The Heidenmauer, or, The Benedictines a legend of the Rhine |
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| 11. | CHAPTER XI. |
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 | CHAPTER XI. The Heidenmauer, or, The Benedictines |  |
11. CHAPTER XI.
To visit you.”
Coriolanus.
A short ride brought the cavalcade of Count
Emich to the gates of Hartenburg. When all had
alighted, and the guests, with the more regular inmates
of the castle, were ushered into the hall, the
lord of the hold again saluted Ulrike and her daughter.
This freedom was the privilege of his rank,
and of his character as host; and for its exercise,
he once more received the grateful acknowledgments
of Heinrich Frey. The females were then
committed to the care of Gisela, the warder's daughter,
who, in the absence of its more noble mistress,
happened to be the presiding person of her sex in the
place.
“Thou art thrice welcome, upright and loyal
Heinrich!” exclaimed the Count, heartily, while he
led the Burgomaster by the hand, into one of the
rooms of honor—“None know thy worth, and thy
constancy to thy friends, better than the master of
this poor castle; and none love thee better.”
“Thanks, well-born Emich, and such duty as one
of poor birth and breeding can and should pay to a
noble so honoured and prized. I am little used to
courtesies, beyond those which we burghers give
and take in the streets, and may not do myself full
justice in the expression of reverence and respect,
but I pray you, Herr Count, to take the desire for
the performance.”
“Wert thou the Emperor's most favored chamberlain,
thy speech could not do thee more credit.
Though Deurckheim be not Madrid, it is a well-respected
and courtly city, and none need envy the
Roman, or the Parisian, that dwelleth there. Here
hath cast a little loosely upon the world since
the downfall of his Mediterranean island of Rhodes,
and who hath travelled far and near, and he swears,
daily, thy town hath no parallel, for its dimensions.”
“Considered as a mountain city of no great magnitude,
meine Herren, we do not blush at the aspect
of our ancient walls.”
“Thou needest not, and thou must have noted
that I spoke in reference to its size. Monsieur
Latouche is a gentleman that cometh from the capital
of King Francis itself; and no later than this
morning, he remarked on the neatness, and wealth,
and other matters of consideration, that make themselves
apparent, even to the stranger, in thy well-governed
and prosperous borough.”
The Burgomaster acknowledged the compliment,
by a profound inclination and a gratified eye, for no
flattery is so palpable as not to meet a welcome
with those who labor for public distinction; and
Emich well knew, that the police and order of his
city were weak spots in Heinrich Frey's humility.
“Lord Emich scarce does me justice,” returned
the pliant Abbé, “since I found many other causes
of admiration. The deference that is paid to rank
in thy populace, and the manner in which the convenience
of the honourable is respected, are particularly
worthy of commendation.”
“The churchman is right, Lord Emich—for, of
all the towns in Germany, I do not think it easy to
find another in which the poor and base are so well
taught to refrain from thrusting their importunities
and disadvantages on the gentle, as in our Deurckheim.
I think my lord the Count must have observed
the strict severity and cautious justice of
our rules in this particular?”
“None know them better, nor does any heed them
more. I cannot recall the moment, cousin Albrecht,
ever occurred within its gates. But I keep you from
refreshing yourselves, worthy friends. Give us leave
a little;—we will seek you again, at your own convenience.”
The Knight and the Abbé took this intimation
of the desire of the Count to be alone with the
Burgomaster in good part, and withdrew without
unnecessary delay. When alone, Emich again
took Heinrich Frey by the hand, and led him away
into a part of the castle where none presumed to intrude
without an especial errand. Here he entered
one of those narrow rooms, which were devoted to
secret uses, and which was well termed a closet,
being in effect but little larger and scarcely better
lighted, than the straitened apartments to which we
give the same appellation in these later times.
When fairly protected from observation, and removed
beyond the danger of eaves-droppers and spies,
the Count threw aside his cloak, unbuckled his sword-belt,
and assumed the manner of one at his ease. The
Burgomaster took a seat on a stool, in deference to
his companion's rank; while the latter, without seeming
sensible of the act, seated himself at his side, in
the only chair that the closet contained. Whoever
has had much intercourse with Asiatics, or with
Mussulmans of the southern shore of the Mediterranean,
must have frequently observed the silent,
significant, manner with which they regard each
other, when disposed to court or to yield confidence;
the eye gradually kindling, and the muscles of the
mouth relaxing, until the feeling is fully betrayed in
a smile. This is one of the means employed by men
who dwell under despotic and dangerous governments,
and where the social habits are much tinctured
with violence and treachery, of assuring one
another of secret faith and ready support. There
is a sort of similar freemasonry in all conditions of
their mantle equally over the powerful and the weak,
superseding, by the majesty of the law, the necessity
of these furtive appeals to the pledges and sympathies
of confidants. Such, in some degree, was the nature
of the communication with which Emich of Hartenburg
now commenced his private intercourse
with Heinrich Frey. The Count first laid his square,
bony, hand on the knee of the Burgomaster, which
he squeezed until the iron fingers were nearly buried
in the fleshy protuberance. Each turned his head
toward his companion, looking askance, as if they
mutually understood the meaning of what was conveyed
by this silent coquetry. Still, notwithstanding
the apparent community of thought and confidence,
the countenance and air of each was distinguished
by the personal character and the social station of
the individual. The eye of the Baron was both
more decided, and more openly meaning, than that
of the Burgomaster; while the smile of the latter
appeared rather like a faint reflection of the inviting
expression of the former, than the effect of any inward
impulse.
“Hast heard of last night's success?” abruptly
demanded the Count.
“Nothing of the sort hath gladdened me, Herr
Count; my heart yearns to know all, if it touches
your high interests.”
“The mass-singing rogues are stripped of their
wine-tribute! Of that much are they fairly and
legally disburthened! Thou knowest of our long-intended
trial of heads; I had intended to have
prayed thee to be a second at the banquet, but the
presence of these idlers put some restraint on my
hospitality. Thou wouldest have proved a stanch
second in such an onset, Heinrich!”
“I thank my lord the Count, and shall deem the
grace as good as accomplished in the wish. I am
some endurance in the way of liquor, but the seriousness
of the times admonishes us, of civic authority,
to be prudent. There is a wish in the people to be
admitted to certain unreasonable and grave privileges,
such as the right of vending their wares in the
market-place at unseasonable hours, when the convenience
of the burgomasters would be much vexed
by the concession; and other similar innovations,
against which we must make a firm stand, lest they
come, in time, to invade our general authority and
cause an unnatural convulsion. Were we to give
way to pretensions so extravagant, Herr Count, the
town would come to general confusion; and the
orderly and respectable city of Deurckheim would
justly merit to be compared to the huts of those
countries of which they speak in the distant land of
America, that hath so much, of late, given cause to
writings and conversation. We need, therefore,
look to the example set; for we have busy enemies,
who make the most of the smallest indulgences. At
another time, I would gladly have drained Heidelburg
to your gracious honor.”
“Thou wouldest not have been in danger of observation
here; and, by the three holy Kings of
Koeln, I should know how to tutor any prying knave
that might chance to thrust a curious eye within
these walls! But thy discretion is worthy of thy
prudence, Heinrich; for, with thee, I deem the time
serious for all lovers of established order, and of the
peace of mankind. What would the knaves, that
they thus trouble thy authority? Are they not fed
and clad? and do they not now possess privileges
out of number? The greedy rogues, if left to their
humors, would fain envy their betters each delicate
morsel they carry to their mouths, or each drop of
generous rhenish that moistens their lips!”
“I fear, well-born Emich, that this spirit of covetousness
to any little yielding to their entreaties, such
as a wish to swell out the time of their merry-makings,
or a desire like this of the market-place,
that the taste of the indulgence hath not given a
relish for fuller fare. No; he that would govern
quietly, and at his own ease, must govern thoroughly;
else shall we all become illiterate savages, fitter for
the forests of these Indies, than for our present rational
and charitable civilization.”
“Braver words were never uttered in thy council-hall,
and well do I know the head that conceived
them! Had there been occasion to have summoned
thee hither for the banquet, the excuse should have
satisfied, though the vineyards were the forfeiture.
But what didst think, friend Heinrich, of the priests
to-day, and of their warlike company!”
“'Tis plain Duke Friedrich still upholds them;
and to deal frankly with my lord the Count, the men-at-arms
have the air of fellows that are not likely to
yield the hill without fair contention.”
“Thinkest thou thus, Burgomaster? 'Twere a
thousand pities that men of tried mettle should do
each other harm, for the benefits and pleasure of a
community of shaven Benedictines! What is there
to urge in favor of pretensions so audacious as
these they prefer, and which are so offensive, both
to me, as a noble of the empire, and to all of any
note or possessions in Deurckheim?”
“They lay great stress, Herr Count, on the virtue
of ancient usages, and on the sacred origin of their
mission.”
“As much respect as thou wilt for rights that are
sealed by time, for such is the stamp that gives value
to my own fair claims; and many of thy city privileges
come chiefly of use. But the matter between
us is of abuse; and I hold it to be unworthy of those
the monks still press the town for dues?”
“With offensive importunity. If matters be not
quickly stayed, we shall come to open and indecent
dissension.”
“I would give a winter's enjoyment of my chases,
were Friedrich more sorely pressed!” exclaimed the
Count, laying his hand again on the Burgomaster's
knee, whose countenance he studied with a significance
that was not lost on his companion. “I speak
merely in the manner of his being driven to know
his true and fast friends from those who are false.”
Heinrich Frey remained silent.
“The Elector is a mild and loving prince, but one
sorely ridden by Rome! I fear we shall never have
a tranquil neighborhood, notwithstanding our long
forbearance, until the Church is persuaded to limit
its authority to its duties.”
The eyelids of the Burgomaster lowered, as it
might be in reflection.
“And chiefly, Heinrich, am I troubled lest my
good and loving Deurckheimers lose this occasion
to do themselves right,” continued the Count, squeezing
the knee he still grasped, until even the compact
citizen flinched with the force of the pressure.
“What say they in the council-hall touching this
matter?”
There was no longer any plausible apology for
the silence of the Burgomaster, who did not answer,
however, without working the heavy muscles
of his face, as if delivered of his opinions with pain.
“Men speak their minds among us, noble-born
Count, much as Duke Friedrich prospers, or fails, in
his warfare. When we hear good tidings from the
other side of the river, the brotherhood fares but
badly in our discourses; but when the Elector's warriors
triumph, we hold it prudent to remember they
have friends.”
“God's truth! Herr Heinrich, it is full time that
you come to certain conclusions, else shall we be
saddled to the end of our days by these hard-riding
priests! Art thou not wearied with all their greedy
exactions, that thou waitest patiently for more?”
“In that particular, a little sufficeth for our humors.
There is not a city between Constance and Leyden,
that is more quickly satisfied with paying than our
Deurckheim: but we are husbands and fathers, Herr
Count, and men that bear a heavy burthen of authority;
and we must be wary, lest in throwing
aside one portion of the load, space be found on
our shoulders to place another that is heavier.
When I would speak of your strong love to the
town, there are distrustful tongues, that question me
sorely of its fruits, and of your own honorable intentions
in our behalf.”
“To all of which thou couldest not be wanting
of replies! Have I not often entertained thee with
my loving wishes in behalf of the citizens?”
“If wishes in our behalf could serve our interests,
the townsmen might, in their proper right, put in a
claim to high favor. In the way of longing for
our own success, Antwerp itself is not our better.”
“Nay, thou takest my meaning unkindly: what
Emich of Hartenburg wishes for his friends, he finds
means to perform. But we will not trouble digestion,
as we are about to feed, with these tiresome details—”
“I pray you, Herr Count, not to doubt my means;
—little troubles me, when—”
“Thou shalt yield to my humor. What! is not
the Count of Leiningen master in his own castle. Not
a word more will I hear till thou hast tasted of my
poor hospitality. Did my knaves serve thee, as I
commanded yesterday, with the fat buck that fell
by my own hand, Heinrich?”
“A thousand thanks, mein Herr—they did, and
right cheerfully. I gave the rogues a silver penny for
washed away in heavy draughts of our wine of the
plain.”
“I would have it so; between friends, there should
be no niggardly reserve, in the way of courtesies,”
said Emich, rising. “Dost not bethink thee, Burgomaster,
of looking among the youths of Deurckheim
for a son to stay thy age? Meta hath reached
the years when maidens gladly become wives.”
“The wench is not ignorant of her time of life,
and the search of a suitable husband hath not failed
to give me fatherly concern. I do not presume to
compare our conditions and early lives in aught
that is disrespectful, mein Herr Graf; but, touching
all that is common to great and little, the youth of
this day seem not as they were in the time of our
young manhood.”
“Priest-ridden, Burgomaster;—too much of Rome
in our laws and habits. God's my life! when I first
mounted steed, in the court below, I could have
leaped the convent towers, did a Benedictine dare
gainsay the feat!”
“That would have been a miracle little short of
the raising of their convent walls,” answered Heinrich,
laughing at his companion's flight, and rising
in deference to the attitude the noble had been
pleased to take. “These Benedictines have been
careless of their advantages, else might they still
have kept the circumstance of that miracle as much
beyond dispute, as it was in our young days, Lord
Count.”
“And what say they in Deurckheim, now, touching
the affair?”
“Nay, men treat it, at present, as they treat other
disputable subjects. Since this outcry of Brother
Luther, there have appeared many who call in question
not only that, but divers others of the Abbey's
feats.”
The Count unconsciously crossed himself, seeming
to ponder gloomily on the subject, within his own
mind. Then glancing towards his companion, he
perceived that he was standing.
“I cry thy mercy, worthy Burgomaster; but my
inattention hath given thee this pain. My leg hath
been so much of late suspended in the stirrup, that
it hath need of straightening; but it should not, in justice,
cause thee this inconvenience. I pray thee,
Herr Frey, be seated.”
“That would ill become my station in your
presence, noble and well-born Emich; nor would it
do fit credit to my reverence and affection.”
“Nay, I will hear none of this. Thy seat, Master
Heinrich, and that without delay, lest I seem to
overlook thy merits.”
“I pray mein Herr Graf not to do himself this
wrong; nay, if it be your honorable will—I blush at
mine own daring—if I consent, I call my lord to
witness 'tis only in profound respect for his will!”
During this struggle of courtesy, the Count succeeded,
by means of gentle violence, in forcing the
Burgomaster to resume his seat. Heinrich had
yielded with a species of maiden coyness; but when
he found that, instead of occupying his own humble
stool, he had unwittingly been forced into the arm-chair
of the noble, he rebounded from the cushion,
as if the leather contained enough of the electric
fluid to bid defiance to the nonconductor qualities
of the ample woollen garment in which his nether
person was cased.
“Gott bewahre!” exclaimed the Burgomaster, in
harsh, energetic German: “The empire would cry
out against this scandal, were it known! I owe it to
my reputation to deny myself an honor so little
deserved.”
“And I to my authority to enforce my will, and to
proclaim thy deserts.”
Here the amiable force on the part of the Count,
and the courteous coquetry of Heinrich Frey, were
resumed, until the latter, fearful of offending by
longer resistance, was obliged to submit, protesting,
however, to the last, against the apparent presumption
on his own part, and against the great injustice
which the lord of the hold was doing to his
own rights, by thus insisting.
A distinguished foreign orator once pronounced
the titles of honor, and the social distinctions that
are conferred by the European governments, to be
the “cheap defence of nations.” This opinion
strikes us to be merely one of the thousand bold
fallacies that have been broached to uphold existing
interests, without reference to their true effects, or
to their inherent justice. This “cheap defence,”
like the immortal Falstaff, who was not only witty
himself, but the cause of wit in others, is the origin
of a hundred sufficiently costly habits, that leave
him who bears the burthen but little reason to exult
in its discovery. We recommend to all one-eyed
economists, who still retain any faith in this well-known
opinion of the English orator, to read that
letter in the Spectator, in which a city youth relates
the manner he is driven to vindicate his own reserve
to his fair country cousins, who would fain reproach
him with an ungraceful disrespect of his holiday
privileges, by reminding them of the calculations of
the individual who refused to indulge in cheese-cakes,
because they brought with them so many
other unnecessary expenditures.
But whether honors of the description just alluded
to, do or do not form any portion of the economy
of a nation, there is little question but flattery, like
this which Emich has just bestowed on the Burgomaster,
is one of the subtle and most powerful agents
of the great in effecting their secret purposes. Few
are they—alas, how few!—that possess a vision
to look beyond the narrow and vulgar barriers of
human selfishness, and to regard truth as it came
from God, without respect for persons and things,
except as they are the instruments of his will. It
is certain that Heinrich Frey had little pretension
to be one of this scrutinizing and elevated class; for
when he found himself fairly seated in the chair of
the Count of Hartenburg, with the noble himself
standing, his sensations were like those which are
felt by the philosopher of the other hemisphere, who
is authorized to put a ribbon at his button-hole;—
or the tradesman of this, who is elected to the
common-council of his native city, after being run
on both tickets. Still he greatly regretted there
was no one to envy his preferment; for, after the
first soothing effect on his own self-love, that unquiet
spirit which haunts us to the last, disfiguring the
fairest pictures, and casting its alloy into every scheme
of happiness, suggested that his triumph would be
imperfect without a witness. Just as this rebellious
feeling became troublesome, there appeared at the
door of the closet, the very being of all others that
the Burgomaster would have chosen to see him in
the enjoyment of this high honor. A gentle tap
announced the presence of the intruder, and when
the authoritative voice of Emich had given the
permission, the mild Ulrike appeared on the threshold.
Surprise was strongly painted on the features of
the Burgomaster's wife. The husband had crossed
his legs, and was indulging in his ease, with a sort
of noble indifference to the unusual situation in
which he was placed, when this extraordinary sight
greeted the eyes of his amazed consort. So absolute
and so tenacious were the rules of Germany on all
things that concerned the respect due to rank, that
even one as little troubled by ambition as the meek
when she beheld Heinrich Frey thus suddenly elevated
to a seat of honor in the presence of a Count
of Leiningen.
“Nay, enter without fear, my good Ulrike,” said
Emich, graciously; “thy worthy husband and I do
but indulge in mutual friendship, while my varlets
prepare an unworthy banquet. Do not think to
break our discourse.”
“I only hesitate, noble Emich, at seeing Heinrich
Frey preferred to that seat, while the Lord of Hartenburg
stands, like one of humble birth, at his
side!”
“Touch not the matter, meine Frau,” said the
husband condescendingly. “Thou art a loving consort,
and art well enough amid thy sex, and in questions
that belong to thy breeding; but in an affair,
like this, between mein Herr Graf and me, thou
mayest only mar what thou canst not mend.”
“By the life of the princely Karl! master Heinrich,
you do insufficient justice to Ulrike's discernment!
Were mine own Ermengarde among us,
thou shouldst see that we prize thy loving wife little
less than we esteem thee. But it were better that
we inquire of Ulrike the occasion of her visit,
before we attempt to school her on matters of deportment.”
Though so rough and unnurtured on many of the
points that are now deemed essential even to an
indifferent civilization, Emich had a quick interest
for the perception of character, and possessed as
much of the refinement that marks a superior condition
in life, as the state of the age and the situation
of his own country permitted. There can be no
greater mistake than to imagine that mere nominal
rank is any pledge for a correspondent degree of
refinement, since every thing is relative in this world,
and where the base of the pillar is rude and little
keeping, to expect a capital of a different style.
Thus it is that we, without any social orders but
those of convention, are struck with so many glaring
discrepancies among people whose patricians,
having studied all that is factitious and plausible in
breeding, are still deficient in the grand essentials of
reason and humanity, simply because the roots of
the society, of which they are only the more luxuriant
branches, are planted in the soil of ignorance
and debasement. The Count of Hartenburg had
possessed ample opportunities of witnessing how
much the intellectual qualities of the Burgomaster's
wife were superior to those of her husband; and he
had sufficient discrimination and experience to be
quite aware of the importance of conciliating such
an ally in advancing his own particular views. It
was in this spirit, therefore, that he ventured on so
blunt a reproof of Heinrich's superciliousness, and
volunteered the compliment to the spouse; probably
hazarding the latter, from an intimate conviction
that most husbands are content to hear eulogies on
those who are so completely in their power as their
own wives.
“Since it is your honorable pleasure, Herr Count,
for God's sake let the woman come in,” answered
Heinrich, still, however, without changing an attitude
so soothing to his self-esteem. “If she should see
me seated in a presence in which it would much better
become me to kneel, why it may help to show
that God hath given her a companion that is not
altogether without the world's esteem, little as he
may merit it. Enter freely, therefore, good Ulrike,
since it is my lord's pleasure; but presume not on
his condescension to me, which is rather a mark of
great love for our town, than any matter connected
with domestic life.”
“In all that the high-born Count hath done honor
to any of us, whether as of Deurckheim, or as his
unworthy neighbors, I desire respectfully to be
grateful,” returned the wife, who, by this time, had
recovered from her surprise, and who now advanced
farther into the narrow room, with the modest self-possession
which ordinarily distinguished her manner:—“If
I do not come amiss, I crave to be heard
of both, in a matter that toucheth nearly a mother's
heart; and a matter, as it is of Heinrich Frey's
child I would fain speak, that I trust may not be indifferent
to my lord the Count.”
“Were it of mine own little Kunigunde, the subject
should not be more welcome!” said the noble.
“Speak freely then, gentle Ulrike, and with the same
simplicity thou wouldest use were it only to thy
husband's ear.”
“Thou hearest, woman! mein Herr Graf enters,
as it were, into all our tribulations and happiness,
an' he were no other than a brother. So mince not
the matter, but deal frankly with us; though I admonish
thee not to push thy words to all the familiarity
of household discourse.”
“As it is of a subject so near, I pray leave to close
the door, before more is uttered.”
The words of Ulrike were cut short by a hasty
gesture of approbation from her husband, and by
the Count himself, who, with more of the consideration
and manner of a gentleman, performed the desired
office with his own hands, thus admitting the
wife, as it were, into the very cabinet of their secret
councils.
| CHAPTER XI. The Heidenmauer, or, The Benedictines | |