But I
could give no answer.

"Whilst all this running hither and thither was going on, I went with
Ensign Köhler to inspect the sentinels, and when we arrived at the upper
gate, Majors von S---- and von B---- and Captain von W---- met us. Major
von S---- came straight up to me and asked me secretly, whether I had
heard any news? I answered, No; whereupon he inquired of me, whether I
knew that the Meiningens meant to attack us that night? I replied: 'Well
and good; if they come they must knock pretty loud, we will be ready for
them.' He then said, would I wish to send my wife away? 'No,' said I,
'she only came on holy Whitsun eve, and will not go away till the day
following Whit Sunday.' 'Indeed,' he continued; 'but if the Meiningens
come?' 'I shall gird a sword round her,' was my answer, 'and she may
defend herself.'

"Then Major S---- continued, saying, 'I was to make my dispositions
here, and see that all the gates and posts were defended.' This is truly
being deceived with one's eyes open; to make dispositions before the
eyes of men and not to keep them!

"When I came down I called out to the soldiers: 'Attention! cease that
chattering.' Then I began to arrange the right wing, but had hardly
placed four or five files, when Captain W---- came running, and asked
me, whether I had not heard that I was to come with him directly. Here
came out the first result of their council of war. I did not delay long,
but ran directly to the Major, and asked what commands he had to give
me; whereunto he answered, that I was to take thirty dragoons and march
them to the 'Bear,' and there report myself to the Privy Councillor
Flörcke, in order to bring him in safety to Schwallungen. I forthwith
replied: 'I beg your pardon, Major, but that is not befitting me, and I
shall not do it; there are other officers there who may be ordered to do
this, but not I.' Now, in short, I heard that the Privy Councillor
wished to have me. Who would have dreamt of such a trick? As if I would
have escorted the Privy Councillor from Wasungen! I would sooner have
taken him into the Werra. But no remonstrances would serve; they said I
must and should go. This was the first trick! Hereupon I replied to the
Major: 'So I must consider it an honour, that the Privy Councillor
places such confidence in me, when there are so many officers in the
division;' hereupon I received an order, to tell the officer at the
lower gate that he should give information as soon as I had passed
through with the Privy Councillor; this was the second trick. Who could
have imagined such a trick? I will not write what I think of it. When I
found it out I wished that all the horses of the carriages had died,
that I might not be taken away from Wasungen by such cunning.

"Now I went forth, taking with me a corporal named Görnlein, and
nine-and-twenty dragoons, and marched to the 'Bear,' where I found a
carriage at the door, but saw the servant sitting within in the doorway.
I called to him to inform his master I was there; whereupon the Privy
Councillor called out to me from the carriage, 'I am already here.'
Whereupon, I detached the corporal with fourteen men to go behind the
carriage, while I went in advance with the others.

"Now when I came to the lower gate, I called to the serjeant, and bade
him tell the major that I and the privy councillor had passed out.
Meanwhile the soldiers were in great confusion at the rendezvous; but
when the corporal announced that I had passed out with the Privy
Councillor, the major immediately gave orders that all the soldiers
should pile their arms, and go to their quarters to fetch their baggage;
when they had dispersed, he sent to the guard to desire them to go
forthwith and assemble at his quarters, which was done. Thus all the
outposts were forgotten. At last the noise and bawling was so great, it
reached the ears of the outposts, who went off without orders. Now when
the soldiers from the guards came to the market-place, they saw some of
the soldiers coming back from their quarters with their baggage, so they
piled their arms and went off for theirs.

"But this was not enough. Either the time appeared to him too long
before the soldiers were again assembled, or the fear of death had
already come upon him, or he was incited to it by his comrades; but in
short, he determined at once to leave, and going down to the soldiers he
called out, 'Allons! March!' although the men had not nearly all
assembled. Then Captain Brandis, who had not consented to this at their
council of war, asked what this meant? whereto the Major von S----
answered, they were to march into the district of Britungen. The good
man who was standing in front of the Meiningen gate, then ran quickly to
his house, collected his things together, and threw them into his
portmanteau. He had well nigh been left behind.

"Now when Captain Brandis, and the musketeer who had packed up his
things, returned to the place of rendezvous, all were gone, and there
were only a few weapons remaining there. So he sent on his servant, and
waited for the remainder of the men. Now every one should know, in the
first place, that Major von S----, had not waited till all the soldiers
were collected together, still less had he thought of the artillery; he
had thought of nothing but calling out 'March! march!' and the sick
officers (Captain Rupert among them), and sick soldiers were forgotten;
besides this, he never set the troops in order, but marched them out as
a shepherd drives his cattle through the gate; and such a shameful sight
was never seen, nor can it be described.

"Captain Brandis now came marching through the town with the soldiers he
had collected; whereupon the citizens began to call out after him:
'There they run like vagabonds; they entered in the daylight and run
away at night, like thieves and rogues; the good Major von S---- is up
and away.' Captain Brandis swallowed all this patiently, and continued
marching slowly with his troops. When he had come to a height in front
of the town, some Wasungers, who were lying in ambush, fired at him; and
when he had marched a short distance further, he found our artillery
lying in a defile, without a single man to guard it, and it lay now with
the wheels, now with the wagons uppermost, and hardly a piece was
standing; for as there was a deficiency of chains, the gunners had
fastened the guns with tow to the powder wagons, and these were breaking
every moment. Captain Brandis with his men, remained with the artillery.

"Now I had to make my arrangements carefully. When I arrived at
Schwallungen, I stopped my soldiers and the carriage, and went up to the
Privy Councillor to inquire where I should convey him; whereto he, half
dead with fear, answered, 'To the upper Inn.' Where the devil that was I
did not know, till I found a dragoon, who having been there formerly,
conducted us to the place; for I knew nothing about the village, nor
where the inn lay; it was dark as pitch, and rained as if the water was
poured from heaven in buckets. When I arrived at the inn he had
designated, I caused the gates to be opened, and the carriage to drive
into the court; the Privy Councillor alighted with his clerk who
accompanied him, and retired into an upper room, for he knew the place
better than I. I put a sentry on each side of the carriage, because the
chancery papers lay therein. I desired the rest of the soldiers to place
their arms in the house that they might be safe from the rain, and
placed a sentry to guard both the arms and the Privy Councillor. I did
not care any more about the said Privy Councillor, for I had, according
to the orders of Major von S----, brought him to a place of security;
where he would probably be about as safe as a cake among rats, for it
was a Meiningen village; and according to all accounts there were no
worse rogues in the whole country, than the inhabitants of Schwallungen.

"Having therefore executed my orders, I sent my sergeant to Lieutenant
Griesheim, who was stationed with forty or fifty dragoons in the said
village, to inform him that I had brought the Privy Councillor hither,
and that he should come and release me from my charge. A short time
after, the Lieutenant made his appearance, and was much amazed that I,
being adjutant, should have come hither with a detachment, and could not
help remarking on it.

"I said, it appeared to me more serious. However, this was now nothing
to the purpose. I begged of him to set to work, and send for his
soldiers, that I might march back to Wasungen with my detachment;
whereupon he took the trouble of going himself for them. When he had
collected about fifteen men, I told him he must take charge of the
posts, as I wished at once to resume my march; the which he did, and so
released me. Now it was right to pay my respects to the Privy
Councillor, and ask him whether he had any commands for Wasungen?
whereupon the man addressed me as if I were a thrasher, and asked me
whether I had no orders to remain here? but I was prepared and answered
him with the most perfect indifference, 'No, the devil has given me no
orders to remain here; and it was no part of my duty to bring you here.'
That he said I might settle with Major von S----. Whereunto I replied,
'I will most certainly do so.' After that he inquired of me more kindly
what I wished to do at Wasungen, as the whole division were on the
march, and would speedily be here. Then I said, 'Is that the way the
cards are shuffled? that is good, truly.' Now whilst I was still
standing in the room with the Privy Councillor, I heard the tramping of
horses; I rushed down stairs and asked who it was. I received for
answer, 'We are all here.' Then I was so horrified that I almost lost my
senses; there were the two majors, who forthwith dismounted, hastened up
stairs into the councillor's room, and I after them.

"Now they were beginning to relate to each other how fortunately they
had escaped from the besieged Wasungen, but I would not let Major von
S---- say a word, but asked him: 'Herr Major, what manner of conduct is
this, to send me so cunningly away from Wasungen, without telling me
that you were going to march out, and I have left there my wife and
child, and all my property? Is this the custom of war? I know not
whether you have received money for acting thus, or what I am to think
of it. Are these your secret projects which are brought to light to-day?
In the devil's name, I am not so young, nor have only become a soldier
to-day; perhaps I know as well or better than you, what is the way to do
things.' I was in such a rage, I would have staked my life against him.

"Now my dear reader, you must observe, that up to this moment I had
neither seen nor heard a single man of the whole division, and did not
know how matters stood. Major von S---- tried to comfort me, saying I
need not be unhappy about my things; he would be surety for them; but I
answered him quickly: 'Herr Major, how can you answer for my things? Why
did you not tell me the truth instead of sending me out of Wasungen by
such deceit? that is not allowable.' Then the Privy Councillor would
have his say, and truly to this effect, that the Major was right in
sending me away; that was his opinion. But I replied: 'By ---- I require
no clerks to give me orders; if I were a commander, I would tell those
who were under me, what was going to take place, and what they were to
do; but to act in such a way as this, is not honourable.'

"Thereupon I left the room, and when I came to the guard in the court,
one Pleissner, a citizen of Gotha, a tinman, who had been at that time
on a visit at Wasungen, entered the court, and said to me of his own
accord; 'God help us, Herr Lieutenant, what a sight that was at
Wasungen! it filled me with sorrow and vexation when our people marched
out in that way, for I am a citizen of Gotha. When our soldiers marched
out through the lower gate, the militia of the country entered in
through the upper gate, and visited every house; and sent off to
Meiningen, Christian, Ensign of Captain Brandis's company, who had been
forgotten on guard, and was going to his quarters to fetch his baggage.
The devil is in the militia; they visited every house, and said they
would carry off all to Meiningen.'

"I will ask anyone to think what kind of temper I was in then; Captain
Ruprecht and many soldiers had been left ill at Wasungen; my wife and
child and my small chattels were also there; and now I heard that the
musketeer Huthmann had already been carried off to Meiningen, so
everything wore a black aspect. I asked the citizen where our soldiers
were? 'Ah,' said he, 'they lie without, all in troops under the trees,
and Captain Brandis is still at Wasungen; the field-pieces lie all on
the road upside down; they cannot get on, as they have no chains to
couple them together, but they have made use of the tow for that
purpose, which breaks every minute. I remained near them some time, but
the Wasungers began to fire at us from behind; it was the devil to pay,
and as it also rained heavily, I thought I would get under cover. Our
people are lying so dispersed about the roads, that it would take two
hours to collect them, and I saw no officer but Captain Brandis: the
soldiers were swearing enough to bring down heaven upon them; I was
frightened out of my wits and hastened away.'

"After hearing this I stood there, not knowing what to do; there was not
a man of the whole detachment to be heard or seen, and it rained
terribly. At last the old grenadier corporal came into the village with
about ten grenadiers, wading through the mud; I knew his voice from
afar, and his soldiers were swearing astoundingly; so I called out to
them, 'What is the use of swearing? it cannot be helped now.' 'Aye,
zounds,' said the corporal, 'I have gone through two campaigns, but
never had such a business as this. Is this to be allowed? There is our
captain lying ill at Wasungen, and our major, who ought to take charge
of us, is gone with Major S---- to the devil; we are poor forsaken
soldiers, but, the devil take me, I will march to Gotha with the few men
I have here.' I asked him where the other grenadiers were; but he did
not know whether they were in advance or behind. 'We have not an
officer,' he said, 'and no one took charge of us,' so each one went
where he chose. He did not know that the two majors were at the inn; but
if the old corporal was foul-mouthed, his grenadiers were still worse.

"I had enough to do to mollify the grenadiers, and thus things went on;
every quarter or half-hour a small troop came in, and if the first had
made a clamour, the others were still worse; finally, the artillery
came, though it is usual, under whatever circumstances one may march, to
place the artillery either in front or in the middle, and guard them as
one would guard one's soul. It might plainly be seen that this commander
had never seen a corps or army marching with artillery, which must,
according to the usages of war, always be protected.

"The soldiery became more and more disorderly, and I had to admonish
them to be on their good behaviour before the peasants, who were looking
at and listening to us from their windows, and making their jests upon
us.

"At last, thank God, the rain ceased; a dragoon had led us to a meadow
which lay hard by the road, along which I stationed the right wing, and
taking command, told the force off into divisions and half-divisions.
Whilst I was doing this I heard some horses in the distance coming at a
great pace, so I thought, here comes the enemy; I forthwith called out
to the right wing to send out some men and challenge the new-comers; at
the same time I ran up to one of the grenadiers, and taking his musket
from his hand, as during the process of dividing the men I had given up
mine, I placed myself with some grenadiers in the middle of the road,
and called out, 'Who goes there?' I was answered by a well-known voice,
which I immediately recognized as that of Major von Benkendorf, as he
did mine likewise. When I challenged him, he called to me, 'Do you not
know me?' 'Yes, thank God!' I knew him by his voice, but could not do so
before he spoke, on account of the darkness. Thus did God send to the
children of Israel in the wilderness; here was the word fulfilled: God
forsakes none who trust in him always.

"The first words of the major were: 'Children, what are you doing here?'
I answered, Herr Major, God only knows, not I; we have been brought away
in such a fashion, that we hardly know how we have come here.' He asked
further: 'Did you all march?' 'Yes, there is no longer any one there
except the sick, and those they have taken prisoners.' '_Oh, mon Dieu!_'
exclaimed he, 'we must return thither, even were we to sit down before
the gates; where are your majors?' 'At the Schwallungen inn.' Then he
called out, 'Allons, children! march away;' and galloped in all haste to
the inn, where he may have found them at a good bottle of wine, but what
kind of greeting he gave them, or compliments, I have not heard."

Thus far we have the valiant Rauch. In the farther part of his diary he
relates how the Gotha troops regained courage, returned to Wasungen and
there drove out the Meiningens, who were equally eager to run away, as
they had done, and again established themselves there.

Immediately after the first capture of Wasungen, the government at
Meiningen, in great consternation, had sent Frau von Gleichen with her
husband there in a carriage, attended by Gotha troops. But it was no
great pleasure to them to see that the cause of the quarrel was done
away with; so the poor court dignitaries met with a cold reception; the
health of both was broken by sorrow, vexation, and long imprisonment.
In 1748, Herr von Gleichen died, and his wife soon after. Meanwhile,
flying-sheets and memorials, mandates of the Imperial chamber, and
ministerial missives concerning this affair, flew all over Germany; the
Gotha troops kept possession of Wasungen. Anthony Ulrich obstinately
refused to acknowledge the claims of Gotha to indemnification, and the
voices of numerous princes were loud in condemning the sentence of the
Imperial chamber, and the execution of it by Gotha, as a violation of
the sovereign rights of a German ruler. Frederick the Great did so
likewise.

Just then, when the Duke of Saxe-Gotha was in a desperate position, a
new prospect and a new subject of quarrel presented themselves to him.
The Duke of Weimar had died, and had settled that his cousin of Gotha
was to be guardian to his only son during his minority. The Duke of
Gotha speedily entered upon the guardianship, and caused homage to be
sworn to him: upon this, a violent altercation again sprang up between
him, and the Duke of Coburg and Anthony Ulrich, who both contested the
right of the Gotha prince to the guardianship. Then Frederick II. of
Prussia offered his services to the Duke of Gotha, who was reduced to
great extremities, on condition that he should obligingly offer him the
small gift of two hundred picked men from the guards of Weimar. This was
done; thus the Duke of Gotha purchased the administration of this
country, and the settlement of the Wasunger strife, with two hundred men
of the Weimar guards. Two hundred children of the soil of Weimar, to
whom the quarrel mattered not in the least, were arbitrarily given away
like a herd of sheep. Contrary to all justice, they were chaffered away
by a foreign prince.

The two hundred followed King Frederick in the seven Years' war.

CONCLUSION.

This work ends with the name of the great king. The social condition of
the country in his time, although very different from the present, is
well known to us; and even minute particulars, have become, through its
history and literature, the common property of the people. Frederick
became the hero of the nation. The Germans have exalted him even more
than Gustavus Adolphus. He ruled the minds of men far beyond the
boundaries of his limited dominions. In the distant Alpine valleys,
among men speaking another tongue, and holding another faith, he was
reverenced as a saint both in pictures and writings. He was a powerful
ruler, a genial commander, and what was more valued by the Germans, a
great man in the highest of earthly positions. It was his personal
appearance and manners which made foreigners and even enemies admire
him. He inspired the people again with enthusiasm for German greatness,
zeal for the highest earthly interests, and sympathy in a German state.
In the course of three centuries, he was the third man round whom the
national love and veneration had entwined itself; the second to whom it
was granted to elevate and improve the character of the nation. For the
Germans became better, richer, and happier, when they were carried
beyond the narrow interests of their private life, and beyond their
petty literary quarrels, by the appearance of a great character daringly
aspiring to the highest objects, struggling, suffering, persevering, and
firm. He was of their own blood, and in spite of his passion for what
was French, he was a thorough child of Germany, reared in a hard time,
and belonging to them. Under him, the grandsons of those citizens who
had passed through the great war, began for the first time after a
century to feel their own powers. We delight to see, how the poor poet
sings the praises of him, who would so little appreciate the odes of the
German Sappho, or the outpouring of elevated poetry; still more do we
rejoice in seeing the whole people, even in Austria, contending on his
behalf, his image penetrating into every family, and his name exciting
everywhere party spirit, new interests, and political passions. This has
been the greatest blessing of his whole life. He forced the private
individual to take part in political life; he created a state for the
German, which whether loved or hated, must become a continual object of
care and watchfulness.

But though enthusiasm for a hero perhaps gives a capacity for the
development of powers, it does not give stability. The Germans had yet
to go through severe trials after the death of the great king. He had
bequeathed to them the first beginning of a German State, but the ruins
of the Empire of the middle ages lay defenceless against the western
enemy. The curse which since the time of Charles V. had rested on the
German Empire had not yet changed into a blessing. Once more was Germany
overrun by a great army, once more did a league of German princes unite
with a foreign conqueror, even the state of the great Frederick was
shattered, the last hope seemed to have vanished, the German people were
crushed.

But in the rooms of the German peasants, the picture of the old king, in
his three-cornered hat and small pigtail, did not turn his earnest look
in vain on the life he had revived; nor in vain had the mothers of the
present generation run to the churches to pray for a blessing on his
arms. Now it was that the full blessing of his energetic life truly
manifested itself. The spirit of that great man lived again in the
German people. Fifty years after the return of the king from the seven
years' war, three hundred years after Luther strove earnestly to find
his God, the German nation roused itself for the greatest struggle it
had ever yet successfully carried on. The fathers now sent out their
sons, and the wives their husbands to the war; the Germans encountered
death with a song on their lips, to seek a body for the German soul, a
state for the fatherland.

In the year 1813, we find the conclusion of that great struggle which
began in 1517. From the time of the contest of the Wittenburger
Augustine against indulgences, to the march of the German volunteers
against Napoleon, the German spirit carried on a great defensive war
against a foreign influence, which issuing from Rome well nigh
overwhelmed those who had once been the conquerors of the Roman Empire.

From this life-and-death struggle of three hundred years, Germany passed
from the bondage of the middle ages into freedom. But though the spirit
of the people became free, the reality of a German state was lost to
them. The nation was almost annihilated by this unnatural condition.
After a death-like exhaustion it recovered itself slowly; the
resuscitated spirit was helpless, its form weak and sickly; it was
seeking unity of government. By a powerful development of strength, the
foundation of it was laid in the beginning of this century.

Henceforth German Protestantism became a living, sound, and manly
acquisition, a great national principle, the expression of the German
popular mind, the peculiar German characteristic in every domain of
ideal and practical life.

We all still feel how deficient and unfinished is the development of
this, the highest principle of life in the German nation. But it is this
feeling which gives us courage and leads us to struggle onwards.

What are here given from the old records are narratives of individuals
of past generations. They are some of them unimportant passages from the
lives of insignificant persons. But, as the outward appearance of any
stranger we meet, his mode of greeting, and his first words, give us an
impression of his individuality, an imperfect, an unfinished impression,
but still a whole; so, if we are not mistaken, does each record, in
which the impulses of individuals and their peculiar working are
portrayed, give us with rapid distinctness a vivid picture of the life
of the people; a very imperfect and unfinished picture, but yet, also a
whole, round which a large portion of our knowledge and intuitive
perceptions rapidly concentrate, like the radii round the centre of a
crystal.

If every such picture gives us an impression, that in the soul of each
man a miniature picture may be found of the characteristics of his
nation; something will be learnt from a succession of these narratives,
arranged according to their periods, however much there may be in them
that is incidental and arbitrary. We shall discover the stirring and
gradual development of a higher intellectual unity, which likewise meets
us here in the shape of a distinct individuality; and therefore, these
little sketches will perhaps help us to a more lively comprehension, of
what we call the life of a nation.

Everywhere man appears to us, by his customs and laws, by language and
the whole genial tendencies of his nature, as a small portion of a
greater whole. It is true also that this greater whole, appears to us as
an intellectual unity, which like an individual, is earthly and
perishable, a thing which accomplishes its earthly existence in a
century, as a man does his in a certain number of years. Like an
individual, a people developes its intellectual capacities in the course
of time, but more powerfully and on a grander scale. And further, a
people consists of millions of individuals the tide of human life flows
in millions of souls, but the conscious and unconscious working together
of these millions, produces an intellectual whole, in which the share of
individuals often vanishes from our eyes, so that the soul of a whole
people seems to us, a self-creative living unity. Who was the man who
created languages? who devised the most ancient law of nations? who
first thought of giving poetical expression to an elevated tone of mind?
It was not individuals who invented these for practical purposes, but a
universal intellectual life, which burst forth among thousands who lived
together. All the great productions of national power, law, customs, and
the constitution of states, are not the work of individual men, but
organic creations of a higher life, which in every period shine forth in
individuals, yet in all periods seem to unite the intellectual
capacities of individuals, in one mighty whole. Each man bears and
cultivates within his soul, part of the intellect of the nation; each
one possesses its language, a certain amount of knowledge, and a sense
of justice and propriety; but in each, this general nationality is
coloured, concentrated, and limited by his individuality. Individuals do
not represent the language or the moral feelings of the whole; they only
are, as it were, the single notes, which joined together produce a
harmonious chord as part of the collective nation. One may therefore
fairly, and without mysticism, speak of a national soul.

And if one examines more narrowly, one perceives with astonishment, that
this law of development of a higher intellectual unity, differs
remarkably from that which binds or makes an individual free. A man
chooses freely for himself, between what will injure or be beneficial to
him and his interests; judiciously does he shape his life, and prudently
does he judge the conceptions which reach his soul from the great world.
But less conscious, less full of purpose and judgment than the
determination of man's will, is the working of the life of the nation.
In history, man represents freedom and judgment, but national energy,
works incessantly with the mysterious instinctive impulse of a primitive
power, and its intellectual conceptions correspond sometimes in a
remarkable way, with the process of formation of the silently productive
powers of nature, which bring forth from the seed, the stalk, leaves,
and flowers of the plant. From this point of view, the life of a nation
passes in unceasing alternations from the whole body to the individual,
and from the man to the whole body. The life of each man, even the most
insignificant, gives a portion of its substance to the nation, and a
portion of the collective powers of the nation lives in each man; he
transmits soul and body from one generation to another; he adds to the
language, and preserves the consciousness of right; all the results of
his labours are beneficial to the nation as well as to himself. The
course of life of millions runs smoothly and imperceptibly along with
the stream. But important personalities develop themselves from the
multitude in all directions, gaining a great influence on the whole
body. Sometimes a powerful character arises, which in some wide field of
action, long rules the spiritual life of the people, and stamps the
impress of its individual mind on the age. Then the life of the whole
nation, which also flows through our heads and hearts, becomes as
familiar to us as is possible for the soul of any individual man; then
the whole powers of the people seem for some years working for the one
individual, and obeying him as a master. These are the great periods in
the formation of a people. Such was Luther to the Germans.

But no nation develops its life independent of others. As the life of
one individual works on that of another, so does it happen with nations.
Each nation communicates some of its intellectuality to another. Even
the practical forms of national existence, its state and its Church, are
either advanced, or checked and destroyed by foreign powers. Close is
the union of the minds of the nations of Europe, though manifold the
contradiction of their interests. How constantly does one nationality
derive strength, or experience trouble and disturbance from another!
Sometimes the energetic development of some particular national
characteristic, exercises for centuries a preponderating influence on
another. Thus once did the Jews, the Greeks, and the Romans. The German
nation has experienced this foreign influence, both for good and for
evil. From the ancient world came the holy faith of the Crucified One,
to the wild sons of our forefather Tuisco: at the same time this warlike
race received countless traditions from the Roman Empire, transforming
their whole life. Through the whole of the middle ages, the nation was
earnestly endeavouring to make these new acquisitions their own. Again,
at the end of this period, after a thousand years had passed, began a
new influence of the ancient world. From it came the ideal of the
Humanitarians, the forerunners of Luther, and the ideal of the German
poets, the forerunners of the war of freedom. On the other hand, from
the Romish world, came upon Germany, with the highest claims, the
pressure of the despotism of Gregory VII., and Innocent III., the
devotion of the restored Church, and the lust of conquest of France.
Then did Germany become depopulated, and the national life was
endangered; but the foreigners who had penetrated into it with such
overpowering force, aided its recovery. All that Italians, French, and
English had attained to in science and arts, was introduced into
Germany, and to these foreign acquisitions did German culture cling,
from the Thirty years' war up to the time of Lessing.

It is the task of science to investigate the productive life of nations.
To her the souls of nations are the highest fields of investigation that
man is capable of knowing. Searching out every individuality, tracing
every received impression, observing even the broken splinters, uniting
all discernible knowledge, more guessing at truths and pointing out the
way, than apprehending them, she seeks, as her highest aim, to prove the
intellectual unity of the whole human race upon earth. Whilst pious
faith with undoubting certainty places before man the idea of a personal
God, the man of science reverently seeks to discover the Divine, in the
great conceptions, which however they may surpass the understanding of
the individual, yet are all attached to the life of the world. But
however little he may consider their importance, in comparison with that
which is incomprehensible in time and eternity, yet in his limited
circle lies all the greatness that we are capable of understanding, all
the beautiful which we ever enjoy, and all the good which has ennobled
our life. But in those spheres which we do not yet know, and are
anxiously investigating, there remains a boundless work. And this work
is to seek the development of the Divine power in history.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: Even the great Imperial army that assembled before the
battle of Nördlingen, in 1634, was a combination of several armies; that
of Wallenstein, an Italian army, Spanish auxiliaries, and troops of
Maximilian of Bavaria, altogether perhaps sixty thousand men, they only
remained together a short time.]

[Footnote 2: This machine consisted of a number of short barrels, which,
bound in parallel rows, formed a nearly cubic mass, the front of which
showed from six to ten rows of as many mouths arranged in a square. This
system of barrels rested on a carriage, and was fired in rows. Every
single barrel was loaded with three or more balls, and could be fired
separately or together. Fronsperg boasts that after one loading there
could be a thousand shots from the hundred barrels of the gun.]

[Footnote 3: Wallhausen, 'Archiley Art of War,' 1617. For the
corresponding French system of this time, a good description is to be
found in the 'Etude sur le passé et l'avenir de l'artillerie par le
Prince Napoléon Louis Bonaparte.' T. I.]

[Footnote 4: In the battle of Breitenfeld the metal guns of Sweden were
overheated; there the leather cannon did their last great service
against the Croats.]

[Footnote 5: Thus generated the ingenious comparison of guns with birds
of prey; the thirty-six pounders were called eagles, the twenty-four
pounders falcons, twelve pounders vultures, six pounders hawks, three
pounders sparrowhawks, and the sixty-pound mortars owls.]

[Footnote 6: Yet he himself had a brigade which was called red.]

[Footnote 7: The lieutenants carried partisans, the non-commissioned
officers halberds.]

[Footnote 8: About 1600 one gulden of the coin of the Empire was equal
to forty silver groschen of our money; thus sixteen of these was equal
to forty-two of our thalers.]

[Footnote 9: Wallhausen 'On the Art of War.']

[Footnote 10: A name given to bands that went about pillaging the
fields, orchards, and gardens.]

[Footnote 11: Because they slide and skate.]

[Footnote 12: A mocking allusion to the mountainous country of Bavaria.]

[Footnote 13: It was especially John the Baptist, who, according to the
third chapter of St. Luke, was the merciful protector of soldiers; but
at the beginning of the Reformation the difference between the Baptist
and Evangelist was little understood by Landsknechte, nor indeed by all
ecclesiastics.]

[Footnote 14: Bilwiz-kind, same as child of the devil. Bilwiz is an old
name for magician or hobgoblin.]

[Footnote 15: One is tempted to change this passage to an old heathenish
form: "Whoever falls by honourable weapons on the field of battle, will
be carried to Walhalla by the virgins of battle; those who contend with
the sorcery of the gods of death, Helja takes to herself." We find the
name of Black Kaspar for the devil even in the sixteenth century.]

[Footnote 16: Königl. schwedischer Victorischlüssel a. a. O.]

[Footnote 17: Zimmermann, Goth. Msc. a. a. O.]

[Footnote 18: Grimmelshausen speaks of the art of rendering invulnerable
as credible, but as a thing long known. He was more interested in the
superstition which was prevalent in 1660--the art of becoming invisible
and of witchcraft. At the end of the century magic rods were common, and
familiar spirits powerful. Wunderbares Vogelnest. ii. Th. Satyrischer
Pilgram ii. Th.]

[Footnote 19: Müllenhof, Sagen. S. 231.--Femme, Pommesache Sagen. Nr.
244.]

[Footnote 20: Philander von Sittewald, "Gesicht von Soldatenleben."]

[Footnote 21: Grimmelshausen, "Seltsamer Springinsfeld."]

[Footnote 22: _Dionys Klein. Kriegsinstitution_, 1598, 8. _S_. 288.]

[Footnote 23: Simplicissimus i. 3, 9, and Philander von Sittewald,
'Soldatenleben.']

[Footnote 24: Grimmelshausen, 'Springinsfeld.']

[Footnote 25: Lump, German for ragamuffin.]

[Footnote 26: Philander von Sittewald, 'Soldatenleben.']

[Footnote 27: Moscherosoh und Grimmelshausen, a. v. O.]

[Footnote 28: At the beginning of the war it was customary for people to
conceal their treasures in the dung-heaps.]

[Footnote 29: The parish receiver, Johann Martin at Heldburg, writes,
for example, on the 13th September, 1640, on behalf of the helpless
pastor, and proposes his removal, because in this village there remained
only a widow and another woman, and he himself could not obtain a
groschen from the annual fees of his district, which formerly amounted
to some hundred thalers.]

[Footnote 30: This was the time in the Thirty years' war when the German
princes and dukes coined base money. When one prince had obtained
possession of the coinage of another he melted it, and made it into new
money by alloying it with copper and other metals.]

[Footnote 31: Bötzinger gives this account to his children.]

[Footnote 32: In a sheet of this kind, entitled, 'A Noteworthy Hungarian
and the Netherlands New Newspaper,' 1599, has already the form and
contents of a modern newspaper. It contains a short correspondence with
different cities, in the form of eleven letters; amongst them reports of
four vessels which had come to Amsterdam with spices, and of a new toll
which the court at Brussels had levied on merchants' goods, of ten
stivers on each pound of silk.]

[Footnote 33: The sources of the following description were taken from
the flying-sheets and brochures, first of the year 1620-24, and also
from the later writings of the sixteenth century upon coinage, a rich
literature.]

[Footnote 34: The new money was almost pure copper boiled and blanched;
this lasted a week, and then it became glowing red. The bottles,
kettles, pipes, gutters, and whatever else was of copper, were taken
away to the mint, and made into money. An honest man could not venture
to lodge any one, as he could not but fear that his guest might wrench
away his copper in the night, and carry it off. Wherever there was an
old copper font in a church, it was taken to the mint; its sanctity did
not save it; those sold it who had been baptized in it. Müller,
'Chronika von Sangerhausen.']

[Footnote 35: A batz was four kreuzer.]

[Footnote 36: In the decrees of the Diet the words do not occur before
the Thirty years' war; they appear to be new in 1621.]

[Footnote 37: In 1770 the population was only 2126; but in 1845 it had
increased again to 4500.]

[Footnote 38: The Emperor was sovereign of Silesia, as King of Bohemia.]

[Footnote 39: The bunch of keys in the middle ages was not only an
important symbol of right, but also the popular weapon of women.]

[Footnote 40: We have to thank Professor Brückner of Meiningen, for the
communication of the following summary: it is printed in 'Memorials of
Franconian and Thuringian History and Statistics,' 1852.

In nineteen villages of the former domain of Henneberg there were in the
years--
1634 1649 1849

Families 1773 316 1916
Houses 1717 627 1558
In 17 villages--Cattle 1402 244 1994
13 " Horses 485 73 107
12 " Sheep 4616 -- 4596
4 " Goats 158 26 286]

[Footnote 41: Brazier here means tinker and scythe-sharpener. The oldest
accounts of them are in a free paraphrase of the 1st Book of Moses, in
rude verses, which were at all events written before 1122; printed in
'Hoffmann's Fundgrubben,' 2. There they are represented as foreign Jew
traders. These remarkable verses are as follows:--

"From Ishmael come the Ishmaelitish people;
They go peddling throughout the wide world;
We call them braziers.
Oh! what a life and habits are theirs!
On all they have for sale
There is a blot, and it is unsound.
If he, the brazier, buys anything,
Good or bad, one must give him somewhat over;
And if he sells his wares
He never replaces the damaged ones.
They have neither house nor home--
Every place is alike to them;
They rove through the country,
And cheat the people with their tricks:
Thus they deceive mankind.
They rob, but not openly."]

[Footnote 42: Here, and further on, he gives the fixed characters of the
old Italian comedy.]

[Footnote 43: Some tedious passages are shortened, and it is necessary
in one place to soften the angry expressions for the reader of this
book.]

[Footnote 44: They did not fail to make an engraving of the mysterious
doves, which appeared shortly after with an interpretation.]

[Footnote 45: A copper coin in the south of Germany.]

[Footnote 46: A Swiss farthing.]

[Footnote 47: The Diet was then held at Baden, because the foreign
diplomatist could best be entertained there.]

[Footnote 48: It was particularly offensive to them, as an elder sister
of Anton Ulrich's wife had just married the master of the Ducal Chapel,
Schurmann, at Meiningen.]

THE END.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Pictures of German Life in the XVth, XVIth, and XVIIth Centuries, Vol. II." ***

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