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[Illustration: Charles the Fifth.]






                              BARTHOLOMEW
                                SASTROW


                          BEING THE MEMOIRS OF
                          A GERMAN BURGOMASTER



            Translated by Albert D. Vandam. Introduction by
                       Herbert A. L. Fisher, M.A.



                         _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_.



                                 LONDON
                      ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & CO LTD
                                  1905




                                Contents


                                 PART I

Introduction


                               CHAPTER I

Abominable Murder of My Grandfather--My Parents and their Family--Fatal
Misadventure of my Father--Troubles at Stralsund--Appeal of the
Evangelical Preachers


                               CHAPTER II

My Student's Days at Greifswald--Victor Bole and his tragical End--A
Servant possessed by the Devil--My Brother Johannes' Preceptors and
Mine--My Father's never-ending Law Suits


                              CHAPTER III

Showing the Ingratitude, Foolishness and Wickedness of the People, and
how, when once infected with a bad Spirit, it returns with Difficulty
to Common-Sense--Smiterlow, Lorbeer, and the Duke of Mecklenberg--Fall
of the Seditious Regime of the Forty-eight


                               CHAPTER IV

Dr. Martin Luther writes to my Father--My Studies at Rostock and at
Greifswald--Something about my hard Life at Spires--I am admitted as a
Public Notary--Dr. Hose


                               CHAPTER V

Stay at Pforzheim--Margrave Ernest--My extreme Penury at Worms,
followed by Great Plenty at a Receiver's of the Order of St. John's--I
do not lengthen this Summary, seeing that but for my Respect for the
Truth, I would willingly pass over many Episodes in Silence


                               CHAPTER VI

Travels in Italy--What happened to me in Rome--I take Steps to recover
my Brother's Property--I become aware of some strange Particulars--I
suddenly leave Rome


                              CHAPTER VII

From Rome to Stralsund, by Viterbo, Florence, Mantua, Trent, Innspruck,
Ratisbon and Nuremberg--Various Adventures



                                PART II


                               CHAPTER I

I am appointed Pomeranian Secretary--Something about my diurnal and
nocturnal Journeys with the Chancellor--Missions in the Camps--Dangers
in the Wake of the Army


                               CHAPTER II

A Twelve Months' Stay at Augsburg during the Diet--Something about the
Emperor and Princes--Sebastian Vogelsberg--Concerning the Interim
Journey to Cologne


                              CHAPTER III

How I held for two Years the Office of _Solicitator_ at the Imperial
Chamber at Spires--Visit to Herr Sebastian Muenster--Journey to
Flanders--Character of King Philip--I leave the Prince's Service



                                PART III


                               CHAPTER I

Arrival at Greifswald--Betrothal and Marriage--An Old Custom--I am in
Peril--Martin Weyer, Bishop


                               CHAPTER II

Severe Difficulties after my Marriage--My Labours and Success as a
Law-writer and Notary, and subsequently as a Procurator--An Account of
some of the Cases in which I was engaged


                              CHAPTER III

The Greifswald Council appoints me the City's Secretary--Delicate
Mission to Stralsund--Burgomaster Christopher Lorbeer and his
Sons--Journey to Bergen--I settle at Stralsund




                             Illustrations

Charles the Fifth                                   _frontispiece_

Martin Luther

Stettin, Wittenberg, Spires

The Diet of Augsburg

An Execution at the time of the Reformation

Ferdinand the First

Melanchthon

View of Stralsund




                              INTRODUCTION


If we wish to understand the pedestrian side of German life in the
sixteenth century, I know of no better document than the autobiography
of Bartholomew Sastrow. This hard-headed, plain-spoken Pomeranian
notary cannot indeed be classed among the great and companionable
writers of memoirs. Here are no genial portraits, no sweet-tempered and
mellow confidings of the heart such as comfortable men and women are
wont to distil in a comfortable age. The times were fierce, and passion
ran high and deep. One might as well expect to extract amiability from
the rough granite of an Icelandic saga. There is no delicacy, no charm,
no elevation of tone in these memoirs. Everything is seen through plain
glass, but seen distinctly in hard and fine outlines, and reported with
an objectivity which would be consistently scientific, were it not for
some quick touches of caustic humour, and the stored hatreds of an
active, unpopular and struggling life. Nobody very readily sympathizes
with bitter or with prosperous men, and when this old gentleman took up
his pen to write, he had become both prosperous and bitter. He had
always been a hard hitter, and at the age of seventy-five set himself
down to compose a fighting apologia. If the ethics are those of Mr.
Tulliver, senior, we must not be surprised. Is not the blood-feud one
of the oldest of Teutonic institutions?

I frankly confess that I do not find Mr. Bartholomew Sastrow very
congenial company, though I am ready to acknowledge that he had some
conspicuous merits. Many good men have been naughty boys at school, and
it is possible that even distinguished philanthropists have tippled
brandy while Orbilius was nodding. If so, an episode detailed in these
memoirs may be passed over by the lenient reader, all the more readily
since the Sastrovian oats do not appear to have been very wildly or
copiously sown. It is clear that the young man fought poverty with
pluck and tenacity. He certainly had a full measure of Teutonic
industry, and it argues no little character in a man past thirty years
of age to attend the lectures of university professors in order to
repair the defects of an early education. I also suspect that any
litigant who retained Sastrow's services would have been more than
satisfied with this swift and able transactor of business, who appears
to have had all the combativeness of Bishop Burnet, with none of his
indiscretion. He was just the kind of man who always rows his full
weight and more than his weight in a boat. But, save for his vigorous
hates, he was a prosaic fellow, given to self-gratulation, who never
knew romance, and married his housemaid at the age of seventy-eight.

A modern German writer is much melted by Sastrow's Protestantism, and
apparently finds it quite a touching spectacle. Sastrow was of course a
Lutheran, and believed in devils as fervently as his great master. He
also conceived it to be part of the general scheme of things that the
Sastrows and their kinsmen, the Smiterlows, should wax fat and prosper,
while all the plagues of Egypt and all the afflictions of Job should
visit those fiends incarnate, the Horns, the Brusers and the Lorbeers.
For some reason, which to me is inscrutable, but which was as plain as
sunlight to Sastrow, a superhuman apparition goes out of its way to
help a young Pomeranian scribe, who upon his own showing is anything
but a saint, while the innocent maidservant of a miser is blown up with
six other persons no less blameless than herself, to enforce the
desirability of being free with one's money. This, however, is the
usual way in which an egoist digests the popular religion.

Bartholomew Sastrow was born at Greifswald, a prosperous Hanseatic
town, in 1520. The year of his birth is famous in the history of German
Protestantism, for it witnessed the publication of Luther's three great
Reformation tracts--the _Appeal to the Christian Nobility of the German
Nation_, the _Babylonish Captivity_, and the _Freedom of a Christian
Man_. It seemed in that year as if the whole of Germany might be
brought to make common cause against the Pope. The clergy, the
nobility, the towns, the peasants all had their separate cause of
quarrel with the old regime, and to each of these classes in turn
Luther addressed his powerful appeal. For a moment puritan and humanist
were at one, and the printing presses of Germany turned out a stream of
literature against the abuses of the papal system. The movement spread
so swiftly, especially in the north, that it seemed a single
spontaneous popular outburst. But the harmony was soon broken. The
rifts in the political and social organization of Germany were too deep
to be spanned by any appeal to merely moral considerations. The Emperor
Charles V, himself half-Spanish, set his face against a movement which
was directly antagonistic to the Imperial tradition. The peasants
revolted, committed excesses, and were ruthlessly crushed, and the
violence of anabaptists and ignorant men threw discredit on the
Lutheran cause. Then, too, dogmatic differences began to reveal
themselves within the circle of the reformers themselves. There were
disputes as to the exact significance and philosophic explanation of
the Lord's Supper. A conference was held at Marburg, in 1529, under the
auspices of Philip of Hesse, with a view to adjusting the differences
between the divines of Saxony and Switzerland, but Luther and Zwingli
failed to arrive at a compromise. The Lutheran and the Reformed
Churches now definitely separated, and the divisions of the Protestants
were the opportunity of the Catholic Church. The emperor tried in vain
to reconcile Germany to the old faith. Rival theologians met, disputed,
formulated creeds in the presence of temporal princes and their armed
retainers. In 1530 the Diet of Augsburg forbade Protestant teaching and
ordered the restoration of church property. Then a Protestant league
was signed at Smalkald by John of Saxony, by Hesse, Brunswick-Luneberg,
Anhalt, and several towns, and the emperor was defied. This was in
1531. It was the beginning of the religious wars of Germany, the
beginning of that tremendous duel which lasted till the peace of
Westphalia in 1648, the duel between the League of Smalkald and Charles
V, between Gustavus Adolphus and Wallenstein, between the Protestant
North and the Catholic South.

In the initial stage of this combat the great military event was
the rout of the Smalkaldic allies at Muhlberg, in April, 1547,
where Charles captured John Frederic of Saxony, transferred his
dominions--save only a few scattered territories in Thuringia--to his
ally, Maurice, and reduced all north Germany save the city of
Magdeburg. It seemed for a moment as if this battle might decide the
contest. Charles summoned a Diet at Augsburg in 1548, and carried all
his proposals without opposition. He strengthened his political
position by the reconstitution of the Imperial Chamber, by the
organization of the Netherlands into a circle of the empire, and by the
formation of a new military treasury. He obtained the consent of the
Diet to a religious compromise called the Interim which, while
insisting on the seven sacraments in the Catholic sense, vaguely agreed
to the Lutheran doctrine of justification by faith, and declared that
the two questions of the Communion in both kinds and the celibacy of
clergy were to be left till the summoning of a free Christian council.
The strict Lutheran party--and Pomerania was a stronghold of strict
Lutheranism--regarded the Interim as a base betrayal of Protestant
interests. Their pamphleteers called it the _Interitum_, or the
death-blow, and the conversion of a prince like Joachim of Brandenburg
to such a scheme was regarded as an ominous sign for the future.

In reality, however, the success of the emperor rested upon the most
brittle foundations. That he was chilly, reserved, un-German, and
therefore unpopular was something, but not nearly all. The princes of
Germany had conquered practical independence in the thirteenth century,
and were jealous of their prerogatives. The Hanseatic towns formed a
republican confederacy in the north, corresponding to the Swiss
confederacy in the south. There was no adequate central machinery, and
the Jesuit order was only just preparing to enter upon its career of
German victories. The Spanish troops made themselves detestable,
outraging women--a dire offence in a nation so domestic as Germany--and
there was standing feud between the famous Castilian infantry and the
German lansquenets. The popes did not like the emperor's favourite
remedy of a council, and busily thwarted his ecclesiastical schemes.
Henry II of France was on the watch for German allies against a
powerful rival. The allies were ready. A great spiritual movement can
never be stifled by the issue of one battle. For good or evil, men had
taken sides; interests intellectual, moral, and material had already
been invested either in the one cause or the other; there had been
brutal iconoclasm; there had been ardent preaching, so simple and
moving that ignorant women understood and wept; there had been close
and stubborn dogmatic controversy; there had been the shedding of
blood, and the upheavals in towns, and the building of a new church
system, and the growth of a new religious literature. Almost a whole
generation had now been consumed in this controversy, a controversy
which touched all lives, and cemented or divided families. The children
were reading Luther's Bible, and singing Luther's hymns, and learning
Luther's short catechism. Could it be expected that such a river should
suddenly lose itself in the sand? Nevertheless there is something
surprising in the quick revolution of the story. In 1550 Maurice of
Saxony intrigues with the Protestants, and in the following year
definitely goes over to their side. In 1552 the emperor has to flee for
his life, and the Peace of Passau seals the victory of the Protestant
cause.

One of the first provinces to be conquered for Lutheranism was the
duchy of Pomerania. John Bugenhagen, himself a Pomeranian and the
historian of Pomerania, was the chief apostle of this northern region,
and those who visit the Baltic churches will often see his sable
portrait hanging side by side with Huss and Luther on the whitewashed
walls. Sastrow gives us an excellent picture of the various forces
which co-operated with the teaching of Bugenhagen to effect the change.
In Eastern Pomerania there was the violent propaganda of Dr. Amandus,
who wanted a clean sweep of images, princes, and established powers.
There was the democratic movement in Stralsund, led by the turbulent
Rolof Moller, who, accusing the council of malversation, revolutionized
the constitution of his city. There was the mob of workmen who were
only too glad of an excuse to plunder the priests and break the altars.
But side by side with greed and violence there was the moral revolt
against "the fables, the absurdities, and the impious lies" of the
pulpit, and against the vices of priest and monk. The recollection of
the early days of Puritan enthusiasm, when the fathers of the
Protestant movement preached the gospel to large crowds in the open
air, as, for instance, under "St. George's churchyard elm" at
Stralsund, remained graven on many a lowly calendar. Even the texts of
these sermons were remembered as epochs in spiritual life. Sastrow
records how, ceding to the request of a great number of burgesses, Mr.
Ketelhot (being detained in the port of Stralsund by contrary winds),
preached upon Matthew xi. 28: "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest"; and then upon John xvi. 23:
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in
My name, He will give it you"; and, finally: "Go ye therefore and teach
all nations." The general pride in civic monuments proved to be
stronger than the iconoclastic mood. Certainly the high altar
in the Nicolai Kirche at Stralsund--probably the most elaborate
specimen of late fifteenth-century wood carving which still survives in
Germany--would have received a short shrift from Cromwell's Ironsides.

It was Burgomaster Nicholas Smiterlow, of Stralsund, who brought
Protestantism into the Sastrow family. He had seen Luther in 1523, had
heard him preach at Wittenberg, and became a convert to the "true
gospel." Smiterlow's daughter Anna married Nicholas Sastrow, a
prosperous brewer and cornfactor of Greifswald, and Nicholas deserted
the mass for the sermon. Their eldest son, John, was sent to study at
Wittenberg, where he made the acquaintance of Luther and Melanchthon.
He became something, of a scholar, wrote in praise of the English
divine, Robert Barns, and was crowned poet laureate by Charles V in
1544. The second son was Bartholomew, author of these memoirs. Three
years after his arrival the family life at Greifswald was rudely
disturbed. Bartholomew's father had the misfortune to commit
manslaughter (uncharitable people called it murder), and Greifswald was
made too hot to hold the peccant cornfactor. The father of our
chronicler lived in banishment for several years, while his wife
brought up the children at Greifswald, and carried on the family
business. It happened that Bartholomew's great-uncle, Burgomaster
Nicholas Smiterlow the second, of Stralsund, was at that time residing
at Greifswald. He possessed the avuncular virtues, had his great-nephew
taught Latin, and earned his eternal gratitude. In time the heirs of
the slain man were appeased and 1,000 marks of blood-money enabled the
elder Sastrow to return to his native city. He did not, however, remain
long in Greifswald, but sold his house and settled in the neighbouring
city of Stralsund, the home of his wife's relations. Bartholomew
received his early education at Greifswald and Stralsund, but in 1538
was sent to Rostock (a university had been founded in this town in
1415), where he studied under two well-known pupils of Luther and
Melanchthon, Burenius and Heinrich Welfius (Wulf). The teaching
combined the chief elements of Humanism and of Protestant theology, the
works of Cicero and Terence on the one hand, and the _De Anima_ of
Melanchthon on the other.

Meanwhile (1534-37) there were great disturbances in Stralsund. An
ambitious demagogue of Lubeck, George Wullenweber, had involved the
Hanseatic League in a Danish war. Smiterlow and Nicolas Sastrow thought
that the war was wrong and foolish, and that it would endanger the
interests of Stralsund. But a democracy, when once bitten by the war
frenzy, is hard to curb, and regards moderation in the light of
treason. Stralsund rose against its conservative council, forced
Smiterlow to resign and compelled the elder Sastrow to remain a
prisoner in his house for the period of a year. Father and son never
forgot or forgave these years of plebeian uproar. For them the art of
statesmanship was to avoid revolution and to keep the people under. "I
recommend to my children submission to authority, no matter whether
Pilate or Caiaphas governs." This was the last word of Bartholomew's
political philosophy.

In 1535-6 the forces of the Hanse were defeated both by land and sea,
and the war party saw the error of its ways. Sastrow was released, and
his uncle-in-law was restored to office to die two years later, in
1539. But meanwhile things had gone ill with the Sastrow finances. Some
skilful but dishonest ladies had purchased large consignments of cloth,
not to speak of borrowing considerable sums of money from Nicholas
Sastrow, and declined to pay their bill. During his imprisonment
Nicholas had been unable to sell the stock of salt which he had laid in
with a view to the Schonen herring season. A certain Mrs. Bruser, wife
of a big draper, with a hardy conscience, had bought 1,725 florins'
worth of the Sastrow cloth of the dishonest ladies. The Sastrows
determined to get the money out of the Brusers. Bruser first avowed the
debt, and then repudiated it, taking a mean advantage of the civic
troubles of Stralsund and the decline of the Smiterlow-Sastrow
interest. Thereupon began litigation which was not to cease for
thirty-four years. The case was heard before the town court of
Stralsund, then before the council of Stralsund, then before the
_oberhof_ or appellate court of Lubeck, and finally before the Imperial
court of Spires. Bartholomew accompanied his father on the Lubeck
journey, obtained his first insight into legal chicanery, and was, no
doubt, effectually inoculated with the anti-Bruser virus. In 1541 the
elder Sastrow obtained permission to return to Greifswald, and
Bartholomew attended for a year the lectures of the Greifswald
professors. The family circumstances, however (there were by this time
five daughters and three sons), were too straitened to support the
youth in idleness. Accordingly, in June, 1542, the two eldest sons left
their home, partly to seek their fortunes, but more especially to watch
the great Bruser case, which was winding its slow and slippery course
through the reticulations of the Imperial Court at Spires.

There is no need to anticipate the lively narrative of Bartholomew's
experiences in this home of litigation long-drawn-out. The reader will,
however, note that he was lucky enough to come in for a Diet, and has
an excellent story to tell of how the emperor was inadvertently
horsewhipped by a Swabian carter. On May 19, 1544, Sastrow received the
diploma of Imperial notary, and a month later he left Spires and
entered the chancellerie of Margrave Ernest of Baden, at Pforzheim.
This, however, was destined to prove but a brief interlude. In the
summer of 1545 Sastrow is in the service of a receiver of the Order of
St. John, Christopher von Loewenstein, who, after his Turkish wars, was
living a frolicsome old age among his Frisian stallions, his huntsmen
and his hounds. The picture of this frivolous old person, with his
dwarf, his mistress, and his chaplain, is drawn with some spirit.
Sastrow, who had so long felt the pinch of poverty, was now luxuriating
in good fare and fine raiment. He has little to do, plenty to eat and
drink, and his festivity was untempered by moral considerations. "Do
not think to become a doctor in my house," said the genial host, and it
must be confessed that the surroundings were not propitious to the
study of the Institutes.

The news of John Sastrow's death put an end to this jollity. The poet
laureate had been crossed in love, and sought oblivion in Italy. The
panegyrist of Barns entered the service of a cardinal, and died at
Acquapendente, without explaining theological inconsistencies,
pardonable perhaps in lovelorn poets. Bartholomew determined to recover
the property of his deceased brother, and set out for Italy on April 8,
1546. He walked to Venice over the Brenner, thence took ship to Ancona,
and then travelled over the Apennines to Rome, by way of Loretto. The
council was sitting at Trent, but theological gossip does not interest
our traveller so much as the alto voices in the church choirs, and "the
tomb of the infant Simeon, the innocent victim of the Jews." Nor is he
qualified to play the role of intelligent tourist among the antiquities
and art treasures of Italy. He was not a Benvenuto Cellini, still less
a Nathaniel Hawthorne, bent on instructing the Philistine in the art of
cultured enthusiasm. "A magnificent palace, a church all of marble,
variously tinted and assorted with perfect art, twelve lions and
lionesses, two tigers and an eagle that is all I remember of Florence."

Many modern tourists may not remember as much without Sastrow's
excuses. Italy was by this time by no means a safe place for a German.
Paul III was recruiting mercenaries to help the emperor to fight the
League of Smalkald, and the Spanish Inquisition was industriously
raging in Rome. It was sufficient to be a German to be suspected of
heresy, and for the heretic, the pyre and the gibbet were ready
prepared. It would be difficult to conceive a moment less propitious
for aesthetic enjoyment. "Not a week without a hanging," says Sastrow,
who was apparently careful to attend these lugubrious ceremonies. The
excellence of the Roman wine increased the risk of an indiscretion, and
by July Sastrow had determined that it would be well to extricate
himself from the perils of Rome.

His reminiscences of the papal capital are vivid and curious. We seem
to see the cardinal sweating in his shirt sleeves under the hot Italian
sun, while his floor is being watered. Heavy-eyed oxen of the Campagna
are dragging stone and marble through the streets to build the Farnese
palace and splendid houses for the cardinals; the whole town is a
tumult of building and unbuilding. Streets are destroyed to improve a
view. If one of the effects of a celibate clergy is to promote
immorality, another is to improve the cuisine of the taverns. Upon both
topics Sastrow is eloquent, and there are too many confirmations from
other quarters to permit us to doubt the substantial accuracy of his
indictment.

By August 29, 1546, Sastrow was back at Stralsund. Through the good
offices of Dr. Knipstrow, the general superintendent, he secured a post
in the ducal chancellerie at Wolgast. His acuteness and industry
obtained the respect of the Pomeranian chancellor, James Citzewitz, and
he was given the most important business to transact. On March 10,
1547, he accompanied the ducal chancellors in the character of notary
on a mission to the emperor. Ten years before the Dukes of Pomerania
had joined the League of Smalkald, and they were now thoroughly alarmed
at the Imperial victory at Muhlberg, and anxious to make their peace
with Charles. The journey of the envoys is full of historical interest.
Sastrow had to cross the field of Muhlberg and received ocular
assurance of the horrors of the war and of the barbarities practised by
the Spanish troops. He was a spectator of the humiliation of the
Landgrave Philip of Hesse, at Halle, and to his narrative alone we owe
the knowledge of the ironical laugh of the prince, and the angry threat
of the emperor. From Halle the Pomeranian envoys followed Charles to
Augsburg, having the good fortune to fall in with the drunken but
scriptural Duke Frederick III of Liegnitz, of whose wild doings Sastrow
can tell some surprising tales.

It must have been an astonishing experience, this life at Augsburg,
while the Diet was sitting. The gravest theological and political
problems, problems affecting the destiny of the Empire, were being
handled in an atmosphere of unabashed debauchery and barbarism. Every
one, layman and clerk, let himself go. Joachim of Brandenburg consented
to the Interim for a bribe, and the Cardinal Granvelle, like Talleyrand
afterwards, was able to build up an enormous fortune out of "the sins
of Germany." In the midst of the coarse revels of the town the horrid
work of the executioner was everywhere manifest. And, meanwhile, the
grim emperor dines silently in public, seeming to convey a sullen
rebuke to the garrulous hospitality of his brother Ferdinand, and to
the loose morals of the princes.

The cause of the Pomeranian mission did not much prosper at Augsburg,
and Sastrow and his friends pursued the emperor to Brussels, where they
were at last able to effect the desired reconciliation. For the
services rendered on this occasion Sastrow was made the Pomeranian
solicitor at the court of Spires. The second Spires residence was
clearly a period of honourable and not ungainful activity. Sastrow is
busy with ducal cases; he makes another journey to the Netherlands in
order to present Cardinal Granvelle with some golden flagons, and has
occasion to admire the treasures of the great Flemish cities. The
seagirt Stralsund, with its thin gusty streets, high gables, red Gothic
gateways and tall austere whitewashed churches could not, of course,
show the ample splendours of Brussels or Antwerp. Then, too, upon this
Flemish voyage he saw King Philip and was impressed by the young man's
stupid face and stiff Spanish formality. Such a contrast to his father
Charles! Again he was sent on a mission to Basle, carrying information
about Pomerania to Sebastian Munster, the "German Strabo," as he loved
to hear himself called, that it might be incorporated in that learned
scholar's universal cosmography. In 1550, however, Sastrow became aware
that his position was being undermined by the councillors at Stettin.
He accordingly gave up his ducal appointment, and determined to confine
himself to private practice. He marries a wife (January 5, 1551),
settles at Greifswald, and builds up a prosperous business, and from
this date his memoirs are mostly concerned with the cases in which he
was engaged.

There is yet one more change of place and occupation to be noticed in
this bustling life. In 1555 Sastrow was enticed to Stralsund by the
offer of the post of secretary, and for the next eight-and-forty years,
till his death in 1603, he lived in that town, battling in the full
stream of municipal politics, councillor in 1562, burgomaster in 1578,
and frequently chosen to represent the city on embassies and other
ceremonial occasions. A _Rubricken Bock_, or collection of municipal
diplomata testifies to another branch of his useful activities. Enemies
were as plentiful as gooseberries, and he never wanted for litigation.
His second marriage created a scandal, and furnished an occasion for
the foeman to scoff. But the choleric old gentleman was fully capable
of taking care of himself. "At Stralsund," he says, "I fell full into
the infernal caldron, and I have roasted there for forty years." But he
took good heed that the enemy should roast likewise, and at the age of
seventy-five began to lay the fire. The first two parts of the memoirs
were composed in 1595, the third at the end of 1597, doubtless on the
basis of some previous diary. They were composed for the benefit of his
children, that they might enjoy the roasting. We too now can look on
while the flames crackle.

                                             HERBERT A. L. FISHER.

   New College,
     Oxford.





                                 PART I




                               CHAPTER I

Abominable Murder of My Grandfather--My Parents and their Family--Fatal
Misadventure of My Father--Troubles at Stralsund--Appeal of the
Evangelical Preachers


My father was born in 1488, in the village of Rantzin, in the inn close
to the cemetery, on the road to Anclam. Even before his marriage, my
grandfather, Johannes Sastrow, exceeded by far in worldly goods,
reputation, power and understanding, the Horns, a family established at
Rantzin. Hence, those Horns, frantic with jealousy, constantly attacked
him, not only with regard to his property, but also in the
consideration he enjoyed among his fellow-men; they did not scruple to
attempt his life. Not daring to act openly, they incited one of their
labourers to go drinking to the inn, to pick a quarrel with its host,
and to fall upon him. Their inheritance, in fact, was so small that
they only needed one ploughmaster. What was the upshot? My grandfather,
who was on his guard, got wind of the affair, and took the offensive.
The emissary had such a cordial reception as to be compelled to beat a
retreat "on all fours," and even this was not accomplished without
difficulty.

The enmity of the Horns obliged my grandfather to look to his security.
About the year 1487, in virtue of a friendly agreement with the old
overlord Johannes Osten von Quilow, he redeemed his vassalage
(lastage), and acquired the citizenship of Greifswald, where he bought
a dwelling at the angle of the Butchers' Street. Thither he gradually
transferred his household goods. Johannes Sastrow, therefore, left the
Ostens and became a citizen before my father's birth.

The infamous attempt occurred in this way. In 1494, there was a
christening not far from Rantzin, namely at Gribon, where there lived a
Horn. In his capacity of a near relative my grandfather received an
invitation, and as the distance was short, he took my father, who was
then about seven, with him. The Horns took advantage of the
opportunity; on the pretext of paying a visit to their cousin, they
repaired to Gribon. They had come down in the world, and they no longer
minded either the company or the fare of the peasantry; consequently,
during the meal that followed they sat down at the same table with my
grandfather. When they had drunk their fill towards nightfall, they all
got up together to have a look at the stables. They fancied they were
among themselves; as it happened one of our relatives was hiding in a
corner, and heard them discuss matters. They intended to watch
Sastrow's going, to gallop after him and intercept him on the road, and
to kill him and his child. My grandfather, having been warned,
immediately took the advice not to delay his departure for a moment.
Taking his son by the hand, he started there and then. Alas, the
atrocious murderers who were lying in wait for him in a clearing,
trampled him under their horses' hoofs, inflicted ever so many wounds;
then, their rage not being spent, they dragged him to a large stone on
the road, and which may be seen unto this day, chopped off his right
hand at the wrist, and left him for dead on the spot. The child had
crept into some damp underwood, inaccessible to horses; the fast
gathering darkness saved him from being pursued. The labourers on the
Horn farm, driven by curiosity, had mounted their cattle; they picked
up the victim, and pulled the child from his hiding place. One of them
galloped to Rantzin, whence he returned with a cart on which they laid
the wounded man, who scarcely gave a sign of life, and, in fact,
breathed his last at the entrance to the village.

The nearest relatives realized the inheritance of the orphan, sold the
house, the proceeds of the whole amounting to 2,000 florins.[1] Lords
who allow their vassals to amass similar sums are rare nowadays. The
child was brought up carefully; he was taught to read, to write and to
cipher, afterwards he was sent to Antwerp and to Amsterdam to get a
knowledge of business. When he was old enough to manage his own
affairs, he bought the angle of Long Street and of Huns' Street, on the
right, towards St. Nicholas' Church, that is, two dwelling houses and
two shops in Huns' Street.[2] One of these houses he made his
residence; the other he converted into a brewery, and on the site of
the shops he built the present front entrance. All this cost a great
deal of trouble and money. He was an attractive young fellow with an
assured bit of bread, so he had no difficulty in obtaining the hand of
the daughter of the late Bartholomaei Smiterlow, and the niece of
Nicholas Smiterlow, the burgomaster of Stralsund.[3] Young and pretty,
rather short than tall, but with exquisitely shaped limbs, amiable,
clever, unpretending, an excellent managers, and exceedingly careful in
her conduct, my mother unto her last hour was an honest and God-fearing
woman. My father's register shows that the marriage took place in 1514,
the Sunday after St. Catherine's Day; the husband, as I often heard him
say, was still short of five and twenty.

At the fast just before Advent, in 1515, Providence granted the young
couple a son who was named Johannes, after his paternal grandfather; he
died in 1545, at Aquapendente, in Italy. In 1517, _in vigilia
nativitatis Mariae_, my sister Anna was born; she died on August 16,
1594, at the age of seventy-seven; she was the widow of Peter Frobose,
burgomaster of Greifswald. On Tuesday, August 21, 1520, at six in the
morning, I came into the world and was named Bartholomaei, after my
maternal grandfather. I leave to my descendants the task of recording
my demise, to which I am looking forward anxiously in my seventy-fifth
winter.

The year 1523 witnessed the birth of my sister Catherine, a charming,
handsome creature, amiable, loyal and pious. When my brother Johannes
returned from the University of Wittemberg, she asked him what was the
Latin for "This is certainly a good-looking girl?" "Profecto formosa
puella," was the answer. "And how do they say, 'Yes, not bad?'" was the
next question. "Sic satis," replied Johannes.

Some time after that, three students from Wittemberg, young fellows of
good family, stopped for a short while in our town, and Christian
Smiterlow asked his father, the burgomaster, to let them stay with him.
The burgomaster, who had three grown-up daughters, invited my sister
Catherine. Naturally, the young people talked to and chaffed each
other, and the lads themselves made some remarks in Latin, which would,
perhaps, have not sounded well in German to female ears. One of them
happened to exclaim: "Profecto formosa puella!" "Sic satis!" retorted
Catherine, and thereupon the students became afraid that she had
understood the whole of their lively comments.

In 1544 Catherine married Christopher Meyer, an only son, but an
illiterate, dissipated, lazy and drunken oaf, who spent all his
substance, and ruined a servant girl while my sister was in childbed.
God punished him for his misdeeds by bringing abject misery and a
loathsome disease upon him, but Catherine died at twenty-six, weary of
life.

My sister Magdalen was born in 1527; she died a single woman at
twenty-two. These five children were born to my parents in Greifswald;
the last three saw the light at Stralsund; namely, in 1529, Christian,
who lived till he was sixty; in 1532, Barbara, who only reached
eighteen; and in 1534, Gertrude.

From their very earliest age my sisters were taught by my mother the
household and other work appropriate to their sex. One day while
Gertrude, who was then about five, was plying her distaff--the spinning
wheel was not known then--my brother Johannes announced the news that
the Emperor, the King of the Romans, the electors, the princes and
counts, in short all the great nobles, were to foregather at a diet.
"What for?" asked Gertrude. "To look to the proper government of the
world," was the answer. "Good Lord," sighed the child, "why don't they
forbid little girls to spin."

The pest of 1549 took away my mother, Gertrude, Magdalen and Catherine.
As her daughters were weeping bitterly my mother said: "Why do you
weep? rather ask the Lord to shorten my sufferings." She died on July
3. On the 16th it was Gertrude's turn. Magdalen was also dying; she
left her bed to get her own shroud and that of Gertrude out of the
linen press, and bade me be careful to fling only a little earth on her
sister's grave, because she herself would soon be put into it; after
which she returned to her bed and expired on July 18, the morning after
Gertrude's burial. Magdalen was the tallest and most robust of my
sisters, an accomplished manageress, hardworking, and her head screwed
tightly on her shoulders. Catherine sent me all this news on September
9, two days before her own death of the plague. She did not try to
disguise her approaching end; on the contrary, she prayed fervently for
it, and bade me be resigned to it. She had had two children by her
worthless husband; I undertook the care of the boy, Christopher Meyer,
and my sister Frobose at Greifswald mothered the girl, who was but
scantily provided for. Christopher gave me much trouble; neither
remonstrance nor punishment proved of any avail; when he grew up he
would not settle down, and practically followed in the footsteps of his
father, yielding to dissipation, and indulging in all kinds of vice.
Nevertheless, I made him contract a good marriage which gave him a kind
of position. He left two sons; the elder was placed by his guardians at
Dantzig, with most respectable people, who, however, declined to keep
him. The younger remained with me for two years, going to school
meanwhile, and causing me greater trouble than was consistent with my
advanced age. But I had hoped to do some good with him; alas! he was so
bent upon following his father's example as to make me rejoice getting
rid of the cub.

My sister Barbara had been sent to Greifswald; when the plague abated,
my father recalled her, for he was old, wretched and bowed down with
care. Barbara was only fifteen, very pretty, amiable and hardworking.
She married Bernard Classen, then a widower for the second time. My
father did not like this son-in-law, against whom he had acted in the
law courts for the other side; but Classen was not to be shaken off,
and finally obtained my father's consent. The wedding took place on St.
Martin's Day (November 11), 1549. On my return from Spires, I paid a
visit to the young couple; my brother-in-law showed me the window of
his study ornamented with my monogram and name, taking care to mention
that he had paid a Stralsund mark to the glazier; I loosened my
purse-strings and counted the sum to him, but the proceeding did not
commend itself to me after the protestations of friendship my father
had conveyed to me from Classen's part.[4]

In 1521, at the Diet of Worms, where Doctor Martin Luther so
courageously made his confession of faith, Duke Bagislaw X, the
grandfather of the two dukes at present reigning, received from His
Imperial Majesty Charles V the solemn investiture under the open sky
and with the standards unfurled, to the great displeasure of the
Elector of Brandenburg. The imperial councillors were instructed to
bring the two competitors to an agreement at Nuremberg, or to refer the
matter further to His Majesty in case of the failure of negotiations.

In 1522 occurred the disturbances in connexion with Rolof Moller, a
young man of about thirty, if that. His grandfather had been
burgomaster, and in consequence he had detained in his possession a
register of the revenues and privileges of the city. Having summoned a
number of citizens to the monastery of St. John, he tried to prove by
means of said register the enormous revenues of the city, and to accuse
the council of malversation; after which he invaded the town hall, took
the councillors to task, and treated them all like so many thieves,
including one of his own relatives, Herr Schroeder, whom he reproached
with being small in stature, but big in scoundrelism. Burgomaster Zabel
Oseborn indignantly denied the accusation, and worked himself into such
a state of excitement that he had to be conveyed home. In consequence
of these slanders Moller constituted himself a following among the
burghers; his numerous adherents chose forty-eight of their own (double
the number of the members of the council), to exercise the chief power;
the council saw its influence annulled, an act defining the limits of
its competence and rules for its conduct was presented for signature to
the councillors, and they were furthermore required to take the oath.
Herr Nicholas Smiterlow alone resisted; hence, during the whole period
of their domination, namely up to 1537, the Forty-Eight made him pay
for his courage by unheard-of persecutions.

The primary cause of this agitation, so disastrous to the city, was the
absence of a permanent record-office. The burgomasters, or the
secretary, took the secret papers home with them[5]; at the
magistrate's death those documents passed to the children and
grandchildren, then fell into the hands of strangers; and the natural
result were indiscreet revelations hurtful to the public weal.

Johannes Bugenhagen, the Pomeranian, and rector of the school of
Treptow on the Rega, converted several monks of the monastery of
Belbuck to the pure faith. They left the monastery. Among them should
be mentioned Herr Christian Ketelhot, Herr Johannes Kurcke, and Herr
George von Ukermuende, whom the Stralsund people chose as their
preacher. But when, after three sermons at St. Nicholas', he saw the
citizens resolved to keep him, in spite of the council who forbade him
the pulpit, when he saw the <DW7> clergy increase their threats, and
the dukes expel Ketelhot and Kurcke from Treptow, he was siezed with
fear and went away in secret.[6]

Johannes Kurcke was about to set sail for Livonia, intending to engage
in commerce there, when he was detained at Stralsund to preach, in the
first place in the St. George's cemetery, then at the cloister of St.
Catherine, and finally at St. Nicholas'. He died in 1527, and was
buried at St. George's.

Ketelhot had been prior of the monastery of Belbuck during sixteen
weeks. At the instigation of the Abbot Johannes Boldewan, the same who
had given him the prior's hood, he left for the living of Stolpe, and
preached the Gospel there for some time. The slanders of the priests
induced the prince to prohibit him. In vain did he claim the right to
justify himself by word of mouth and in writing before the sovereign,
the prelates, the lords and the cities. He failed to obtain a hearing
or even a safe-conduct. As a consequence he went to Mecklenburg,
intending to adopt a trade; but unable to find a suitable master, he
came to Stralsund determined to take ship for Livonia. Contrary winds
kept him for several weeks in port; this gave him the opportunity of
hearing the fables, absurdities and impious lies delivered from the
pulpit; he beheld the misconduct of the priests, their debauchery,
drunkenness, gluttony, fornication, adultery and worse. Acceding to the
wish of a great number of burghers, and the Church of St. George's
being too small to hold the crowd, he preached on the Sunday before
Ascension Day under the great lime tree of the cemetery. He first took
for his text Matthew xi. 28: "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest"; then John xvi. 23: "Verily,
verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in My name,
He will give it you"; and finally: "Go ye therefore and teach all
nations." In spite of the opposition of the council, which felt
inclined to yield to the frantic protestation of the clergy, the
burghers practically forced Ketelhot to come into the city, and made
him preach at St. Nicholas'.

In 1523, Duke Bogislaw, accompanied by four hundred horsemen, proceeded
to Nuremberg to settle his disagreement with the Elector of
Brandenburg. Among his suite were Burgomaster Nicholas Smiterlow and
his son Christian. The lad, lively and strong for his age, made his
horse curvet and prance, so that it threw him and crushed him with all
its weight. Young Smiterlow was deformed all his life; but when it
became evident that there was no remedy, his father sent him to the
University of Wittemberg; but for the accident he would have placed him
in business at Lubeck.

On his way home Duke Bogislaw stopped at Wittemberg to see Luther, the
turbulent monk. Before they had exchanged many words, the prince in a
jocular tone said: "Master Doctor, you had better let me confess to
you." Luther, however, replied very quickly: "No, no, gracious lord!
Your Highness is too exalted a penitent, and I am too lowly to give him
absolution." Luther was thinking of the august birth of his
interlocutor, who, moreover, was exceedingly tall of stature, but the
Duke took the reply as an allusion to the gravity of his backslidings,
and dismissed Luther without inviting him to his table.

During the absence of Duke Bogislaw, the images were destroyed at
Stralsund as I am going to narrate. On Monday of Holy Week, 1523, Frau
Schermer sent her servant to St. Nicholas' for a box containing relics
which she wished to have repaired.[7] Some workmen, noticing that a
sacred object was being taken away, began to knock down everything;
their constantly increasing numbers ran riot in the churches and in the
convents; the altars were overtoppled, and the images thrown to the
four winds. With the exception of the custodian of St. John's, monks
and priests fled from the city. Thereupon the council issued an order
that everybody had to bring back his loot on the following Wednesday to
the old market. The burghers only obeyed reluctantly; they only
restored the wooden images, but the more valuable ones were not to be
found. Two women were brought before the council; the woman Bandelwitz
deliberately defied the burgomaster, looked him straight into the face
and addressed him as follows: "What dost thou want with me, Johannes
Heye? Why hast thou summoned me before thee? What crime have I
committed?"

"Thou shalt know very soon," replied the burgomaster, and had her put
under lock and key. The same fate befell the other woman. In the market
place the partisans of the old doctrines had taken to arms and were
much excited, while the evangelists loudly expressed their indignation
at this double incarceration. Bailiff (or sheriff) Schroeder made his
appearance on horseback, and showed with a kind of affectation a
communion cup he had confiscated, and swore to "do" for all the
evangelicals. Leaping on to a fishmonger's bench, L. Vischer cried in a
thundering voice: "Rally to me all those who wish to live and die for
the Gospel."[8] The greater number rallied to his side. From the
windows of the Town House the councillors had been watching the scene,
and they began to fear for their personal safety when they should wish
to go home. Rolof Moller went upstairs to make the situation clear to
them; the two women were discharged after an imprisonment of less than
an hour, and the Council asked the burghers to let the matter rest
there, professing their goodwill towards them; but the crowd, slow to
abate its anger, occupied the place up to four o'clock, after which the
councillors could make their way without danger.

When Duke Bogislaw returned, the Stralsund council endeavoured to
persuade His Highness that the destruction of the images had taken
place in spite of them. In his great anger the prince would not hear of
any justification; he accused the people of Stralsund of having failed
in their duty towards religion as well as against the sovereign who was
the patron of the city's churches. He added that the devil would bring
them to account for it. The duke died on September 29 of the same year
at Stettin, leaving two sons, George and Barnim.[9]

The disturbances, nevertheless, continued, for the burghers saw with
displeasure that the council, following the example of Princes George
and Barnim, persisted in popish practices, thereby delaying the
progress of Evangelism. On the Monday of St. John, 1524, Rolof Moller,
at the head of a big troop of men, made his appearance in the old
market place and, mounted also on a fishmonger's stall, began
addressing the people, who applauded him. The dissensions between the
magistrates and the burghers became more accentuated every day, and
plainly foretold the ruin of public business. Moller observed no
measure in his attacks on the council. He was just about thirty,
clever, and, with an attractive personality, he might count upon being
sooner or later elected burgomaster. It was only a question of time.
His presumption blinded him to the reality; intoxicated with popular
favour, he allowed himself certain excesses against the council, took
his flight before his wings had grown, and dragged a number of people
down with him in his fall. The city itself did not recover from the
effects of all this for close upon a century.

Burgomaster Nicholas Smiterlow, a personage of great consideration, a
clever spokesman, and of a firm and generous disposition, was a member
of the council for seventeen years. Duke Bogislaw, who fully
appreciated his work, took him to the conference at Nuremberg. The
journey enabled the burgomaster to hear the gospel preached in its
purity, and to become aware of the fatal error of papism. At Wittemberg
he heard Luther preach. As a consequence, he was the first to proclaim
the wholesome doctrine in open council, though the opposition of that
body prevented him from supporting the propagators of the true faith
when they kept within reasonable limits. He interposed between the
council, the princes, and the exalted personages of the land, who were
still wedded to papism, and Rolof Moller, the Forty-Eight, and their
adherents who wished to carry things with too high a hand. Smiterlow
told the council to show themselves less unbending with the burghers in
all just and reasonable things. On the other hand, he exhorted the
citizens to show more deference to the magistrates, giving the former
the assurance that the preachers should not be molested, and that the
gospel should not be hampered in its course. Unfortunately, his efforts
failed on both sides.

Then the crisis occurred. The ringleaders--among the most turbulent,
Franz Wessel, L. Vischer, Bartholomaei Buchow, Hermann Meyer and
Nicholas Rode lifted Rolof Moller from his fishmonger's bench--took him
to the Town House, and made him take his seat in the burgomaster's
chair.[10] The council was compelled to accept Rolof and Christopher
Lorbeer as burgomasters, and eight of the citizens as councillors. In
order to save their heads, the magistrates found themselves compelled
to share with their sworn enemies both the small bench of the four
burgomasters and the larger bench of twenty-four councillors. As for
Smiterlow, his was the fate of those who interfere between two
contending parties, the peacemakers invariably coming to grief like the
iron between the anvil and the hammer. When Rolof Moller entered the
burgomaster's pew Smiterlow left it, and inasmuch as his consummate
experience foretold him of his danger he came to Greifswald with his
two sons to ask my mother's hospitality.[11]

The tolerance shown at this conjuncture by the young princes George and
Barnim was due to two reasons. In the first place they expected to get
the upper hand of the city without much trouble after it became worn
out with domestic dissensions. Secondly, a band of zealots, with Dr.
Johannes Amandus at their head, scoured the country, especially Eastern
Pomerania, inciting the people to break the images, and preaching from
the pulpit the sweeping away of all refuse, princes included. In the
eyes of the <DW7>s, those people and the evangelicals were but one and
the same set, and as their number happened to be imposing, the princes
considered it prudent to lay low.

The flight of the priests and monks gave the magistrates the
opportunity of listening to the preaching of Christian Ketelhot and
his colleagues. In a short while the council's eyes were opened to the
true light, and in accord with the Forty-Eight and the burghers
themselves, they assigned the churches to the evangelical preachers;
the monastery, that is, the supreme direction of all the ministers and
servitors of the church being confided to Ketelhot, who exercised it
for twenty-three years, in fact, up to the day of his death. Canons and
vicars had taken the precaution to collect all the specie, valuables
and title deeds, amounting to considerable sums; they entrusted to
certain councillors of Greifswald chests and lockers filled with
chalices, rich chasubles and various holy vessels. They occasionally
converted these into money and handed to the debtors certain annuities
at half-price. Consequently, the hospitals, churches, and pious
foundations lost both their capital and their income. A long time after
these events the sons of my relative, Christian Schwartz, dispatched to
me for restitution to the council of Stralsund, a sailor's locker which
had stood for forty years under their father's bed. It contained velvet
chasubles embroidered with silver and pearls, in addition to a couple
of silver crucifixes. Though their rules forbade the monks of St. John
to touch coined metal, the father custodian did not scruple to carry
away with him all that the convent held in clinking coin and precious
objects.

Called to the ministry by a small group of citizens who had not given a
thought to the question of his salary, Ketelhot had no other resource
for his daily sustenance than the city "wine cellar" and _The King
Arthur_.[12] He found hospitable board and good company, but the life
was detrimental to his studies. A Jew with whom he flattered himself he
was studying the _lingua sancta_ induced him to announce from the
pulpit the _error a Judaeo conceptus_. As a consequence the council
promptly appointed Johannes Knipstro as superintendent at Stralsund. He
was the first that bore the title there, and Ketelhot neither suffered
in consideration, rank, nor benefices. He remained all his life
_primarius pastor_, and his effigy at St. Nicholas, facing the pulpit,
is inscribed with the words: _Repurgator ecclesiae Sundensis_.
Appointed in 1524, Knipstro, by his talent and solicitude, succeeded in
leading Ketelhot back to the right path, for he broke for ever with the
_error_. The two ministers lived in the most brotherly understanding.
Ketelhot was no more jealous of the superintendent than Knipstro, took
umbrage at the title of _primarius pastor_. They were not vainglorious,
as were later on Runge and Kruse. Gradually the dukes admitted that the
evangelicals, far from making common cause with the zealots of Eastern
Pomerania, energetically opposed them. The Stralsund preachers were
henceforth left in peace; they were more firmly established in their
functions, and neither the council nor the citizens were any longer
molested for having called them.

I now beg to resume the story of my family from the year 1523. My
parents started house-keeping in the midst of plenty; they had a mill
and a brewery, sold their corn, butter, honey, wool and feathers, and
were even blessed with the superfluous. Everything was so cheap that it
seemed easy to make money. It seemed as if the golden age had returned.
Nevertheless, prosperity had to make room for misfortune.

In the course of that year (1523), in fact, George Hartmann, the
son-in-law of Doctor Stroientin,[13] bought of my father a quantity of
butter. A violent discussion having occurred between them, Hartmann,
who was on his way to Burgomaster Peter Kirchschwanz with a short sword
belonging to the latter, went instead to his mother-in-law to pour his
grievances into her ears. This haughty and purse-proud woman, full of
contempt for very humble folk because she happened to have married a
doctor and a ducal counsellor (I omit for charity's sake some details
which I shall tell my children by word of mouth), that woman, I say,
presented her son-in-law with a hatchet, saying: "There, go to market
with this piece of money, and buy a bit of courage." Emboldened by a
safe-conduct of the prince, which Doctor Stroientin had got for him,
Hartmann fell in with my father at the top of the Sporenmacher Strasse.
He was going to the public weigh-house to have a case of honey weighed,
and he had not as much as a pocket knife wherewith to repel an
assailant armed with a sword and a hatchet. He rushed into a
spurmaker's shop, getting hold of a large pitchfork, but the bystanders
wrenched it out of his hands; moreover, they prevented him taking
refuge in the gallery. Thereupon my father snatched up a long stick
with an iron <DW8> standing against the wall, and going back into the
street, shouted:

"Let the fellow who wants to take my life come out and show himself."
At these words, Hartmann issued from an adjoining workshop. Not
satisfied with his short sword and his hatchet, he had taken a hammer
from the anvil and flung it at my father, who warded it with his stick,
though only partly, for my father spat blood for several days. The
hatchet went the same way, and just caught my father on the shoulder.
The double exploit having imbued him with the idea that the game was
won, the aggressor made a rush with his bare sword, but my father
spitted him on his iron-prodded pole, and Hartmann dropped down dead.
This is the true account of this deplorable accident. I am quite aware
of the version invented by the ill-will of the others, which is to the
effect that my father having found Hartmann altogether disarmed behind
the stove in the spurmaker's room, straightway killed him on the spot.
These are vain rumours, _nugae sunt, fabulae sunt_.

My father sought asylum with the "black" monks, to whom he was known.
They hid him at the top of the church in a recess near the vault. In a
little while Doctor Stroientin, at the head of his servants and of a
numerous group of followers, came to search every nook and corner of
the convent. Naturally, he went into the church, and the fugitive,
fancying it was all over with him, was going to speak in order to prove
his innocence; fortunately Providence closed his lips and shut his
enemies' eyes. In the middle of the night the monks smuggled him over
the wall. Keeping to the high road, he succeeded in reaching
Neuenkirchen, where a peasant's cart, sent by his father-in-law, was
waiting for him. He managed to squeeze himself into a sack of fodder by
the side of a sack of barley. Doctor Stroientin stopped the vehicle on
the road. The driver told him he was going to Stralsund. "What have you
got there?" asked the doctor, beating the sacks with him. "Barley and
my fodder," was the answer. "Have not you noticed any one going in a
great hurry either on horseback or on foot?" "Yes; I saw a man
galloping as hard as he could in the direction of Horst. I may have
been mistaken, but I fancy it was Sastrow, of Greifswald, and I was
wondering why he should be scouring the highway at that hour of night."
Stroientin wanted to hear no more. He turned his horse's head as fast
as it would go in the direction of Horst.

My father reached Stralsund without further trouble; the council gave
him a safe-conduct, which was only a broken reed in the way of a
guarantee, for he had to deal with proud, rich and powerful enemies.
Doctor Stroientin, His Highness' counsellor, took particular advantage
of the fact that Hartmann enjoyed the protection of Duke George. My
father went from pillar to post in Denmark, at Lubeck, at Hamburg, and
other spots; finally, he appeased his suzerain by paying him a
considerable sum in cash; then, after long-drawn negotiations, his
father-in-law succeeded in reconciling him with his adversaries. The
expiatory fine was 1,000 marks, but Greifswald, where the family of the
deceased resided, remained closed to him. Nor did the 1,000 marks prove
any benefit to the son of Hartmann; the contrary has been the case.
Misfortune pursued him without cessation in his health, his wealth, his
wife and children.

At the gates of Stralsund stood the monastery of St. Brigitta; monks
and nuns inhabited different parts. A wall divided the gardens. It was,
however, by no means high enough to prove an obstacle to a nimble
climber. It is the monks that did the cooking, and the dishes came to
the nuns in a kind of lift large enough for one person. How the vow of
chastity was observed was proved on the day of the invasion of the
convent, when the skeletons, head and bones of new-born children were
found everywhere.

At the period of the invasion of the churches and the monasteries,
Franz Wessel, who at that time had discharged the functions of
councillor for more than a twelvemonth, was charged with preventing at
St. Catherine's the abstraction of precious objects. In order to cut
short the idolatrous practices, he had a trench dug at the door of the
garden of eighteen ells long, in which the images were buried. On the
Holy Thursday, between four and six in the morning, the nuns whose
retreat had been attacked were taken to St. Catherine's. Wessel
received them courteously on the threshold of the cloister, took the
abbess by the hand and intoned the popish hymn _Veni, sponsa
salvatoris_, etc. The abbess begged of him to cease this joking, and
rather to welcome her with some flagons of wine. Wessel objected that
the hour was too early to begin drinking.

I have narrated the circumstances which compelled Burgomaster Nicholas
Smiterlow to take refuge at my mother's with his two sons, Nicholas and
Bertrand. The first-named, a doughty young man, good-looking and of
independent character, had with great credit to himself terminated his
studies. I have rarely seen such beautiful handwriting as his.
Impatient to see the world, he felt himself cramped in Pomerania, and
when he heard that Emperor Charles had an army in Italy, he induced his
father to give him an outfit and to allow him to join it. Provided with
a well-lined purse, he joined the Imperial troops, took part in the
storming and sacking of Rome, got a great deal of loot, but fell ill
and died.

Fate proved not more lenient to Doctor Zutfeld Wardenberg, also the son
of a burgomaster. Berckmann and other writers have made him pass as a
great prelate. Be this as it may; he certainly fancied himself a member
of the Trinity which rules the universe. In his official functions he
observed no law but his own sweet will. His own house contained a
prison, and he behaved as if the council did not exist. In short, he
wound up by setting the magistrates against him to such an extent that
one night he judged it prudent to leave the city. His brother, Joachim,
opened the gates to him without authority--a piece of daring which cost
him ten weeks of imprisonment in the Blue Tower. At the sacking of
Rome, Zutfeld Wardenberg tried to hide himself among the invalids of a
hospital. He was soon discovered, killed, and everything taken away
from him. In the church of St. Mary, at Stralsund, stands the handsome
mausoleum he had prepared for himself, together with an epitaph setting
forth his titles, but his body lies somewhere at Rome, no one knows
where.

Burgomaster Smiterlow was as frank in his speech as he was open of
heart. When he conversed in the street his strong and clear voice could
be heard a couple of yards off. All his speeches began with "Yes, in
the name of Jesus." One day, after dinner, he went into his stables
where, as a rule, he had three horses; he saw one of his stablemen
strike one of the animals with a pitchfork, saying, in imitation of
himself, "In the name of Jesus." Smiterlow snatched the implement away
from him, then stuck it between his shoulders so that he dropped down,
and quietly remarked: "Now and again I cause people to cry 'In the name
of all the devils.'"

According to the custom of the <DW7>s, my mother went at half-past
twelve, especially during Lent, to recite a Pater Noster and an Ave
Maria before each of the three altars of her ordinary church. She
always took her little Bartholomaei with her. On one occasion I sat down
on the steps of the first altar and began to relieve nature; when she
passed on to the second, I followed her and continued the operation,
which I finished on the third. When my mother perceived what had
occurred she rushed home in hot haste and sent a servant with a broom
to repair the mischief. Seeing how young she was when separated from
her husband and left with four young children, it is not surprising
that my mother had moments of sadness and discouragement. One day that
she was cutting up some dry fish, a piece fell from the block. I picked
it up. Without noticing my mother stooped at the same time, and as I
was rising, the edge of the hatchet cut my forehead. The scar was never
effaced. The Lord be praised, though, the accident had no further
consequence.

Hartmann's family having received satisfaction, my father appointed to
meet his wife and his children at the manse of Neuenkirchen. It was in
the autumn and the pears were ripe. After having shaken down and eaten
as many as they could, the children began to pelt each other with them.
A big pear dropped under the hoofs of a couple of horses tied to a
large pear tree. When I stooped to get hold of it, one of the animals
dealt me a severe kick at the temple. There was general consternation,
and the wound being seemingly dangerous, we came back immediately to
town, and I was taken to the doctor.

The Dukes George and Barnim came to Stralsund with four hundred
horsemen; they received homage and confirmed the privileges of the
city. As for the claims of the priests, it was decided to refer them to
the Imperial Chamber. Burgomasters, councillors, burghers, preachers
(in all about threescore), were summoned to depose on oath before the
Imperial Commissioners, sitting at Greifswald. The lawsuit cost the
city a considerable sum; the clergy practically flung the money away,
but the rector, Hippolytus Steinwer, began to perceive that the chances
were turning against them, and one day he was found dead. It was
believed he had strangled himself from vexation. That event put an end
to the litigation. The priests returned one after another to Stralsund.

Gradually the sobered citizens began to open their eyes to the serious
prejudice which was being done to public and private interests by the
agitation of Moller. On the other hand, the princes had learned to know
Smiterlow during the journey to Nuremberg; they were also aware of the
esteem in which he had been held by their father. All those feelings
showed themselves on the occasion of the rendering of homage. Rolof
Moller was obliged to leave the city, and Burgomaster Smiterlow
re-entered it on August 1, 1526. Moller, after a stay of several years
at Stettin, received permission to come back to Stralsund, Smiterlow
giving his consent; but scarcely a fortnight after his return had gone
by when he died, it was said, of grief; and the assumption was
sufficiently plausible.

Hence, Smiterlow spent the time of his exile at my mother's, at
Greifswald, while his house at Stralsund sheltered my father. The wives
of the two banished men went constantly and at all seasons from one
town to another, through hail, snow, rain, frost and cold, and also to
the great detriment of their purse and their health.

I have often been told afterwards I was a restless, energetic child. I
often went up to the tower of St. Nicholas's, and on one occasion I
made the round of it outside. My mother, standing on the threshold of
her house, facing the church, was a witness of the feat, and dared
scarcely breathe until her son came down safe and skin-whole. It would
appear that little Bartholomaei had his reward at her hands.

While at Greifswald I had already been sent to school. Besides reading,
I was taught declension, comparisons and conjugation, according to the
grammar of Donat; after which we passed to Torrentinus. On Palm Sunday
I was selected to intone the _Quantus_; the preceding years I had sung
at first the short, then the long _Hic est_. What an honour for the
child and for the parents! It was a real feast, for as a rule the
sharpest boys are chosen those who, undeterred by the crowds of priests
and laymen, bring out their clearest notes, especially for the
_Quantus_. The continuation of this story will, however, soon show how,
from being sanguine, my temperament became melancholy, and how my
gaiety and recklessness vanished.




                               CHAPTER II

My Student's Days at Greifswald--Victor Bole and his tragical End--A
Servant possessed by the Devil--My Brother Johannes' Preceptors and
Mine--My Father's never-ending Law Suits


Having acquired the certainty that the Hartmanns would never consent to
my father's return to Greifswald, my parents, like the conscientious
married couple they were, desired to bear in common the domestic
burdens. In the spring of 1528 my mother, after having let her dwelling
at Greifswald, joined her husband at Stralsund, where he had the
freeman's right and a tumble-down old house. My maternal grandfather,
Christian Schwarz, at that time city treasurer, kept me with him in
order to let me pursue my studies. I underwent the ceremonial of
installation, a kind of burlesque function of initiation applied to
novices. My tutor was George Normann, of the island of Ruegen, who
terminated his career in the service of the King of Sweden. I was the
reverse of a studious boy and fonder of roving about with my relative
in his journeys about Greifswald than of books. As a consequence my
mental progress was in proportion to my efforts.

There was at Greifswald a burgomaster named Victor Bole, belonging to a
notable family of the island of Ruegen. Before he attained his civic
honours he was a good evangelical and a zealous friend of the
preachers, but his apostasy was thorough. As much as he had supported
the ministry before his election, as much did he oppose them
afterwards. I remember seeing him at the meetings of the corporation
seated in the front place in virtue of his dual quality of eldest
member and burgomaster, more or less in liquor, browbeating and talking
everybody down (in High-German always). As he had taken part in several
expeditions, fighting was the invariable theme of his discourses. He
generally summoned the musicians, cymbal players and pipers before him.
"Dost thou know a war cry?" he asked of a piper. "Yes, certainly," was
the reply, while shrill notes rent the air. But the burgomaster was
beaming. "This, at any rate, is a useful kind of fellow; while that
Knipstro of Stralsund stammers in the pulpit about _pap_, _pap_, _pap_,
I am sure he could play a war cry. Then what's the good of him?"

"Those who laugh last laugh loudest," says the proverb. That same year,
1528, the King of the May was Bertrand Smiterlow. I walked in front of
him carrying his crown. Bole did Smiterlow the honour to prance by his
side, being very pleased to parade his servants and his horses, of the
latter of which he had four in his stable. If the skies had shown a
little bit more clement we should have been very happy. But though it
was the 1st May, there was not a bud nor a blade of grass to be seen.
On the contrary, the snow powdered our procession with large flakes,
both on coming and on going. As a consequence everybody was in a hurry
to get back again. Odd to relate, the seed did not seem to suffer.
After they had presented the crown to the May King in the city,
everybody galloped back to his own roof tree. When the burgomaster
reached his house he was taken with such violent colic that he had
scarcely time to hand his horse to his servant before he dropped down
dead. His neck was entirely twisted round, and his face was black. As a
matter of course, people ascribed it to a visitation of God for having
made fun of those who preached His Word.

In 1528 the States were called together at Stettin to ratify the pact
of succession between the Elector of Brandenburg and the Dukes of
Pomerania. The deputy of Greifswald, Burgomaster Gaspard Bunsaw, my
mother's first cousin, took me with him as page, or rather as
companion, and also to enable me to see something new. Our host had a
magnificent garden; on the banks of a vast lake uprose a vast tower
with an inside staircase, closed by a trap. One day that the company
was amusing itself in watching the carps from that tower, I hauled
myself up to the window out of curiosity, but I forgot the yawning trap
door behind me, and was flung right to the bottom. It was a miracle
that I did not break my neck, or, at any rate, my arms and my legs.
Heaven preserved me by means of its angels, who frustrate the tricks of
the Evil One.

At the age of five, Nicholas, the eldest son of Bertrand Smiterlow, was
already much taller and stronger than I; this incarnate fiend worried
all the children of the neighbourhood, and instead of reprimanding him,
his father took no notice of the complaints against him. This
indulgence bore such excellent fruit that in order to prevent disputes
and perhaps personal violence between young Nicholas' father and the
neighbours, Christian Schwarz considered it advisable to take Nicholas
to live with him, and so we shared the same bed. One morning as we were
dressing on the big locker at the foot of the bed, the youngster,
without saying a word and out of sheer mischief, hit me right in the
chest and made me tumble backward, a downright dangerous fall. The
grandfather gave a dinner-party to his children and other people. Late
in the evening the servants came with links to take their masters home.
While they were waiting for that purpose, Nicholas began to play them
tricks, which they endured from fear of the grandfather. Rendered bold
by impunity, Nicholas struck some of the servants on the lips, but one
of these retorted by a box on the ears which sent Nicholas whining to
his grandfather. After the banquet the lanterns were lighted, and
everybody was preparing to get home quietly when Bertrand Smiterlow,
drawing his knife, rushed at the offending servant, who was lighting
his master on his way, and wounded him seriously in the shoulder. On
account of all this Christian Schwarz preferred to send me back to
Stralsund to leaving me to enjoy the risky society of Nicholas. The boy
grew up and his faults with him, for they amused his father, who
encouraged them while nobody dared to say a word in protest. Nicholas
had reached the age of twenty-seven when travelling to Rostock, he
stopped for the night at Roevershagen. Some travellers, knowing his
quarrelsome character, preferred to take themselves and their
conveyance to the inn opposite. One of these had a sporting dog, which,
running about, found its way into the hostel where Smiterlow was
staying. The latter tied up the animal, did not send it back, and next
morning the rightful owner saw it being taken away on a leash.
Naturally, the man claimed his dog. Smiterlow, instead of giving him a
civil answer, takes aim at him; the other, more prompt, quickly fires a
bullet into the thigh. Smiterlow, in his wounded condition, got as far
as Rostock, had his wound attended to; nevertheless died a few days
later in consequence. The merchant continued his route without
troubling himself, and no one lodged a complaint. Bertrand Smiterlow
contracted the itch in the back; father and son, therefore, had their
just reward. Heaven preserve me from criticizing the descendants of
Herr Smiterlow, to whom I am doubly related, but I trust that mine will
bring up their children in a more severe discipline and in the respect
of their fellow-men.

In 1529 the English pest which had already been spoken of during the
previous year, carried away many people at Stralsund. My mother had two
attacks, from both of which she fortunately recovered. Being _enceinte_
with my brother Christian, she ordered, like the good housewife she
was, a general cleaning before her confinement. It so happened that we
had a servant-girl who was possessed. Nobody had the faintest suspicion
of this. When, at the moment of cleaning the kitchener and cooking
utensils, she began noisily to fling about saucepans, frying-pans,
etc., crying at the top of her voice, "I want to get out, I want to get
out." Her mother, who lived in the Zinngiesser Strasse (Pewterers'
Street), had to take her back. The poor girl was taken several times in
a sleigh to St. Nicholas's, and they exorcised her after the sermon.
Her case, as far as the answers tended to show, was as follows: The
mother had brought new cheese at the market. In her absence, the
daughter had opened the cupboard and made a large breach in the cheese;
the mother, on her return, had expressed the wish that the devil might
take the perpetrator of this thing, and from that moment dated the
"possession." The girl had, nevertheless, been to Communion since; how,
then, could the Evil One have kept his position? The priest,
interrogated on that point, had answered: "The scoundrel, who has
hidden himself under a bridge, lets the honest man pass over his head";
in other words, during the sacramental act, the Evil One hid himself
under the girl's tongue. The Evil One was excommunicated and exorcised
by the faithful on their bended knees. The formula of exorcism was
received with derision. When the priest summoned him to go, he
exclaimed: "I am agreeable, but you do not expect me to go with empty
hands. I want this, and that, and the other." If they refused him one
thing he asked for something quite different; and inasmuch as one of
the faithful had remained "covered" during prayers, the Evil One
politely snatched up his hat, and if God had let him have his own way,
hair and skin would have accompanied the headgear.

At about the same period I witnessed an analogous fact. Frau Kron, an
honest and pious matron, was possessed by a demon; the minister was
preparing to drive it out at all costs when Frau Wolff entered. She was
a young woman who surpassed her sisters in the art of beautifying her
face, arranging her cap, and posing before the looking glass. When the
evil spirit caught sight of her, he shouted. "Ah, you are here, are
you? Just wait a bit till I arrange your cap before the mirror. Your
ears shall tingle, I can tell you."

To come back to our own servant. When the power of mischief noticed
that the time for tormenting her had passed away, and that the Lord was
granting the prayers of the faithful, the Evil One asked in a mocking
tone a pane of the belfry's window, which request was no sooner
accorded to him than the pane shivered into ever so many splinters. The
girl, however, ceased to be possessed; she married in the village, and
had several children.

My brother Johannes had for his first tutor Herr Aepinus, before the
latter had his doctor's degree,[14] and afterwards Hermannus Bonus,[15]
who would have been pleased to settle at Stralsund with fifty florins
per annum, but the council of that particular period did not contain
one member who had had a university training. Like the princes the
council inclined towards papism, and looked askance at men of letters;
hence, it rejected Bonnus' overtures. The latter soon afterwards became
the tutor of the young King of Denmark, for whose use he composed his
_Praecepta Grammaticae_, which was much more easy than the Donat
Grammar, and prevails to the present day under the title of the
_Grammatica Bonni_. At his return from Denmark, Bonnus was appointed
superintendent at Lubeck, where he is interred _honorifice_ behind the
choir.

When my brother left the school at Lubeck, my parents made many heavy
sacrifices to keep him at Wittemberg for several years, where,
notwithstanding some _delicta juventutis_, he studied with advantage.

My tutor's name was Matthias Brassanus. At the outset of his career he
had been a monk at the monastery of Camp, but at the suppression of the
institution he had lived at Wittemberg at the cost of the prince, like
Leonard Meisisch, the future court preacher and minister at Wolgast,
and afterwards pastor at Altenkirchen--a downright Epicurean pig!
Brassanus, on the other hand, was a small, polite, temperate,
well-bred, evenly balanced man. After his stay at Wittemberg he became
the preceptor of George and Johannes Smiterlow, and afterwards _rector
scholae_. Their worships of Lubeck having prevailed upon the council of
Stralsund to part with this able teacher, Brassanus devoted the whole
of his life successfully directing the school of Lubeck.

I profited as much by the lessons as my natural restlessness of
character permitted. There was a great deal of aptitude, but the
application failed. In the winter time I ran amusing myself on the
floating ice with my fellow-scholars of my own age. Johannes
Gottschalk, our ringleader, always got scot-free, thanks to his long
legs, while the rest of the gang (and I was invariably with them) took
many enforced footbaths in order to get safely to the banks. My father,
in crossing the bridge had occasion more than once to witness the
prowess of his son, who received many a sound drubbing when he came to
dry himself before the stove, for my father was a choleric gentleman.
In summer I was in the habit of bathing with my chums behind Lorbeer's
grange, which at present is my property. Burgomaster Smiterlow, having
noticed me from his garden, told of me, and one day, while I was still
asleep, my father planted himself in front of my bed, flourishing a big
stick. He spoke very loudly while placing himself into position, and I
was obliged to open my eyes. The sight of the club told me that my hour
had come; I burst into tears and pleaded for mercy. "Very well, my good
sir," said my father; when he called me "my good sir" it was a bad
sign. "Very well, my good sir, you have been bathing; now allow me to
rub you down." Saying which, he got hold of his weapon, pulled my shirt
over my head, and did frightful execution.

My parents brought us up carefully. My father was somewhat hasty, and
now and again his anger carried him beyond all bounds. I put him out of
temper one day when he was in the stable and I at the door. He caught
up a pitchfork and flung it at me. I had just time to get out of the
way; the pitchfork stuck into a bath made of oak, and they had much
trouble to get it out. In that way the Evil One was frustrated in all
his designs against me by Providence. In a similar case, my mother, who
was gentleness and tenderness itself, came running to the spot. "Strike
harder," she said, "the wicked boy deserves all he gets." At the same
time she slyly held back the arm of her husband, preventing the stick
from coming down too heavily. Oh, my children, pray that the knowledge
may be vouchsafed to you of bringing up your family in the way they
should go. Correct them temperately, without compromising either their
health or their intelligence, but at the same time do not imitate the
apes who from excess of tenderness, smother their young.

Rector Brassanus insisted upon his pupils being present when he
preached. Some were clever enough to get away on the sly; they went to
buy pepper cakes, and repaired afterwards to the dram shop. The trick
was done before there was time to look round. When the sermon drew to
its close, every one was in his place again, and we went back to school
as if nothing had happened. One day, however, we drank so much brandy
that I felt horribly sick and vomited violently, and found it
impossible either to keep on my legs or to articulate a syllable. The
strongest of my schoolfellows took me home. My parents were under the
impression that I was seriously ill; had they suspected the real cause
of my malady, their treatment would have been less tender. When, at
last, I avowed the truth, the fear of punishment had long ago vanished.
The adventure was productive of some good. It inspired me with a
thorough disgust for brandy, so that I could not even bear the smell of
it.

My daily playmate was George Smiterlow, for we were neighbours, nearly
relatives, and of about the same age, I being but a year older than he.
One day he cut me with his knife between the index and the thumb, and I
still bear the scar.

As I was whittling a piece of wood, my sister Anna snatched it away
from me, and in trying to get it back again, I drove the chisel into my
right thigh up to the handle. Master Joachim Gelhaar, an excellent
_chirurgus_, renowned far and wide, began by probing the wound, and by
getting the bad blood out of it; after which he dressed it with a
cabbage leaf which was constantly kept moist. I was just recovering the
use of my leg again when I took it into my head to go to the wood with
my schoolfellows, for it was always difficult for me to keep still. The
fatigue thus incurred caused a relapse. Next morning I dragged myself
as far as the surgeon, who suspected my excursion, and swore at seeing
a month of his efforts wasted. I should have been in a nice predicament
if he had complained to my father.

In 1531, on the Monday before St. Bartholomew, they burned at
Stralsund, Bischof, a tailor who had outraged his own daughter, aged
twelve. The fellow was so strong that he jumped from the pyre when the
fire had destroyed his bonds, but the executioner plunged his knife
into him, and flung him back into the flames.

The following happened in June, 1532. A young fellow, good-looking, and
with most fascinating manner, but by no means well enough in worldly
goods, courted a more or less well-preserved widow, notwithstanding her
nine children of her first husband, which subsequently she increased by
another nine of her second. Tempted by the amiability, the appearance,
and the demeanour of the youngster, the dame consented to be his wife.
The happy day was already fixed, the viands ordered, and the
preparations completed, but the bridegroom was at a loss how to pay for
his wedding clothes, the customary presents and other things. Hence,
one fine evening he left the city, and in the early morn reached the
village of Putten, where, espying a ladder on a peasant's cart, he puts
it against the wall of the church, breaks one of its windows, gets
inside, forces the reliquary, possessing himself of the chalices, other
holy vessels, all the gold and silver work, not forgetting the wooden
box containing the money. After which, taking the way whence he had
come, he flung away the box and entered the city laden with the spoil.

A local cowherd, driving his cattle to the field, happened to pick up
the box. At the selfsame moment the sight of the ladder and of the
broken window sets the whole of the place, rector, beadle, clerk, and
peasantry, mad with excitement. The whole village is up in arms; the
neighbouring roads are scoured in search of the perpetrator of the
sacrilege. At twelve o'clock, the cowherd comes back with the box. He
is arrested; the patrons of the church, who reside in the city, have
him put to the torture. He confesses to the theft. There was,
nevertheless, the absolute impossibility for him to have got rid of the
stolen objects, inasmuch as he had been guarding his cattle during the
five or six hours that had gone by between the robbery and his arrest;
the slightest inquiry would have conclusively proved his innocence. In
spite of this, the confession dragged from the poor wretch by
unbearable pain, appears most conclusive. Condemned there and then, he
is there and then put on the wheel. The real culprit watched the
execution with the utmost composure.

The proceeds of this first crime were, however, by no means sufficient
to defray the cost of the wedding, and the bridegroom forced another
church. He took a reliquary and a holy vessel, reduced them to
fragments, and tried to sell them to some goldsmiths at Greifswald.
This time he was unable to lead the pursuers off the scent. Having been
arrested in the house of my wife's parents, he was racked alive, and
his body left to the carrion birds.

A similar tragedy took place between the Easter and Whitsun of 1544. I
anticipate events, because the horror of them was pretty well equal,
but there was a great difference in the procedure. In the one case,
deplorable acts, at variance with all wisdom, and disgraceful to
Christians; in the other place, a thoroughly laudable conduct,
consistent with right and reason. On his return from Leipzig, whither
he had gone to buy books, Johannes Altingk, the son of the late Werner
Altingk, a notable citizen and bookseller of Stralsund, was killed on
the road from Anelam to Greifswald. In consequence of active inquiries,
two individuals on whom rested grave suspicions, were incarcerated at
Wolgast. But the case was proceeded with more methodically than the one
I have just narrated. The magistrates went with the instruments of
torture to the prisoner, who seemed the least resolved. He made a
complete avowal. His companion and he had put up for the night at an
inn at Grosskistow; Johannes Altingk had taken his seat at their table
and shared their meal. Then, before going to bed, he had paid for all
three, showing at the same time a well filled purse. The scoundrels had
at once made up their minds between them to kill him at a little
distance from the inn on the foot-road, intersected here and there by
deep ruts, and where consequently there was only room to pass in single
file. "Next morning, then, when the young bookseller was marching along
between his fellow-travellers, I struck him at the back of the head;"
said the accused. "The blow knocked him off his feet; we soon made an
end of him altogether, and flung his body to the bottom of the deep
bog. With my part of the spoil I bought myself this hat and this pair
of shoes."

After this interrogatory, the judges, accompanied by the executioner
and his paraphernalia, went to the second prisoner, who denied
everything. It was in vain they pressed him and told him of his
accomplice's avowal; he went on denying everything. When they were
confronted, the one who had been first examined repeated all the
particulars of the crime, beseeching the other to prevent a double
martyrdom, inasmuch as the truth would be dragged from them by torture,
and the punishment was unavoidable. No doubt the Stralsund authorities,
those who had judged the above named perpetrator of the sacrilege,
would have put the accused on the rack without the least compunction or
ceremony, _de simplice et piano, sine strepitu judicii, quemadmodum
Deus procedere solet_. At Wolgast, on the contrary, though the hangman
had orders to hold himself in readiness, _ad actum propinquum_, the
magistrates preferred to exercise some delay. The prince had the bog
examined, but no body was found there. When taken to the spot, the
prisoner who had confessed his guilt recognized the place of the
murder, without being able, however, to point it out accurately. The
landlord and his wife at Gross-Kistow, when examined carefully, denied
having lodged any one at the period indicated.

Finally, a messenger of the Brandenburg March brought the news that an
assassin condemned to death confessed to having killed in Pomerania a
young librarian, for which crime two individuals were under lock and
key at Wolgast. When taxed with having almost caused the death of
innocent people by false avowals, the self-confessed murderer replied
that death seemed to him preferable to the "criminal question," as that
kind of torture was called. Their acquittal was pronounced on their
taking the oath to bring no further action.

But this only shows the precautions to be taken before applying the
instruments of torture to merely suspected men. On the other hand, it
has been shown over and over again that some of the guilty hardened to
that kind of thing will allow themselves to be torn to pieces sooner
than avow.

In that year (1531) Duke George died in the prime of his life. His
second wife was the sister to Margrave Joachim; they got rid of her for
about 40,000 florins, and she subsequently married a prince of Anhalt,
but finally she eloped with a falconer.

My mother having realized all her property at Greifswald, my parents
really possessed a considerable fortune in sterling coin, and they
called my father "the rich man of the Passen Strasse." It wanted,
however, but a few years to shake his credit and to impair the
happiness of his family. Without exaggeration, two women, named Lubbeke
and Engeln were the principal causes of our reverses. Not content to
buy on credit our cloth, which they resold to heaven knows who, they
borrowed of my father, fifty, a hundred, and as much as a hundred and
fifty crowns on the slightest pretext. The crown in those days was
worth eight and twenty shillings of Lubeck. They promised to refund at
eight and twenty and a half, and to settle for their purchases at the
same rate; but if now and again they happened to make a payment on
account of a hundred florins, they took care to buy at the same time
goods for double the amount. My mother did not look kindly upon those
two customers; she imagined that her money would be better invested at
five per cent., and she spared neither warnings, prayers, nor tears to
dissuade my father from trusting them. She even took Pastor Knipstrow
and others into her confidence to that effect. Finally, the account
came to a considerable amount, while the debtors were unable to pay as
much as twenty florins. Then it transpired what had become of the
cloth. The mother of one townsman, Jacob Leveling, had had 800 florins
of it; the wife of another, Hermann Bruser, 1,725 florins. Hermann
Bruser was a big cloth merchant who sold retail much cheaper than any
of his fellow-tradesmen.

My father having taken proceedings against his two customers as well as
against the woman Bruser, the latter and her husband promised to pay
the 1,725 florins. Nicholas Rode, who had married Bruser's sister, and
the syndic of the city, Johannes Klocke, afterwards burgomaster,
induced my father to accept that arrangement, and Bruser secured
conditions after having signed an acknowledgment beginning as follows:
"I, together with my legitimate wife, declare to be duly and lawfully
indebted to etc., etc." The syndic had drawn up this act with his own
hand. He had affixed his signature to it, and his seal, and Rode had in
the latter two respects done the same. But the period of the first
payment coinciding with the tumult against Nicholas Smiterlow, Bruser,
one of the ringleaders, thought he could have the whip hand of my
father as well as of the burgomaster. On his refusal to pay, the case
came before the court once more; and then, while denying his debt, in
spite of the formal terms of his declaration, Bruser denounced as
usurious agreements obtained by litigation. Klocke and Rode assisted
him with their advice and influence; the first-named, in his capacity
of a lawyer, conducted the suit, and quoting the _leges et doctorum
opiniones_, easily convinced his non-legally educated colleagues of the
council. The Westphalian Cyriacus Erckhorst, the son-in-law of Rode,
and a velvet merchant, plotted on his side. There were golden florins
for the all-powerful burgomaster Lorbeer, and pieces of dress-material
for Mrs. Burgomaster; so that, after long arguments on both sides,
Bruser was allowed to swear that he was ignorant of the affair, which,
moreover, was tainted with usury. My father could not conceive that
this personage would have the audacity to deny his signature, and,
supported in his supposition by Burgomaster Nicholas Smiterlow, he did
not appeal against the judgment, and at the next sitting Bruser
appeared at the bar of the inner court, took the oath, and offered to
comply with the second part of the order; only, in consequence of the
absence of his witness he claimed a delay of a twelvemonth and a day,
which was accorded to him; after which my father appealed to the
council of Stralsund and afterwards to that of Lubeck.

In due time my father started for Lubeck, and took me with him. At
Rostock, we lodged at the sign of _The Hop_, in the Market Place. My
father had a considerable sum upon him to pay cash for his purchases of
salt, salted cod-fish and soap, and as a measure of precaution, he
carried that money in his small clothes, for Mecklenburg was infested
by footpads and highwaymen. While undressing, he dropped his purse
under the bed, an accident which he did not notice until next day about
twelve o'clock, when we had reached Bukow. As the court was just about
to open it fell to my lot to take the road back to Rostock _per pedes_.
On that day I could get no further than Berkentin, but very early next
morning I was at Rostock. Naturally, I rushed to the inn and to the
room. Luckily the servants had not made the beds. I soon espied the
little bag and was in time to take the coach to Wismar. My father,
uneasy on my account, was already reproaching himself for having let me
go.

Their worships of Lubeck condemned Bruser to keep his written promise;
he then appealed to the Imperial Chamber. The suit dragged along for
several years; finally, the supreme decision was to the effect that it
had been well judged, but improperly thrown into appeal in the first
instance, and that in the second it had been faultily judged and
properly sent for appeal. The defendant was condemned to pay the costs
to be determined by the judge.

And now I may be permitted to give an instance of the disloyalty of the
procurators of the Imperial Chamber. Doctor Simeon Engelhardt, my
father's procurator, did not hesitate to write to him that he had won
his case, and asked for the bill of costs of the two previous
instances, so that he might hand them to the taxing judge and apply for
execution. He added that the trouble he had taken with the affair
seemed to him to warrant special fees. My parents, elated with the
news, promptly transmitted the bill of costs and their fees for the
execution. Engelhardt produced the _cedula expensarum_; Bruser's
procurator requested copy, not without pretending to raise objection.
Engelhardt delivered the required copy, leaving to the judge the case
of designating the winning party; in other words, the one who had the
right to present the _designatio expensarum_. Well, that right was
adjudged to Bruser, who drew up the _cedula_ after _ours_. Engelhardt
was compelled to hold his tongue and my father had to pay 164 florins.

That point having been settled, they passed to the second _membrum_ of
the Stralsund judgment; namely, whether the conditions stipulated for
by my father were tainted with usury? After such an expensive and
protracted lawsuit, the court, considering that Bruser had failed in
his attempt to bring proof, condemned him to fulfil his engagements.
Against that sentence he appealed to Lubeck. Having been non-suited
there, he wished to have recourse to the Imperial Chamber, but we
signified opposition to the _exceptio devolutionis_. According to us,
he had not complied with the privilege of Lubeck. Bruser's procurator
maintained the contrary. The whole of the discussion bore entirely on
the sense of the word "_wann_" inserted in the Lubeck _vidimus_. Was it
a _conjunctio causalis, cum posteaquam_, or an _adverbium temporis,
quando_? After long-drawn debates, the appeal was rejected, and Bruser
had all the costs to pay.

Then, to frustrate his adversary, he pleaded poverty on oath, although
he gave to his daughter as many pearls and jewels as a burgomaster's
girl could possibly pretend to. Foreseeing the upshot of the lawsuit,
he had already disposed of one of his houses; after which he bestirred
himself to safeguard his dwelling-house, his cellar and his various
other property from being seized. Nicholas Rode, he who had signed the
obligation, deposed to that effect, a document professedly anterior to
my father's claim, an act constituting in his favour a general mortgage
on all Bruser's property. As a matter of course, this led to a new
lawsuit, which occupied respectively the courts of Stralsund and of
Lubeck and the Imperial Chamber. The latter registered Rode's appeal at
the moment the Protestant States denied its jurisdiction. A suspension
of six years was the result, but after the reconstitution of the
chamber and the closure of the debates, I did not succeed, in spite of
two years' stay at Spires, in getting a judgment.

Weary of being involved in law for thirty-four years, my father wound
up by acquitting the heirs of Rode of all future liabilities in
consideration of a sum of one thousand florins. As it happened the
original debt was seventeen hundred and five and twenty florins; in
addition to this, my father had refunded to Bruser one hundred and
sixty-four florins expenses, his own costs exceeded a thousand florins
and he had waited forty years for his money. The whole affair was
nothing short of a downright calamity to our family; it interrupted my
studies and caused the death of my brother Johannes. "_Dimidium plus
toto_," says Hesiod, and the maxim is above all wise in connexion with
a law-suit at the Imperial Chamber.

Writing, as I do, for the edification of my children, I consider it
useful to mention here the subsequent fate of our godless adversaries.
The seventy-fifth Psalm says: "For in the hand of the Lord there is a
cup, and the wine is red, and he poured out of the same, but the dregs
thereof all the wicked of the earth shall wring them out and drink
them." Yes, the Almighty has comforted me, he has permitted me to see
the scattering of my enemies. The two principal ones, Hermann Bruser
and his fraudulent wife, fell into abject misery; they lived for many
years on the bounty of parents and friends; finally the husband became
valet of Joachim Burwitz who from the position of porter and general
servant at the school when I was young had risen to be the secretary of
the King of Sweden. The devil, however, twisted Bruser's neck at
Stockholm. He was found in his master's wardrobe, his face all
distorted. His daughter, dowered _in fraudem mei patris_, did, for all
that, not escape very close acquaintance with poverty. She sold her
houses and her land; and at her death her husband became an inmate of
the asylum of the Holy Ghost, where he is to this day. Bruser's son, it
is true, rose to be a secretary in Sweden, but far from prospering, he
committed all kind of foolish acts everywhere. His first wife, the
daughter of Burgomaster Gentzkow,[16] died of grief at Stralsund, where
he had left her with her children at his departure for Sweden. He was
found dead one morning in his room; his descendants are vegetating some
in the city, some in the country.

The author of the plot, the honest dispenser of advice, Johannes
Klocke, managed to keep his wealth, but he was racked with gout and had
to be carried in a chair to the Town Hall; he died after having
suffered martyrdom for many years. The four sons of Nicholas Rode were
reduced to beggary; the house Bruser sold in order to cheat my father
actually belongs to my son-in-law. As for Burgomaster Christopher
Lorbeer, so skilled in prolonging law-suits, does he not expiate, he
and his, every day, the wrong in having lent himself to corruption.
Erckhorst, the man who tempted him, was robbed while engaged in
transporting from one town to another two large bundles of velvet,
silk, jewellery and pearls, the whole being estimated at several
thousands of florins. His second wife was the byword of the city for
her levity of conduct; at every moment she was caught in her own
dwelling-house and in the most untoward spots committing acts of
criminal intercourse with her apprentices. What had been saved from the
thieves was devoured by his wife's paramours. Absolutely at a loss to
reinstate himself in his former position, Erckhorst made an end of his
life by stabbing himself.

My father's other debtor, the woman Leveling, was left a widow with an
only son. Her property in houses and in land yielded, it was said, a
golden florin and a fowl per day. That fortune, nevertheless, melted
away, and Leveling, worried by her creditors, was obliged to quit
her house with nothing but what she stood up in. Lest her son, a
horrible ne'er-do-well of fifteen, should spend his nights in houses of
ill-fame, she kept a mistress for him at home; after that she married
him at such an early age as to astonish everybody, but he cared as much
about the sanctity of marriage as a dog cares about Lent. During the
ceremonies connected with rendering homage to Duke Philip, the duchess
lodged at Leveling's and stood godmother to his new-born daughter,
which honour had not the slightest effect in changing the scandalous
life he led with a concubine. One night, in company with a certain
Valentin Buss, he emptied the baskets in the pond of the master of the
fishmongers. An arrant thief, he was fast travelling towards the
gallows. Buss, who wound up by going to prison, would have been hanged
but for Leveling, who in order to redeem himself parted to the council
with his last piece of ground, namely, that in which his father's body
rested in the church. One day at the termination of the sermon,
Leveling, sword in hand, pursued my father, who had just time to reach
his domicile and to shut the door in his face. On the other hand,
Master Sonnenberg, who sheltered the old woman Leveling while she was
negotiating with her creditors, was not content with egging on her son
to all sorts of evil deeds, but had the effrontery to say to my father:
"I'll tame you so well that you shall come and eat out of my hands."

After having squandered his inheritance, Leveling died in the most
abject poverty; his daughter Marie, the duchess' goddaughter, sells
fish in the market. Such was the end of the wealthy popinjay. Mother
and son followed the traditions of their family without having profited
by the lessons of the past; one of the woman Leveling's relatives was,
in fact, that Burgomaster Wulf Wulflam, reputed the richest man on that
part of the coast,[17] whose wife was so fond of show and splendour
that at her second marriage she sent for the prince's musicians from
Stettin and walked from her house to the church on an English carpet.
For her own wear she only used the finest Riga flax. So much vainglory
was punished by the God of Justice, who expels from His kingdom the
proud and haughty. The only thing she had finally left of all her
magnificence was a silver bowl with which she went begging from door to
door. "Charity," she cried, "for the poor rich woman." One day she
asked from one of her former servants a shift and some linen for a
collar to it. Moved with pity, the latter did not refuse. "Madame," she
said, "this linen was made of the flax you used for your own wear. I
have carefully picked it up, cleaned and spun it."[18]

The arrangement made by the Levelings with their creditors gave to my
father the passage of the Muhlen-Strasse. Inasmuch as the premises were
tumbling to pieces, masons, carpenters, stonecutters and plasterers
were soon set to work and began by expelling the rats, mice and
doubtful human creatures that had taken up their quarters there. The
best tenement adjoining the city wall with a beautiful look-out on the
moats and the open country was occupied by the concubine of Zabel
Lorbeer. She was one of the three Maries, and had presented him with
either seven or eight bastards. My father, finding the door locked one
morning, ordered the workmen to knock down the wall which fell on the
bed where the scamp and the girl were sleeping; the only thing they
could do was to get out of the way as quickly as possible. Lorbeer
brought up his progeny according to the principles that guided him; and
finally had his son beheaded to save him the disgrace of the gallows.

A short digression is necessary in connexion with the three Maries.[19]
They were sisters, exceedingly good-looking, but the poet's "_Et quidem
servasset, si non formosa fuisset_," essentially applied to them. Many
traps are laid for beauty, and they one after another fell into them.
They lived on their charms, being particularly careful about their
appearance and dress in order to attract admirers. Their attempts to
obtain such notice were seconded by an unspeakable old crone, Anna
Stranck, who had been a downright Messalina in her time, and of
whom it was said that she could reckon on the whole of the city
among her parentage, although she had neither husband nor children, but
that she had had illicit intercourse with every male, young, old and
middle-aged, fathers, sons and brothers. Anna Stranck invented for the
use of the three Maries a kind of loose coif, the fashion of which our
womenkind have religiously preserved; even those who have discarded it
wearing a velvet hood based upon that model. They brought their hair,
black or grey about two inches down on the forehead. Then came as many
inches of gold lace or embroidery, so that the real cap, intended to
keep the head warm did not in the least cover the brain. I am purposely
quoting the name of Anna Stranck, for it is well to remind people to
whom the headgear was due in the first instance; and may it please our
dames to preserve it for ever in memory of the woman, mother,
grandmother and great-grandmother of their husbands.

I now resume my personal narrative. During the rebuilding of this new
property, I was fetching and carrying all the while. One day my father
sent me to our own house for the luncheon for himself and for the
carpenters. The workmen were just knocking down a chimney; they were
working higher than the chimney on a gangway made of boards which at
each extremity overlapped the stays. A great number of large nails were
strewn about the scaffolding. I climbed up, with my arms full of
provisions, but scarcely did I set my foot on the gangway than the
gangway toppled over and I was flung into space, the nails descending
in a shower on my head. I just happened to fall by the side of the open
chimney; half an ell more or less and I should have been through its
aperture on the ground floor. As it was, the accident proved
sufficiently serious. I had dislocated my right elbow and horribly
bruised my arm. They took me home, whence my mother took me to Master
Joachim Gelhaar. He was absent, and inasmuch as the case seemed urgent,
they had recourse to the barber in the Old Market, who dressed the
bruises without noticing that the bone was dislocated. Next morning
Master Gelhaar came. A simple glance was sufficient for him; he grasped
my arm, pulled and twisted it and put the bones back into their
sockets. But the limb was bruised and swollen and twisted. I shall
never forget the pain I suffered. In a little while, though, I was
enabled to go about the house as usual with one arm in a sling, and the
other available for our childish pastimes.

The old beams and rafters of the premises under repair were stacked at
our place. One day, while perched on one of the piles, I struck out
with a hammer in my left hand; one of the beams rolled down and my leg
was caught between it and the other wood. The pain made me cry out
lustily, but it was impossible to disengage my leg. My mother was not
strong enough for the task, and making sure that my leg was crushed,
she shouted and fetched the navvies and the brewery workmen; they
delivered me. When she was certain that no harm had come to me, my
mother, still excited, treated me to a good drubbing. On New Year's
Day, 1533, my father was elected dean of the Corporation of
Drapers.[20]




                              CHAPTER III

Showing the Ingratitude, Foolishness and Wickedness of the People, and
how, when once infected with a bad Spirit, it returns with Difficulty
to Common-Sense--Smiterlow, Lorbeer and the Duke of Mecklenburg--Fall
of the seditious Regime of the Forty-Eight


The ecclesiastical affairs of Stralsund had assumed more or less
regular conditions; the Gospel was preached in all the churches without
opposition either on the part of the princes or of the council.
Smiterlow had sanctioned the return of Rolof Moller. Nevertheless,
peace was not maintained for long, Lubeck, Rostock, Stralsund and
Wismar having revolted against their magistrates. In fact, at the death
of King Frederick of Denmark, George Wullenweber,[21] burgomaster of
Lubeck, having for his acolyte Marx Meyer, decided to declare war upon
Duke Christian of Holstein.

According to Wullenweber, the conquest of Denmark was a certainty; and
inasmuch as the magistrates of Lubeck, belonging to the old families,
looked with apprehension on the enterprise, they were deposed and sixty
burghers added to their successors.

Marx Meyer was a working blacksmith with a handsome face and figure.
Being a skilful farrier he had accompanied the cavalry in several
campaigns, and his conduct both with regard to his comrades and the
enemy had been such as to gain for him the highest grades. He was
created a Knight in England and amassed a considerable fortune. His
rise in the world filled him, however, with inordinate pride and
vanity. Nothing in the way of sumptuous garments and golden ornaments
seemed good enough to emphasize his knightly dignity. He had a crowd of
retainers and a stable full of horses, for like the majority of folk of
low birth, he knew of no bounds in his prosperity. Odd to relate, he
was courted by people of good condition; women both young, rich and
well-born fell in love with this, and it would appear that he gave them
no cause to regret their infatuation. I have read a letter written to
him by one of the foremost ladies of quality of Hamburg: "My dear Marx,
after having visited all the chapels, you might for once in a way come
to the cathedral." May his death be accounted as an instance of
everlasting justice.

In June 1534 the councillors of the Wendish cities,[22] apprehending a
disaster and being moreover exceedingly grieved at this struggle
against the excellent Duke of Holstein, foregathered at Hamburg to
consider the state of affairs. Wullenweber, however, presumptuous as
was his wont, became more obstinate than ever and rejected with scorn
most acceptable terms of peace. Hence, the Stralsund delegate,
Burgomaster Nicholas Smiterlow, addressed the following prophetic words
to him: "I have been present at many negotiations, but never have I
seen matters treated like this, Signor George. You will knock your head
against the wall and you shall fall on your beam end." After that
apostrophe, Wullenweber, furious with anger, left the council-chamber,
made straight for his inn, had his and Meyer's horses saddled and both
took the way back to Lubeck, where immediately after his arrival
Wullenweber summoned his undignified council and the aforementioned
sixty burghers, who between them decree in the twinkling of an eye a
levy of troops; dispatching meanwhile to the council of Stralsund a
blatant sedition-monger, Johannes Holm, with verbal instructions and a
missive couched substantially as follows: "Wullenweber is zealously
working to bring principalities and kingdoms under the authority of the
cities, but the opposition of Burgomaster Smiterlow has driven him from
the diet. In spite of this, the struggle is bound to continue, so it
lays with you to act."

Nothing more than that was wanted to stir the whole of the citizens
against Smiterlow. The Forty-Eight came to tender their condolence to
Burgomaster Lorbeer who was secretly jealous of his colleague.
Pretending to be greatly concerned, he exclaimed: "This is too much,
impossible to defend him any longer." His hearers took it for granted
that Smiterlow was left to their discretion, while, according to
Lorbeer himself, the ambiguous words merely signified: "Smiterlow has
so many enemies that I can no longer come to his aid."

At Smiterlow's return, the fire so skilfully fed by Lorbeer broke into
flame. People hailed each other with the cry, "Nicholas the Pacific is
here." The delegate had to deliver an account of his mission to the
burghers summoned to that effect at six in the morning, at the Town
Hall, with the city-gates closed and the cannon taken out of the
arsenal and placed in position in the Old Markets The crowd poured into
the streets, and at the Town Hall itself people were crushing the life
out of each other. When Nicholas Smiterlow came to his statement that
he had opposed Wullenweber's warlike motions, there was a hurricane of
cries, curses and insults; it sounded as if they had all gone stark mad
at once. It was proposed to fling the speaker out of the window; an axe
was flung at the Councillors' bench and in endeavouring to intercept
the weapon the worshipful Master Kasskow was severely wounded. One
individual placed himself straight in front of the burgomaster. "You
scum of the earth," he yelled; "did you not unjustly fine me twenty
florins? Now it is my turn." "What's your name?" asked Smiterlow.
"That's right," he said on its being given; "it was a piece of
injustice, he ought to have had the gallows. I was sheriff at the time
and the council instructed me to fine you twenty florins. My register
of fines can show you that I did not keep them for myself, but spent
them for the good of the city." His interlocutor wished to hear no more
and disappeared in the crowd.

It should also be noted that the beggars who generally hung about the
burgomaster's dwelling were all the while vociferating under the
windows of the Town Hall. "Fling Nicholas the Pacific down to us," they
shouted; "we'll cut him up and play ball with the pieces." One of the
Forty-Eight having asked, "What do you think of it, my worthy
burghers?" the rabble yelled, "Yes, yes," without the faintest idea of
the nature of the question. Somebody thereupon observed, "Why are you
shouting 'Yes'? Are you willing to hand over the public chest?"
Thereupon there was an equally unanimous and stentorian "No."
Unquestionably the devil had occasion on that day to laugh at the
people in his sleeve.

This martyring of the first burgomaster, an eminent, virtuous man, who
had, moreover, attained a certain age, was prolonged till seven o'clock
at night. Finally, he received the order not to leave his quarters.
Similar injunctions were inflicted on my father in his capacity of
nephew by marriage to the burgomaster, and to Joachim Rantzow for
having exclaimed, "Gently, gently; at least give people a chance to
explain themselves."

The soldiers and sailors were enjoined at the sound of the drum to man
the galleys, and a strict watch was kept. At night a strong squad
encamped in front of Smiterlow's dwelling; the soldiers, among other
pastimes, amused themselves with firing at the front door; the bullets
passed out at the other side of the passage through a circular glazed
aperture. There were many hours of anguish for the burgomaster, his
wife and children, who expected at every moment to have their home
invaded by the mob.

On the Monday of St. John they elected two burgomasters, namely,
Joachim Pruetze, the erewhile town clerk, an honest and sensible man,
and Johannes Klocke, the actual town clerk and syndicus. Seven burghers
were elected councillors; with the exception of Secretary Johannes
Senckestack, who had had no hand in the thing, they were all honest,
uninteresting folk, as simple-minded as they were upright and virtuous.
Johannes Tamme, for instance, a worthy and straightforward man, replied
to the artizans and others who came to complain of the bad state of
business: "Make your mind easy; it will change now that seven capable
people form part of the council." Antique simplicity indeed. Nicholas
Baremann boasted of earning ten marks each time he left his home. One
day he went into the cellar to look at a barrel of salt-fish, he was
accompanied by a servant who was not altogether right in his head. In
those days men wore round their necks a very narrow collar of pleated
tulle. While the master was bending over the fish, the servant with one
blow of his hatchet clean cut his head off. Instead of taking flight he
quietly went back to his work. When interrogated about the motive of
his crime, he replied that his master presented his neck so gently as
to make the operation merely child's play. In spite of his
unquestionable mental state, the murderer was broken alive on the
wheel.

My father was practically imprisoned for fifteen months in his own
house, whence resulted an enormous loss to his own business, for in
view of the coming herring-fair at Falsterbo, in the province of
Schonen,[23] his cellar and hall were packed with Luneburg salt; there
was also a considerable quantity of dried cod, besides a big assortment
of cloth, and amidst all this he was forbidden to cross the threshold
of his house and no one was allowed to come and see him. My mother was,
moreover, pregnant at the time, and as the date of her confinement drew
near my father asked for leave to take up his quarters with a neighbour
until it was over. His petition was refused, and at the critical moment
he found himself compelled to get into the adjoining house by the roof.
He was also prevented from personally inviting the godparents.

George Wullenweber and his undisciplined followers opened the
hostilities by sea and by land. In this bitter struggle the Duke of
Holstein preserved the advantage, though he fought as one against two,
but the Almighty was on his side. Humiliated by these reverses, with
their prestige diminished and threatened with an ignominious fall, the
fribbling authors of the war expected to save everything by
substituting another chief for Wullenweber. After a week of
negotiations the emissaries of Lubeck, Rostock, and Stralsund assembled
at Wismar offered to Duke Albrecht of Mecklenburg the throne of
Denmark. The act, drawn up in due form and signed and sealed by Lubeck,
Rostock and Wismar was dispatched to Stralsund, the signature and seal
of which was wanting to it. The fine phrases of the Lubeckian message
got the better of the opposition of the council; the Forty-Eight broke
open the casket containing the great seal, affixed it to the document
and sent it back to Wismar.

Every rule had been strictly observed; the Duke of Mecklenburg invited
the representatives of the cities for the next day to a banquet, at
which the act was to be handed to him. But during the morning itself
the delegates of Stralsund, under the pretext of wishing to examine the
parchment, asked to look at it, and Christopher Lorbeer, borrowing a
pocket-knife of his colleague, Franz Wessel, cut the strings of the
Stralsund seal, after which they made off as far as their carriage
would let them. They were half-way to Rostock while the other
ambassadors were still waiting for them with dinner. Undeterred by
this, Albrecht, accompanied by his wife, her ladies, servants, horses
and dogs, took the road to Copenhagen, like a legitimate sovereign.

Lorbeer himself, his children, and the rest of his relations have
sung in all manner of keys the resolute--others would say, the
audacious--conduct he displayed on that occasion; nobody, whether
townsman, rustic or alien was to remain ignorant of the feat; and to
this day people keep repeating that Burgomaster Lorbeer, scorning all
danger (_non enim sine periculo facinus magnum et memorabile_), made
himself illustrious by this signal act, by this heroic exploit. If,
however, we turn the leaf, what do we read? _Qui periculum amat peribit
in eo_; real courage will never be confounded with reckless audacity.
That the act was provided with the great seal of Stralsund is a fact
known to the representatives of Lubeck, Rostock and Wismar, who
handled the document on the strength of which, when ratified by the
Forty-Eight, Duke Albrecht went and shut himself up in Copenhagen,
where he sustained a siege, and practically obliged Stralsund to make
the same sacrifices for him the other cities had made. Consequently,
one has the right to ask: "Where was the advantage of detaching the
seal?" If Lorbeer had utilized his energy in keeping in port vessels,
soldiers and ammunition, then he would have rendered a signal service,
and, besides, prevented the waste of much money. Do Lorbeer's admirers
imagine that Duke Albrecht would not have avenged the outrage when once
his throne was consolidated? The least he would have done was to close
the Sound against us, and to hamper our commerce everywhere. Verily
they are right, the citizens who keep on praising the mad trick of
Lorbeer.

Burgomaster Smiterlow bore his enforced retirement with admirable
patience. Instead of meddling with public affairs, he assiduously read
the Holy Scriptures, and spent most of his time in prayer. He finally
knew by heart the Psalms of David. As a daily visitor to his home, I
can say that no bitter word ever fell from his lips. He often repeated,
"They are my fellow-citizens; the Lord will move their spirit. It is my
duty to suffer for the love of my children."

Our gracious prince, Duke Philip, sent to request the liberation of the
burgomaster. The envoys were told that the answer would be sent to them
to the hostel. The discussion was a very long one, after which they
deputed the very host of the envoys, Hermann Meier, together with
Nicholas Rode, the one as illiterate as the other, and both densely
ignorant on every subject. Hermann Meier, who was a native of Parow,
had amassed much property in cash, in land, and in houses. Being the
owner of the two villages of Parow, he had practically for his vassals
his uncles and his cousins, whom he ruled at his will. Nicholas Rode
was a well-to-do merchant, but who had never associated with people of
condition. Hermann Meier had undertaken to address the envoys, but he
began to stumble at the first sentence, and finally, stricken dumb
altogether, he left his colleague behind, rushed from the room, and
went helter-skelter down the stairs. When he reached the yard, he fell
altogether ill with excitement. Nevertheless, he plucked up his courage
and went back--to apologize, as one would suppose. Not at all. Scorning
all exordium, and without even giving the envoys their titles, he went
straight to the point. "The council and the Forty-Eight," he said,
"have decided in the name of the citizens that we should signify to you
as follows: Inasmuch as they did not consult the prince to inflict the
confinement, they shall not consult him to annul it." Verily, a speech
worthy of the orator and of those who sent him, _similes habent labra
lactucas_. I wonder what would happen if somebody took it into his head
to-day to address a prince in that manner. Considering that all the
magistrates of that period were of most mediocre capacity (I am using a
mild term), two suppositions are admissible. It was either the
intention of the Forty-Eight to make the young duke ridiculous by
choosing such delegates, or the three or four intelligent members of
the council declined this foolish mission.

The embassy had, however, one result. My father was summoned to the
Town Hall, where he was told that he could recover his freedom in
consideration of a fine of a hundred marks. He wished to know what
fault he had committed, and was told not to "argufy." "Hundred marks or
the collar. You can take your choice." As a matter of course my father
chose the former, although the only crime that could be imputed to him
was his marriage with the niece of Burgomaster Smiterlow. The same mode
of procedure was applied to the case of Joachim Rantzow, an honest and
honoured citizen, who subsequently became a member of the council.

Shortly after this Councillors Nicholas Rode and Nicholas Bolte came to
enjoin Burgomaster Smiterlow, in conjunction with two of his relatives,
to sign a document already engrossed and provided with the wax for
three seals. According to them it was the only means to end his
captivity and to avoid all further and even more serious dangers. In
this piece of writing Burgomaster Smiterlow confessed to having been a
traitor to the city, a perjurer, guilty of the most infamous conduct,
and to have forfeited all his rights. The two councillors made it their
special business to paint the situation in the most sombre colours.
Terror-stricken and dissolved in tears, the burgomaster's wife implored
her husband to accede to the request of these two fanatics until the
Lord Himself could come to his aid. Unmanned by all this, Smiterlow
asked my father to seal the act with him. "No," exclaimed the latter,
"I shall not sign your dishonour." But his two sons-in-law, overcome by
the tears of their mother-in-law, affixed their seals. Thereupon the
burgomaster, escorted by the two councillors, his two sons-in-law and
my father, repaired to the Town Hall. On their way, he went into the
St. Nicholas' Church, knelt down in the stall near the great St.
Christopher, and said a short prayer.

The council of the Forty-Eight was holding its meeting in the summer
council-room. Requested by Christopher Lorbeer to resume his usual
seat, Smiterlow refused. "I cannot do so," he said, "after the document
I have just signed." Nevertheless, they insisted until he took his
seat. Then he addressed them, reminding them that he had travelled in
the city's service a hundred and odd days (I have forgotten the exact
number, for I was only sixteen years old). "If it can be proved that I
have spent one florin unnecessarily, been guilty of one neglect or
caused a single prejudice, I am ready to yield all I possess and my
life besides. If, on the other hand, I can show my innocence, then can
I count upon the same protection as that enjoyed by the other citizens;
that is, frequent the churches, cross the bridges, appear in the market
place, and attend to my business in all freedom and security." The
reply being affirmative, he rose from his seat, wished the council a
peaceful term of administration, and, followed by his nearest
relatives, went back to his home.

The situation remained the same until 1537. Strong in the consciousness
of his own honesty, and leaving the Forty-Eight to govern at their
own sweet will, Smiterlow remained perfectly tranquil in his
retirement. He was an assiduous churchgoer, and when the weather was
fine, took excursions into the country accompanied by his daughters,
his sons-in-law, my parents and their family. His jovial disposition
delighted them all.

On the other hand, the Forty-Eight were constantly assailed by fear.
The success of the war became more and more doubtful, in spite of the
sacrifice of hundreds of lives, in spite of the pillaging of the Town
Hall, in spite of the enormous sums wasted--thrown into the water, it
would be more correct to say. They converted the bells of the city and
of the villages into money; all these took the road to Lubeck, where,
to our disgrace be it said, the mark of Stralsund can still be seen on
a bronze pile-driver. Twice did the citizens, from the highest to the
lowest, pay the tax of the hundredth halfpenny on the strength of their
oath.

When they saw their power tottering, the Forty-Eight imitated the
unjust steward of St. Luke, and compelled the community to confirm,
renew and extend the infamous declaration violently dragged from the
council of 1522. The new act had apparently some good in it. It
enjoined upon the magistrates judicious rules of conduct which,
however, were not at all within their competence. In reality, the
ancient council acknowledged to have incurred by its resistance a fine
which was remitted to them by their magnanimous successors. It took the
engagement to favour the cause of the Forty-Eight. No dissension,
misunderstanding, accusation or recrimination, whether relating to the
past or the present, would in future be tolerated. Any contravention to
that effect entailed upon the councillors the loss of their dignities;
upon other citizens, the loss of their civic rights; upon women and
children, a fine of fifty florins, payable by the father or husband,
and going to the fund for public buildings.

That much was decided on the Friday after Candlemas, 1535.
Nevertheless, the Forty-Eight kept trembling in their shoes. The very
next year witnessed the promulgation of another decree, threatening
with the utmost bodily penalty any and every one, young or old, rich or
poor, magistrate or simple burgher who should decline the
responsibility of the expedition to Denmark, or should influence others
on the subject. This act was transcribed sequentially to that of 1535,
with the formula: Given under our administration anno and day as above.
Hence it was antedated. It was a clumsy trick, for a unique act does
not admit of a codicil. But does the ass ever succeed in hiding its
ears?

In 1536, on the day of _Esto Mihi_, Duke Philip married, at the Castle
of Torgau, Fraeulein Marie, sister of the Duke of Saxony, Johannes
Friedrich. The marriage rites were performed by Dr. Martin Luther, who
after the ceremony said to the husband: "Gracious prince and lord,
Should the event so much desired be somewhat tardy in coming, let not
your Highness be discouraged. _Saxum_ means stone, and nothing can be
drawn from a rock without time or patience. Your Highness shall be
included in my prayers: _semen tuum non deficit_." The duchess, in
fact, gave birth to her first child only about four years later.

The punishment of the wicked and the triumph of the just marched
abreast, _inclusio unius est exclusio alterius et e contra_. Amidst the
torments of hell the damned watch the bliss of the happy ones whom they
have persecuted on earth. I am bound to insist upon this antithesis
while pursuing my narrative. I expect no thanks, for men are so
thin-skinned as to cause them to quiver at the slightest touch; and
that is the reason why all those who have written on Stralsund, such as
Thomas Kantzow, Valentin Eichstedt,[24] and Johannes Berckmann passed
their pens to their successors when they got as far as 1536. I have no
desire to flatter or to find fault, but I intend to speak the real
truth, however disagreeable it may turn out to be. My sole concern is
to preserve the dignity of history. If people will take the trouble to
read carefully the authors just named, and especially Berckmann,
otherwise the Augustine monk, his impertinent libels will enable them
to appreciate the usefulness of the present pages. The approval of
honest folk is the only reward I care for; the rest is of no
consequence.

It is almost incredible that the Duke of Mecklenburg should have
committed the blunder of yielding to the suggestions of Wullenweber,
whom all good citizens virtually disavowed. Never was there a more
unjust war. In disposing of a country which, on no assumption whatever,
could possibly belong to them, the cities caused an incalculable
prejudice to the Duke of Holstein, the Lord's anointed, the legitimate,
well-beloved, and expected sovereign. He showed great firmness. The
leader of a powerful army, and master of its communications by sea and
by land, he was fully aware of his superiority to an adversary who,
shut up in Copenhagen, only thought of pleasure, hunts and banquets. In
spite of his just resentment, magnanimous Christian obtained a victory
over himself, and while the surrender of the city was being negotiated,
he sent provisions to the Duchess of Mecklenburg, at that time in
childbed. This was tantamount to giving her charity. After the retreat
of Duke Albrecht, Charles made a triumphal entry into Copenhagen, where
he was crowned in 1537, and the presence at the pomp and ceremony of
the coronation of the ambassadors of the cities was calculated to give
him complete satisfaction. As for the Duke of Mecklenburg, he had
learned to his cost the folly of disregarding the words of the Holy
Spirit: "My son, fear thou the Lord and the king, and meddle not with
them that are given to change: for their calamity shall rise suddenly;
and who knoweth the ruin of them both?" (Proverbs xxiv. 21, 22).

At Lubeck the pitiful collapse of the council brought about the
reinstatement of the old magistracy. In a spirit of pacification they
gave Wullenweber the captaincy of Bergendorf; but Wullenweber, while
crossing the territory of the Abbey of Werden, was seized by order of
Christopher, bishop of Bremen, who handed him over to his brother, Duke
Heindrich of Brunswick. After a cruel captivity at Wolfenbuettel, and in
consequence of indictments as numerous as they were grave (especially
from Lubeck, represented by his secretary), he was sentenced to death
in September, 1537, and his body quartered. At the taking of the
fortress of Wardenburg, Duke Christian captured Marx Meyer, his brother
Gerard Meyer, and a notorious Danish priest. These three were executed
by the sword, quartered, and their bodies shown on the rack to the
great satisfaction of the Danish people and the honest Lubeckenaars so
long oppressed.

Nicholas Nering, a citizen of those parts, had sold to Johannes Krossen
a farm with all its live stock and belongings, but, according to him,
he had reserved for himself the foal of a handsome mare, if it should
happen to be a colt, and a colt it turned out to be. At the period of
its weaning, in 1535, he claimed the young animal. Krossen contested
the claim. Thereupon, according to the evidence of his step-son, Peter
Klatteville, who was about fifteen, and whose evidence was recorded in
the black register of the court, Nering, not to be outdone, mounted his
black horse, the lad trotting barefooted by his side, and both went at
five a.m. to Krossen's farm. Nering got the colt out of the stables
while the youngster kept watch. Nering hid his spoil for three weeks at
Schwartz's, at the new mill, and after having made Peter promise to
keep the secret on the penalty of the most terrible punishment.

Different is the version recorded in the new register, written on
parchment and bound in white sow's skin. "In 1536, on the Monday after
_Reminiscere_, Nicholas Nering, accused of pillage, has confessed
before the court that riding along the Frankische landstrasse, after
passing the gate, he noticed three colts; that moved by a wicked
inspiration, he had gone up to them and thrown the leash over one of
these, and fastened it to the pommel of his saddle, and in that way
brought it to his own stables. After having heard the above confession,
it was decided to take Nicholas Nering outside the city and hang him on
the gallows."

Nicholas Nering's bad reputation did not dispose the council in his
favour; hence all his friends had employed him to restore the colt in
order to prevent the matter going into the courts, but he had proved
obstinate. While he was in his cell, he repeated that he was
indifferent to death, but that he deplored the calamities which his
execution would entail. It was an evident proof of his having concocted
a scheme of vengeance with his confidants. This became obvious enough
after his death, when his kindred left the city and began setting fire
to mills, homesteads and villages of the neighbourhood, and recruiting
accomplices by sheer weight of money. Two of these malefactors were
taken at Bart, and put on the rack. At Stralsund they arrested ten
individuals at once, among others, Christian Parow, the dean of the
drapers, and Johannes Blumenow, the dean of the shoemakers. Young Peter
Klatteville confessed to having set the New Mill on fire at the
instigation of his mother, Nering's widow. Three were put on the rack;
they declared having received of Parow ten marks for committing the
crime, and the ministers who conducted them to the execution had much
trouble to make them retract the accusation in the presence of the
crowd. The following is the version in the _Annales_ of Berckmann, one
of the ministers: "This is what I have personally seen. When Parow took
his stroll in the market place, the raven of Barber Grellen ran to peck
at his legs, so that Parow considered it the best part of valour to
quit the place. I am bound to admit, though, that this bird was in the
habit of annoying the peasants who happened to wear wide linen
breeches. Parow, who was an old man, did not pay sufficient attention
to his appearance as to have his breeches properly pulled up like those
of his companions; hence, there is nothing to prove that Providence
made use of the raven to declare which kind of death Parow deserved."

Berckmann is simply nothing more nor less than Satan's slave when he
tries to make Parow odious. It is true that this worthy man signed and
sealed the avowal of his forfeit; the act happened to fall into my
hands when I was secretary of the city. I destroyed it, in that way
saving an honourable family from future affronts, without causing any
damage to the public welfare. Besides, this concession was known to
every one. It had in the opinion of those who gave themselves time to
think the same value as that of Burgomaster Smiterlow branding himself
as a traitor and an infamous creature. During the inquiry, everybody
could see how incensed Parow was with the Nerings. If he did give them
ten marks, it was because the money was extorted from him bit by bit by
a certain Smit who perished on the rack. Nering's stepson Klatteville
even declares that Parow came one day to his mother and had a long
conversation with her. He does not know what Parow said to her,
but he seemed heartbroken at the behaviour of the Nerings, for he
wept like a child and went away weeping. In the draper's company
no one ever objected to sitting next to him at table, except Olaff
Lorbeer, a ridiculous personage, and the son of one of the principal
faction-mongers. He always overwhelmed the good old man with his coarse
allusions.

Johannes Blumenow, condemned to death on Tuesday, was only led to the
scaffold on the following Thursday. I saw the execution. The corpse
remained on the wheel, wrapped up by means of a cord in the blue dress
he wore every day. This was done in order to prevent the crows from
going to work too quickly. This Blumenow, a lively, though grey-haired
fellow, the dean of the shoemakers, was the wealthiest of the
Forty-Eight. He was very ambitious for the burgomastership which, he
flattered himself, he could discharge better than any body. At the last
burgomaster's banquet, that of Nicholas Sonnenberg, Frau Blumenow said
to the matron next to her: "I did not wish to come, but I ought to know
what to do when our turn comes to give the banquet." I have seen
Blumenow busy cleaning skins and during that time many a notable
personage clad in furs bowed down before him with more respect than
before any former burgomaster. Berckmann attributes no other wrong to
him than that of having induced Nering to renounce his citizenship
(that is honest enough); but, he insinuates they had made up their
minds to ruin him because he had in his possession the famous act
elaborated by the Forty-Eight. What a pity it is that Berckmann sets so
little store by the truth. Who compelled him to commit so many foolish
fabrications to paper? With a little trouble on his part he could have
learnt that about forty years previously a priest had been assassinated
in his dwelling. The murderer remained unknown until Blumenow, being
put to the torture, confessed to being the author of the crime. He had
counted upon a big sum of money, but the victim did not possess more
than a few pence. That, my very dear Berckmann, was what brought
Blumenow to the scaffold. The sedition mongers had taken their
precautions so well in the act of 1535 and in its appendix that, but
for the Nering lawsuits, the honest part of the community would have
never had the joy of seeing their oppressors pay for their misdeeds.

I have already recounted the pitiful end of Rolof Moller; the whole of
his line was overtaken with similar punishment. His eldest son, George,
who had been my schoolfellow at Rostock, was only a stripling when he
caught a nameless disease through frequenting a certain class of women.
He wanted to play the young country squire, did little work and spent
much. His stepfather took him away from his studies, and sent him to
England to learn the language of the country, and then to Antwerp, to
get an insight into business. The young fellow, however, continued his
spendthrift ways, and it became necessary to recall him. Rolof Moller's
second son, for a mere trifle, stabbed in the open street his cousin
with whom he had been drinking claret at an apothecary's. The name of
Moller is fated to be extinguished in a short time.

What shall I say about Burgomaster Lorbeer, the instigator of the three
riots, and especially of the third against Smiterlow? Everybody is
aware of the contempt into which he fell even during his lifetime, and
of the horrible malady that carried him slowly to the grave. After his
death his wife and daughters still believed themselves to be the
masters, as in the days when visiting an estate of the city they were
greeted with the formula of reception, "Be welcome, dear ladies, on thy
lands," and when the passers-by hailed them with a "God preserve you,
young and dear burgomasters." This deference had inflated their
presumption to such an extent that they lost all respect for both the
council and the law courts. They ended up by exhausting the Divine
patience.

The master-miller Nicholas Hildebrand was not the least influential
among the Forty-Eight. A busybody, self-interested, he meddled with
everything that could bring water to his milldam. Having had certain
private reasons for retiring to Wolgast, he intrigued so barefacedly as
to compel the duke to imprison him; and inasmuch as nobody dreamt of
interceding for him, he spent the whole winter in a cell. At his
discharge his legs were frost-bitten and he was eaten up with vermin.
Another active and restless firebrand, the erewhile tailor Marschmann,
who came to Wolgast to escape his creditors, kept Hildebrand company
the whole of the winter. Knigge took to making false coin; but for
Doctor Gentzkow, whose step-daughter he had married, the capital
sentence passed on him would not have been commuted into banishment.
Christian Herwig died in abject misery. They had given him the nickname
of Count Christian, because in his prosperous days he strutted about in
his best dress, one hand on his hip, and taking up the whole width of
the street by himself. His wife became an inmate of the St. John's
Asylum. One of his daughters, a downright slattern, had to beg her
bread and was found dead one morning; the rest vegetated in the most
sordid conditions. Nicholas Loewe, a quarrelsome creature who tried to
look like a captain in his white dress set off with red velvet, in the
end considered himself lucky at the St. John's Asylum to don the grey
small clothes provided for him by charity. Long before his death he
became stone blind. His daughter Anna was the talk of the town. I could
easily extend this list, for, as far as I recollect, not one of those
sedition-mongers escaped the punishment inflicted by the Almighty on
rebels unto the third and fourth generations.

Stralsund, there is no doubt, is likely to feel for a long while the
pernicious effects of Rolof Moller; but just as history praises
Cambyses, that arch-tyrant, _monstrum hominis el vera cloaca diaboli_
for having ordered the death of the prevaricating judge and for having
had his skin nailed on the judgment seat; so on one point, and on one
only, are the sedition-mongers entitled to commendation. They replaced
the banquets of the burgomaster and the councillors by presents of
goldsmith's work or by a piece of silver. Nowadays the city receives
from the burgomaster a piece of silver-gilt; a councillor merely gives
a piece of silverwork. The guilds have also done away with the banquets
of reception and election. Instead of foolishly wasting their money in
gormandizing, the new dean or the new companion offers a present of
silver which does duty at the fetes and gatherings, so that nowadays
the wooden and pewter goblets have made room for silver tankards. On
Twelfth Night the council and the corporations make a display of their
treasure, to show to the public that it is not only intact, but
increased.

After the tragedy of the Passion comes the glory of Easter Day.
Nicholas Smiterlow had suffered civil death; and among certain
individuals on the magistrates' bench the password had gone round to
prevent his resurrection. When, however, the disastrous issue of the
war but too plainly confirmed the prophecies of the old burgomaster,
the ironical nickname of "pacific" became the chief claim to his glory.
Councillors and burghers in plenary meeting assembled, dispatched two
of the former to him with the request for him to repair to the Town
Hall. Burgomaster Lorbeer tried to stop the mission by rubbing his arm
and saying that the letter of avowal signed by Smiterlow was a most
indispensable document on that occasion, inasmuch as it was a question
of annulling it. His attempt to redress the balance of his own game by
a delay of twenty-four hours was a failure. His objection was simply
put aside, and the secretary went at once to Blumenow's for the said
letter, together with the pact imposed by the Forty-Eight. When
Smiterlow entered the council-room all the burghers cried, "Here is our
beloved father, Nicholas the Pacific." He was conducted to his former
seat, above Lorbeer's; they begged him to give them the help of his
experience, and they promised that henceforth he should be exempt from
all missions and embassies. Standing on the treasury chest, so as to
afford a sight to everybody, the secretary tore the famous agreement
into two, and detached Smiterlow's seal from it. But the burghers were
not at all satisfied, and shouted to him to stick his penknife into and
to lacerate the letter of avowal in a similar fashion. And thus ended
the domination of the Forty-Eight.

Faithful--perhaps too faithful--to his habit, the ex-Augustine monk
Berckmann limns Smiterlow in the falsest colours. He fancies he is
using irony when he exclaims, "Burgomaster Nicholas Smiterlow was a
fine specimen of a man, conscious of his own worth, handsome, eloquent,
prudent and wise, and enjoying much consideration from princes and
nobles." It so happens that all this is simply so much bare truth, and
added to all these merits, Smiterlow had the fear of God and a wide
knowledge of the Scriptures. The _Annales_ of Master Gerhard Droege
quote him as the oldest patron and protector of the Evangelical
ministries; hence, everything that Berckmann writes in connexion with
or about him is inexact. Here is an instance. Berckmann states that
Smiterlow was confined to his bed twelve weeks, while in reality he was
taken ill one Sunday and died the next Tuesday, in 1539. His son
George, my junior by a twelvemonth, was burgomaster for twenty-two
years. He had inherited all his father's virtues; he went through
similar ordeals, and was vouchsafed the same comforts from on high, and
I see no reason to modify my letter to Duke Ernest Ludwig. That prince,
egged on by the caballers of his court, exclaimed at the news of
Smiterlow's demise, "I had two enemies at Stralsund. Smiterlow is dead,
and the devil will soon take Sastrow." I wrote to His Highness as
follows:

"Gracious prince and lord,--The defunct burgomaster was neither bad
naturally nor of base condition. His loyalty towards your Highness and
Stralsund never failed, as could be proved by his numerous services. If
he could have changed a farthing into a florin to the advantage of the
city he would unquestionably have done so. Neither he nor his ever
cheated the treasury. Hard-working, just and incorruptible, his speech
expressing the feelings of his heart he, was a slave to duty, and
severe or lenient as circumstances and persons dictated. Not at all
obstinate, he was particularly amenable to reason, for the public weal
was his sole guide. He administered the law with the strictest
impartiality. A foe to dissipation and excess, he led a useful and
retired life; though frugal and saving, he never remained behind where
honour demanded the spending of money. The greatest harmony prevailed
between him, his wife, and his servants. Though he had not pursued the
ordinary course of studies, he was endowed with supreme wisdom. He had
a most wonderful memory, and an equally wonderful gift of elocution. As
a loyal subject, I can but address to God one prayer. The King of the
Persians, Darius, prayed for as many zopyres as a pomegranate contains
pips; may your Highness be enabled to count as many Smiterlows in the
city and in the fields, not to mention the court; and while including
the latter I wish to cast no reflection on any one. What then are we to
think of those who dare to slander the defunct and to blacken his
character in your Highness' eyes, besides causing grief to his wife,
his children and his friends?"

Everybody on the other hand would freely admit that Rolof Moller was
overbearing, presumptuous, crafty, greedy, ungrateful, relentless, and
turbulent. Smiterlow and Moller were so utterly different in character
as to be unable to breathe the same air. At the council, in church, nay
in the city itself, the presence of one was sufficient to drive away
the other. Great, therefore, was the surprise when George Smiterlow
married Moller's niece. How would people, for whom the space of a large
city seemed insufficient, agree under the same roof, at the same board,
in the same bed? What strange _communicatio idiomatum_ was going to
result from that marriage? Hence, I should openly disadvise the
election of such a Smiterlow for the council, and least of all should I
make him a burgomaster, for they have many more of their mother's than
of the father's characteristics; _in hac lucta duarum diversarum
naturarum_ the Mollers appear to have had the advantage.

Nevertheless, this new generation is still sufficiently young to be
susceptible of improvement. From the bottom of my heart I wish it may
be so, for the sake both of its reputation and its welfare.

I have written the foregoing pages somewhat oppressed by the thought of
the ill-will I am drawing on my devoted head in praising Smiterlow at
the expense of Rolof Moller. The descendants of the latter will never
forgive me. But I derive consolation and strength from the appreciation
of educated men. They know that the historian's duty is to go straight
for his aim, and to proclaim the truth, whether for good or evil,
whether it pleases or displeases, and let come what may. I recommend to
my children submission to the authorities, no matter whether Pilatus or
Caiaphas governs. For the good of their soul and the welfare of their
body they ought never to make pacts with sedition-mongers.




                               CHAPTER IV

Dr. Martin Luther writes to my Father--My Studies at Rostock and at
Greifswald--Something about my hard Life at Spires--I am admitted as a
Public Notary--Dr. Hose


My parents recalled me in 1538, having discovered that at Greifswald I
more often accompanied my grandfather in his strolls than sat over my
books. I attended school during the stay of a twelvemonth at the
paternal home.

One instance will show into what kind of hands the chief power had
fallen. In 1539, Duke Philip, travelling to Ruegen with his wife, made
his first entry into Stralsund, and Burgomaster Christopher Lorbeer,
who fancied himself to be the incarnation of eloquence, made the
following speech to him: "Philip, by the grace of God, Duke of Stettin,
Pomerania, of the Cassubes and the Wends, Prince of Ruegen, and Count of
Gutzkow, the council is indeed very pleased to see you. Be welcome." In
subsequent days I have often been chaffed about this speech; usher
Michael Kussow, among others, never opened the door to me without
crying out, the moment he caught sight of me, "And indeed Philip, by
the grace of God ..."

My brother Johannes had been admitted _magister_--the first of
thirteen--at Wittemberg, and on leaving he brought with him a
letter from Dr. Luther to my father, who, in consequence of the
Bruser-Leveling lawsuit, had stayed away for many years from the
Communion table. The letter was couched as follows: "To the honourable
guildmaster, Nicholas Sastrow, my good friend: Grace and peace
be with you. Your dear son, _magister_ Johannes, after having expressed
to me his sorrow at your having kept away for many years from the
Holy Communion table--which absence is calculated to create a bad
example--has requested me to rescue you from that dangerous path. Not
one hour of our lives in reality belongs to ourselves. His filial
solicitude, therefore, induced me to send you these present lines. Let
me exhort you as a Christian, as a brother, according to the precept of
Christ, to change your resolution, and well to remember the much
greater sufferings of the Son of God, who forgave His executioners.
Bear in mind that at your last hour you will be bound to forgive, as a
brigand who is tied to the gallows forgives. Wait for the decision of
the court before whom your suit is pending, but do not forget that
nothing prevents you from participating in the Holy Supper. If it were
otherwise I myself and our princes would have to remain away from the
Holy Board until our differences with the <DW7>s be settled. Leave the
matter in the hands of the law, and say to yourself for the comfort of
your conscience: 'It is the  judge's place to decide where lies the
right; meanwhile, I forgive those who have wronged me and I will
partake of the Holy Communion.' You consider yourself as having been
wronged. You have had recourse to the courts; it is they who shall
decide. Nothing can be more simple. Take in a friendly spirit this
exhortation which was prompted to me at the instance of your son. May
God watch over you, Amen. Wednesday after _Miser. Dni_. 1540. Martinus
Luther."

[Illustration: MARTIN LUTHER. _From a Drawing by_ Lucas Cranach.]

I trust my descendants will transmit religiously from generation to
generation the autograph of the saintly man to whom the whole world
owes gratitude and affection. Together with this letter, and as a proof
of the wise outlay of the paternal allowance, my brother brought home
with him a number of his _poemata_ printed in a volume. My parents'
means not admitting of his being maintained in a foreign land, he spent
nearly four years at home, studying all the while. Besides the
_Progymnasmata quaedam_, issued from the Lubeck press in 1538, he
published in 1542 at Rostock an _Elegia de officio principis_ dedicated
to Duke Magnus of Mecklenberg; and in the same year at Lubeck, a
_Querela de Ecclesia_ and the _Epicidion Martyris Christi Doctoris
Ruberti Barns_, which caused a good deal of trouble both to him and his
printer.[25]

At the advice of my brother, my parents sent me to study at Rostock
with Arnoldus Burenius and Henricus Lingensis. My brother, who became
intimately acquainted with the latter, wrote to him that I had already
gone through the ceremony of initiation; but the students found out
that since then I had gone back to school at Stralsund, and each day my
entrance at the _lectorium_ caused a fearful tumult.[26] The
_depositor_ having pulled me by my cloak, I hurled a large inkstand
which I happened to have in my hand at him. The ink soaked his long
grey mantle with black fastenings, a fashionable garment of the time.
Verily, I got my reward, when, for the sake of peace, I submitted a
second time to the ordeal. It literally rained blows. The _depositor_
pressed my upper lip with his wooden razor and the wound was a long
while healing, for no sooner did it close up than my food, and, above
all, salted things inflamed it once more.

The two _magistri_ directed in common the purses (scholarships or
otherwise) of the Arnsburg, which was the most numerous, as it
consisted of thirty students. We took our meals at Jacob Broecker's,
and we paid sixteen florins per annum for our breakfast and two other
meals, _plus_, in the summer afternoons, some curdled milk or other
refreshments.

At the end of two years my parents complained of the expense involved
in my stay at Rostock; they were, moreover, displeased at my leaning
towards theology. In fact, I felt neither old enough nor sufficiently
advanced in learning to choose between the different faculties, but
being unwilling to relinquish my studies I exposed my difficult
position to my tutors, who at once decided to forego their fees, and
also induced our host Broecker to feed me for eight florins per annum.

Truly, I had to lay the table, attend at meals, to clear it, and in
addition to this to look after young Broecker, who was about my size
and who was afterwards confined at Ribbenitz, to dress and undress him,
to clean his shoes and to arrange his books. On the other hand, there
were certain services to be rendered to _magister_ H. Lingenfis. I had
to brush his shoeleather, make his bed, keep his room heated, accompany
him to church and to other places, and to carry his lantern in winter.
It seemed very hard to me at first not to be served any longer, and not
to sit down to meals with my college chums, but there was no help for
it.

Besides, we had fallen into good hands. Arnoldus Burenius read us twice
Cicero's _Offices_, which he interpreted in a thoroughly artistic
manner, and afterwards the orations _pro Milone_, _pro rege Deiotaro_,
_pro Marco Marcello_, _pro Roscio Amerino_, _pro domo sua_, and the _de
Aruspicum responsis_, the _Epistolae familiares_, the long and
beautiful chapter _ad Quintum fratrem_, the _Rhetorica ad Herennium_,
etc. His colleague expounded Terence, the _Dialectica Molleri_, even
the _Sphaera Joannis de Sacrobusto_, the _Theoriae planetarum_, the
_Computum ecclesiasticum Spangenbergii_, the _libellus de Anima
Philippi_, and finally he presided over useful _exercitia styli et
disputationum_.

My bedroom fellows were Franz von Stetten and Johannes Vegesack, the
nephew of the Bishop of Dorpat, who kept him on a grand footing, and
allowed him the staff of servants of a grand seigneur rather than that
of a youngster. Vegesack practised all kind of sword-play, but I have
heard that after the death of the bishop, he became a schoolmaster in
Livonia. My private tutor, Danquart, coached him in the _praecepta
grammaticae_, gave him themes to treat in German, and corrected his
exercises.

The money we received from our parents had to be handed to our tutor
Lingenfis; he gave it back to us as we needed it. We were bound to make
notes of even our most trifling expenses. My tutors showed much
interest in me, either out of consideration for my brother or because
of my own unwearied application. I, on the other hand; served them
zealously and faithfully, and was always at their bidding. The cross
looks of my fellow-students, however, suggested the advisability of a
change of residence; my brother counselled Greifswald.

In 1540 Duke Philip came to Greifswald for the ceremony of receiving
homage. The exiles came with him; some held the tail, others the
harness of his horse. My father was specially invited by the prince to
hold the stirrup. The duke took up his quarters at Hannemann's, his
wife with the Stoientins. Frau Stoientin, her daughter, her grandson,
and all the relatives, when doing obeisance to the princess, claimed
the upholding of the decree of expulsion against my father. The duchess
specially recommended two of her principal officers to transmit the
request to her august spouse; but the latter's reply effectually
prevented her from returning to the charge, and the gates of Greifswald
were reopened to my father.

I left Rostock in 1541. My stay at home was, nevertheless, very short.
I soon transferred myself and my books to Greifswald, where I rented a
room with Joachim Loewenhagen, the pastor that was to be of St.
Nicholas' at Stralsund. Master Anthony Walter who shortly afterwards
became rector of the Paedagogium of Stettin, instructed me in the
_Dialectica Caesarii_. Master Kismann explained and interpreted Ovid's
_Fasti_.

On Christmas Day, 1541, a vessel hailing from Colberg, and laden with
barrels for Falsterbo, anchored at Stralsund. The coopers were in a
great state of excitement, declared an embargo, and would not even
allow the cargo to be sold at Stralsund.[27] In vain did the council
guarantee proceedings against the purchaser of that merchandise; they
went on agitating, refused to buy the barrels themselves, and replied
with blows to those who spoke common sense. One burgher died from the
consequences of their ill-treatment. They finally destroyed the
barrels. Five people were arrested. Johannes Vogt, their dean, fled to
Garpenhagen, but he was brought back to Stralsund and placed under lock
and key. There was but a narrow escape from the executioner's sword.
The coopers were summoned to the Town Hall, where the prisoners made
their appearance with the iron collar round their necks and their hands
and feet fettered. The corporation was fined four marks per head. Its
privileges were withdrawn; it had, moreover, to rebuild at its own
expense part of the city walls.

I have already mentioned that my brother _Magister Joannes_, had
various _poemata_ published at Lubeck and Rostock. From the latter city
he returned by stage coach to Stralsund in company of Heinrich
Sonnenberg and a woman. By their side rode Johannes Lagebusch and a
good-looking young man, Hermann Lepper, who had been to the mint at
Gadebusch to exchange 100 old florins for new coin. That money was in
the carriage. A gang of thieves, or rather highwaymen, got wind of the
affair. In consequence of the mild laws of repression, these gentry
swarmed throughout Mecklenburg, and the names of the noblest families
figured among them, which fact gave substance to the poet who wrote:

      Nobilis et nebulo parvo discrimine distant,
      Sic nebulo magnus nobilis esse potest.

Of course these lines do not apply to many honourable personages
belonging to the nobility. But to return to my story.

When the travellers had got beyond the village of Willershagen they
left the coach, and, provided with their firearms proceeded on foot,
for the country was by no means safe. Instead of prudently escorting
the vehicle the two horsemen went on in front. The brigands came up
with them and entered into conversation. Suddenly one of them snatched
the loaded pistol Lagebusch was carrying at his saddle-bow--the fashion
of carrying two had not come in--fired it at Lepper, who was galloping
back to the carriage, killing him there and then, while Lagebusch set
spurs to his horse in time to warn Sonnenberg, who hid himself in the
brushwood. My brother, armed with a pole, and standing with his back
against the carriage to prevent an attack from behind, offered a stout
and not unsuccessful resistance. He managed to wound in the thigh an
assailant who, carried away by his horse, bit the dust further up the
road. But another miscreant, charging furiously, sliced away a piece of
my brother's skull as big as a crown (the fragment of bone that adhered
to the skin was the size of a ducat), and at the same time dealt him a
deep gash at the throat. As a matter of course, my brother lost
consciousness; nay, was left for dead while the bandits sacked the
carriage, caught the horse of their wounded comrade, but seeing that he
could not be transported, abandoned him and decamped with their spoil.
They, however, did not take the carriage team. In a little while
Sonnenberg emerged from his hiding-place, and, with the aid of the
driver, hauled my brother into the carriage. The woman bandaged his
head and kept it on her knees. Lepper's body was placed between the
legs of the wounded young man, and in that condition they reached
Ribbenitz, where the surgeon closed the gash in the neck by means of
pins.

The Rostock council promptly sent its officials to the spot. The
brigand was conveyed to the city, but almost immediately after his
being lodged in prison, he died without naming his accomplices. There
was, moreover, no great difficulty in finding them out, but their
friends succeeded in hushing up the whole affair; the authorities acted
very mildly. The dead robber was nevertheless judged and beheaded. His
head remained for many years exposed on a pike.

Lagebusch brought the news to Stralsund, and the Council immediately
offered my father a closed carriage with four horses. We started that
same night, provided with mattresses, and reached Ribbenitz next
morning after daybreak. My brother was very weak. While the horses were
stabled and after the court had drawn up a detailed report, we gave
Lepper an honourable and Christian burial. We began our homeward
journey at dusk, going slowly all through the night, and got to
Stralsund at midday. Master Joachim Gelhaar attended to my brother, but
in spite of his acknowledged skill, he did not succeed in curing the
wound of the neck; the improvement of one day was counteracted the
next. In the end they discovered that the surgeon of Ribbenitz had
closed the wound askew; the edges did not join, and one had been
flattened by means of a large copper pin, the head of which had
disappeared. Master Joachim repaired the mischief, not without causing
great pain to his patient, who, however, promptly regained his health.

After reading the _Epicedion Ruberti Barns_, the King of England sent
ambassadors to threaten Lubeck, the book having been issued from
Johannes Balhorn's presses. Although the author had no connexion with
the city, the council nevertheless apologized for him on the ground of
his youth. He had simply aimed at giving a _specimen doctrinae_, but to
pacify the king, Balhorn was banished, and had to leave the city at
sunrise. He was allowed to return a few months later.

The costly Bruser lawsuit had deprived my parents of the means of
sending us to study in foreign countries, so they bought two horses and
dispatched me and my brother to Spires to watch the progress of the
affair, and to do as best we could for ourselves. We started from
Stralsund on June 14, 1542. Our parents accompanied us as far as
Greifswald, where we stopped one day to bid good-bye to our grandmother
and the rest of the family. I was in high spirits. Johannes was dull
and depressed. "Dear son," said our mother, "why this sadness? Look at
Bartholomaei, how gay he is." "My brother," replied Johannes, "has no
care weighing on his mind; he has no thought for the future."

We made for Stettin, then for Berlin and Wittemberg; in fact, "we rode
straight on," as people say. At Wittemberg, Johannes ran against Dr.
Martin Luther, standing before the bookshop near the cemetery. Dr.
Luther shook hands with me. Philip Melanchthon and other learned
personages gave us letters of introduction to the procurators and
advocates of Spires.

Half-way between Erfurt and Gotha there is a big inn where we halted
for half a day to rest our horses and to mend our clothes. We settled
our bill before going to bed. Next morning on reaching Gotha my brother
found he had lost his purse; he had left it under his pillow. It was a
great misfortune, for we were not overburdened with means, and the look
of the inn left but little hope of getting our own back again.
Immediately after my horse had had its feed, I retraced my steps,
galloping all the way. When I reached the hotel I tied up my horse and
in the twinkling of an eye ran up to the room with the servant at my
heels. We both flung ourselves on the purse. I had the luck of laying
hands on it first, but I fancied he was entitled to a tip. If either
the girl or the young man had come near the bed after our going we
should have never seen our money again.

In spite of the gathering darkness, I was in the saddle again, for it
would have been unwise to spend the night alone under such a roof. Half
a mile (German) farther there was a nice village, and as night had set
in altogether I made up my mind to stop there. The inn was full of
peasants. It happened to be Sunday, and these worthy folk, who had
noticed my riding by like possessed two hours before, said to each
other: "Well, we were mistaken after all. It's His Highness'
messenger." Thereupon the host told the servant to look to my horse;
nothing would induce him to let me do it myself. He, moreover, insisted
on my sitting down to the table immediately; they brought me boiled and
roast meats and excellent wine. The peasants in their turn show me all
kinds of attentions, and when I mention the settlement of my bill
before going to bed, the host declares that he could not hear of such a
thing, and moreover swears by all his household gods that he'll not let
me go in the morning without a good basin of soup, and that if I were
to stay for a week he would not accept a farthing, because he could
never do enough for his gracious prince. They put me into a very white
and very soft bed, where I slept long and soundly.

While I was enjoying every comfort, my poor brother was bemoaning his
imprudence of having sent me to look for the purse. I did not know the
country, the hotel had a queer appearance. I had not returned, although
it had been settled that the town gates should be opened to let me
pass. My brother's anxiety may therefore be readily imagined. He
dispatched an express messenger with a description of myself, and that
of the horse; the messenger passed the inn at the very moment I was
starting. He recognized me and informed me of my brother's anxiety.

At Spires we put up at the _Arbour_, and when our horses were
sufficiently rested my brother sold them to the landlord of the
_Crown_. We could not afford, though, to stay at the inn, so we rented
a small room with one bed, and with this we had to be content for more
than five weeks. At meal times we went to eat three or four rolls under
the city walls, after which we drank half a measure of wine at the
tavern. The days when Bartholomaei Sastrow led the dance, and feasted at
the big wine cellars like _Koenig Arthur_ and the _Rathskeller_ were
over.

Philip Melanchthon had recommended us to his half-brother, Doctor
Johannes Hochel, procurator, and to Doctor Jacob Schenck, advocate at
the Imperial Chamber. Thanks to the latter, Johannes found bed and
board, _mensa splendida et delicata_ at the provost's of the chapter, a
great personage occupying the handsomest mansion of Spires, the
habitual quarters of the Emperor. This provost entertained daily a
number of guests, but he himself lived upon fowl broth and apothecary's
stuff prescribed by his doctor. He was fond of listening to the
discussions of his guests, some of whom sided with Luther and others
with the pope. If, at the end of the debate, he now and again added a
few words, it was simply to admit that he had never read "St. Paul,"
but that, on the other hand, he had read in Terence: "_Bonorum
extortor, legum contortor_." He was practically in the same boat with
the Bishop of Wurzburg, who is reported to have said: "I thank heaven
that I have never read 'St. Paul,' for I should have become a heretic
just like Luther."

On August 10, Dr. Hochel obtained a place for me at Dr. Frederick
Reiffstock's, one of the oldest procurators of the Imperial Chamber, a
most learned lawyer and excellent practitioner, who was altogether
unlike the majority of the procurators at Spires. He had spent several
years of his youth at Rome as auditor of the "Rote" (ecclesiastical
jurisdiction). He was very conscientious and energetic. At the issue of
the sittings, he immediately wrote to the party whose case had been
called; then, the moment the minutes and other documents had been
copied by his principal clerk, he sealed the whole, and deposited it in
a large box on the table of his office. When this or that messenger
came to announce his next departure the procurator examined the box to
see whether there was anything to dispatch in that direction, and he
marked on the outside wrapper the vail to be given according to the
condition of the roads or their distance from the main ones. His
practice was made up of princes, nobles, and eminent personages. One
day he replied to Duke Albrecht of Mecklenburg who had sent him a case,
that, unless new facts could be adduced, he advised the withdrawal of
the suit. The fees were nevertheless very considerable. The duke handed
the case to Dr. Leopold Dick, who allowed himself to be directed to the
_juramentum calumniae_ and lost the whole affair.

My master had four sons, all of whom took their doctor's degree. The
three elder had returned, one from France, the two others from Leipzig;
hence I had three horses to take care of, and three rooms to keep
heated. Doctor Reiffstock was determined I should not be idle. One day
he placed before me a bundle of documents as thick as my hand but very
well written. He told me to copy them, and then to collate them
carefully with his second clerk. I was under the impression that it was
a most important affair; when it was finished the procurator told me
that he simply wished to give me something to do.

On December 14, 1542, an imposing deputation of the Protestant States
repudiated as suspect the Imperial Chamber, and declared its decisions
and enactments null and void until its complete reformation. The
procurators immediately reduced their staff, and Dr. Reiffstock
dismissed me, which grieved me very much. As I foresaw, my parents
would think me guilty of some grave misconduct, but a letter from
Johannes soon undeceived them.

Though a writer's place could easily be had away from Spires, I would
not leave my brother or the city before the termination of the lawsuit.
We also hoped that the chamber would be reconstituted at the next diet.
For all these reasons combined I entered into the service of my
father's procurator, Simeon Engelhardt. I might as well have taken
service in hell. Dr. Engelhard was an honest man, but he and his family
belonged to the Schwenkfeld sect.[28] He had three daughters and a son
between eight and nine whom I had to teach his declensions and
conjugations. The matron of the establishment was a virago of the worst
description, mean and bitter-spoken, who grudged her husband his food.
Often and often did I see her snatch the glass from his lips. People
may think she did it for the best, lest he should get drunk. Not in the
least; she did that kind of thing at the family table; besides, his
worst enemy could not have called him a wine-bibber. The pewter goblet
of each child (there were two grown-up daughters) held about the
contents of a pigeon's seed-box. The cup was filled once with wine,
twice with Mayence beer (an abominable concoction), after which you
were at liberty to swill as much water as you pleased. As for the two
servants and the two scribes, the pittance was meagre indeed. A piece
of meat not as big as an egg, floating in beef tea pellucid to a
degree. This was followed by cabbages, turnips, lentils, herbs, oatmeal
porridge, dried potatoes, etc., even on fish days. At the end of the
meal a goblet (?) of wine. Whoever was thirsty after that--a by no
means uncommon state of things--could go and pull the well-rope. Truly,
it would be difficult to say how much water I swallowed in that house.

Dr. Simeon Engelhardt had nearly as many lawsuits on hand as Dr.
Reiffstock, about four hundred. Each document was copied four times.
The first remained with the principal bundle of papers, the second was
sent to the client, the third and fourth went to the registry of the
court which kept one, wrote the word "Productum" on the other, and
dispatched it immediately by the beadle to the procurator of the
opposing party. There were two sittings per week, sometimes a third for
fiscal cases.

The copying of the protocol and of the acts imposed very hard work upon
us. Being only two clerks, there was no time, on court days, for
swallowing a piece of bread. On the other hand, the mistress of the
house took no notice of anything like that. What her daughters or the
servant girls could have done, namely, laying the table, bringing the
cold or hot water for washing up, clearing the table and getting rid of
the dish-water; all this came to Bartholomaei's share, whether he
happened to be head over heels in other work or not, and the master of
the house did not dare to utter a syllable. Amidst the biggest stress
of business, when we did without our meals, the lady cried across the
yard: "Bartholomaei, will you mind troubling yourself to come and throw
the dish-water away?" And as if the satire was not obvious enough, she
added: "Look at the lazy scamp. He has not attended to the water at
all." I was forbidden to go out without asking, even to call upon my
brother. Nor was this all. In the morning I saved the servant girls
marketing; a basket slung on my arm like Gretchen, I bought the
provisions for the household; cabbages, turnips, bread, and what not,
and when I came back there was faultfinding without end for not having
haggled enough. On washing day, which came round too often to please
me, I pumped the water. When the pump was out of order it was I who
went down the well to repair the mischief. And I was not a child, but a
young man of twenty-three. I was paying for the good times of
Stralsund. At each visit my brother was bewailing my fate and preaching
patience. "In days to come, when you shall have a wife, children, and
servants of your own, you will be able to tell them of your less happy
days."

When Mistress Engelhardt was in her "tantrums," she went about for a
week without addressing a friendly word to her husband. At such periods
her son Solomon would come into the office to tell me that his father
was a dissipated brute who had not slept with his mother for a week,
etc., etc. The youngest of the girls fell ill and died; her mother put
the corpse into a sack in guise of a coffin. An old crone carried it to
the cemetery on her back. One can only hope that she dug a grave and
placed her burden into it, for no one accompanied the dead child; no
one superintended the burial.

Thanks to his capital practice, made up of the nobles and the cities
paying him yearly retaining fees, thanks also to the avarice of this
virago, Dr. Engelhardt easily put aside two thousand florins per annum.
He lent money to the client-cities at interest. For two years running I
made payments of two thousand florins each on a simple receipt.

In 1543, on his return from Italy, the emperor hurried on his
preparations for a war against the Duke of Juliers. Ulm and Augsburg
cast some magnificent pieces of field artillery, with their carriages
and wheels; and as it was considered easier to transport the carriages
separately, a numberless troop of Swabian carters was engaged. His
Imperial Majesty stayed at Spires, the artillery not being ready.
Autumn overtook him, and as the roads of the Netherlands were very bad
at that season, his Majesty, to his great vexation, had to defer the
attack. One day, being on horseback, he hustled a waggoner whose team
proceeded too slowly to his taste, and spoke, moreover, very harshly to
him. The Swabian, who had no idea of the identity of his interlocutor,
merely made a grimace and shrugged his shoulders. A smart rap with a
riding crop from the emperor was the result. So far from submitting,
however, the stubborn clown promptly belabours his assailant's head
with his whip, uttering imprecations all the while: "May the thunder
strike and blast you, you scum of a Spaniard," and so forth. Of course
the emperor's suite laid hold of him, and he had to pay dearly for his
mistake. Not so dearly, though, as he might have done if the colonels
entrusted with inquiries and the drawing up of the indictment had not
purposely dragged the thing along to let the emperor's anger spend
itself. Charles had forgotten all about the affair. He probably thought
that his orders had been carried out and that the Swabian culprit was
comfortably swinging from this or that gibbet, when the said colonels
and captains humbly submitted the reasons for his being pardoned. There
was first of all the ignorance of the waggoner, secondly the often
excessive roughness of the Spaniards towards these poor Swabians.
Furthermore, there was the august leniency of all great potentates and
the gratitude of which the army would feel bound to give proof, if it
were exercised upon such an occasion as the present. The prince
relented to the extent of deciding that the culprit should have his
nose cut off in memory of the assault. The colonels and the captains
expressed their respectful gratitude, and the condemned man learnt the
commutation of his sentence with great joy. They cut off his nose flush
with his face. He bore the operation with a good grace, and for the
remainder of his life sang the praises of the emperor. For many years
he could be seen urging his cattle along the roads between the Rhine
and the Danube. I happened to come several times into contact with him
at the inns. I asked him before other travellers about the nature of
the accident that had cost him his nose, whether he had left it in the
French country. "Nay, nay," he replied, and with great glee recounted
his adventure, showering blessings on his Imperial Majesty.

While the emperor was warring in Africa, Martin van Rosse[29] profited
by the diversion to work his own will in the Netherlands. He had, for
instance, imposed a ransom on Antwerp on the penalty of burning it to
the ground. His Majesty, having learnt that he was conducting the
expedition as a landsknecht, felt curious to get a glimpse of this
personage. Martin van Rosse was warned too late; the emperor was
already there. He pulled up his horse before the rebel. The latter,
dropping on his knee, begged that the past might be forgotten, and
swore to shed his last drop of blood for the emperor, who touched him
lightly with his stick on the shoulder, and forgave him everything. "We
forgive you, Martin," he said, "but do not begin again."

On February 20, 1544, the Diet was opened at Spires. I have heard it
said that the Elector Palatine Lewis always endeavoured to dissuade his
Majesty from choosing that town, because his _mathematicus_ had
predicted that he should die at Spires. In consequence of this,
perhaps, he presented himself in person to the emperor at the very
beginning of the session, and at the end of a few days took his leave
to return to Heidelberg, where he died on March 16.

In default of a church, the Elector of Saxony had religious service
performed in a tavern where he had put up a seat for the ministers.
Lutes, fifes, cornets, trumpets and violins, instead of an organ,
constituted a most agreeable concert. The elector's horse was a most
robust animal, and there was a stepping stone attached to his saddle.

On the eve of Maundy Thursday at sunset twenty-four flagellants of both
sexes marched by in their shirts, their faces covered with pieces of
stuff into which were cut holes for their eyes and mouth, their backs
sufficiently bare for the birch provided with steel-pointed hooks to
touch the flesh. It was a hideous spectacle, the hooks tearing pieces
of flesh away, and causing the blood to trickle down to the ground. The
penitents advanced very slowly, one by one, in two single files,
divided as it were by Spanish gentlemen of high degree, each carrying a
thick wax candle. The whole street was lighted with them. When they
reached the church of the barefooted Carmelites the procession fell on
its knees and dragged itself from the porch to the crucifix in the
choir in that way. Near the entrance the surgeons dressed the wounds;
rumour had it that two corpses were carried away.

The emperor washed the feet of twelve poor men; the King of the Romans
did the same. Care had however been taken to ascertain that those
people were in good health; nay, their feet had been washed beforehand.
The two sovereigns with napkins round their waists merely dried the
feet, after which they waited upon the poor at table. "Friends," they
cordially said to them, "eat and drink."

Like all gatherings of eminent personages, this diet entailed a rise in
the prices of food, but especially of fish. A Rhine salmon cost sixteen
crowns; for half of one the purveyor of the Duke of Mecklenburg paid
eight crowns.

A Spanish gentleman who had taken up his quarters with an amiable widow
who was looking to his comfort, became imbued with the idea that she
would not refuse him her favours; so one night he crept into her bed;
but the widow having got hold of a knife plunged it into his body and
killed him there and then. Of course, she did not know how to get rid
of the body; but though certain of her own ruin, she did not stir from
her home. Her anguish at the prospect of the consequences had reached
its height when the emperor, informed of the real state of the case,
sent to reassure her. The Spaniards came to take the body of their
countryman, and to perform the last duties to it.

On March 20, 1544, the emperor granted the privilege of a coat of arms
to my brother Johannes, and conferred the title of poet laureate[30] on
him, in recognition of a poem dedicated to him. Johannes Stigelius also
offered the emperor a _scriptum poeticum_. His Majesty replied to him
through the pen of his vice-chancellor, Seigneur Jean de Naves:
"_Carmen placet Imperatori; Poeta petat, quid velit habebit; Si
voluerit esse nobilis, erit; si poeta laureatus, erit id quoque; sed
pecuniam non petat, pecuniam, non habebit._" It might serve as a
warning to Stralsund not to lavish its money on the first comer who
thinks fit to dedicate some poor rhymes to it.

On May 19, 1544, I was made a notary by Imperial diploma. Prelate Otto
Truchess, of Waldburg, bestowed upon my brother a gold chain for a
_carmen gratulatorium_ on the occasion of his recent installation in
the see of Augsburg.

Doctor Christopher Hose, ex-procurator and advocate of Stralsund, who
had been struck off on account of his evangelical faith, had built
himself a handsome residence at Worms. He came to Spires during the
Diet. A veteran practitioner, a straightforward and agreeable man, he
was a favourite with his colleagues, and especially with the young
ones. He was, however, highly esteemed by everybody, and nobody minded
him exposing the astute moves of his adversaries. A learned doctor had
invited him and several colleagues, Master Engelhardt among the number.
When I got there with my lantern to escort my master home, the evening
cup was being poured out, and whether I liked it or not, the host and
Dr. Hose, who were acquainted with my family's circumstances, made me
sit down at the lower end of the table and offered me cakes, pastry,
etc. Thereupon Master Engelhardt got up brusquely and wanted to go.
"Seeing that my servant is sitting down, I had better go. At any rate I
shall not sit down again unless he remains standing to attend to me,"
he said. Dr. Hose, however, went on with his little speech to me. "Look
you here, Pomeranian," he remarked, "the words 'procurator at the
Imperial Court' are simply synonymous with those of hardened rogue, and
that is the gist of the matter." (The latter was a favourite
interjection of his.) "At your age," he went on, "I was also with a
procurator who run up costs very heavily with his clients without doing
much for them. Now, just listen to this story. A Franconian gentleman
entrusted a most important case to my master, gave him a considerable
retaining fee, and promised him another big sum at the end of the year.
When the case had been put upon the rolls, the procurator put the
documents relating to it into a bag, showing the names of the parties
to the suit in large letters; after which he suspended the bag in the
usual way with many others in the registry room with which you are
familiar. At the end of the year he claimed his fees, announcing at the
same time the termination of the suit and his hurrying on of the
judgment. The client added to the sum agreed upon a gratification and a
present for us, the engrossing and copying clerks. Nevertheless, he
fancied the affair was dragging along, and one fine day he came to
Spires and rung at our door, and on its being opened my master a once
recognized the visitor. You are aware that procurators generally have
their own rooms facing the door, in order to see who came in and went
out. Thereupon my master runs to the registry chamber, takes down the
bag in question, and places it on the table. After which he has the
Franconian shown in, receiving him very cordially, imbuing him at the
same time with the idea that he never loses sight of his documents. He
also tells him that he was constantly demanding the execution of the
judgment, but that he will insist still more strongly, and will send an
express to his noble client. The latter departed exceedingly satisfied,
after having offered a rich gift to the procurator's lady. Well, as a
fact, the lawsuit was not even in its first stage.

"Take my word for it," he went on, "the procurators of the Imperial
Chamber are past-masters of trickery, and that's the gist of the
matter. If you have made up your mind to practise at Spires,
Pomeranian, you must provide yourself with three bags: one for the
money, one for the documents, and the third for patience. In the course
of the suit you will see the purse get flatter, the documents grow
bigger, and patience desert altogether; but you will comfort yourself
with the thought that the emperor writes to you: 'We, Charles V, by the
Grace of God Roman Emperor, Perpetual Aggrandizer of the Germanic
Empire, King of Spain, the Two Sicilies, Jerusalem, Hungary, Dalmatia,
etc., assure our dear and faithful Bartholomaei Sastrow, of our grace
and goodwill.' Think of the pleasure and the honour of receiving that
missive, while you are sitting in the inglenook amidst your family.
Assuredly it is money well spent." That was the manner of Dr. Hose's
discourse.

The diet dissolved. King Ferdinand with his two sons, Maximilian and
Ferdinand, reconducted the landgrave. At their return there was a
terrible storm, accompanied by hailstones as big as hazel nuts. In
Spires itself several hundred florins worth of windows were broken. The
cavalry, hussars and royal trabans fled panic-stricken; it was nothing
less than a general rout, and the gathering darkness increased the
confusion. The runaways only reached Spires after the gates were
closed, and lay down in the outer moats in order to save their lives.
King Ferdinand appeared on the scene, absolutely alone. He called and
knocked, shouted his name, and finally succeeded in finding some one
who recognized him, when of course the gates were thrown open, and they
sped towards him with many torches. The first question of the king was
about his sons; nobody had seen them come up. Thereupon more confusion,
shouting, questioning, and contemplated saddling of horses; but just in
the nick of time the princes rode up, escorted by a small number of
men. The trabans pleaded mortal danger in excuse for their neglect of
duty, and their wounds in fact confirmed the plea, for the king, having
made them strip, could see how the hailstones had literally riddled
their bodies. All declared that their mounts no longer answered the
bit.

The reconstitution of the Imperial Chamber was adjourned. I should have
regretted returning to the paternal roof before our lawsuit was in a
fair way of being settled; on the other hand, life at Master
Engelhardt's was intolerable in consequence of his accursed wife, who
was a fiend incarnate. Her dreadful character inspired me from that day
forward with an aversion for petticoat government, and I am likely to
preserve it until I draw my last breath. My father's interest dictated
resignation, for my stay at Spires in hurrying up affairs also saved
expenses of procedure and of correspondence, the latter of which
threatened to be heavy now and again, when a messenger had to be
dispatched to Stralsund. I was sufficiently versed in the scribal art
and in High-German to find employment elsewhere. I was offered a post
at the chancellerie of the Margrave Ernest of Baden and Hochberg,
Landgrave of Sansenberg, Overlord of Roetteln and Badenweiler, etc.,
whose residence was at Pforzheim. It was only six miles (German)
distant from Spires, and I accepted.

I and my fellow-scribe had been constantly engaged in engrossing deeds.
As a rule these were petitions addressed either to the emperor or to
some prince in behalf of the Jews of Swabia or of the Palatinate, who
paid largely. Our master left us free in that respect. He knew that we
were not inclined to work for nothing. Eager to earn money we even
encroached upon our hours of sleep in order to get all the possible
benefit of the diet. We had, furthermore, the tips of clients in return
for our promise not to neglect their affairs. The receipts were dropped
into a solid iron box, secured to the window of the office. Dr.
Engelhardt kept the key of it. We estimated the treasure at a hundred
crowns, and looked forward with joy to its division. When I was about
to leave, the procurator came into the office, opened the box in my
presence, and emptied it. We gloated over the admirable collection of
florins, crowns, and other specimens of beautiful German and Welch
coinage. Master Engelhardt gave me a crown, another to my fellow-clerk,
and pocketed the rest. Stupefied and dumbstricken we saw him walk away
with the proceeds of our vigils and our labour. No! Dr. Hose did not
libel Master Engelhardt.




                               CHAPTER V

Stay at Pforzheim--Margrave Ernest--My extreme Penury at Worms,
followed by great Plenty at a Receiver's of the Order of St. John--I do
not lengthen this Summary, seeing that but for my Respect for the
Truth, I would willingly pass over many Episodes in Silence


My brother accompanied me as far as Rheinhausen. From thence I got to
Bruchsall, the residence of the Bishop of Spires, then to Heidelsheim,
Brettheim, and at last to _patria Philippi_, Pforzheim. I entered upon
my duties at the Chancellerie on June 24, 1544. My brother Johannes
went with his master to the baths of Zell, where he met with an
honourable, young, and good-looking girl from Esslingen. The young
girl's guardian and her kinsfolk (licentiates, the syndic of Esslingen,
and other notables) allowed the couple to plight their troth, subject
to the consent of our parents. It was agreed that my brother should
proceed to Italy to get his doctor's degree, that he should get married
on his return, and take his wife with him to Pomerania. Johannes asked
me to go to Esslingen to see the young girl and her family; her birth,
character and dowry left nothing to desire. We wrote home each on his
side; my parents opposed a categorical refusal. After that I never saw
my brother really in good spirits. The young girl married a wealthy
goldsmith of Strasburg. When my mother informed us that she and her
husband gave their consent, it was, alas, too late. Poor Johannes,
undermined by regret, was visibly wasting away.

Pforzheim is not a large place, and it has only one church. The
town lies in a hollow amidst smiling plains, watered by a clear,
health-giving stream, swarming with delicate fish. It is a charming
place in the summer. The neighbouring lofty mountains are covered with
dense, almost impenetrable forests full of game. Though lying in a
valley, the castle commands the town. There are among the population a
great many learned, modest, pleasant and well brought-up men. All the
necessities of life, both in good and bad health, are at hand:
apothecaries, barbers, innkeepers, artisans, etc.; in addition to these
there are the canticles and sermons of the Evangelical religion. The
life at court was conducted on economical principles, but on a very
decent footing, however, and without the slightest attempt at parsimony
unworthy of a prince. Yet the difference between their usages and those
of Pomerania was great. The meals consisted of meat, fish, vegetables,
dried figs, oatmeal porridge, cabbages and a fair ration of bread, and
in a pewter goblet some ordinary wine, unfortunately in insufficient
quantity, especially in summer. The counsellors were, however, served a
second time. There was always plenty of work; there was a secretary of
seventy, and a chancellor not much his junior, and the most morose of
all doctors of law.

In 1545 Margrave Ernest concluded a pact of succession with his
nephews; the negotiations were only waiting for an exchange of deeds. I
was entrusted with the engrossing of one copy. The text was so long
that it would scarcely hold on one skin of parchment; it was,
therefore, necessary to write very close and small. I was rather
frightened, for the chancellor was difficult to please; one might
scrape and scratch till the erasure was invisible; he would light a
candle in plain daylight, hold the deed before the flame, find out the
flaw, and tear up the document while giving a strong reprimand.

I had been working at that copy for forty-eight hours, when all of a
sudden an omission of at least a line struck me all at once. I had
never been in such an awkward position in my life. I might count on
several days' imprisonment; the only thing that could save me was a
stratagem. The castle was on the heights, the chancellerie at the foot
of them in the town itself. When the bugle sounded for dinner I stopped
behind till everybody was gone; then in the twinkling of an eye I got
hold of a cat, dipped its tail into the ink, and let it loose on the
skin of parchment; the deed was all smeared over, the marks of the
animals feet as distinct as possible. I shut it up and went to my meal.
When it was over I let my colleagues go first; as they opened the door
the cat flew at them, and on the table they caught sight of its latest
masterpiece. At that moment I entered, and they showed me the disaster,
explaining at the same time how the cat "went" for them. Naturally I
played at being in despair, equally naturally they all tried to comfort
me, and thus I came with flying colours out of what threatened to be an
ugly scrape.

Whenever a condemned man was led to execution, Margrave Ernest made him
come to him in order to reconcile himself with him. After having asked
pardon of him for his compulsory sternness, he recommended him to show
himself firm and bold, the blood of Jesus Christ having been shed not
in order to save the righteous, but the unjust. Then he shook hands
with him, and the wretched man was led away.

The Margrave had his apartments right over the principal entrance of
the castle, so as to see everybody that came in or went out. One day he
caught sight of the head cook taking away such a magnificent carp that
its tail showed from under his cloak. "Just listen," exclaimed His
Highness; "the next time you rob me, either take a carp less big or a
longer cloak." While they were putting wine in his Highness's cellar,
two cooks who were going into the town passed by; one had a couple of
capons stuffed away in his belt. The Margrave called them to lend a
hand, and wishing to be quick they flung off their cloaks. The scamp
was not thinking about the birds, which began to peck at his arms while
he was pulling the rope; thereupon they called all the serving wenches
out to enjoy the spectacle. There is no need to add that they were the
laughingstock of them all.

As there was to be a diet at Worms, I was anxious to have an interview
with my brother. In order to save time I hired a trotter, which carried
me in a day to Spires, and back the next morning to Pforzheim. The
return journey, though, nearly cost me my life. I was leaving the hotel
of Brettheim when I was hailed by a horseman coming out of another inn.
"Whither are you going?" he asked. "To Pforzheim." "That's capital;
that's my road; we'll ride together." A mile farther on a side path of
which I knew enabled us to cut across the country, but at its other end
they had put down four poles. Instead of turning back I urged my horse,
which at first puts a forepaw betwixt the poles; it does not free
itself in time, gets its hind leg in the wrong place, and finally falls
on its left side. My companion shouts to me to catch hold of the
animal's head to prevent its moving; then he jumps down himself,
unbridles and unharnesses my mount, and after having told me to leave
go its head, starts it with a smart stroke of his riding whip, while I
am on the ground seated in my saddle, and with one spur caught in the
belly-band. Had I been alone and without Divine help, I should have
been dragged along and dashed to pieces. When all danger was over,
the horseman told me that our roads parted on that spot. In vain
did I remind him of his intention to go to Pforzheim; he wished me
good-night, recommending me to the care of God and all His angels. I
was anxious to offer him a finger's breadth of wine at the next inn; he
declined my offer, on the pretext that its acceptance would cause too
great a delay. I shall never cease to believe that my saviour was a
holy angel.

Johannes approved of my intention to leave Pforzheim for Worms, where
the diet would most probably proceed with the reconstitution of the
Imperial Chamber. Then would be the right moment to return to Spires.
The Margrave when I left, sent me half a golden florin, besides a court
dress.

All at once there grew under my right nostril a pustule as big as a
grain of barley; I punctured it frequently, and there came more blood
from it than one could have imagined, but the kind of tumour did not
disappear, not even when the surgeon whom I consulted cut it. It kept
growing again, so, in order to destroy its root, as he said, he rubbed
it with what I suppose was _aqua fortis_, for it caused me a horrible
pain. I suffered most when going to Spires, owing to the cold and the
wind; my nose swelled enormously.

On April 17 my brother accompanied me to Huetten, a mile and a half
distant from Spires. There we parted, weeping bitterly; we had a
presentiment that we should never see each other again, or even write.
Next morning Johannes started for Italy.

His Imperial Majesty being detained in the Netherlands with gout, the
king of the Romans opened the diet of Worms on March 24, 1545. Only a
small number of princes came, so the emperor, when he arrived,
prorogued the diet until the next year.

The spiteful, impious and fiendish wife of Procurator Engelhardt had
made my life at Spires a misery, but at Worms I suffered hunger and
thirst and all the wretchedness of downright distress. I wish this to
be remembered not only by my children, but by all those who happen to
read me. I carried the whole of my belongings upon me, namely: the
court dress given to me at Pforzheim, two shirts, a sword with a silver
tip to its sheath, and the six florins the Margrave had sent me, the
whole constituting but a scant provision. The absence of the Emperor
interfered with my livelihood; there was little work to do for
copyists, and under those unfavourable conditions I stayed for twelve
weeks. A canon, brother to Johannes' employer, gave me shelter during
the first fortnight, after which he left for Mayence. The envoy of the
dukes of Pomerania, Maurice Domitz, captain of Ukermuende, who knew my
family very well, put, it is true, his purse at my disposal, knowing as
he did that he would be reimbursed at Stralsund; the syndic of Lubeck
was also at Worms with Franz von Sitten, my Rostock chum; neither the
one nor the other would have refused to do me a service; borrowing
meant, however, imposing new sacrifices upon my parents, so I preferred
to suffer privation.

My nose caused me severe pain for a long while; when it gave me some
respite, my mornings and afternoons were spent in walks, either with my
countrymen from Mecklenburg, Pomerania or Lubeck, or with the friends I
had made in Worms. Nobody had any idea of my being as poor as I was. At
the dinner hour, when everybody repaired to the inn, I bought a
pfenning's worth of bread, and the public fountain supplied the drink
gratis; it was very rare that I took a little soup with a piece of meat
as big as an egg in it, at the eating house. The owner of the
establishment allowed me, in consideration of a kreutzer, to spend the
night on a wooden seat; a bed would have cost half a batz (a batz was
equal to about a penny of those days), and the wooden seat seemed
preferable, inasmuch as I had sufficient "live stock" of my own,
without picking up that of others. I sold the silver tip of my sword
sheath, an iron tip as it seemed to me, to meet all my requirements. I
subsequently disposed of one of my two shirts for what it would fetch;
the six florins had melted away, and I wanted the wherewithal to buy
dry bread. When my remaining shirt was dirty I went to wash it in the
Rhine, and waited in the sun while it was drying; all this was so much
money saved, no cost of laundry, soap, ironing or pleating.

My small clothes fell on my heels; I myself could no longer repair
them. The "snip" at Worms would have asked not less than a batz; at
Spires, on the other hand, it would have been done for half the price.
So I made up my mind to go to Spires. I only reached the outer
fortifications after the closing of the gates. Dying with hunger,
thirst and fatigue, I lay down in the moat where I almost perished with
cold. Next morning, at the tailor's, after having undressed, I sat
huddled up all the while he was mending my clothes. I went back to
Worms at a "double quick," having done twelve miles to save half a
batz.

The constant want of nourishment had made me weak, and with my blood in
a bad state, incapable of holding a pen if I had found any copying to
do. My distress was at its worst when one of my kindest acquaintances
the secretary of the Bishop of Strasburg, informed me that being in
need of a writer, he was going to recommend me to his master, but the
prelate said no because Pomeranians professed the Evangelical religion.
Finally, through the good offices of the secretary of the Order of St.
John, the chancellor succeeded in getting me a place at the receiver's
of the said order. Great indeed, was the deliverance, and joy reigned
in my heart instead of despondency. It was only later on that my eyes
were opened to the dangers of my new condition.

On July 9, 1545, then, Christopher von Loewenstein, receiver of the
Order of St. John for Lower and Upper Germany (he had been present at
the taking of Rhodes by the Turks), engaged my services as a scribe. He
promised me a complete dress and boots, such as his other servants
received, but he did not stipulate the amount of my salary; he gave me
to understand, though, that I should have no reason to grumble.

The function of receiver consisted in collecting the revenues of the
various commanderies on account of the knights of Rhodes actually at
Malta. At the demise of a commander, the receiver takes possession of
the property of the defunct, and despatches it with the ordinary
interest by means of bills of exchange to the Grand Master of the
Order, who at that time was a Frankish gentleman, Don Jean de Homedes.
The Grand Master confers for life the vacant benefice upon this or that
knight who has distinguished himself before the enemy. The right of
installing the new commander belongs to the receiver, who derives
enormous profits from his office.

My master had, moreover, seven commanderies of his own; he was,
therefore, perfectly justified in having eight horses in his stable
like a great noble. He gave me the money to take the coach to
Oppenheim, whence I was to proceed by water to Mayence, where he
himself was to make a stay of several days. Mayence, Frankfurt and
Niederweisel were the three commanderies which most often required his
personal attention.

Niederweisel is an imperial town of the Wetterau, between Butzbach and
Fribourg. Herr von Loewenstein spent the greater part of the year in a
magnificent dwelling, replete with every imaginable comfort; spacious
dwellings kept in excellent condition had been erected around a vast
court; granges, stables, riding school, brewery and bakery, kitchens,
atop of which were the refectory and the servants' quarters; at one
end of the court the master himself occupied a handsome room and
dressing-room, affording an uninterrupted view of the whole. A deep
moat crossed by a drawbridge ran round the structure. And I, after
having wanted the strictly necessary at Worms, found myself suddenly
wading in plenty. The effect of the abrupt change of fortune may easily
be imagined.

Though short in height, my master had won his benefices by his bravery
at the siege of Rhodes. In his riper age he remained the soldier he had
been in his youth. Daily feasting, succulent cheer, washed down by
copious libations--a numerous company always around him--his revenues
enabled him to lead that kind of expensive existence. The commandery
being on the high road, landsknecht and horseman, sure of liberal
entertainment, regularly made a halt there; the neighbours themselves
were not more sparing with their visits; in short, gaming, feasting and
drinking took up all the time.

The commander had practically a concubine under his own roof. He chose
her with an eye to beauty, dressed and adorned her according to his
means; when he wished a little more freedom, he married her to one of
his equerries, gave her a home at Butzbach, and provided her against
want. Butzbach being within a stone's throw of Niederweisel, he
reserved to himself the option of seeing her when he liked. In my time,
he lived with Marie Koenigstein, the daughter of the defunct town clerk
of Mayence; she was, moreover, his god-daughter, and by her father's
will his ward. Beauty, education, excellent manners, kindliness: all
these and many other qualities were hers. Why had she not met with a
more staid and sober guardian? She was about eighteen, when one fine
day the commander came to Mayence in a closed carriage, sent for the
young girl, told her to get in for a few moments and drove her as fast
as the horses would carry them to Neiderweisel. So effectually did he
hide her that for seven or eight weeks her brothers and relations did
not know what had become of her. Finally, by dint of gifts, the
commander succeeded in mollifying the brother, whom he sent to the
Grand Master of the Order. As for Marie, she had everything she could
wish for in the matter of silken gowns, gold-embroidered cuffs and
sable furs.

I was lucky enough to find favour with the commander. Every
peasant-tenant of the seven commanderies held his homestead on a lease;
and I had a crown for each renewal. I wore a dress like that of the
equerries. Madame Marie looked to my shirts, handkerchiefs and
night-caps and kept them in good condition. A nice well furnished room,
close to the drawbridge did duty both as a bedchamber and study. I had
my meals at the commander's board with his guests, Marie, the chaplain
and the three equerries. Well fitting clothes, a sword with a silver
sheath-tip, and a golden ring on my little finger contributed greatly
to transform me into a young gallant; my pitiful figure of Worms was
completely transformed; I improved physically and found favour in the
eyes of the fair.

As for my duties, they were not very heavy; the only commanderies that
gave us trouble now and again were those of the Landgrave of Hesse;
they grudgingly settled their dues in consequence of the antipathy of
the landgrave, for my master, who did not worry himself much about
religious matters, was neither a <DW7> nor a Lutheran, only Knight of
the Order. The intrigues of the court compelled Herr von Loewenstein,
therefore, to summon the Hessian commanderies before the tribunals; and
the results, as far as I was concerned, were frequent journeys to
Cassel and to the chancellerie of Marburg.

The commander had a rich collection of bits, bridles, saddles and
saddle-cloths; he kept three equerries, though only one bore that
title; the stable held seven or eight young stallions from Friesland
that had been bought at the Frankfort fair. When the commander went out
on horseback, a frequent occurrence, I accompanied him with the
equerries; he made us change our mounts each time and entrusted us with
horses costing between sixty and seventy, while he himself only rode an
indifferent cob not worth half-a-score of florins. His horses were all
of the same colour; when he grew tired of that colour he sold the
cattle at half-price or gave them away, just to get rid of them. On one
occasion he fancied a good ambling animal; he had happened to meet with
a dappled grey, strong, clean-limbed and a capital pacer. It was valued
at a hundred crowns; he, however, soon afterwards offered it to the
Elector of Mayence who was very anxious for it and reserved it for his
personal use.

The commander kept a fool of about eighteen, but who had been downright
mad from the day of his birth. On one occasion the fellow entered his
master's room and told him that he had been embracing the cowherd's
daughter in the shed. He spoke out plainly without the least disguise.
"After dinner, we mean to begin again in the same spot," he added.
"Beware of St. Valentine's evil," said the commander. "Yes, sir, at the
stroke of twelve, at the grange; your Grace will be able to bear
witness to it." The commander hurried up and arrived _opere operato_.
He sent to Friburg for the operator and signified his sentence to the
fool who kicked against it. The commander, however, promised him a pair
of crimson boots. "True, will your Grace give me your hand on the
promise?" said the idiot. The commander gave him his hand; thereupon
the fool exclaimed: "Come, Master Johannes, make haste." The operator
stretched him on a bench, where the other servants kept him motionless,
for at the first cut of the razor he began to resist. Master Johannes
proceeded quickly and surely.[31] ... The patient remained for nine
days on his back on a narrow couch, bound hand and foot so that he
could not move an inch. The commander had given instructions to treat
him with every care.

Master Johannes very soon deemed the fool sufficiently recovered to get
rid of him, but at the commander's wish he kept him for some time
longer in his room to the great annoyance of Master Johannes' young and
good-looking wife; the latter had a strong objection to the fool's
telling all sorts of tales about herself and her husband, on whose
doings he spied night and day. He became a great nuisance, for in spite
of his operation he grew fat and saucy, and at the death of the
Commander, Landgrave Philippe sent for him to come to Cassel.

The chaplain was a fine specimen of the young debauchee. Instead of
preaching the pure doctrine of Luther he performed mass twice a week in
the chapel of the commandery. To get to the chapel he had to go through
the servants' refectory just at breakfast time. He simply sat down, got
hold of a spoon and dipped it into the soup. "Master Johannes," said
we, "you know it is forbidden to eat before the mass?" "Nonsense," he
replied; "the Saviour gets through bolts and locks; the soup won't stop
him."

Herr von Loewenstein owned an old ape, a strong customer, who could get
into formidable passions. The animal, which was kept on a chain, would
only allow its master, the baker and myself, to come near it. Most
dangerous was it when showing its teeth, as if laughing. When I sat
down within its reach, I dared not get up without its leave; perched on
my shoulder, it amused itself by scratching my head, and I had to wait
till it got tired; then I shook hands with it and I was allowed to go.
One day a landsknecht, a handsome, well built fellow, tempted by the
prospect of a good meal, came into the commandery. He carried a
javelin, and the ape, who unfortunately was free of his chain, jumped
at him, and after having wrenched the weapon from him, bit him in
several places that it was most pitiful to see; after which it crossed
the moat, climbed to its master's window, opened it, and made its way
into the room. With one glance the commander perceived that the animal
was in a rage; he endeavoured to soothe it with kindly words. It so
happened that a silver dagger was lying near the window sill; our ape
ties it round its waist; thereupon the commander gently draws the
weapon from its sheath, plunges it into the animal, and notwithstanding
its bites, holds it pinned down until the breath is out of it. There is
no denying that an ape is a terrible creature when it gets on in years
and grows big.

After the harvest our master wished to go partridge-hawking, for
his hawks were well trained. As his dapple-grey was being brought
round--the one that ambled so capitally--the unexpected visit of
several strange horsemen interrupted the party; the commander gave me
his hawk, telling me to go without him. Just as I am getting my right
leg over the saddle the bird beat its wings, the horse frightened, gets
out of hand of the groom, and I am caught in the stirrup; more
concerned for the hawk than for my safety, I drop backward, the horse
continues to plunge, drags me along, kicking me all the while, the
commander and his frightened guests looking powerlessly on. Luckily my
shoe and my left hose give way and stick to the stirrup, while I am
left on the ground, with nothing more serious, though, than a couple of
swollen limbs. Nevertheless, on that day I had a very narrow escape
from death.

The Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse constantly raising
levies against the Duke of Brunswick, the commandery swarmed with
colonels and captains.[32] They offered me the post of secretary; the
arrangement was, in fact, concluded, but I did not wish to go except
with the consent of the commander. He granted me my leave, though
giving me to understand that I should not expect to return to his
service after the war. And inasmuch as the war was to be a short one,
the warning gave me food for reflection. The winter was coming on; I
certainly had no wish for a repetition of my privations at Worms. I
remained, for the following lines recurred to my memory:

      _Si qua sede sedes, et erat tibi commoda sedes
      Illa sede sede, nec ab illa sede recede_.

Several companies of landsknechten were reviewed; and nothing could
have been more diverting than to watch the inspector examine the
weapons and the shape of the men, their dress and their gait. He made
them march past him rather twice than once. How each man tried to hide
his shortcomings, and how those who were "passed" as fit blew
themselves, and swaggered and talked loud and boastfully like the
hirelings they were. The war came to an end on October 21, with the
capture of Duke Henry of Brunswick and his son, Charles Victor; his
second son, Philippe, hastened to Rome to ask for help of the pope.

At the autumn fair Herr von Loewenstein took up his quarters at
Frankfurt with the whole of his household for six weeks. My old chum,
Franz von Stiten, coming across me once more, I told him everything
about my position, and when I had given him the address of the House of
the Knights of St. John, he arranged to come and pay me a visit one
morning before the commander was stirring. And, in fact, he came, and
had a long conversation with Marie, to whom he gave particulars about
my parents, birth, and family circumstances. The information still
further disposed the damsel in my favour; in short, I am bound to
confess that I lost all claim to the meritorious reputation of Joseph
the chaste. Since then I have acknowledged my sin to the Almighty, and
I have sufficiently expiated it during my journey to Rome to count upon
my pardon; besides, amidst the privations, dangers and trials which I
am about to relate, however just the punishment may have been, the
Divine mercy has never failed me, sending me protection and deliverance
as it did in its admirable ways.

While my master drank and gamed with his guests (he was rarely alone,
and in Frankfurt less than elsewhere) I read, in the quietude of my own
room, the _Institutes_, which I nearly always carried about with me. In
vain did Herr von Loewenstein tell me again and again not to expect to
become a doctor of law while I was with him. I did not fear any
opposition from that quarter.

In February 1546 my master having been summoned to Spires, the habitual
residence of the superior of the Order for Germany, only left Marie and
myself behind at Mayence. A letter from my parents, telling me of the
death of my brother in Rome, made me decide upon my journey to Rome.
There was not the slightest trace left of the sufferings I had
undergone at Worms; my health was excellent, I had a well-stocked
wardrobe, and my purse was fairly lined. On the other hand, the loose
morals of the Knights of St. John were calculated to take me to hell
rather than to heaven; the money earned in such a service could not
bring luck; it was better to spend it on the high roads, and to cut
myself adrift from such a reprehensible mode of life. Undoubtedly the
time had come. Besides, it was absolutely necessary to ascertain the
circumstances of my brother's death; I knew the sum of money he had
with him, and the idea of his having spent it in so short a time was
inadmissible. I told my reasons, though not all, to Marie; we parted on
the most amicable footing. In the letter she gave me for the commander,
she informed him of the sum she had given me at my departure, leaving
it to him to increase it. Herr von Loewenstein wished me happiness and
luck, and advised me, if I valued my life, to abstain in Italy, but
above all in Rome, from all theological controversy; finally, he added
a double ducat to Marie's gift. From Spires I went a little out of my
way to see my friends at Pforzheim; after having said goodbye to them I
began my long journey, alone and on foot, under the holy safeguard of
the Almighty.




                               CHAPTER VI

Travels in Italy--What happened to me in Rome--I take Steps to recover
my Brother's Property--I become aware of some strange Particulars--I
suddenly leave Rome


I started from Mayence on April 8, 1546, and after crossing an unknown
country by bad roads, I reached Kempten, an ancient imperial city at
the foot of the Alps, and the see of an important abbey. The unpleasant
parts of the journey hitherto had been solitude and fatigue, when at a
quarter of an hour from Kempten there appeared two wolves of very good
size. They were making for a plantation of oaks on the other side of
the road, but when they got to the highway, at a stone's throw from
where I was, they stopped "to take stock of me." Evidently they were
going to make a mouthful of my poor, insignificant person. What was I
to do? To beat a retreat was practically to invite their pursuit. To
advance was to lessen at every step the distance dividing us. Trusting
to God's good will, I kept marching on, and the wolves disappeared in
the underwood. I hurried on, to escape the double risk of meeting the
carnivora again or to find the city gates shut against me, for night
was coming on apace. At the hostelry nobody seemed surprised at the
meeting, for the neighbouring mountains swarmed with large packs of the
animals. What they wondered at was the manner in which I got out of the
danger. I offered thanks to the Lord.

I lay two nights at Kempten, because I was told not to venture alone in
those mountains, where wild beasts and murderers prevailed. Meanwhile
three Hollanders, proceeding to Rome and to Naples, arrived at the inn;
it was the very opportunity I wanted; other travellers going to Venice
joined our little caravan. Every evening, or at least one out of every
two, we plunged our feet into running water; it proved a sovereign
remedy against fatigue, recommended by the Hollanders.

The council was sitting at Trent. Before that town we made a halt in
the middle of the day, in one of the burghs called markets, because
they are too large for a village and too small for a town,
notwithstanding their having a few stone houses. After having cooled
our feet in the running stream we prepared for ourselves a meal of hot
milk, eggs, and other eatables we had managed to find. The host and
hostess who had been invited to the feast were most obliging; they
foresaw a fat bill. Having had a good rest and plenty of food and
drink, and having paid our reckoning, we bade them goodbye, and we
already were at a considerable distance when a horseman came galloping
after us, signalling us to stop by raising his hat. He brought me the
satchel of brown damask that contained the whole of my fortune. I had
left it behind lying on the table. The man absolutely refused to accept
any reward. I wonder if I could find any instance of such
disinterestedness in our country?

At Easter I heard most delicious singing in the Trent churches. I have
heard the musicians of Duke Ulrich of Wuertenberg (and they were a
subject of pride with him), of the Elector of Saxony, of the King of
the Romans, not to mention those of the Emperor, but what a difference.
Old men, with beards almost reaching to their waists, sang the upper
notes with a purity and skill fit to compare with those of the most
accomplished youngster. Trent boasts of the most elegant castle of
Germany and Italy. I also saw there the tomb of the child Simeon, the
innocent victim of the Jews.[33]

A great personage had posted from Venice to the council; the rider, who
was to take the carriage back, allowed me for a trifle to mount the
second horse. It was agreed that I should wait for my companions at
_The White Lion_ in Venice.

At a short distance from Trent one gets into Lombardy. After a lone and
difficult journey across the Alps, during which there is nothing to be
seen but the sky and the mountains rearing their heads against the
clouds, it was like entering into another world. The air was balmy, the
country revelling in green; and if I had wanted a thousand florins'
worth of cherries, I could have got them far more easily than in
Pomerania in the middle of June. Lombardy is a beautiful land, of
fertile and well cultivated plains. The trees are planted at thirty
feet from each other, with an interval of sixty feet between each row;
the vine extends its branches from one tree to another, and the grapes
ripen between pears and apples. The corn grows between the trees; at
the end of the fields there are reservoirs the water of which is
distributed every morning by means of locks into the irrigation canals.
The country resembles a vast prairie. The sun sheds his rays the whole
day; no wonder that the earth is so fruitful. There are two crops of
grain every year. From Trent to Venice there are also many important
towns and castles.

I reached Venice towards the end of April. The public promenade helped
me to kill the time while waiting for the arrival of my companions; and
as my dress attracted the notice of the children in the street, who
pursued me with the cry: "_Tu sei Tedesco, percio Luterano!_" I had it
altered to the Welch fashion.

An aged priest, travelling with a servant to attend to his horse, had
left the Low Countries with the mad intention of visiting the Holy
Sepulchre; my companions practically catechized him on the subject of
religion, and the poor man showed himself so little versed that I came
to his aid by pretending to be a Roman Catholic. In acknowledgment of
the service I had rendered him, he paid my reckoning at the inn, and
wished to take me with him at his expense to Jerusalem. I cannot say if
he saw his own household gods again, but he did not shake my resolution
to proceed to Rome.

Venice and its environs, especially Murano, where the most precious
glass is manufactured, would be sufficient to claim one's interest and
attention for a whole twelvemonth; but our resources required
husbanding, and we proceeded to Chioggia to embark in a big ship
sailing for Ancona. Contrary winds kept us in port a considerable time;
to pass the time we played skittles outside the walls. We carried our
daggers at our backs in Walloon fashion, which caused us to be summoned
before the authorities. How did we dare to appear in public armed with
daggers--a crime which was punished with hanging in Italy? In
consideration of our presumed ignorance of the law, mercy would be
shown to us this once, but we ought to take it as a warning. The
magistrates inquired whence we came, and whence we hailed, etc., and
their astonishment was intense when they learnt that my country was two
hundred leagues away on the shores of the Baltic, and was called
Pomerania. Then the interrogatory went on: "Do you profess the Catholic
religion?" "Yes," I answered. "Do you admit the doctrine of our holy
father, the pope?" "What is your opinion with regard to the Mother of
God, the saints and the celebration of mass?" "In our country the
Church teaches that at the moment St. John baptized Christ, God the
Father spoke these words: 'This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well
pleased; listen to him.' The doctrine of the Son of God and of the
apostles is, therefore, the pure Catholic doctrine; and whosoever
preaches it deserves belief. With regard to the blessed Virgin Mary,
the saints and the mass, we entirely submit to the word of God."
Finally, on our statement that we were going to Rome, the magistrates,
inclining their heads with a smile, recommended us to God's keeping and
to His holy angels.

At the first favourable wind we took ship, provided with the quantity
of provisions the pilot had told us. After having passed Ravenna and
other beautiful cities of the Adriatic, we cast anchor at Ancona, a
town driving a considerable trade, and provided with an excellent port
in the shape of a half moon, affording shelter from the most violent
tempests. Here our company was still further increased by a certain
Petrus from the Low Countries, a handsome young fellow, tall and well
set up, who for a long time had been soldiering in Welch countries. He
made us go round by Our Lady of Loretto, a locality famed for the
indulgences granted to its pilgrims. It would be difficult to conceive
anything more wild than the country--a veritable brigands' haunt. The
town has but one long street, at the end of which there is a small
chapel, the tenement reputed to have been occupied by the Virgin Mary
at Nazareth and transported thence by the angels. In a niche there is
an image of the Virgin, alleged to be the work of St. Luke. For a
certain consideration a priest will rub the rosaries against the image,
and under those conditions the pilgrim obtains so many indulgences that
he would not part with them for an empire. The quills of the porcupine
constitute one of the principal articles for sale at Loretto. I saw a
great many of those animals alive; they are about the size of a
hedgehog. I ornamented my hat with a large leaden medal of the Virgin
surmounted by three quills fastened with a silken thread, and each with
a small flag at the end. I also saw at Loretto a live chamois, the only
one I ever beheld, though chamois are not rare in that country, and
above all in the Alps. The flesh of the chamois is preferred to that of
the deer. I have tasted it; I have even worn several pair of small
clothes of chamois leather; it is excellent, and you can wash it like
linen, and the skin remains as soft as ever.

Petrus was known everywhere, and principally in the mountains. Without
ever having studied to that effect, he could pride himself upon being a
good musician and being able to sing at sight. In every town he took us
straight to a monastery, where the young monks hailed him by his name,
feasted him, bringing him wine and refreshment; then they sang a piece
of music, drank a cup of wine, and we took our leave. This Petrus was a
precious travelling companion; added to his knowledge of the country,
he had a most agreeable disposition, _et comes facundus in via pro
vehiculo est_. He told us where he was born and how many years he had
lived in Italy, far away from his parents, whom, however, he was most
anxious to see again. I, in my turn, told him the business that called
me to Rome; he offered to accompany me on the return journey. The
voyage from Milan and across France was delightful, he said; he was
familiar with the roads as far as the Low Countries. I was delighted
with the proposal, which, as will be seen, was wellnigh fatal to me. In
Rome, after having settled us in a hostelry, Petrus gave me his
address, and we agreed to meet often.

On May 26, 1546, I presented myself at the house of Doctor Gaspard
Hoyer, who, at the first glance, knew my identity by my likeness to
Magister Johannes. He changed my straw hat, ornamented with the holy
relic which I had bought at Loretto, for a black biretta of Italian
fashion, a headgear very much worn in those days at Rome. He had with
him Gerard Schwartz, the younger brother of Master Arndt Schwartz, and
in talking together we discovered that we had left Trent on the same
day without having fallen in with each other, Schwartz having travelled
by way of Ferrara. He was a very scholarly young man, and a near
kinsman of Dr. Hoyer. I never saw him again; and one day, when I asked
Master Arndt Schwartz, he told me that Gerard had come back to
Stralsund mentally affected, and that subsequently he disappeared. I
have got an idea that he had contracted an illness in Rome which he
dared not avow to his relatives.

Master Gaspard Hoyer had only learnt of the death of my brother
thirteen days before my arrival, in a letter from my father. The news
had grieved and surprised him, but there remained the fact that my
parents in Pomerania had been informed more promptly of the misfortune
than an inhabitant of Rome. I conceived many tragic suspicions, on the
subject of which I could only trust to God. Dr. Hoyer proved his
goodwill by accompanying me to the Cardinal Count de St. Flore,[34]
whose servant my late brother had been; he presented me, exposed my
wretched situation, and renewed the request he had preferred at the
receipt of my father's letter. The cardinal was exquisitely
sympathetic; he had promptly communicated with his steward at
Acquapendente, and he expected the reply, together with my brother's
belongings, at every moment. Nevertheless, Master Hoyer had to wait
until July 1 without receiving another summons to call. He considered
my presence necessary, and on our way he told me that he and the
cardinal had offered my brother a canonry at Lubeck, and that in
consequence of his refusal my brother had become strongly suspected of
Lutheranism.

We were taken at once to the cardinal, who handed me five-and-twenty
golden crowns, three double ducats, two golden florins, two rose
nobles, one florin of Hungary, three angelots (French money), a golden
chain of twenty and a half crowns, three golden rings (the first being
a seal, the second a keepsake, and the third set with a turquoise),
worth seven and a half crowns, another half-crown in gold, and three
Juliuses. I was told at the same time that my brother had spent thirty
crowns in clothes, that during his illness he had bequeathed twenty
crowns to the poor, and that his tombstone had cost another thirty.
According to Roman custom, the servants had divided his wardrobe among
themselves. The cardinal said also to me: "_Legit aliquoties libros
mihi admodum suspectos, et quanquam admonui eum, ut non legeret, tamen
deprehendi saepius legentem._"

After this he asked me several questions of interest about Pomerania.
Was it as hot there as in Rome? The cardinal, in fact, was sitting in
his shirt sleeves, in a large room whose window panes were made of
linen instead of glass; the floor was constantly sprinkled with water,
which by a nice contrivance ran away. My reply caused the cardinal to
exclaim: "_O utinam et Romae ejusmodi temperatum aerem haberemus._"
After Master Hoyer had thanked him in both our names, we took our
leave. "Did you hear what the cardinal said?" asked the doctor, when we
were in the streets once more. "No doubt I did," was the answer. "Yes,"
he remarked, "Master Johannes' stay at Acquapendente was a very short
one; and yet, no German was ever less fond of Italian fruit, fresh
figs, melons, etc., than he." People ought to know that those fruits
are delicious, but harmful to those who are not used to them. Many a
German on his first arrival yields to the temptation, and pays for the
imprudent act with his life. Besides, Dr. Hoyer had not had the
slightest anxiety with regard to my brother, whom only very recently he
had met in the street. I left the money and the trinkets with Dr. Hoyer
until my departure.

Master Gaspard Hoyer was an honest, loyal and obliging little man; may
the Lord watch over him. In order to make my money hold out, he took a
good deal of trouble to find me a place with the superintendent of the
hospitium of Santa-Brigitta, an aged Swedish priest, who took boarders
from among the advocates, procurators and suitors of the Tribunal of
the Rote. To cook, to wash up, to make the beds, to lay the table, and
to clear it, to bring the wine from the cellar, and to serve it, these
were my functions, for which I received half a crown per month.
Apparently they were satisfied with my culinary talent; it is true, I
had only to prepare the soup, called "minestra"; the other dishes came
from the tavern. In Rome, where there are so many people who cannot
publicly live with a woman, and where it swarms with suitors and
pleaders who would find it difficult to keep up a house, there are
excellent taverns, providing fish, flesh, game, poultry roast, boiled
pasties, and delicate wines; in short, everything necessary to a
princely banquet.

One day, while at meat, my master announced the happy tidings of the
death of Dr. Luther; the heresiarch had met with the end he deserved; a
legion of devils had swooped down upon him, and a horrible din had put
all those around him to flight. Luther himself had bellowed like a
bull, and at the last moment he had uttered a terrible yell; his spirit
went on haunting the house. The boarders vied with each other in
falling foul of "that abominable Luther," that limb of Satan, doomed,
like all the other demons, to everlasting fire. The only one who did
not join in this charitable colloquy was a procurator of the Rote; he
only opened his lips to murmur now and again: "_O Jesu, fili Dei,
miserere mei_," to the tune of that famous Italian song, to which there
seems no end, "_Fala lilalela_."

My master, who performed mass at the chapel of the hospitium, hit upon
the idea to take me as his acolyte; my ignorance of the various
movements and my lukewarmness to learn, made him exclaim: "_Profecto tu
es Lutheranus!_" "_Sum Christianus_," I replied, "my schooling in my
native country, and my daily work at Spires by the receiver of the
Order of St. John, left me no leisure to think of mass." I am bound to
confess that as we went on, the suspicions of my new master did not
fail to inspire me with fears for my safety. My master officiated at
all the masses on saints' days, both in town and in the neighbourhood;
there were as many as three on the same day; and as the journey from
one church to the other was long, and we left at daybreak to return
very late at night, our satchel contained a large flagon of wine and
substantial food. Each altar was completely prepared for mass; our
master halted before the altar nearest to the entrance, put on his
chasuble and said a mass. The first one I heard; then we departed for
another church, and there, while my master officiated, I sat down
behind the altar, my satchel on my knee, and ate a comfortable morsel,
and washed it down with a moderately full cup. At meal time the priest
noted the deficiency, and asked me for an explanation; I frankly
confessed my inability to prolong the fast, which after all I was not
bound to observe, inasmuch as I did not say mass. The explanation was
more or less graciously received.

This visit to the various stations enabled me to see and to learn a
great many in a short time, for my master, who knew the city
thoroughly, was very pleased to show me its curiosities, and often went
a long way round for my sake. Rome has close upon one hundred and fifty
churches, seven of which count as principal ones. There are many
abbeys, convents and asylums. I did not see all these buildings, and
the majority of those I saw did not strike me as remarkable. At the
door of each church a tablet tells the dates of the pilgrimages and the
number of indulgences to be gained; the general list of the pilgrimages
and of the indulgences is also sold separately. The annual number of
stations or pilgrimages exceeds a hundred; hence, one can redeem all
one's sins at least a dozen times; that is, eleven times more than is
necessary, and one is furthermore gratified with a hundred thousand
years of indulgences. O, good Jesus, why didst not thou remain in
heaven, if our salvation is after all to depend upon holy popes and
their magnificent indulgences, notwithstanding which they have to go
and join the devils in hell.

A special mention is due to the Asylum of the Holy Spirit, the pride of
Rome, and which is considered by the wise as the most meritorious work
of Christendom. Rome contains a mass of single folk of both sexes; the
pope's _entourage_ consists of fifteen or sixteen cardinals, whose
establishments are kept on a footing as good as that of the courts of
our princes of Germany. Then there are about a hundred bishops having
servants, and several thousand prelates, canons and priests with their
servitors. I refrain from numbering the young monks, who keep their vow
of chastity as a dog observes Lent. Nor should we forget the assessors,
advocates, procurators, notaries and pleaders of a hundred different
countries who crowd the law courts. All these are forbidden to have a
wife. Nevertheless, thousands of them shelter under their roofs persons
of the fair sex, supposed cooks, washerwomen and chambermaids. And now
calculate the number of disorderly women.

They, however, enjoy a wonderful liberty, and it is safer to wound or
even to kill a man in Rome than to treat roughly an importunate harlot.
At Vespers, great lords, pope, cardinals, bishops and prelates send for
these "damsels of joy." They come to their homes in male disguise; the
others know exactly where to find them.

The courtesans sell their wares at a high price, for they stroll about
attired in velvet, damasks, silks, and resplendent in gold. They cannot
sell their favours cheaply, inasmuch as they pay a heavy tax, which,
together with the proceeds of masses, constitutes the revenues of the
priests with which Rome swarms. If one wishes to ascertain the revenues
of an ecclesiastic, he asks: "How many harlots?" and the figures show
whether he, the ecclesiastic, is more or less favoured. No wonder,
then, that, privileged in that manner, magnificently dressed and kept
in splendour, prostitutes come to Rome from all parts. It is worthy of
notice that the young girls of Rome emulate the others with zest. (Dr.
Hoyer's cook, a native of Nuremburg, must have been once a beautiful
creature. Her master always called her madonna Margarita.) At thirty or
thirty-five, when they find their admirers desert them, these persons
become cooks, laundresses, serving wenches, without, however,
disdaining a good windfall. The result was this: they smothered, they
flung into the cloaca, they drowned in the Tiber more new-born than
there were massacred at Bethlehem. Herod after all was an impious and
barbaric tyrant, and resorted to this butchery in order to defend his
crown. Yet by whom were the poor innocents in Rome deprived of baptism
and life? By their mothers, by those to whom they owed their birth, by
the saints of this world, the vicars of Christ.

To cure the evil by means established by God Himself was not to be
thought of, marriage having been declared incompatible with the
sacerdotal office. Pope Sixtus IV, however, having set his heart upon
stopping those horrible murders, restored from roof to cellar the
Asylum of the Holy Spirit, tumbling to ruin, and enlarged it by several
handsome structures; he established an important brotherhood there, at
the head of which he inscribed his own name, an example followed by
many cardinals. Each member of the fraternity has the privilege of
choosing for himself a confessor; and power was given to said confessor
to give plenary absolution once when the penitent was in a state of
good health; when dying, an unlimited number of times, even for the
cases usually reserved for the Apostolic See.

The wards of the hospital are handsome and roomy, the beds and
appurtenances leave nothing to desire. The sick of every country are
treated with unremitting care; when they are cured they pay, if they
are able and willing; but the very poor are sent away dressed in new
clothes from head to foot, and provided with some money. The staff is
composed of sick-nurses of both sexes, physicians and surgeons; the
establishment has, moreover, an excellent dispensary abundantly stocked
with everything, and recourse to which was often had from outside. The
institution--apart from the hospital--brings up foundlings and orphans;
the governors have the boys taught this or that trade, according to
their aptitude or taste, nor are the girls allowed to remain idle.
While still very young they begin to knit, to spin, to sew and to
weave; in fact, under the direct supervision of the mistresses attached
to the establishment, they are taught all the occupations of their sex.
If one of the inmates wishes to get married, he or she must inform the
administrators either directly or through an intermediary. Inquiries
are made about the suitors, about their means of maintaining a family,
etc. The girls get a modest marriage-portion, an outfit, household
goods and utensils, and at Whitsuntide six or seven unions are
celebrated at the institution on the same day.

Truly, it is a great institution, which seems to defy all criticism. In
spite of enormous expenses, the existence of the establishment is
assured by its resources. Of course Sixtus IV. has contributed largely
from his private purse, but those contributions were as nothing to the
practically incredible sums collected by the courtesans throughout
Christendom in aid of the hospital, Germany included, and even
Pomerania, if I may trust to the recollections of my young days. One
day, while taking a stroll with Dr. Hoyer, I ventured to ask him if he
had no wish to come back to his native country, where he had friends,
relatives, property and livings. He said he had not such a wish, in
consequence of the difference of religion, adding: "May my countrymen
amend their ways and become converted, like all those who have turned
away from the true and primitive Catholic doctrine." "But," replied I,
"it's we who have the true and primitive Catholic doctrine in its
purity." Dr. Hoyer retorted: "It is written, 'Ye shall know them by
their fruits.' Well, let them show me anywhere in Germany an
institution to be compared to the hospital and the Asylum of the Holy
Spirit." "I know this saying of Christ," I remarked, "and I turn it
against the <DW7>s. Good fruits, indeed; a life of abomination, the
murder of innocent creatures, a premium on debauch by picking up the
new-born. The pope, the cardinals, bishops, prelates, canons, their
servants, monks, assessors and other hangers-on of the priesthood,
would not all these be better off in taking to themselves wives? for as
much as the Almighty condemns fornication, as much does he recommend to
the priest, as well as to the layman, the holy state of marriage, the
antidote to the Roman horrors of a certain kind. Do not we read in the
Epistles of Paul: 'Marriage is honourable among all things'? And if so,
there would be no more murdering of innocents, mothers and fathers
would themselves look after their offspring, the Asylum of the Holy
Spirit would become useless, an immense saving would be effected, and
everybody would have a clear conscience with regard to that kind of
thing." Dr. Hoyer did not answer me, but what a wry face he pulled!

Rome contains a great number of handsome mansions, for the popes, in
order to perpetuate their memory, erect three-storied and four-fronted
palaces; whole streets of houses are demolished if in any way they
obstruct the view. The material employed is a magnificently hard stone;
there is a popular saying to that effect: "In Rome, great blocks of
marble, great personages, great scoundrels." Nor are the cardinals and
bishops satisfied with modest buildings, least of all with humble huts;
as a consequence, the stone masons always have their hands full.
Buffaloes, a species of very strong oxen, convey the stones, which are
hoisted up in the easiest possible manner, by means of curious engines.

On Corpus Christi day there is a grand procession, in which the pope
takes part. The streets through which he passes are bestrewn with
green, the houses are ornamented with rich hangings, there is the
firing of cannon, and clever pieces of fireworks are let off from the
various palaces; naturally there is an immense crowd, and people could
walk on each other's heads; the smallest window has a number of
spectators. At the Castle of St. Angelo there was an admirable piece of
fireworks in the shape of a sun; the whole structure seemed to be
ablaze. At St. Peter's there was a discharge of heavy artillery, and
the cannons of St. Angelo and of the cardinals replied to the salute.
There was so much smoke and so much noise that one could neither hear
nor see anything. At last both subsided, and then the pope appeared on
the balcony, where they presented a book bound in gold to him, from
which he read, but I could not catch a word he said. All at once the
whole of the enormous throng, thousands of people, fall on their knees,
I alone remain standing; those around me stare at me with stupefaction,
thinking, no doubt, that I have taken leave of my senses. When the
reading was over (it was a short one) the pope blessed the people, who
cried: "_Vivat papa Paulus, vivat_."

Close to the Church of Maria de Pace stands the huge statue of Pasquin,
which every morning denounces, without ceremony and with impunity, as
it were, the mistakes and crimes of the great ones of the land, the
cardinals and the Pope Paul III were often taken to task; numberless
were the allusions with reference to his acquisition of the cardinal's
hat. A German, who had come to Rome for absolution, confessed, among
other things, to having spoken ill of the pope. The confessor was
greatly perplexed. It was difficult to account this as a sin to the
penitent, when at any minute the latter might hear the pope insulted
openly; on the other hand, to refrain from condemnation on the ground
that the case was a common one at Rome was virtually discrediting the
papacy in the estimation of the Germans. Clever man that he was, the
confessor asked: "_Ubi maledixisti Pontifici, in patria vel hic
Romae?_" "_In patria_." was the answer. "_O!_" exclaimed the priest,
"_commisisti grande peccatum; Romae licet Pontifici maledicere, in
patria vero non._"

At that time the pope was recruiting, to the sound of the drum, troops
to aid the emperor against the Lutherans. About 10,000 foot soldiers
and 500 light horse, both exceedingly well-equipped, enlisted. They
mustered at Bologna; the pope's grandson Octavius, Governor of St.
Angelo,[35] received the command of the contingent. The Spanish
Inquisition grew more and more energetic in order to arouse the
religious ardour of the horse and foot soldiers. A Spaniard, convicted
of Lutheranism, was paraded seated on a horse, covered to its hoofs
with placards representing the devil; the gallows were erected close to
the pyre in front of Sancta Maria super Minervam. The poor wretch was
hanged and his body burnt; after which a chattering monk demonstrated
at length the temporal and spiritual dangers of the Lutheran heresy.

The cardinals gave a grand banquet in honour of Duke Philip of
Brunswick. A well-born Spaniard slipped in among the servants of the
prelate where the entertainment took place. That nation is greatly
addicted to pilfering. Most people know the answer of Emperor Charles V
to the Spaniards, who wished to induce him to suppress the habitual
drunkenness of the Germans: "It would practically remove the
opportunity of Spaniards to do a bit of robbery now and again," said
Charles. Fancying that such an opportunity had come, the Spaniard got
hold of some bread and a flagon of wine, hid himself under the table,
the cloths of which reached to the floor. In the event of his being
caught, he was ready with the plea of a practical joke, knowing that
the host was himself very fond of them. Two of his servants were posted
near the great mansion. The banquet was not over before midnight, and
the stewards of his Eminence, worn out with fatigue, considered that
the silver would not take wing when the doors were shut. They therefore
left it where it was, merely shutting the doors behind them. Emerging
from his hiding-place, the Spaniard introduces his confederates, and
they all carry away as much as they can. The spoil is sold to the Jews,
with the exception of the least cumbersome pieces, which the scoundrel
intends to keep for making a show of his own; and then the three depart
in the direction of Naples as fast as their horses will carry them.

His Eminence's retainers having gone to bed late, were not up betimes,
and their astonishment on entering the banquetting hall may easily be
imagined. Their flesh crept. How were they going to avoid being sent to
prison? Were they to preserve silence about the affair, or inform the
cardinal? They decided upon the latter course. They were locked up, and
couriers were dispatched in hot haste to warn the innkeepers; the
express order of the pope was to bring back to Rome any person in whose
possession the stolen objects were found.

It so befell that, tired and hungry, the Spaniard stopped at a
hostelry; they laid the table for him, but at the sight of the
earthenware he waxed indignant. "What's the meaning of this?" he
bellowed. "Am I a nothing at all?" Thereupon he orders his servant to
bring out his own silver. The landlord, who had ample time, in the
kitchen, to look at it, recognized it from its description, sent for
reinforcements, and his three customers were taken back to Rome. When
interrogated, the Spaniard denounced the Jews as receivers; his money
was taken from him, the silver was found at the Jews' houses, and they
were immediately put under lock and key.

A great number of Jews dwell in Rome, practically confined to one long
street, closed at both ends. Any one who should be imprudent enough to
come out of that street during Passion week, commemorating, as it does,
the martyrdom of Christ, would infallibly be murdered. When Easter is
gone Jews are as secure as they were before; they go everywhere, and
transact their business without being hampered or molested. The two
receivers were the principal and the richest members of their tribe;
thousands of crowns were offered for their ransom, but it was all in
vain. The five criminals perished on the gallows, erected by the St.
Angelo bridge, the Spaniard in the centre, a copper crown on his head,
to single him out as king of the thieves.

In fact, no week went by without a hanging. I was an eye-witness of the
following. The hangman was about to push a condemned man from the
ladder, when a friendly voice in the crowd cried: "_Messere Nicolao,
confide in uno Dio!_" to which the thief replied: "_Messere, si._" At
the same moment he was hurled into space.

I have often seen the strappado given; among others, to priests guilty
of having said more than one mass per day, a practice considered
hurtful to the interest of their fellow-priests. A pulley is fixed to
the coping of the roof; in the middle of the rope there is a stick
which stops the rope running along the groove farther than that. The
culprit, his hands tied behind his back, is attached to the one end of
the rope, which is in the street. After that he is hoisted up and left
to fall suddenly to within a yard of the ground. In that way the wrists
pass over the head, and the shoulders are dislocated. After three
hoistings he is unbound, taken into the house, where his limbs are set,
an operation which the _lictores_ perform with the greatest ease in
virtue of their great practice. There are, however, patients who remain
maimed all their lives; on the other hand, I have known a priest, who,
in consideration of a Julius, consented to suffer those three turns.

I was beginning to think about my homeward journey, and felt greatly
perplexed about it. The dog-days were drawing near, and Northern folk
are unable to bear them in Italy. On the other hand, along the whole of
my route war was raging, and the Welch soldiers are a hundred times
greater devils than the Germans; though in Germany itself it would have
been a difficult task to get through the lines of those formidable
imperial cohorts, the savage bands of Bohemians, and, in fine, the
Protestant army. Was I to prolong my stay in Rome? Wisdom said no. I
remembered but too well Cardinal St. Flore remark about my brother,
"_Frustra eum admonui, ut non legeres libros suspectos_." Moreover, my
opinion on the Asylum of the Holy Spirit had scandalized Dr. Hoyer, and
the provider of the St. Brigitta institute had exclaimed with an oath:
"_Profecto tu es Lutheranus_." The Spanish Inquisition was acting with
the utmost rigour; and inasmuch as the wine was excellent I was very
nigh forgetting for a little while the prudent counsel of my former
master, the commander of St. John. Consequently, after ripe reflection,
full of trust in the Almighty, and also counting on the faithful
company of Petrus, I told Dr. Hoyer of my impending departure. He
considered it incumbent on him to point out the dangers of the journey,
but perceiving that my mind was fully made up, he handed me my
brother's property and gave me a letter for my father. I parted with
the Swede _bona cum venia_, seeing that he gave me a crown for the six
weeks I had served him.

I had told my friend Petrus that until my going I should confide to Dr.
Hoyer the valuables the cardinal had restored to me. From that
particular moment he talked about leaving Rome, especially as the
enlisting had begun, and the mercenaries were almost immediately after
their registration dispatched to Bologna. We finally fixed our
departure for July 5. God, once more, took me under His wing. I had
become acquainted with a companion of my own age, named Nicholas, the
son of a tailor at Lubeck. He told me that after many years stay at
Rome he wished to see his own country again, but that he had not the
necessary money for the journey. If I did not mind paying his expenses
on the road, he would reimburse them at Lubeck, and consider himself my
debtor ever afterwards. I was really glad at his request, for I
considered him a man of honour and most loyal. He was, moreover,
thoroughly master of Italian, which I knew very badly. I therefore
thanked Providence who sent me a _comitem mente fideque parem_.

On the eve of our departure I went to inform Petrus of the excellent
news. He turned pale, grew low-spirited, and did not utter a syllable.
I ascribed his coolness to something that had annoyed him, and told him
that we should come for him very early in the morning. After a moment's
hesitation he said "yes," and walked away. Next morning Nicholas and I,
prepared and equipped for our journey, knocked at his door. Petrus
lodged with poor people; he was a simple landsknecht, and, according to
his landlady, he carried all his belongings on his back. The woman then
told us that Petrus, after leaving us, had promptly enlisted and
betaken himself off, from fear of his creditors and in spite of his
promise to pay them all with the money he was shortly expecting. Let my
children give praise to the Almighty who saved my life at the moment I
was blindly going to trust it to the mercy of a vagrant mercenary. No
doubt that, shortly after leaving the city, he would have killed me in
some solitary spot, of which there is no lack in the neighbourhood of
Rome. Not a soul would have troubled about what had become of me. The
least he would have done to me was to rob me of everything I possessed
before letting me go free, and, as I am ignorant of the language of the
country, I cannot help shuddering at the thought of the fate that was
in store for me.

And here I record, for the benefit of my children, the prediction of
that sainted Doctor Martin Luther. "War," he had said, "will make
Germany expiate her sins. It shall be staved off while I live, but the
moment I am gone it will break out." Now, he went to sleep in the Lord
on February 18 of this year (1546) at Eisleben, his natal town; and the
historians have stated that the preparations for war commenced in
February at the moment he fell ill. I myself had superabundant proofs
in April of both the emperor and the pope arming on all sides; and it
was at the beginning of June that the Cardinal of Trent reached Rome,
dispatched by his Imperial Majesty to hurry the departure of the 10,000
Italian foot-soldiers and the 500 light horsemen.




                              CHAPTER VII

From Rome to Stralsund, by Viterbo, Florence, Mantua, Trent, Innspruck,
Ratisbon and Nuremberg--Various adventures


On the morning of July 6, 1546, in my twenty-sixth year, I left Rome
with my faithful companion Nicholas. My gold was sewn up in my neck
collar, the chain in my small clothes. In the way of luggage I had a
small satchel containing a shirt and the poems composed by my brother
at Spires and in Rome; slung across my shoulders I wore a kind of strap
to which I tied my cloak in the day. I had my sword by my side and a
rosary dangling from the belt, like a soldier joining his regiment. We
had agreed (it being a question of life and death) that I should
pretend to be dumb; hence Nicholas did not stir from my side for a
moment wherever I went. The landsknechten, who spoke to me on the road
without receiving an answer, were informed by him of my pretended
infirmity. "What a pity," they said; "and such a handsome fellow, too.
Never mind," they added, "he'll none the less split those brigands of
Lutherans lengthwise." "You may be sure of that," replied my comrade,
and thanks to this stratagem we got across the lines of the Welch
soldiery.

On the morning after our leaving Rome, Duke Octavius went by, posting.
He was accompanied by five people. When we got to Ronciglione, about
two miles from Viterbo, we made up our minds to sup there, and go to
bed afterwards, in order to arrive early in the city fresh and hearty,
though not before daylight, inasmuch as we wanted to lay in a stock of
things. Scarcely had we sat down to table when a turbulent crowd of
soldiers invaded the inn; the host told us to remain quiet, for he was
shaking in his shoes for himself. The bandits commenced by flinging him
out of his own door; the larder was pillaged, and after having drunk to
their heart's content, they staved in the barrels and swamped the
cellars with the wine. It was an abominable bit of business and
unquestionably the Welch, and Latin mercenaries are greater ruffians
than the German landsknechten; at any rate, if we are to judge from
what they did in a friendly country, and virtually under the very eyes
of the pope. They invited us to accompany them to Viterbo, in spite of
Nicholas pointing out to them that night was coming on apace, and that
the gates would be shut. "We'll get in for all that," they said. We
were bound to follow them. We got there about midnight, and they were
challenged by the guard. "Who goes there?" he asked. "Soldiers of Duke
Octavius," was the answer, and thereupon the gate was opened.

I recommend the following to the meditation of my children; let them
compare my adventure with that of Simon Grynaeus, related at length in
the writings of Philip Melanchthon, Selneccerus, Camerarius, Manlius
and other learned personages. In 1529 Grynaeus, then professor of
mathematics at Heidelberg, came to see Melanchthon at the diet of
Spires; he heard Faber, one of his old acquaintances, emit from the
pulpit many errors in connexion with transubstantiation. Having gone up
to him when they came out of church, they started a discussion, and
Faber, on the pretext of wishing to resume it, invited him to come to
his inn the next morning. Melanchthon and his friends dissuaded
Grynaeus from going. The next day, at the dinner hour, a weakly-looking
old man stopped Manlius at the entrance to the hall asking him where
Grynaeus was to be found, the process-servers, according to him, being
on the look out to arrest him. Thereupon the various learned men who
had foregathered there immediately conducted Grynaeus out of the town,
and waited on the banks until he had crossed the Rhine; they had come
upon the law-officers three or four houses away from the inn; luckily
the latter neither knew them nor Grynaeus. As for the old man, there
was no further trace of him; they made sure it was an angel. I myself
am inclined to think it was some pious Nicodemus who, having got wind
of the wicked designs of Faber, made it his business to frustrate them
without compromising himself. Now for my own adventure.

We entered Viterbo in the middle of the night. Prudence dictated the
avoidance of the mercenaries' lodgings, for a meeting with Petrus would
have been fatal to us; as it happened, the soldiers swarmed everywhere.
Wandering from house to house, and devoured with anxiety, we invoked
the Lord, our last hope. And behold a man of forty and of excellent
appearance accosted us. We had never seen him, and not a syllable had
fallen from our lips. We were dressed in the Welch fashion; everybody,
even in plain daylight, would have taken us for soldiers. Well, without
the slightest preamble, he addressed us in our own language. "You are
Germans," he said, "and in a Welch country; don't forget it. If the
podesta lays hold of you, it means the strappado, and perhaps worse.
You are making for Germany." (How did he know, except by reading our
thoughts?) "Let me put you into the right road." Dumb with
astonishment, we followed him in silence as far as the gates of the
town; he exchanged a few words with the custodian, who, in his own
gibberish, said to us: "For the love of you, friends, I'll disobey my
orders, which expressly forbid me to open the gates before dawn. You'll
find nothing in the faubourg, I warn you; the soldiers have pillaged
and burnt everything, but you'll not die for being obliged to do one
night without food and drink." Saying which he showed us out and
promptly shut the gates upon us.

Who had been our guide? I am still asking myself the question. As for
us, reassured by the consciousness of the Divine presence; and in our
hearts we gave praise for this miraculous deliverance. The faubourg,
destroyed by fire, was simply a mass of ruins. We slept in the open air
on the straw of a barn where the wheat is threshed out by oxen and
horses. It was daylight when we opened our eyes, and the first thing we
saw was a gallows. Towards midday we got as far as Montefiascone, a
pretty town famed for its Muscat wine. Thanks be to God, we continued
our journey without being again alarmed, and we did not catch sight of
any mercenaries until we came to Bologna.

We halted at Montefiascone until the evening and enjoyed the roast
fowls and savoury dishes, but the oppressive heat interfered with our
appetite, though the bottle was more frequently appealed to. A story is
told a of traveller who was in the habit of getting his servant to
taste the wine at every hostelry they stopped.[36] "_Est_," said the
latter if the wine was bad, "_Est, Est_" if it was passable, "_Est,
Est, Est_" if it was good. And his master either continued his route or
dismounted according to the signal. At Montefiascone, however, the
servant did not fail to cry: "_Est, Est, Est_," and his master drank so
long as to contract an inflammation, of which he died. When the
relatives inquired about the cause of his death, the servant replied:
"_Est, est, est facit quod dominus meus hic jacet_," and in his grief he
kept repeating: "_O Est, est, est, dominus meus mortuus est_."

On July 9 we reached Acquapendente, where my brother died, I visited
the church without being able to discover his burial place. To ask
questions would have been tantamount to betraying ourselves,
considering that the Germans were the butt of public hatred.

Sienna, an important town with a celebrated university, is called
_Siena Virgo_, though it lost its virginity long ago. From a
neighbouring mountain one notices two small burghs; the one is called
Cent, the other Nonagent. The pope being at Sienna, a monk undertook to
show him _Centum nonaginta civitates_. When he got his Holiness to the
top he showed him the two places in question.

Lovely Florence is the pearl of Italy. At the entrance to each town
they said to us, "Liga la spada" (Tie the hilt to the sheath). At
Florence we had to give up our weapons. If we had only crossed the city
a man would have accompanied us to restore them at the other gate, but
on our declaring that we were going to stay until the evening our
swords were taken from us, and the hilts provided with a wooden label,
part of which they gave us to keep. Besides, some one came into the
city with us, and, among other useful information, showed us a
beautiful hostelry where they treated us remarkably well for our money.
A magnificent palace, a church entirely constructed of variegated
marble, adjusted with marvellous skill and art, a dozen lions and
lionesses, two tigers and an eagle, that is all I remember. There were
ever so many other curiosities to see, but our heads were full of
Germany. When the heat of the day abated we pursued our journey; our
arms were restored to us on our presenting part of the label.

After having crossed Mount Scarperia, which fully deserves its name,
seeing that it constitutes the most fatal passage of Italy to
shoeleather and feet, we got to Bologna in the morning of July 13.
Bologna is a big city belonging to the pope (_Bononia grassa, Padua la
passa_), and endowed with a famous university. The town was teeming
with mercenaries, so we were not particularly anxious to stop in it.

At some distance from Bologna begins a canal dug by the hand of man.
There the Lord caused us to meet with an inhabitant of Mantua who had
just enlisted. We proposed to hire a boat as far as Ferrara together.
"Whither are you going?" he asked. As we had the appearance of
soldiers, and as he might conceive some surprise at seeing us turn our
backs on headquarters, we hit upon the idea of telling him that our
master was at the Council of Trent. "Oh," he remarked, "you are going
farther, then?" We said neither "yes" nor "no." He knew a little Latin,
like myself, and so I no longer kept up my part of a dumb man before
him. He professed but small regard for the pope and papism. "How dare
you," I exclaimed, "talk in that way in Italy, and on the very
territory of the Church? And why, if these are your opinions, do you
take service against the Evangelicals?" "What does it matter?" he
replied; "I am not risking the loss of a cardinal's hat. I am a
fighting man, and fight for those who pay me." When we got near to the
Po, he said: "Ferrara lies no doubt in your most direct road to
Germany, but what could you see there of interest? It is only a big
town of the old style. You had better come to Mantua, the country of
Virgil, a handsome, pleasant, and strong city, with a superb castle.
The rest you are likely to get in the boat will compensate for your
coming out of your way. I'll go on shore just before Ferrara, and will
get a boatman; the place is famed for its fat geese, which, at this
season of the year, one eats smoking hot from the spit. I'll bring one
back with me, together with bread and wine, and I shall only be gone a
little while."

Ferrara, with its famous university, its actual importance, and ancient
origin, unquestionably aroused our curiosity. Nevertheless, the advice
of our soldier-friend was not to be despised, because by going up the
Po, we advanced in spite of the heat. Our guide soon came back,
bringing with him everything he had promised. The boatman whom he
brought was simply in his shirt sleeves, and drank at one draught a
whole measure of heavy wine we offered him; then, flinging the towing
rope over his shoulder, he towed us to Mantua, Ostiglia being our
halting place for the night. Having got to Mantua in the morning of
July 15, we were enabled to wander through the town before dinner time.
Our expectations were in no way disappointed. After having shown us the
castle and the principal buildings, our amiable soldier-friend insisted
upon entertaining us at the inn. "Are you provided with small change
that is current everywhere?" he asked us. "The fact is," he went on,
"that the landlords pursue a regular system of cheating. They refuse to
take your small money, so that you are obliged to change a crown, and
then at the next inn they decline to accept the coin given to you
except under its value. Give me a crown, and I'll get you money for it
which is current as far as Trent." He brought back good pieces of
silver, not to the amount of one crown, but of two crowns, asking us to
accept the value of the second as a present, "because," he said, "I
consider you very honest and straightforward companions." When we were
outside the walls, he gave us full particulars of the route we were to
take, recommended us to the safeguard of all the angels, and gave us
his blessing. "It is worth more in the sight of the Almighty and
against the devil than the blessing of Pope Paul at Rome by his own
sacred hands." This was indeed a happy meeting, and we had reason to be
grateful to the Lord.

Not far from Mantua, at a spot where the road branches off into four
different directions, we came upon two travellers coming from Verona.
If we had said one pater more or less with our good friend we should
have missed them, which would have been a pity, for they turned out to
be my former fellow-travellers from Kempten to Rome, who, having pushed
as far as Naples, had returned by way of Venice; they were making for
home by Milan and France. They wished me to go their way, and I was
very willing; but as Nicholas was altogether of a different mind, it
would have been wrong to vex the comrade God had so marvellously
provided for me.

When I told them all about Petrus, my interlocutors had no doubt about
the danger I had incurred by my imprudent confidence. Italians are not
of much account. Germans, after a long stay in that country, end up by
not being worth anything at all; and the proverb to that effect is a
true one: "_Tedesco Italianato e un diavolo incarnato._" I learnt later
on, both from writing and from oral news, about the troubles between
France and the Low Countries, and about the obstacles we should have
encountered if we had selected the route of Milan. It gave me a new
subject for being grateful to the Lord.

We passed near enough to Verona to catch a glimpse of the buildings, to
judge by which it must be a big town. At Trent, where both languages
are spoken, and even more German than Italian, my pretended infirmity
ceased, and it was Nicholas' turn to be mute, for the Lubeckian dialect
is not understood until one gets to Brunswick.

In Italy the scorpions slip in everywhere; into the rooms, under the
beds, in the sheets. Hence they place before the windows scorpion oil,
that is oil in which one of these reptiles has been drowned. When put
on the sting the oil stops the effect of the poison. Personally, I
never caught a glimpse of a scorpion during the whole of my stay in
Italy.

On July 18 we reached Botzen, a town of importance, famed for its rich
mines. On the 19th we were at Brixen, a pleasant burgh, prettily
situated. Its chapter enjoys great consideration. Dr. Gaspard Hoyer was
its canon, and died there.

The Augsburg troops under the orders of Sebastian Schaertlin[37] had
carried the castle of Ehrenberg. King Ferdinand tried to enter the
place with the aid of the miners of Botzen, but the pay ran short, and,
greatly vexed, the savage horde, which, though by no means devout,
after all preferred Luther to the pope, made its way home. Between
Brixen and Sterzing we had the misfortune of falling in with them. At
the sight of our Italian dress, and our soldier-like equipment, they
shook their spears. "Kill the <DW7>s; down with the Welch scum," they
cried. Nicholas, who was accustomed to enact the spokesman, uttered a
few words in his own dialect; thereupon the imprecations grew louder.
"They belong to the Low Countries; they are no better than the
Italians." "Brothers," I shouted, "you make a mistake. We are faithful
Germans, Lutherans and Evangelicals like yourselves. Hence, no
violence."

Thereupon we fell a-talking to each other. They complained bitterly of
the king, and of his pretensions to carry on a war without a red cent.
"Kicks instead of pay," they said. "We are much obliged. We are going
back to our mines, where, at any rate, we can earn something." We
parted quite cordially, and I once more recommended my faithful
Nicholas to hold his tongue for the future, and to let me do the
talking.

Innspruck, the capital of the Tyrol, is a moderately big town with long
streets, consisting largely of stables for some thousands of horses,
for the kings, the Austrian archdukes and their suites frequently halt
there. The objurgations of the miners of Botzen induced us to change
our dress according to the German fashion.

Our most direct route lay by Ulm, Cannstadt, Spires, Frankfurt, then by
Hesse and Brunswick. There are, as it happens, two routes from
Innspruck, the one for Bavaria, the other for Swabia. Having met at the
city gates some people who professed to be going to Germany, we
followed them without further inquiry. What then was our surprise at
getting, not into Swabia, but into Bavaria, to Hall and to Ratisbon.
Well, as we learnt later on, at that very moment the numerous troops
the emperor was expecting from France and Spain were preparing to enter
Swabia; the papal troops, whom the Imperial messages left little or no
truce, arrived at Landshut, while all the Protestant forces, with the
Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse at their head, occupied
the country. But for the Lord constituting Himself our guide we should
have run innumerable perils.

We intended to go from Hall to Ratisbon on a raft, but on the overladen
craft there was a horse stamping about in a most disquieting manner,
causing the water to well up between the disjointed timber. We
preferred to land and to tire our legs to swallowing more water than
was necessary to our thirst. Half a league down the stream, the
pole-men having got rid of the horse, drew near the shore once more to
renew their offers of service. We remained faithful, however, to solid
earth.

When we got to the beautiful monastery of Ebersberg, our curiosity
tempted us to get an idea of the results of a mendicant's life. As such
we humbly and contritely addressed the chancellor, when we entered the
abbot's presence. "We have come all the way from Rome; our resources
are exhausted," we said. After having promised us to do what he can,
the chancellor begins to inquire about the Italian army. "We left it at
Bologna," we replied; "it was being reviewed. You'll see it very
shortly." This had the effect of turning the saintly dwelling upside
down. The monks crowded round the abbot and took to running hither and
thither as if bereft of their senses, because for a monastery situated
as this was, in the open country, Roman mercenaries or Schmalkalden
soldiers were practically one and the same thing.

And inasmuch as our humble persons were forgotten in all this
confusion, I said to Nicholas: "Let us go to the inn and show these
'frocked' individuals that we can do without their soup. A snap for
that business, unless we have been too inexperienced at it." We ordered
the best dishes and washed them down with generous wine. The echoes of
our gay repast must have reached the monastery, and when we had paid
our reckoning, we pursued our journey.

We stopped four days in the big and beautiful city of Ratisbon. King
Ferdinand, his wife, his daughters and the court ladies in gorgeous
dresses, lodged in the principal square, the houses of which where
elegantly decorated. We saw the carriage sent by the Duke of Mantua to
his betrothed. It was entirely white, and perfectly built; the iron was
replaced everywhere by silver, even for the smallest nail. The team
consisted of four magnificent white mares, without the tiniest spot;
the harness was of silver, and their crups were ornamented with three
rings of the precious metal. Dressed in white silk, with boots and whip
of the same colour, and silver spurs, the coachman slowly drove thrice
round the square.

It was very evident that both the emperor and the king were using all
their energy. Night and day, at home and beyond the frontier, strict
guard was kept. The army of Bohemia was encamped beyond the Danube,
while the Germans occupied the head of the bridge on the side of the
city. We were warned of the danger of venturing among the Bohemians;
between these madmen and the German soldiers there was nearly every day
a fresh dispute resulting in wounds which often proved fatal. On the
other hand, the Protestant troops were on the move, and it was most
difficult to cross their lines. We could, however, not remain in
Ratisbon. So we plucked up our courage and started, decided not to lose
our heads in case of arrest, but to ask to be taken before the superior
officer, for, after all, we had no need to fear an interrogatory. What
was the danger of saying whence we came and whither we were going? Our
lot was, moreover, in the hands of Him who in Italy had confided us to
the protection of his angels.[38] We trudged straight on to Nuremberg.
The weather was fine, the roads good, and the inns well provisioned.

Nuremberg is the _oculus Germaniae_. "Germany," according to the
Italians, "has but one eye, Nuremberg." Nuremberg harbours the
tradesmen, Augsburg the big merchants. We stayed three days in this
interesting city, the study of whose civil and ecclesiastical
institutions is by no means a waste of time. We there completed our
German attire by doublets with short waists. It seemed to me
unnecessary to hide the gold and jewels any longer in my clothes, for
in spite of the eighty miles from our own native land, we already
fancied ourselves in it.

The lord of Plawe had taken up his quarters at our hostelry. He
was a Bohemian of important station, an experienced soldier, and a
cool-headed, prudent, and clever personage, enjoying much favour with
the electors and the princes. He was known by all the dignitaries of
France, Germany, and Italy. His history may prove interesting to my
children. The lord of Plawe had no children, and to prevent the lapse
of his fiefs to the suzerain lord, he prevailed upon his wife to
pretend being pregnant, and arranged with a shepherd of the
neighbourhood, a strong, robust fellow, whose wife was genuinely in
that condition. The newborn being of the male sex, it was carried
clandestinely to the castle, where they had great rejoicings, a
magnificent christening with high-born godparents. Seven years later,
however, the lady of Plawe really gave birth to a son; the two children
were brought up like brothers. When he came of age the elder visited
the courts, and received a cordial welcome everywhere. The father died,
and the elder, feeling himself cramped at home, abandoned the property
to the younger in consideration of a yearly allowance. The mother is
taken ill in her turn, and before her death reveals to her own child
the whole of the secret. The elder, whose allowance is stopped,
institutes a claim, and is answered that he is the mere son of a
shepherd. The affair is referred to King Ferdinand, the suzerain lord,
the lords of Prawe bearing the title of Burgrave of Mesnia, and first
chancellor of the kingdom of Bohemia. To prove his parentage he
produced the many letters in which his father recommended him in
special terms to the emperor, and to the princes as his lawful heir.
Several important personages, the majority belonging to the
Evangelicals took an interest in his case, and provided largely for his
maintenance. The principal Welch and German universities all declared
that he proved his affiliation. King Ferdinand, though, leant to the
other side, no doubt _ratione papisticae religionis_.

Under these difficult circumstances, this gentleman considered it
better not to take service in the war between the emperor and the
League of Schmalkalden, inasmuch as he would neither be unfaithful to
his master nor to his conscience. The catastrophe which he dreaded
nevertheless overtook him. About six months after the termination of
the war, when, probably, he felt exceedingly pleased with himself on
account of his clever abstention, he was laid by the heels by order of
King Ferdinand, shipped on a raft, and taken to Hungary; and from that
time he was no more heard of.

On August 11 we only reached Nordhausen in the Harz mountains, just as
they were closing the city gates, but sufficiently early, though, to
notice ten corpses tied to as many posts. The guard, which had been
reinforced, was inclined to leave us outside. They pointed to the men
that had been executed. "If they are there, it is because they deserved
it," we answered; "ours is a different case." When we got inside we
could not find a shelter anywhere. I inquired for the dwelling of the
burgomaster and found him at home.

After the few customary inquiries about our names, our place of birth
and our destination, the burgomaster questioned us about the beginning
of the hostilities. We told him what we knew, and then exposed our
embarrassing situation to him. "Never during this painful journey, not
even in Italy, had we met with such inhuman conduct," we said. "We are
not asking for charity. We are willing to pay for what we get; nobody
shall have cause to complain of us. We ask you, therefore, to direct us
to a respectable place of shelter."

Our very sordid appearance did not prevent the burgomaster from
considering us altogether inoffensive, and, like a man of sense, he
explained apologetically, "Our citizens," he remarked, "are still under
the influence of a strong alarm, for we know for certain that a band
subsidized by the confederate of hell who reigns at Rome is scouring
the Saxon country, poisoning wells and pastures and setting fire to
everything else. The proof of it is in the ten executed men whom you
must have noticed at your arrival. Their crime admits of no doubt."
"Agreed," I replied, "but if our conscience were in the least
reproaching us, do you think we should have the courage to present
ourselves before the first magistrate of the town?"

The burgomaster told one of his servants to take us with his
compliments to a certain private individual, who happened to be a
butcher with a stock of beautiful, luscious meat. On the hearth the
beef was simmering in a large pot, no doubt to be retailed hot next
morning. We asked him for some of that; then inquired about the liquor
he could offer us. "I have got some excellent Nordhausen beer," he
said. We, however, were used to wine. "Cannot you give us some wine?
That's what we want with our meat." "If you care to pay for it. It's so
much per measure." "Here's the money." "Do you want any fish?" "Yes;
let us have a comfortable evening after this rough day. Come and sit
yourself down with us and keep us company." He stared at us very hard,
not knowing what to think. In spite of his knowing look, he behaved
very well to us.

When our hunger and thirst were appeased, the butcher asked us whether
we would go to bed or remain where we were. "Bring us some clean straw,
and that will be enough for us. We shall not have the trouble of
dressing in the morning," we answered. Besides the straw he gave us
pillows, downright excellent beds, and snowy sheets; hence, in wishing
him good-night, we assured him that we were born to understand each
other. Next morning, the one who was the first to rise found the door
bolted; we were obliged to wait for our host. We settled the reckoning
with him, and the servant who had prepared our couch got a tip.

We stopped a day and a half at Luneburg, which we reached on August 15,
and in view of our approaching meeting with our nearest and dearest, we
paid attention to our dress. We crossed the burgh of Moelln, where
Eulenspiegel lies buried, but at Lubeck a messenger who caught us up
informed me that my uncle Andreas Schwartz was living at Moelln with
his wife and children, and begged of me to retrace my steps. I spent a
whole day with him, and when we had chatted to our heart's content he
provided me with a horse and attendant as far as Lubeck.

At the city gate I wanted to turn short; perhaps I was still feeling
the effect of the stirrup cup. My horse gave way, and for a moment the
rider and the animal lay motionless. They were under the impression
that I had broken the left thigh bone; but I got up safe and well.

At Lubeck my faithful travelling companion loyally repaid his debt. I
took the coach, and at last, after a journey of eight weeks' (eighteen
days of which had been spent in resting at various places, the distance
from Rome to Stralsund being 250 German miles, and consequently five
times as many Welch ones), I heard the "welcome" from my father,
mother, brother and five sisters, all of whom were in excellent health.
Together with Dr. Hoyer's letter, I handed over the objects restored by
Cardinal St. Flore according to the inventory. My parents gave me two
of the rings. As I was as sore as the most foundered horse, my mother
had a bath prepared for me twice a week, and she herself rubbed my
thigh with curd soap, so that my limbs soon recovered their usual
suppleness.





                                PART II




                               CHAPTER I

I am appointed Pomeranian Secretary--Something about my diurnal and
nocturnal Journeys with the Chancellor--Missions in the Camps--Dangers
in the Wake of the Army


When I had recovered from the fatigue of my travels, I came to the
conclusion that a life of monotony and frequent visits to the tavern
were not at all to my taste. The day would come when I had a wife and
children to maintain; I therefore wanted a means of livelihood. I voted
for the scribal occupation, and had recourse to the influence of
Superintendent-general Knipstrow to obtain a position at the
chancellery of Wolgast. Our friend's efforts having been successful, I
was summoned to Wollin, where the prince was going to hold a diet. The
journey by coach enabled me to make ample acquaintance both with the
councillors and with my colleagues. I entered upon my duties on
November 14, 1546.

The staff of the chancellery was composed of Jacob Citzewitz,
chancellor; Erasmus Hausen, accountant-general; Joachim Rust,
proto-notary; Johannes Gottschalk, Lawrence Dinnies, Christopher Labbun
and Heinrich Altenkuke, secretaries. I need only mention for form's
sake Valentine von Eichstedt, a student from Greifswald, whom the
chancellor wished to initiate in the dispatch of current affairs.

Valentine hung about the office, now and again copying a fragment of a
letter. He was wretchedly dressed; his poor blue jacket scarcely
reached to his waist, while, on the other hand, his hose fell over his
boots. Rust and Gottschalk refused to have him at the clerks' table; he
had his meals lower down with the servants. In spite of this,
Valentine, at the retirement of Erasmus Hausen, was appointed to the
audit office through the influence of the chancellor. In order to get
him into the habit of pleading he was entrusted with the cases
that were settled by mutual agreement; after which he was sent to
Wittenberg to finish his studies, and in a very short period he became
accountant-general. A few years later Citzewitz gave up his position of
chancellor to him. The protege paid his benefactor in the usual way of
the world, and on that chapter I myself could say a great deal.

The experience I had gained at the Imperial Chamber and in the
chancelleries compelled Rust and Gottschalk to acknowledge that I could
handle my pen, and inasmuch as the chancellor preferred my work to
theirs, they seized every opportunity to do me harm. I had only to ask
them for a few materials for this or that work to be sure to get it
badly done and teeming with inaccuracies.

The dissolution of the League of Schmalkalden[39] and the threatening
attitude of the emperor imparted a feverish activity to the
correspondence which was being exchanged between our princes, the
Elector of Brandenburg and the Elector of Saxony. The latter spent the
winter very sadly at Altenburg. Chancellor Jacob Citzewitz was the soul
of these negotiations; his experience of imperial and provincial diets,
his learning heightened by eloquence, the personal consideration he
enjoyed, his imposing figure, his lofty mind, and his assiduous labours
all these, in fact, singled him out to represent the princes both in
the councils and on more solemn occasions. Being fully aware of the
weightiness of his task, he wholly devoted himself to it; all the
enactments of the princes were drawn up by his pen and defied
criticism. When Citzewitz at the termination of a debate asked: "Who
undertakes the inditing?" all the councillors cried in chorus: "That's
Solomon's business," for that was the nickname they had bestowed upon
him.

Day and night, on horseback or on wheels, I scoured the highways in
company of the chancellor. Starting from Berlin in the evening, we
reached Stettin the next afternoon in sufficient time to present the
report. Then there were the nights spent at work with the chancellor,
who dictated to me the decisions to be submitted to the council on the
morrow. I made a fair draft of them before the sitting, so that
immediately after their having been read they could be sealed and
dispatched. If my children should wish to compute the amount of labour
I gave to the court and to Stralsund they will derive a salutary lesson
from the reward these labours have brought me in my old days: _in fine
laborum_, ingratitude.

Owing to those constant journeys I did not spend four weeks in six
months at Wolgast, and still less at the chancellery. I lodged with
Master Ernest, the cook of his Serene Highness Duke Philip, and of his
august father and grandfather. Ernest was an honest and God-fearing
man.

The year 1547 was an anxious one for the courts of Stettin and Wolgast,
and the news that the Duke of Wurtemberg had tendered his submission
accelerated the departure of a mission to the emperor. It was
instructed to deny all participation of the princes in the League of
Schmalkalden. The envoys of Duke Barnim were Dr. Falcke, in the
capacity of chancellor, and Captain Jacob Putkammer; those of Duke
Philip, Captain Moritz Damitz and Heinrich Normann. I was designated to
accompany those four personages, and on March 10 we started by way of
Silesia.

At Zittau we were obliged to leave Damitz in the doctor's hands; after
which we crossed the Forest of Bohemia and reached Lertmeritz; next to
Prague, the principal and best fortified town of the kingdom. We spent
several days there in order to get an idea of the condition of affairs.
The dislike of the Bohemians to march against the Elector of Saxony was
evident, but King Ferdinand brought heavy pressure to bear upon them,
he called up many of his troops both from Silesia and from Hungary.
These Hungarian horsemen, called Husards, happen to be pitiless
brigands. The King had placed them under the command of Sebastian von
der Weitmuelen, who, at the beginning of the war, had been appointed
regent of the kingdom. The headquarters were at Eger, where this
soldiery cut the children's hands and feet off to put them into their
hats instead of plumes.

The councillors sent me to reconnoitre in the direction of Eger, at
Schlackenwerth, and at Schlackenwald. My guide followed on foot. He was
an intelligent lad, speaking both German and Bohemian. I ascertained
that the Bohemians had cut down the trees in the wood, and as such made
the route impassable for the horse and artillery, it was even
impossible for the landsknechten to cross it with their standards
flying.

After that, the councillors sent me to the castle of Gaspard Pflug, to
whom the States of the country had entrusted the command of the
troops.[40] He was very reserved. "What are we to do?" he said, looking
perplexed. "The Elector of Saxony is our ally, our co-religionist; we
cannot leave him to his fate. On the other hand, Ferdinand is our king.
Are we to jeopardize our liberties?" Gaspard Pflug, having taken refuge
at Magdeburg after the capture of the elector, built himself opposite
the cathedral an elegant dwelling, where he ended his days, the king
having confiscated his property.

While the elector encamped before Leipzig, the emperor overran the
Algau and Swabia, imposing heavy fines and big garrisons to the towns
forced to capitulate. The Spaniards committed every excess, and above
all, in Wurtemberg.[41]

On April 23 and 25 the sun assumed so sombre an aspect that everybody
rushed to the threshold of his house; both experts and scientific men
foretold strange events.

[Illustration: Stettin. Wittenberg. Spires. _From old Prints_.]

One day I was strolling alone outside Lertmeritz around the walls (for
the time hung heavily on my hands), when an individual, his eyes
blazing with anger, assailed me without warning, vilifying me and
trying to fling me into the moat. He was evidently under the impression
of having come upon a spy. I endeavoured to convince him to the
contrary; the difficulty was to understand each other. Finally, with
hands clasped together as if they were bound, I gave him to understand
with a sign of the head that I was ready to enter the town with him.
Thanks to heaven, he consented to this, although he did not cease his
imprecations. Before I had fairly entered our hostelry two members of
the council came to ask our deputies to forbid their people to leave
the city and the promenading on the walls. "We know very well that we
have nothing to fear from you," they said, "but our citizens are quick
to take umbrage, and just now one of your folk narrowly escaped coming
to grief."

On April 16 the news came to Lertmeritz that two days previously the
Elector of Saxony had been made a prisoner. Immediately leaving Bohemia
we started in the direction of Torgau, but to get to the camp at
Wittemberg the perils were endless, for the Spanish troops, whose lines
we had to cross, shrank from no misdeeds.[42] Hence it was resolved
that I should go to Wittenberg to get a safe-conduct--a decision
against which I protested. "How am I to pass without the smallest bit
of parchment?" "Never mind," exclaimed Damitz; "the Lord is the best
safeguard." "In that case," I retorted, "are you not yourselves under
the Divine protection?" My argument was, however, in vain; my life
weighed less in the balance than that of my superiors.

In my capacity of a member of the missions to Bohemia and to the camp
of the elector, I wore a yellow gorget which was the insignia of the
Protestants. I was obliged to hide it in my breast and to replace it
with the one bought for me, the red gorget of the Imperialists. And
thus I started. If they had caught me with the double insignia upon me,
my account would soon have been settled. I should have been slung up on
the nearest tree.

I crossed Muehlberg, where the elector, wounded in the cheek, had been
made a prisoner on the very spot where his passion for the chase caused
so much damage to his unfortunate subjects. Wherever the eye turned
there were signs of the recent battle; broken lances, shattered
muskets, and torn-up harnesses littered the ground, and all along the
road soldiers dying of their wounds and from want of sustenance. Around
Wittenberg itself all the villages were deserted; the inhabitants had
taken flight without leaving anything behind them. Here, the corpse of
a peasant, a group of dogs fighting for the entrails; there, a
landsknecht with just a breath of life left to him, but the body
putrefying, his arms stretched out at their widest, and his legs far
enough apart to put a bar between them.

At the end of my journey and within sight of the Spanish troops I
passed a Spaniard, who said to me: "My good and handsome horseman, your
service with the emperor is but of recent date." I rode a few steps
further; then, undoing my gorget, I rubbed it against my boot to make
it appear less new. At last, I reached the camp, where I lost several
days in fruitless endeavours.

Every now and again there was firing from Wittenberg. Some Pomeranian
horse-troopers with whom I had made acquaintance warned me not to keep
to the high road if I should venture in that direction, but to go at
random in order to avoid becoming a butt. A couple of steps in front of
me a ball whizzed so closely past an individual's head that the shock
or the fright felled him to the ground, where he was picked up for
dead. From that moment I suspended my strolls.

Dr. Seld, the vice-chancellor, whom I succeeded in seeing,[43] did not
disguise the deep irritation of the emperor. I answered that neither
Duke Philip nor his brother, Barnim, notwithstanding the former's
marriage with the sister of the Elector of Saxony, had given the
slightest assistance to the Protestants, either in money, men or deeds,
and that it would not be difficult for his Majesty to convince himself
of this. Nevertheless my negotiations made no progress.

It was said in the camp that after the defeat of the elector, when
Christopher Carlowitzi[44] the principal counsellor of Maurice, came to
salute the emperor, whose docile instrument he was, the latter
exclaimed: "Well, Carlowitz, what is going to happen?" "Everything is
in your Majesty's hands," Carlowitz replied. "Yes, yes, something will
happen," was the retort. And when the elector bent the knee before the
emperor, saying, "Most clement emperor and lord," King Ferdinand
interrupted with, "Ah, so he is your emperor now? But what about
Ingoldstadt?[45] Wait a while. We shall soon settle your account." And
when the death sentence was delivered, Ferdinand insisted upon its
prompt execution. The Marquis de Saluces, on the other hand, repeated
to the emperor, even before the arrival of the Elector of Brandenburg,
that the best sheep in his flock was the Elector of Saxony, and that
his execution would rouse the whole of Germany.

As I found it impossible to get a safe-conduct, I returned to Torgau,
and immediately after hearing my report, our embassy ordered its
carriages and took the direct road to Stettin.

Inasmuch as the Elector of Brandenburg loudly promised his good offices
with the emperor, the princes dispatched me with a letter of thanks to
him to the camp at Wittenberg. They also prompted the language I was to
hold to the vice-chancellor and to the other Imperial counsellors.[46]
To accelerate matters they prepared six relays of horses for me, with
precise indications on paper as to their whereabouts, though I started
from Wolgast on a pitiful cart-horse, equipped anyhow, for neither
saddle, bridle nor stirrups were in condition. They thought that it did
not matter, as I had to change animals at a short distance. So far so
good. But neither at the first, second, third, fourth nor fifth stage
was there a sign of a horse. The last stage was Brandenburg--the Old.
Abraham Gatzkow, a gentleman of Lower Pomerania, had indeed provided a
downright good and properly equipped saddle-horse for me, only on the
day of my arrival he had mounted it for a ride to the camp, so that the
same jade carried me to the end of my journey.

On June 1 I alighted at the tent of the Elector of Brandenburg, and
when presenting my dispatch, I begged of Chancellor Weinleben to spare
me a long stay. Next morning when I called again, he exclaimed: "Oh,
the affair takes more time than you think," which remark did not
prevent my insisting upon an answer on June 3, inasmuch as the elector
went several times a day to the emperor, and that therefore he had no
lack of opportunity to broach the subject. Moreover, there was need for
urgency; they had just thrown a bridge across the Elbe and the emperor
had transferred his quarters to the other side of the river, a sure
sign of his approaching departure. To all which arguments on my part,
Chancellor Weinleben angrily replied: "The interests of princes are
discussed with minds at rest. Just look at the presumption of a simple
messenger. Wait till you are told to go and then go. Here, this is the
elector's reply. Take it, go, and leave me in peace."

I stopped at the first dense clump of trees in the wood, opened the
letter, and immediately turned my horse's head. "What do you want now?"
yelled the chancellor, when he caught sight of me. "Am I not to have
any peace from you?" "My gracious masters," I replied, "have authorized
me to open the letter of his Electoral Highness and to act in
consequence. The letter I have just read proves once more the brotherly
feelings of the elector, but as he is striking his tent, I think it
necessary respectfully to remind him of his generous assurances. I
shall wait for him at his leaving the emperor's presence, for I am
bound to bring back to Wolgast something more than vague words." At
this little speech the chancellor altered his tone. He ceased to
address me familiarly as "thou," and, in fact, made somewhat
exaggerated apologies, swearing by all his gods that in reality he had
not the faintest idea of the affair, but that henceforth he was my
staunch ally and that his master should not leave the emperor without
ardently pleading the cause of our princes.

When the elector went to the imperial tent I followed him at a
distance, and the moment he got into the saddle again I galloped on his
track, for I foresaw his departure for Berlin. I was just at the head
of the bridge of boats, which was entirely unprovided with parapets or
barriers, when I espied coming from the opposite side a heavy cart.
Time was precious. I pursue my quarry, and my right stirrup catches in
the wheel and my valiant mount, in spite of its prancing and rearing,
cannot extricate itself, or even hold its own against four strong
draught horses. There is no room to turn, and there seems not even a
possibility of saving myself by sacrificing the animal; both it and I
seem inevitably doomed to perish by drowning. As for any human help, I
do not as much as expect it. Even if they could have assisted me, the
Spaniards at the end of the bridge would have been particularly careful
not to do so. Just fancy their delight at seeing a German making a
plunge with his horse into the Elbe; the sight would have been too
delightful willingly to forego it.

When our distress is at its height, when neither our father nor our
mother is able to save us, Providence stretches forth his protecting
hand. It happened then, by this merciful grace; the rotten strap
suddenly gave way, leaving the stirrup entangled in the wheel and
freeing my leg. It was a startling confirmation of the Divine word that
the righteous shall see good come out of evil; for had the equipment
been brand-new, of the most solid leather and even embroidered with
gold and pearls, that harness would have sent me into the stream as
food for the fishes.

At last I managed to join the elector. He sent me word that the
opportunity for interceding with the emperor in behalf of the princes
of Pomerania had not presented itself, but that the counsellors he left
behind with the emperor would look to the affair and keep the dukes
informed of everything. Why had I not gone to the bottom of the Elbe?

In the camp itself the tale went round that the King of the Romans,
Duke Maurice, and after them, the emperor had made a very careful
inspection of the church of the Castle of Willemberg, having been led
to believe (the emperor and the king especially) that lamps and wax
tapers were constantly burning day and night on Luther's tomb, and that
prayers were said there just as in the Romish churches before the
relics of the saints.

At Treuenbrietzen I made my report to Chancellor Citzewitz. As he was
awaiting the arrival of the Pomeranian counsellors who were to
accompany the emperor to Halle, he sent me to retain quarters and to
give notice to the Brunswicker captain, Werner Hahn, to have twenty
horsemen ready at Bitterfeld on June 12. On the morning of the 12th, in
fact, the mission alighted at the general hostelry outside Bitterfeld.
The captain of the husard-escort had, however, given the preference to
an inn in the town. Seeing no sign of the Brunswickers, the counsellors
put up their carriage, so that the captain at his return was under the
impression that the mission was gone, and meeting with the horsemen,
ordered them to face about, he being convinced that the deputies had
taken another route.

Evening was drawing near; my business was finished, the quarters had
been retained, the supper ordered, and the beds ready. I had taken
advantage of the opportunity to renew my wardrobe, and, with my new
clothes on, I took a stroll outside the gates through which the mission
had to pass. Espying from the top of a mound a troop of advancing
horsemen, I went back in hot haste afraid of a reprimand. At the same
moment two Spanish bandits, half-naked, for their rags scarcely covered
them, ran after me across the fields, the one on foot, the other on a
kind of wretched farmer's cob--apparently stolen--and with a pistol at
the saddle bow. Casting a careful look round to assure themselves that
there were no witnesses to their contemplated deed, one had already
raised his pistol when the Brunswicker horsemen arrived on the spot.
"_Sunt isti ex tua parte?_" he asked. "_Senior, si_," I quickly
answered. "Ah, landsknecht, landsknecht," he said, replacing his
weapon, and followed by his companion, making off as fast as he could.

The adventures of that evening were, however, not at an end. I found
the gates of the town shut, and a trumpeter galloping along the walls
and blowing with all his might. I had not the faintest idea of what it
all meant, when the captain of husards appeared upon the spot,
recognizes, and hails me. "What are you doing here, and what has
happened?" he asked. "Why are the gates shut, and why is the alarm
being sounded?" While confessing my total ignorance, I began to ask
about the ambassadors; thereupon great surprise of the captain at their
being waited for. The matter seemed all the more strange to him in that
he on the road fell in with some Spanish horsemen, who told him that
they had been sent to meet a mission. What if our counsellors should
have been attacked by these people, decoyed into the wood, and
plundered? Of course, I felt very anxious to inform the Brunswicker
captain, so that he might send a reconnoitring party in the direction
of Bitterfeld. Finally, the noise ceased in the town, and the gates
were reopened. I immediately reported matters to W. Hahn, who in the
early morning sent out his horsemen. An hour afterwards there appeared
upon the scene Abraham Gatzkow, the same gentleman from Lower Pomerania
who had been instructed to keep a fresh horse for me for the last stage
from Brandenburg-the-Old to the camp at Wittenberg. The envoys had sent
him on in front, impatient to know why the escort had failed to appear
at the appointed spot, a mishap which prejudiced them against me.

Odd to relate, neither Sleidan nor Beuter mentions the alarm to which I
referred just now; hence, some further particulars will not be deemed
superfluous. Nothing is more frequent in the army and less easy to
prevent than the stealing of horses. If an animal takes your fancy,
some scoundrel is ready to get it for you for a matter of six or eight
crowns. If you keep it six or eight weeks elsewhere, so as to change
its habits, and change its tail, its mane and other peculiarities, you
may safely bring it back to the camp. A certain German gentleman
proceeded in that way with the stallion of a Spaniard; he sent it away
to his estates. When the affair had been forgotten the animal
reappeared. It so happened that the German horsemen (eight squadrons at
the lowest computation) encamped in the middle of a delightful plain,
watered by the Saale, while the whole of the infantry of their nation
was quartered in the town; a providential circumstance, for if the foot
had come to the aid of the horse, there would have been nothing short
of a massacre. The emperor, therefore, was well inspired in ordering at
once the closing of all the gates.

The Spaniards occupied the height around the castle. At dusk, when
taking the horses to be watered, a Spanish lad recognizes the stallion,
cries out that it belongs to his master and wants to lead it away. The
young German groom resists, and is supported by three or four of his
countrymen. The Spaniard rallies a dozen, and the German immediately
finds himself at the head of a score. The two parties increase every
minute, and the first shots are fired. Posted on the heights, the
Spaniards have the advantage of the position, their balls going through
the walls of the tents, kill several gentlemen who are seated at table;
the Germans give as good as they get. A Spanish lord issues from the
town with words of peace from the emperor; he has magnificent golden
chains round his neck and is riding a superb animal. At the sight of
him there is a general cry: "Fire on the dog of a Spaniard." He
advances, nevertheless, on the bridge, but a projectile brings down his
mount, which rolls into the Saale, and is drowned there with his
master, the wearer of the beautiful collar. Nine days before this, at
Wittenberg, a rotten strap had, with the help of God, saved my life.
The gentleman covered with gold and dressed in velvet, on the other
hand, miserably perished.

The emperor, while all this was going on, sent the son of King
Ferdinand, the Archduke Maximilian (afterwards emperor). He felt
convinced that it would suffice to restore order, but the moment the
archduke opened his lips the Germans repeated the cry: "Down with the
Spaniard." The archduke was wounded in the right arm, which he wore
during several weeks in a black sling. The emperor himself had to come
forth. "Dear Germans," he said, "I know you to be without reproach. I
therefore ask you to be calm. You shall be indemnified fully and in
every respect, and on my Imperial word, to-morrow you shall see the
Spaniards strung up on the highest gibbets." This promise had the
effect of quieting the riot, and the gates were opened. The inquiry
having shown that the loss of the Germans amounted to eighteen grooms
or stablemen besides seven horses, and that of the opposing party to
not less than seventy men, the emperor, though professing to be ready
to make good the value of the horse and even to punish the Spaniards
according to his promise, expressed the hope that the Germans would
consider themselves sufficiently avenged, inasmuch as their adversaries
had suffered four times more than they had.

During the evening of June 19, the Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg
made their entry into Halle with the Landgrave Philip of Hesse in their
midst. At six in the afternoon of the next day the landgrave "made
honourable amends" in the great hall of the Imperial quarters in the
presence of the electors, princes, foreign potentates, ambassadors,
counts, colonels, captains, and in one word, of everybody who could
find room inside or catch a glimpse of the scene through the windows.
But while his chancellor, on his knees, close against him, humbly
craved pardon, Philip, ever inclined to raillery, smiled with an air of
bravado, and to such a degree as to make the emperor exclaim, while
threatening him with his outstretched index: "Go on; I'll teach you to
laugh." Alas, he kept his word.

Our counsellors decided to leave me behind incognito at the Imperial
camp with a gentleman of Lower Pomerania named George von Wedel, who
having murdered his cousin and having been exiled by Duke Barnim, had
entered the emperor's service with nine-and-twenty horse troopers. His
goodwill towards our mission and my instances finally got him his
pardon. That was how the horse on which I had left Wolgast was to carry
me as far as Augsburg.

Having started from Halle on June 20, the emperor stopped three days at
Naumberg. On the 24th, very early in the morning, he was at the general
headquarters at some distance beyond the wall. He wore a violet cap and
a black cloak trimmed with velvet several inches wide. Suddenly there
was a shower, and immediately the emperor sent for a hat and a grey
felt cloak to the town; but meanwhile he turned the cloak he wore and
kept his headdress under it. Poor man, who spent untold gold on the
war, and who stood bareheaded in the rain rather than spoil his
clothes.

The Spanish escort of the landgrave preceded his Imperial Majesty by a
day's march, and committed unheard-of excesses. Next morning the
corpses were strewn where the emperor passed. Women and girls suffered
the most terrible outrages; as for the men, after having suspended them
by their genital parts, the barbarians tortured them to make them
reveal the places where they had hidden their money, after which, with
one stroke of their swords, flush with the abdomen, they detached the
victim.

The emperor slept at Coburg, in Franconia. The German horsemen took up
their quarters in the adjacent villages. Every house was deserted, the
dwellings of the nobility as well as the peasant's farms; nowhere was
there a soul to be seen, for, having been sorely tried the previous day
by the passage of the Spaniards, the population dreaded renewed scenes
of horror. In one house we found a _membrum virile_; elsewhere,
stretched on a bed a bloodstained body, exactly in the condition in
which those abominable miscreants had put them one after the other. The
servants of Von Wedel dug a grave by my orders for the corpse and the
_membrum virile_.

Our first encampment after that was a village amidst fertile plains. I
unsaddled my horse in order to let it graze in peace until the morning.
In the same spot there was a handsome gentleman's dwelling, in its open
courtyard a wagon with four strong horses; on the wagon two barrels of
exquisite wine. Capons, poultry and pheasants were running about in all
directions. I leave people to imagine the massacre, and how, on our
return to our tent, we quickly plucked, boiled and roasted the game. We
were the absolute masters. There was nothing to fear; the granary was
full to overflowing, and we replenished our sacks to the very edge. In
short, horses, vehicle and wine, and everything else was carried away.
The barrels were emptied on our way; the team was sold at Nuremberg for
what it would bring, for we ourselves had had it very cheaply.

The sight of our plenty attracted the notice of Duke Frederick von
Liegnitz,[47] so we invited him to share it. Two joyous damsels in
gorgeous silk attire were of the party and performed their duty well.
The servants also shared in the feast which was prolonged till dawn.
The nights, however, were very short.

It was full daylight when, wishing to saddle my horse, I discovered it
had been stolen. Immediately, according to 'the usages and customs of
war, I chose the best nag at hand, currycombed, bridled and mounted it
in the space of a few minutes.

On July 1, towards midday, the emperor made his entry into Bamberg with
a numerous suite. The Elector of Saxony occupied a house on the outside
of the town on the right, just at the turn of the road, so that he
could watch the city and the country. The captive was at the window
just as his Imperial Majesty passed, mounted on a small Spanish horse.
He made a profound bow; thereupon the emperor burst out laughing
sarcastically, and stared at him as long as he could.

The Spaniards took with them from Bamberg four hundred women, girls and
female servants, and did not let them go until they reached Nuremberg.
The fathers, husbands and brothers followed in their wake; the father
looking for his daughter, the husband for his better half, the brother
for his sister; at Nuremberg each found his own again. Oh, those
Spaniards! What a nation, to dare do such things after the cessation of
hostilities, in a friendly country and under the very eyes of the
sovereign. The latter, however, displayed a relentless severity. Each
evening they put up a gibbet as well as his tent, and the former did
not remain long untenanted, but it was all in vain.

I suddenly came across my horse in a meadow near the Nuremberg gates. I
put my saddle on its back, and left the animal I had taken at Coburg.

His Majesty journeyed by small stages in consequence of the excessive
heat. The diet, in fact, was summoned only for September 1. This
slowness gave me the leisure to ride with George von Wedel on the flank
of the army, from its head to its tail. It was an interesting
spectacle, this mass of men under arms and in battle order; here
Germans, farther on Spaniards. In the evening we returned to our own.
Far from keeping to the highway, the soldiers marched straight in front
of them, making a roadway four times wider than the ordinary one,
upsetting all obstacles, knocking down enclosures and filling in moats
and ditches. One day the restive horse of George von Wedel insisted on
getting into the ranks of the Spanish, who could not or would not get
out of the way, and as the rider cried angrily: "Very well, let the
French kill thee, then," a half-drunken soldier, mistaking the words,
retorted: "_Senor mio, no soy Frances, mas soy un Espanol_." The
Spaniards, in fact, think themselves much superior to the French.

As we were getting near Nuremberg there was no longer any need for me
to hide myself. I took up my quarters at the hotel selected by Duke
Frederick von Liegnitz, at that period trying to interest the emperor
in his paternal affairs. That prince was never sober, and at the
refusal of his counsellors, he caroused with the suite of Margrave
Johannes.

One day the duke and six servitors of the margrave cut the right
sleeves out of their doublets and their shirts. With bare arms, their
hose undone so as to show their shirts, their heads uncovered, and list
slippers on their feet, the seven persons marched in single file behind
the town musicians, playing with all their might, and went after dinner
to the Duke Henry of Brunswick's. Prince Frederick held in one hand a
set of dice, and in the other a quantity of gold pieces; naturally the
crowd ran with them, the foreigners foremost, Italians and Spaniards
delighted to see "these sots of Germans" go by. The wine produced such
a strong effect that Liegnitz, on entering the apartment of the duke,
stumbled across the table, both hands foremost. There was only one dice
left, and not a trace of the gold. He was unable to utter a syllable,
and dropped on the floor. Four Brunswick gentlemen carried him to a bed
on the story above. The emperor, it is said, was very angry at the
Germans making such a show of themselves.

It would be a mistake to conclude that Prince Frederick's education had
been neglected, for only a few days beforehand, though he had also been
drinking, I was quite surprised at the many stories of the Old
Testament he narrated without quoting the sacred text; he even applied
some of them very ingenuously to his own situation. Certainly there can
be nothing surpassing a careful education, provided the Holy Spirit
guides the young man when he becomes responsible for his own acts; that
is what we ought to pray for to the Almighty.

As for the consequences of drunkenness, that inexhaustible fount of
many sins, the Duke von Liegnitz was a terrible example of them. One
night when he could no longer find some one in the humour to "keep up
with him," he came to my door, trying to beguile me out of my bed. I
finally told him that to sit drinking at such an hour was beyond my
strength, and that I humbly begged his Serene Highness to husband both
our healths. He resigned himself, though reluctantly, to take "no" for
an answer. I took good care not to open.

After a fortnight's stay, the emperor left Nuremberg. Duke Frederick
was so matutinal on the day of departure that on arriving about six
o'clock at the Imperial residence, he was told the emperor had been
gone for at least two hours. Not daring to follow the sovereign, he
merely sent two counsellors to Augsburg.

I had bought at Nuremberg a handsome rapier which I wore with a Spanish
belt. One morning after breakfast, being alone, I fell asleep in my
chair. When I awoke I found that a skilful thief had cleverly
unfastened it and carried it away. I bought another weapon, and when I
had settled my bill, saddled my horse and made for Augsburg, where I
landed three days before the emperor.

Prince Frederick went back to his own country with his suite; he never
improved. Two students were returning to their homes; _en route_ they
breakfast at Liegnitz, and feeling jovial and gay they started singing.
The duke, who was in his cups, was annoyed at the noise, had them
apprehended, conducted outside the town, and beheaded. Next morning,
before recommencing his libations, he took a ride with some of his
counsellors in the direction of the place of execution. At the sight of
the blood he begins to ask questions, and is informed that the executed
men are the two students he sentenced the previous day. "What had they
done?" he asked in the greatest surprise.

At the end of one of his orgies he ordered his counsellors to lock him
up in prison on bread and water. If they disobeyed him they would
answer with their heads. The dungeon already held several occupants.
His Highness was taken to it, and the gaoler received the strictest
instructions. When the fumes of his wine had vanished, the duke, in a
livelier mood, conversed for a while with the other prisoners; then he
shouted to the warder to let him out. "I am too strictly forbidden to
do so," was the answer. He, nevertheless, went to inform the
counsellors; the latter delayed for three days, during which time the
prince left not a moment respite to the turnkeys. Finally, the
counsellors came themselves; they heard his shouting and his
supplications, but they remembered his threat to have their heads off,
and they knew that on that subject he did not jest. He had to reassure
them over and over again before he was allowed to go free.

Three years later the same prince journeyed to Stettin for no other
purpose than to have a drinking bout with some of the courtiers. At the
news of his coming, Duke Barnim went away with everybody except the
women. At his arrival the visitor found neither the duke nor any
gentlemen of the least standing, and at the castle they sent him into
the town to a house assigned to him as his quarters. An old man lay
dying there, and they naturally expected that this would shorten
Liegnitz's visit. The very opposite happened. The prince comfortably
settled himself at the dying man's bedside, recited passages from the
Scriptures to him until his last moment, and closed his eyes when the
breath was out of him. The collector Valentin presenting himself, poor
box in hand, the duke dropped a few crowns into it; after this, he sent
for mourning cloth for two cloaks, one for himself, one for Valentin,
with whom, he said, he wished to accompany the corpse to the cemetery.
The duchess, however, would not hear of this. He was therefore
quartered in the castle, just above the chancellerie, and opposite the
women's quarters, so that they could converse from one window to
another. I had been to the kitchen. As I was crossing the courtyard,
the duke, passing his head out of the window and making a speaking
trumpet of his hands, shouted with all his might to me: "Hi-there!" I
knew him from Nuremberg, and was consequently familiar with the manner
of treating him, so I answered: "Hello!" at which he was delighted.
"What a nice fellow," he cried. "For heaven's sake, come up; we'll keep
each other company, and try to enliven each other." I thanked him
humbly and continued my way.

Duke Barnim's absence being somewhat prolonged, his guest Liegnitz had
eventually to think about going. The princely presents of the duchess
made him comfortable for some time. Health, welfare, country, were all
ruined by his roystering conduct. When drink had killed him, his wife,
a Duchess of Mecklenburg, saw herself and her children reduced to the
direst privation. She had to inform not only her equals, but the
magistrates of Stralsund of her distress, and to declare herself unable
to bring up her son according to his rank. She merely asked for slight
help, scarcely more than alms. The council of Stralsund sent her a few
crowns by one of the messengers she dispatched in all directions.

[Illustration: The Diet of Augsburg. _From an old Engraving_.]




                               CHAPTER II

A Twelve Months' Stay at Augsburg during the Diet--Something about
the Emperor and Princes--Sebastian Vogelsberg--Concerning the
Interim--Journey to Cologne


On July 27, 1547, I dismounted at an inn in the wine market at
Augsburg. The host was a person of consideration, and endowed with good
sense; he was a master of one of the corporations. The latter had
administered the city's affairs for more than a century. During a
similar number of years the corporations of Nuremberg had ceded their
power in that respect to the patricians. The Augsburg corporations,
being Evangelicals, had sided against the emperor; consequently His
Imperial Majesty proposed to exclude them at the forthcoming Diet from
the government, in favour of the aristocracy, which had remained
faithful to the ancient faith.

I took two rooms (each with an alcove, or sleeping closet, attached to
it), of which the host had no need for his travelling patrons. The
ambassadors settled in one; the other was set apart for their
administration, which was composed of Jacob Citzewitz, chancellor; two
secretaries of Duke Barnim, and myself. I sold my horse with its
equipment, which was not worth much. I took what I could get for it;
fodder was very dear, and the animal was no longer of the least use to
me.

The emperor and his army arrived at the end of July. The landgrave
remained behind at Donauwerth, under the guard of a Spanish detachment,
while the elector, brought to Augsburg, took up his quarters with the
Welsers, two houses away from the Imperial residence, and on the other
side of a kind of alley by the side of my inn. A passage made between
these two houses by means of a bridge thrown over the alley provided
communication between the apartments of his Imperial Majesty and those
of the elector. The captive prince had his own kitchens. His
chancellor, Von Monkwitz, was always near him; he was served by his own
attendants, so that the Spaniards had no pretext to enter his room or
his sleeping closet. The Duke of Alva and other gentlemen of the
Imperial suite constantly kept him company; the time was spent in
pleasant conversations and equally agreeable recreations. They had
arranged a list for the jousts in the courtyard of the dwelling, which
was as superb a mansion as any royal one. The elector went out on
horseback to the beautiful sites and spots of the town, namely, the
various gardens, cultivated with much art. He had been very fond from
his youth of swordplay, and while he remained well and active he
indulged in all kinds of martial exercise. They therefore left him to
superintend the assaults at arms, but he did not stir without an escort
of Spanish soldiers. He was left free to read what he pleased, except
in the latter days, namely, after his refusal to accept the Interim.

At Donauwerth, on the other hand, the landgrave had a guard even in his
own apartment. If he looked out of the window two Spaniards craned
their necks by his side. Drums and fifes told him of the guard coming
on duty and of the guard that was being relieved. Armed sentries
watched in the prisoner's room; they were relieved once during the
night, and when those coming on duty entered the room, the others, when
the shrill music had ceased, drew the curtains of the bed aside,
saying: "We commit him to your care. Keep a good watch." The emperor's
words to the landgrave, "I'll teach you to laugh," were not an empty
threat.

Before retiring to rest, his Imperial Majesty, to the terror of many,
had a gibbet erected in front of the town hall; by the side of the
gibbet, the strapado, and, facing it, a scaffold at about an ordinary
man's height from the ground. This was intended to hold the rack, and
the beheading, the strangulating, the quartering, and kindred
operations were to be carried out on it.

The emperor had sent to Spain for his secretary, a grandee, it will be
seen directly, who stood high in his favour. As the said secretary
sailed down the Elbe, coming from Torgau, a faithful subject of the
captive elector hid himself in a wood on the bank of the stream. He was
a skilful arquebusier, and when the craft was well within range, he
fired a shot. They brought the emperor a corpse. The mortal remains of
the secretary were taken to Spain in a handsome coffin; the murderer
fled across Hungary in the direction of Turkey, but active pursuit
resulted in his capture, and he was dispatched to Augsburg. He was
driven in an open cart from St. Ulrich to the town hall, by way of the
wine market. Hence, the elector had the extreme annoyance of seeing him
pass under his windows. The condemned man had between his knees a pole,
to which his right hand was tied as high as possible. In the midst of
the drive, the sword severed the wrist from the arm; hemorrhage was
prevented by dressing the wound, and the hand was nailed to a post put
up in the street for the purpose. In front of the town hall the poor
wretch was taken from the cart and was put on the rack.

The landsknechten quartered at Augsburg had not received their pay for
several months. It was to come out of the fines imposed upon the
landgrave and the towns. The rumour ran that the fines had been paid,
but that the Duke of Alva had lost the money gaming with the elector,
so that the troops were still waiting.

In the thick of all this, a number of soldiers made their way into the
rooms of the ensigns, carrying off three standards, unfurling them, and
marching in battle array to the wine market. Near the spot where the
arquebusier had had his hand severed from his wrist, a proud Spaniard,
impelled by the mad hope of securing the Imperial favour by rendering
his name for ever glorious, flung himself into the advancing ranks and
tried to get hold of a standard; behind it, however, marched three men
with big swords, and one of these split the intruder in two just as he
would have split a turnip. "_Qui amat periculum, peribit in eo_." Thus
it is written.

Roused to great excitement by the coming of the column, the Spanish
soldiers promptly occupied the streets adjoining the market. The
elector was transferred to the Imperial quarters, lest he should be
carried off. The population were getting afraid of being pillaged in
case the idea of paying themselves should present itself to the
landsknechten. The tradesmen were more uneasy than the rest, for in
expectation of the coming Diet their shops were crammed with precious
wares, rich silk stuffs, golden and silvern objects, diamonds and
pearls. There was an indescribable tumult to the accompaniment of cries
and people foregathering in knots, though most of them barricaded
themselves in their houses and armed themselves with pikes, muskets, or
anything they could lay hands on. In short, as Sleidan expresses it,
"the day bade fair to be spent in armed alarm."

The emperor sent to ask the mercenaries what they wanted. "Money or
blood," replied the arquebusiers, their weapons reposing on the left
arm, the lighted match in their right hands, and dangerously near the
vent-hole. His Imperial Majesty promised them their arrears within
twenty-four hours, but before dispersing they claimed impunity for what
they had done, which demand the emperor granted. Next day they received
their pay and were disbanded at the same time.

Now for the end of the adventure. Secret orders were given to accompany
the ringleaders on their road, and at the first offensive remark on
their part with regard to the emperor to call in armed assistance, and
to bring them back to Augsburg. As a consequence, at the end of two or
three days, some of the firebrands, having their wallets well-lined and
sitting round frequently re-filled flagons at the inn, began to hold
forth without more reserve than if they were on the territory of
Prester John. The last thought in their minds was about informers being
among them. "We'll give him soldiers for nothing--this Charles of
Ghent![48] May the quartan fever get hold of him. We'll teach him how
to behave. May the lightning blast him," and so forth. Not for long
though. The words had scarcely left their lips than they were seized,
taken to Augsburg, and hanged in front of the town hall, each with a
little flag fluttering from the tab of their small clothes.

[Illustration: An Execution at the Time of the Reformation. _From a
Drawing by_ Lucas Cranach.]

Two Spaniards, probably guilty of robbery, as was their custom, were
strung up at the same gibbet. Towards night the hangman came with his
cart, cut the ropes and took the bodies of the seditious men outside
the town. After which there appeared a gang of Spaniards who, with more
ceremony, detached their countrymen, and placed them in a bier covered
with a kind of white linen. Then they spread the funeral cloth over
them, and the procession started. Young scholars dressed in white
cloaks marched at its head, intoning psalms; the rest, in handsome
dresses and carrying lighted tapers, followed two by two. They
proceeded in that manner to the church given up to the Spaniards for
their worship, where the two bodies were buried. It is difficult to
withhold solemn funerals from thieves when you yourself are an
incorrigible thief.

The Italian and Spanish troops were distributed in the towns of the
Algau and Swabia. Memmingen and Kempten compounded their liability
to quarter them respectively for thirty thousand and twenty thousand
florins. Thereupon a certain Imperial commissioner hit upon the
idea of presenting himself in various towns as having been instructed
to quarter a couple of hundred Spaniards for the winter. The
terror-stricken burghers implored him to spare them such a scourge, and
considered themselves only too happy to present the commissioner with a
little gratification of two, three, and four hundred crowns, paid on
the nail. Thanks to that ingenious system, the commissioner managed to
pocket some important sums. But the rumour of the thing having reached
the emperor's ears, the cheat was arrested, sentenced to death, and
executed in front of the town hall at Augsburg. The work of the hangman
began by strangulation. The patient (?) was placed on a wooden seat
against the rail of the scaffold, his forehead tightly bound in case of
convulsions, his arms bound behind his back, and fastened to the
balustrade. The hangman, after having flung a rather short rope round
his neck, slipped a thick stick down his nape, and began to twist it
round in the manner they press bales of wares. When the wretch was
strangled, he was undressed except his shirt, laid out on a board, the
hangman lifted the shirt, cut away the sexual parts, ripped open the
body from bottom to top, removed the intestines, and threw them into a
pail under the board, and finally cut the body into four quarters.

George von Wedel stayed at my hotel. He invited the Duke of Brunswick
and his steward to dinner, and chose me as the third guest. The repast
consisted of six courses; the first was soup with a capon in it. I know
that our landlady paid a crown for the bird, and that she charged Wedel
a crown per head. I did not forget to mention to my host and my fellow
guests that at Rome I had seen the hanging of the Spaniard, his
servants, and the two Jews. The duke was delighted at my recollecting
this, and he himself reminded us that the banquet had been given in his
honour. His account of the story was, however, much longer than mine.

While awaiting the arrival of the Pomeranian delegates, I borrowed
two hundred crowns of the captive Elector of Saxony, for my functions
at the Diet necessitated a decent appearance, considering that
I was called upon to confer with grand personages, such as the
Vice-Chancellor Seld, the Bishop of Arras and Dr. Johannes Marquardt,
Imperial counsellor. Besides, everything was horribly dear at Augsburg;
there was no possibility of getting along without money. Our
ambassadors arrived on St. Matthew's Day (September 21). I immediately
refunded the two hundred crowns.

Since we left Wittenberg I had never missed an opportunity of speaking
to the Imperial counsellors and advisers, sometimes to one, then to
another. More than once, for instance, I happened to be riding by the
side of the Bishop of Arras, _intimus consiliarius imperatoris_. I
solicited his intervention for a safe-conduct for our princes, in order
that they might come and plead their cause in person, or be represented
by some high dignitaries. The kindly tone of his answers afforded me
much hope, although he abstained from all positive promises.

One evening between Nuremberg and Augsburg chance made me alight at the
hostelry where Lazarus von Schwendi was putting up.[49] At that time he
was a beardless young man. We supped together, and he declared quite
spontaneously that, having been sent by the emperor to the Brandenburg
march as far as the Pomeranian frontiers to get information about the
attitude of the dukes during the late war, he had not been able to find
the slightest charge against them. He further stated that he had
written to that effect to the emperor, and he announced his intention
of repeating it to him by word of mouth.

In spite of this evidence, when I saw the Bishop of Arras, his father,
Messire de Granvelle, the most trusty adviser of his Imperial Majesty,
Dr. Seld and Dr. Marquardt at Augsburg, they seemed to vie with each
other at looking askance at me, and at formulating a refusal in hard,
haughty terms and entirely unexpected by me; such as: "_Bannus
decernetur contra principes tuos_."[50]

Our dukes sent their principal advisers. To do them justice, they
spared neither time nor trouble, but it was all in vain, for the Bishop
of Arras went as far as to growl at them: "To suppose the emperor
capable of punishing innocent people as your princes pretend to be;
that alone already constitutes the crime of treason against the
sovereign, and deserves chastisement." His Imperial Majesty closed his
ears to the truth; he was determined to act against the Dukes of
Pomerania. At Wittenberg Dr. Seld had said to me: "We are going to
examine the challenge of Ingoldstadt and will note for reference its
instances of audacity, its offensive expressions, and its provocations.
His Imperial Majesty means to show to the whole of the empire that he
is neither deficient in German blood nor in power to chastize as he
thinks fit no matter whom." This was an allusion to the following
passage of the document defying him: "And we inform Charles that we
consider him a traitor to his duty to God, a perjurer towards us, and
the German nation, and deserving the Divine punishment, and also as too
devoid of noble and German blood to carry out his threats."

Our ambassadors paid daily visits to the important ecclesiastical
personages. They went in couples, save Chancellor Citzewitz, who
considered himself, not unjustly, capable of dispensing with
assistance. He laboured, however, under the disadvantage of "repeating
himself," and of wearying his listeners. The chancellor of the Elector
of Cologne, to whom Citzewitz paid a visit one night, said the next day
to two of our ambassadors: "What is your chancellor thinking of? He
constantly repeats the same things. Does he credit me with so short a
memory as to forget in three or four days the _status causae vestrorum
principum_, or does he imagine that our affairs leave me sufficient
leisure to listen to his never ending litanies. He reminds me of a hen
about to lay. At first she flutters to the top of the open barn door,
clucking, 'An egg, an egg.' Then she gets a little higher up to the
hay-loft: 'An egg, an egg; I want to lay an egg.' From there she goes
up to the rafters: 'Look out, friends, look out. I am going to lay an
egg.' Finally, when she has cackled to her heart's content, she goes
back to her nest and produces the tiniest imaginable egg. I prefer the
goose who squats silently on the dung-heap and lays an egg as big as a
child's head."

The Archbishop of Cologne would not forgive our princes for having
secularized the monastery of Neu-Camp, a branch of the parent
institution of Alt-Camp, in the diocese of Cologne. Besides, the clergy
of Pomerania had become suspect to him ever since its choice for the
See of Cammin had fallen upon the pious, able and learned chancellor
Bartholomew Schwabe. Hence, the terms in which the emperor forbade our
princes to recognize the new dignitary as such were the reverse of
courteous, and he moreover summoned the chapters to Augsburg to take
the oath of fidelity and do homage, pending his own selection of a
chief for them. The princes, the chapters, the landed gentry, and the
towns, with the exception of Colberg, appealed; the Pomeranian mission
was entrusted with the negotiations; the States also delegated Martin
Weyer, canon of Cammin, who subsequently became a bishop.

Nor was the Elector of Brandenburg in the emperor's good books. Where
then could we find somebody successfully to intercede for us? All my
supplications were in vain, for at courts and in large towns _causae
perduntur quae paupertate reguntur_. Finally, Dr. Marquardt hinted
discreetly that a well trained small horse would be very useful to him
to proceed to the council, according to Imperial etiquette. I
immediately wrote to Pomerania, whence they sent me a pretty animal,
with instructions to buy an equipment to match. The present,
supplemented by three "Portuguese,"[51] seemed to please the doctor
mightily, and he accepted everything without much persuasion.

The melting of double ducats and Rhenish florins gave us some excellent
gold of crown standard, which served to make two cups, each weighing
seven marks. Citzewitz took them several times to Messire de Granvelle
without finding the opportunity of offering them to him. These were
indeed untimely scruples. That present, or even one of double its
value, would no more have been refused then than it was later on at
Brussels. In fact, in return for his friendly offices with the emperor,
Granvelle willingly submitted to be presented with gold, silver, and
precious objects, so that at his departure there were several vans and
numerous mules laden with them. When he was asked what were the
contents of that long convoy, he answered: "_Peccata Germaniae_!"

After many fruitless efforts our ambassadors found themselves reduced
to inactivity, and compelled as a pastime to read two Latin pamphlets
they received. The one dealt with the personality and acts of "_Carolus
Quintus_"; the title of the other was, "_De horum temporum statu_,"
with Pasquin and Marforio as interlocutors in Roman fashion.

There were ten flag-companies of landsknechten quartered at Augsburg,
besides the Spaniards and Germans accompanying the emperor, while the
outskirts held Spanish and Italian fighting men. Six hundred horsemen
from the Low Countries and more than twelve flag-companies of
Spaniards, who had been quartered during the winter at Biberach, were
posted on the shores of Lake Constance; seven hundred Neapolitan
horsemen, who had wintered at Wissemburg, lay in the Nordgau. The days,
therefore, were truly spent in "armed alarm," but there was also
extraordinary splendour, pomp, and magnificence.

Augsburg, in fact, had the honour of having within its walls his
Imperial Majesty, his Royal Majesty, all the electors in person, with
imposing suites; the Elector of Brandenburg with his wife; the Cardinal
of Trent, Duke Heindrich of Brunswick and his two sons, Charles Victor
and Philip; Margrave Albert; Duke Wolfgang, count palatine; Duke
Augustus; Duke Albert of Bavaria; the Duke of Cleves; Herr Wolfgang,
grand master of the Teutonic Order; the Bishop of Eichstedt; his Grace
of Naumberg, Julius Pflug; Abbe Weingarten; Madame Marie, the sister of
the emperor, who was accompanied by her niece, the Dowager of Lorraine;
the wife of the margrave; the Duchess of Bavaria, and the envoys of the
foreign potentates. The King of Denmark was represented by a learned
and prudent man, who had given proof of his wisdom in many a mission,
namely, Petrus Suavenius, the same who had accompanied Luther to Worms
and had returned with him. The King of Poland was represented by
Stanislas Lasky, a magnificent, experienced, learned, eloquent and
elegant, amiable, great magnate, and most charming _in familiari
colloquio_.

[Illustration: Ferdinand the First. _From an old Print._]

It is almost impossible to enumerate the crowd of vicars, counts and
other personages of note, but I must not forget the Jew Michael, who
aped the great lord, and showed himself off on horseback in gorgeous
clothes, golden chains round his neck, and escorted by ten or a dozen
servants, all Jews, but who might have fairly passed muster as horse
troopers. Michael himself had an excellent appearance; he was said to
be the son of one of the counts of Rheinfeld. The old hereditary
Marshal von Pappenheim, who had grown very short-sighted, came up with
him one day, and, not content with taking off his hat, made him a low
bow, as to a superior. When he discovered his mistake, he vented his
anger very loudly: "May the lightning blast you, you big scoundrel of a
Jew," he bellowed. The presence of so many princesses, countesses and
other noble dames, handsome, and attired in a way that baffles my
powers of description, afforded daily opportunities for banquets, Welch
and German dances. King Ferdinand was rarely without guests. He gave
magnificent receptions, splendid ballets, and beautiful concerts by a
numerous and well trained band of vocal and instrumental performers.
Behind the king's chair there stood a chattering jester; his master had
frequent "wit combats" with him. The king kept up the conversation at
table, and his tongue was never still for a moment. One evening I saw
at his reception, a Spanish gentleman, with a cloak reaching to his
heels, dancing an "algarda" or "passionesa" (I do not know the meaning
of either word) with a young damsel. They both jumped very high,
advancing and retreating, without ceasing to face each other. It was
most charming. After that another couple performed a Welch dance.

The emperor, on the contrary, far from giving the smallest banquet,
kept nobody near him; neither his sister, nor his brother, nor his
nieces, nor the Duchess of Bavaria, nor the electors, nor any of the
princes. After church, when he reached his apartments, he dismissed his
courtiers, giving his hand to everybody. He had his meals by himself,
without speaking a word to his attendants. One day, returning from
church, he noticed the absence of Carlowitz. "_Ubi est noster
Carlovitius?_" he asked of Duke Maurice. "Most gracious emperor,"
replied the latter, "he feels somewhat feeble." Immediately the emperor
turned to his physician. "Vesalius, gy zult naar Carlowitz gaan, die
zal iets wat ziek zyn, ziet dat gy hem helpt." (Anglice, "You had
better go and see Carlowitz. He is not well; you may be able to do
something for him.")

I have often been present (at Spires, at Worms, at Augsburg, and at
Brussels) at the emperor's dinner. He never invited his brother, the
king. Young princes and counts served the repast. There were invariably
four courses, consisting altogether of six dishes. After having placed
the dishes on the table, these pages took the covers off. The emperor
shook his head when he did not care for the particular dish; he bowed
his head when it suited, and then drew it towards him. Enormous
pasties, large pieces of game, and the most succulent dishes were
carried away, while his Majesty ate a piece of roast, a slice of a
calf's head, or something analogous. He had no one to carve for him; in
fact, he made but a sparing use of the knife. He began by cutting his
bread in pieces large enough for one mouthful, then attacked his dish.
He stuck his knife anywhere, and often used his fingers while he held
the plate under his chin with the other hand. He ate so naturally, and
at the same time so cleanly, that it was a pleasure to watch him. When
he felt thirsty, he only drank three draughts; he made a sign to the
_doctores medicinae_ standing by the table; thereupon they went to the
sideboard for two silver flagons, and filled a crystal goblet which
held about a measure and a half. The emperor drained it to the last
drop, practically at one draught, though he took breath two or three
times. He did, however, not utter a syllable, albeit that the jesters
behind him were amusing. Now and again there was a faint smile at some
more than ordinarily clever passage between them. He paid not the
slightest attention to the crowd that came to watch the monarch eat.
The numerous singers and musicians he kept performed in church, and
never in his apartment. The dinner lasted less than an hour, at the
termination of which, tables, seats, and everything else were removed,
there remaining nothing but the four walls hung with magnificent
tapestry. After grace they handed the emperor the quills of feathers
wherewith to clean his teeth. He washed his hands and took his seat in
one of the window recesses. There, everybody could go up and speak to
him, or hand a petition, and argue a question. The emperor decided
there and then. The future emperor Maximilian was more assiduously by
the side of the emperor than by that of his father.

Duke Maurice soon made acquaintance with the Bavarian ladies, and at
his own quarters melancholy found no place, for he lodged with a doctor
of medicine who was the father of a girl named Jacqueline, a handsome
creature if ever there was one. She and the duke bathed together and
played cards every day with Margrave Albrecht.[52] One day, the latter,
thinking he was going to have the best of the game, ventured several
crowns. "Very well," answered the damsel; "equal stakes. Mine against
yours." "Put down your money," retorted the margrave, "and the better
player wins." All this in plain and good German, while Jacqueline gave
him her most charming smile. Such was their daily mode of life. The
town gossiped about it, but the devil himself was bursting with
pleasure.

Clerics or laymen, every one among those notable personages did as he
pleased. I myself have seen young Margrave Albrecht, as well as other
young princes, drinking and playing "truc" with certain bishops of
their own age, but of inferior birth.[53] At such moments they made
very light of titles. The margrave cried abruptly; "Your turn, priest.
I'll wager your stroke isn't worth a jot." The bishop was often still
more coarse, inviting his opponent to accompany him outside to perform
a natural want. The young princes squatted down by the side of the
noblest dames on the floor itself, for there were neither forms nor
chairs; merely a magnificent carpet in the middle of the room,
exceedingly comfortable to stretch one's self at full length upon. One
may easily imagine the kissing and cuddling that was going on.[54]

Both princes and princesses spent their incomes in banquets of
unparalleled splendour. They arrived with their money caskets full to
overflowing, but in a little while they were compelled to take many a
humiliating step in order to obtain loans; the rates were ruinous, but
anything, rather than leave Augsburg defeated and humbled in their love
of display. Several sovereigns, among others the Duke of Bavaria, had
received from their subjects thousands of dollars as "play money." They
lost every penny of it.

Our ambassadors lived very retired. They neither invited nor were
invited; nevertheless, when a visitor came, they were bound to offer a
collation, and to amuse their guests. One day they entertained Jacob
Sturm of Strasburg.[55] During dinner the conversation turned on
Cammin. Sturm gave us the history of that bishopric, of its foundation,
of its expansion. Then he told us of the ancient prerogatives of the
Dukes of Pomerania; of the negotiations set on foot seven years before
at the diet of Ratisbon. In short, it was as lucid, as complete, and as
accurate a summary of the subject as if he had just finished studying
it. Our counsellors greatly admired his wonderful memory. Verily, he
was a superior, experienced, eloquent, and prudent man, who had had his
share in many memorable days from an Imperial as well as from a
provincial view; for, in spite of his heresy, the emperor had at
various times entrusted him with important missions. Without him,
Sleidan could have never written his History. He avows it frankly, and
renders homage to Sturm in many passages of his _Commentaries_. Nobody
throughout the empire realized to the same degree as he the motto:
"_Usus me genuit, mater me peperit memoria_." A person of note having
asked him if the towns of the League of Schmalkalden were all at peace
with the emperor, he answered: "_Constantia tantum desideratur_."[56]
It would be impossible better to express both the isolation of
Constance and the mistake to which the Protestants owed their reverses.
Should my children have a desire to know what Sturm was like facially,
they will only have to look at my portrait, which bears such a
remarkable resemblance to him as to have baffled Apelles to improve
upon it.[57] Our ambassadors also received the visits of Musculus and
Lepusculus, but each came by himself. The moment for serious debate had
struck, for the Interim was being gradually drawn up. The time for
jesting had gone by; the only thing to do was to get at the root of
matters.[58]

I sometimes brought my countryman, friend, and co-temporary Valerius
Krakow home with me. He was secretary to Carlowitz, and, excluded as
they were from all negotiations, our counsellors were glad to learn
from his lips what was being plotted. During the campaign he had not
stirred from the side of Carlowitz, who, in reward for his services,
had got him into the chancellerie of Prince Maurice. Another countryman
of mine who came to see us was the traban Simon Plate, one of my old
acquaintances, for we had pursued our studies together more or less
usefully at Greifswald, under George Normann. The counsellors did not
care for him, for he was of no earthly use to them. The trabans had
some respectable, honest, well set-up and plucky fellows in their
ranks, and enjoyed a certain amount of consideration. The emperor was
particular about their dress; they wore black velvet doublets, cloaks
with large bands of velvet, and the Spanish head-dress of the same
material.

Plate was never tired of praising his fellow-soldier sleeping next to
him, and the ambassadors gave him leave to bring his friend. He wore a
most beautiful golden chain. Plate had not exaggerated. Finally he even
took umbrage at the favour shown to the new comer, so that one day he
exclaimed: "No doubt he is very upright and honest. He has shown his
courage, consequently he pleases the emperor. It is a pity, though,
that he is not a gentleman by birth." The remark, I am bound to say,
displeased our ambassadors greatly, and above all Chancellor Citzewitz;
but let my children look to it. I have heard many Pomeranian nobles
hold the same language. According to them, intelligence, sound judgment
and ability were the exclusive appanage of birth.

Plate showed himself in a better light on another occasion. Our
counsellors had received several visits, and some flagons had been
joyously emptied. When our guests were gone, Moritz Damis, captain of
Ukermuende, a rollicking, lively creature, suddenly took a fancy to go
to the court ball which was taking place that evening, not in the
apartments of the emperor, but in those of his sister and niece, who
likewise occupied the Fugger mansion in the wine market. His
colleagues, who had not forgotten the emperor's threat to the
landgrave, "I'll teach you to laugh," were afraid of a scandal, and
pointed out that our princes were in disgrace; but Damitz got angry.
"Our princes will give me money, but they cannot give me health," he
exclaimed. "What am I doing here? Why should I deny myself the sight of
such rejoicings? How am I to keep alive? I may as well make up my mind
never to cast eyes on Pomerania again." Saying which, he rushed down
the stairs; a counsellor tried to hold him back by his golden chain,
the links of which, however, broke, and our captain ran to the ball.

Simon Plate had remained perfectly cool, and they asked him to follow
the madcap. There was no difficulty for Plate to get inside the
ball-room, and the first person of note of whom he caught sight was the
puissant and renowned warrior-chief, Johannes Walther von Hirnheim,[59]
moodily walking to and fro at the lower end of the room. Damitz had
noticed standing close by the dancers a handsome woman gorgeously
dressed and glittering with jewels, and in less time than it takes to
tell he had addressed her: "Charming creature," he said, "are you not
going to dance?" "Oh no, sir," was the answer; "dancing is only fit for
young people, and I am an old woman." "What, are you married?" asked
the captain. "I could have sworn that you were only a girl, and if I
were told to choose with the most beautiful woman here, my choice would
fall upon you." "Ah, sir, you are merely jesting." "And what is your
husband's name?" the captain went on unabashed. "Johannes Walther von
Hirnheim." "Johannes Walther? Oh, I know him well." The husband,
somewhat curious with regard to the captain's conversation, had drawn
near, though still continuing to walk up and down in silence. Damitz,
though, taking no notice of either him or Simon Plate, continued his
interrogatory. "Have you any children?" "No; God has ordained it
otherwise." "Ah, if I had such a wife, I know what I am. God would soon
grant us children." This incursion of the captain into the physical
domain induced Simon Plate to interfere, to turn the conversation, and
to take Damitz back to his domicile.

In December our ambassadors decided to send one of their body to
Pomerania, and Heindrich Normann was selected for the journey. It was
bitterly cold, and Normann endeavoured to provide against it. He put on
a linen nightcap, over that a fur one, and a second of cloth, with a
big muffler fastened behind and in front (just as the peasantry still
wear it), and finally a thick hat, embroidered in silk. On his hands
white thread gloves, chamois leather ones lined with fur; over these,
and over the latter again thicker gloves of wolf's skin. His body was
encased in a linen shirt, a knitted tightly-fitting garment in the
Italian fashion; over that a vest of red English cloth, a doublet
wadded with cotton, another lined jacket, a long coat of wool trimmed
with wolf's skin, covering the whole; finally, on his feet, linen
socks, Louvain gaiters reaching above the knee, cloth hose, stockings
lined with sheep's skin, and high boots. When everybody had done giving
special commissions, the servants hoisted him into the saddle, for he
could have never got into it without their help. He went as far as
Donauwerth; when he got there, his equipment decidedly seemed to him
too uncomfortable. As, however, he had no desire to be frozen to death,
he turned his horse's head and made for the good city of Augsburg.

Inasmuch as the narrative of Sleidan is very incomplete, I am going to
write the story of Sebastian Vogelsberg. Having been an eye-witness, I
made it my business to note down his last speeches. Vogelsberg was tall
and of imposing appearance, his width being in proportion to his
height; in short, a handsome, well-proportioned man with a head as
round as a ball, a beard reaching to his waist, and an open face. No
painter could have found a better model for a manly man. He had a
certain amount of education. According to some people, he had been a
schoolmaster in Italy. Count Wilhelm von Fuerstenberg, who entered the
"paid" service of the belligerent monarchs as a colonel, took him as a
semi-secretary, semi-accountant. Vogelsberg, having been promoted to an
ensignship, rendered distinguished service in the field; Ambitious,
glib of tongue, not to say eloquent and rarely at a loss what to do, he
quickly attained the grade of captain, and high and mighty potentates
soon preferred him to Fuerstenberg. The latter felt most annoyed at
this, belonging as he did to a class of men to whom merit is
inseparable from birth. He constantly inveighed against Vogelsberg,
who, in his turn, did not spare his rival. Pamphlets were printed on
both sides. The count appears to have begun; he appealed to his peers,
their honour seemed to him at stake. The Protestant States sided with
Vogelsberg, their co-religionist, while the popish camp swore mortal
hatred to him.

Weary of fruitless polemics, and knowing full well that it would have
been folly to take the law into his own hands, Vogelsberg decided upon
bringing an action before the Imperial Chamber for damages for
defamation of character. I was at the time clerk to his procurator, Dr.
Engelhardt; consequently, I knew every particular of the affair. After
protracted debates, the court finding for Vogelsberg, condemned Count
Wilhelm to a fine of four hundred florins, a sentence which caused
Wilhelm's brother, Frederick von Fuerstenberg, and everybody who bore
the title of count to consider themselves the injured parties.

Three _causae proaegoumenae_, to use the language of the dialecticians,
may be plainly discerned in this drama; namely, religion, the soldierly
qualities of Vogelsberg, and the hostility of the nobles and <DW7>s.
We may add two _causae procatarcticae_: the first, mentioned by
Sleidan, to the effect that a twelvemonth previously Vogelsberg had
taken a regiment of landsknechten to the King of France; the second,
which I saw with my own eyes at Wissenburg on the Rhine, that
Vogelsberg had built himself in that Imperial town a beautiful mansion
of hewn stone with the arms of France, three big _fleurs de lis_
artistically sculptured over the door. The <DW7>s, feeling confident
that in the probable event of a new war of religion, the valiant
captain would give them a great deal of trouble, and thirsting as they
did for his blood, like a deer in summer pants for cooling streams,
they took time by the forelock. Their skill in exploiting with his
Imperial Majesty the _causae irritatrices_ stood them in good stead.
They were instrumental in getting two doctors of their following
appointed as judges. The one was German, and the other Welch, but both
promptly pronounced a sentence of death which was immediately carried
out.

On February 7, 1548, shortly after eight in the morning, an
ensign-corps of soldiers from the outskirts of "Our Lady," and two
other ensign-corps from the outskirts of "St. Jacob," took up their
position in the square of the Town Hall. Sleidan says the scaffold was
erected for the purpose of executing Vogelsberg. This is an error on
Sleidan's part. The scaffold had been there for six months, and had
served many times. An officer from the Welch, whom they call _magister
de campo_ was detached from the troops with about thirty men to fetch
the condemned man from the Peilach tower. The latter was brought back
to the sound of drums and fifes.

Vogelsberg wore a black velvet dress and a Welch hat embroidered with
silk. At his entrance into the circle surrounding the scaffold he
caught sight of Count Reinhard von Solms, whose nose was half-eaten
away by disease, and Ritter Conrad von Boineburg. Without taking any
notice of the count, a relentless <DW7>, who detested him on account
of Fuerstenberg, he asked of the ritter: "Herr Conrad, is there any
hope?" "Dear Bastian," replied Boineburg, "May God help you."
"Certainly, He will help me," was Vogelsberg's rejoinder. And with his
firmest step, his head erect, and his usual assurance, he climbed the
steps to the scaffold.

He looked for a long while at the crowd. All the windows were occupied
by members of the nobility. At those of the Town Hall there were
serried rows of electors, princes of the Church and of the empire,
barons, counts, and knights. In a manly voice and as steady a tone as
if he were at the head of his troops, Vogelsberg began to speak: "Your
serenissime highnesses, highnesses, excellencies, noble, puissant,
valiant seigneurs and friends. As I am this day ..." At that moment the
_magister de campo_ (quarter-master-general) told the executioner to
proceed with his duty, but the latter, addressing the condemned man,
said: "Gracious sir, I shall not hurry you. Speak as long as you
please." Thereupon Vogelsberg went on: "I am to lose my life by order
of the emperor, our very merciful and gracious master, and I now will
tell you the cause of my death-warrant. It is for having raised ten
ensign-companies last summer for the coronation of the praiseworthy
King of France. No felonious act can be imputed to me during the ten
years I served the emperor. As I am innocent, I beseech of you to keep
me in kind memory, and to pity my undeserved misfortunes. Watch over my
kindred, so that they may not come to grief on account of all this, and
may benefit by the fruit of my services, for the whole of my life was
that of an honest man. I am being sacrificed to the implacable
resentment of that infamous Lazarus Schwendi." The latter was at the
window facing the scaffold, and suddenly disappeared, but Vogelsberg
did not interrupt his speech. "He came to me to Wissemburg to tell me
that he was in disgrace in consequence of the murder of a Spanish
gentleman in the suite of his Imperial Majesty, and that the Spaniards
were also looking for me. He proposed to me to fly to France together,
and borrowed two hundred crowns of me. I even gave him a horse as a
present for his advice. Well, the traitor took me straight to the
Spaniards. While I was in prison I asked him, for my personal need, for
some of the crowns I had lent him, but he turned a deaf ear to all my
requests. I beg of you to be on your guard against that skunk of a
thief who bears the name of Lazarus Schwendi. No one ought to have any
dealings with him. He has even dared to denounce to his Imperial
Majesty his Serenissimo Highness the Elector Palatine as having entered
into a league with the King of France. It is an infamous slander. If I
had another life to stake, I should stake it on that. I have been
refused the last assistance of a minister, of a confessor--a refusal
which has no precedent. I nevertheless die innocent and redeemed by the
blood of Jesus Christ." After this he walked round the circle, though
above it, asking everybody to forgive him as he forgave everybody. Then
he seated himself. The executioner divided his long beard into two and
knotted the two ends together on the skull. Having craved his pardon,
and invited him to say a Pater and the Credo, he performed his office.
The head rolled like a ball from the scaffold to the ground; the
executioner caught it by the beard and placed it between the legs of
the body, spreading a cloak over the whole, except the feet which
showed from under it.

After that the officer and his thirty arquebusiers went to fetch Jacob
Mantel and Wolf Thomas, of Heilbron, who had been brought to Augsburg
at the same time as Vogelsberg. Thomas was left at the foot of the
scaffold. Mantel walked round the platform and said a few words, which
many people could not hear. As his stiff leg made it difficult for him
to kneel down, the executioner slipped a footstool under the paralyzed
limb. He failed to sever the head at the first stroke, and had to
finish the operation below; then he once more covered up the body.

There only remained Wolf Thomas. To judge by his dress and bearing he
was not an ordinary man. He stared fixedly at the feet of Vogelsberg,
showing from under the cloak; then he took his eyes off, and told those
around that he had been a loyal and faithful soldier for twenty-seven
years, and that he died absolutely innocent, his sole crime consisted
in having served the King of France during three months, as many an
honest noble and squire had done before him without incurring the least
punishment. He asked those around to forgive him as he forgave them,
and to pray for him as he would intercede in their favour, he being
firmly assured of a place near the Almighty. He asked those who
promised to say a Pater and the _Credo_ for him to hold up their hands.
After that he was beheaded.

At the termination of the triple execution the executioner cried in a
loud voice from the scaffold: "In the name of his Imperial Majesty it
is expressly forbidden to any one to serve the King of France on the
penalty of sharing the fate of these three men."

The death of Vogelsberg caused universal regret. The unanimous opinion
was that a soldier of such mettle was worth his weight in gold to a
warlike monarch. Sleidan alleges erroneously that the two judges
exculpated Lazarus von Schwendi. It was the emperor who caused to be
printed and distributed everywhere a small proclamation of half a
sheet, declaring Schwendi free from all blame, inasmuch as he strictly
carried out the Imperial orders, and that the speech of Vogelsberg was
obviously dictated by the desire to escape the most fully deserved
punishment.

The King of France, it was said, was so displeased at the cry of the
executioner from the scaffold that by his orders the Marquis de
Saluces, on his return from Germany, was arrested and beheaded. This
was the nobleman who at Wittenberg had disadvised the execution of the
Elector of Saxony.

In April, Augsburg witnessed the arrival of Muleg-Hassan, King of
Tunis. Thirteen years previously he had been driven forth by
Barbarossa; subsequently he was re-established on his throne by the
emperor, but his eldest son had ousted him and put his eyes out. A
fugitive and wretched, he came to place himself under the protection of
the emperor, and was soon joined in his exile by one of his sons. I
often met these two on horseback, in company of Lasky, the Polish
ambassador, who spoke their language.

As the pope opposed, against all expectation, the holding at Trent of a
Christian, free and impartial council, and experience having taught
people besides that the learned men of both parties would never come to
an agreement, the States of the empire proposed to his Imperial Majesty
to confide to a restricted number of learned and God-fearing men the
task of drawing up a document for the furtherance of the reign of God
and the preservation of the public peace.

In pursuance of this the emperor delegated personally the Bishop of
Mayence, Dr. George Sigismund Seld, and Dr. Heindrich Hase.

The King of the Romans selected Messire Gandenz von Madrutz. The
Elector of Mayence chose his Bishop Suffragan; the Elector of Treves,
Johannes von Leyen, canon of Treves and of Wurzburg; the Elector of
Cologne, his provincial; the Elector Palatine, Ritter Wolf von
Affenstein; the Elector of Saxony, Dr. Fachs; the Elector of
Brandenburg, Eustacius von Schlieben.

The princes selected the Bishop of Augsburg, Dr. Heinrichmann; the Duke
of Bavaria, Dr. Eck.

The prelates selected the Abbe von Weingarten; the counts, Count Hugo
de Montfort; the towns: Strasburg, Jacob Sturm; Ulm, George Besserer.

These personages met on Friday, February 11, 1548, but they failed to
agree, which might have easily been foreseen. The ecclesiastical
members of the Diet took advantage of the opportunity to have the book
of the Interim composed respectively by the Bishop of Naumburg,
Johannes Pflug; by the Bishop Suffragan of Mayence, appointed a little
later on to the See of Meiseburg, and by the court preacher to the
Elector of Brandenburg, Johannes Agricola, otherwise Eisleben, who
coveted the bishopric of Cammin. The Imperial assent to this had to be
obtained; they set to work in the following manner.

The Elector of Brandenburg and his wife lived on a sumptuous footing at
Augsburg. The elector was fond of display; the electress, the daughter
of a king of Poland, was even more lavish than her spouse. The dearth
of everything and the frequency and the profusion of the entertainments
had already for a long time reduced the finances of his Serene Highness
to a critical state. Seven years previously, at the gathering of
Ratisbon, Dr. Conrad Holde had already lent the prince close upon six
thousand crowns. Their repayment had been constantly, but
unsuccessfully demanded. Finally, at Augsburg, in default of ready
money, he received the written promise of repayment in four instalments
at the dates of the Frankfurt fairs. It was duly signed and sealed.
Nothing was wanting to its perfect legality; the most suspicious would
have been satisfied. Nevertheless, the payments were not made when due,
and the creditor instituted proceedings before the Imperial Chamber.
The elector did not know which way to turn; there was not a purse open
to him. He was absolutely at a loss how to get his wife and his
numerous suite decently away from Augsburg when the Bishop of Salzburg
made an end of his embarrassments by advancing him sixteen thousand
Hungarian florins on the duly executed promise of their being repaid in
a short time. But the principal condition of the loan was that the
Elector of Brandenburg should present to his Imperial Majesty the work
of the three above-named personages, and bind himself and his subjects
to submit to its provisions.

The Elector of Saxony instructed Christopher Carlowitz to send a copy
of the "Interim" to Philip Melanchthon.[60] The latter's reply was
singularly devoid of courage. It was supposed to be inspired by the
theologians of Wittenberg and Leipzig, who in that way sounded the
first notes of "Adiaphorism." Carlowitz promptly communicated this
epistle everywhere. It aroused general surprise, as well as the most
opposed feelings; grief and consternation among the adherents to the
Augsburg confession, matchless jubilation among the Catholics. And the
Lord alone knows how they bellowed it about in the four corners of
Germany, how they availed themselves of it to proclaim their victory.

[Illustration: Melanchthon. _From a Drawing by_ Lucas Cranach.]

The ecclesiastical electors sent Melanchthon's letter, together with
the book, to the pope, and what with backslidings and plotting the pear
was very soon ripe. The publication of the "Interim" took place on May
14, at four o'clock in the afternoon, in presence of the States
assembled. The emperor had it printed in Latin and in German. In the
first proofs handed to the emperor the passage from St. Paul,
"_Justificati fide pacem habemus_," was altogether changed by the
suppression of the word _fide_; the confessionists protested
energetically, and confounded the would-be authors of the fraud.

The stern tone of the act of promulgation stopped neither speeches nor
scathing writings. Sterling refutations were published even outside
Germany; the two best known are the Latin treatise of Calvin, which
spread all over the empire--in Italy, in France, in Poland, etc.; and a
piece of writing in German, which was more to the taste of everybody,
and one of whose authors was AEpinus, superintendent of Hamburg.

Seigneur de Granvelle and his son, the Bishop of Arras, strongly
persuaded the Elector of Saxony to adhere to the "Interim," in order to
regain his freedom, but the prince remained faithful to the Confession
of Augsburg. Thereupon they took away his books; there was no meat on
his table on fast days, and his chaplain, whom he had kept with him
with the consent of the emperor, had to fly in disguise. The landgrave,
on the other hand, who did not care to profess greater wisdom than the
fathers of the Church, consented to recommend the book to his subjects,
and begged to be pardoned for the sake of Christ and all His saints.

At the closure of the Diet, I took, like his Imperial Majesty, the road
to the Low Countries. The stay of the emperor at Ulm brought about the
dismissal of the council, which was replaced by more devoted creatures.
The six ministers were bidden to accept the "Interim." Four of them
were not to be shaken, and they were led away captive in the suite of
the emperor; the other two, in spite of their apostasy, had to leave
wives and children, and scant consideration was shown to them. At
Spires, the prior of the barefooted Carmelites was, like all the
brothers of his monastery, a good evangelical, though all had preserved
the dress of their order. During four years I had seen him going to and
fro in the town, dressed in his monk's frock; each Sunday he went into
the pulpit and the church was crowded to the very porch. Never did he
breathe a word about the pope or about Luther, but he was a master of
pure doctrine, and at the approach of the emperor he fled in a layman's
dress. Worms and the whole of the country lost their preachers. Landau
possessed a select group of learned and distinguished ministers,
because the town offered many advantages; a delightful situation,
excellent fare, and a splendid vineyard at the very gates of the town;
but the ministers had to abandon the place to the popish priests,
scamps without experience, without instruction, without piety, and
without decency.

I often had occasion afterwards to go to Landau, where the advocate of
my father, Dr. Engelhardt, resided. One Sunday, at the termination of
the mass, I heard a young and impudent good-for-nothing hold forth from
the pulpit in the following strain: "The Lutherans are opposed to the
worship of Mary and the saints. Now, my friends, be good enough to
listen to this. The soul of a man who had just died got to the door of
heaven, and Peter shut it in his face. Luckily, the Mother of God was
taking a stroll outside with her sweet son. The deceased addresses her,
and reminds her of the Paters and the Aves he has recited to her glory,
the candles he has burned before her images. Thereupon Mary says to
Jesus, 'It's the honest truth, my son.' The Lord, however, objected,
and addressed the supplicant: 'Hast thou never read that I am the way
and the door to everlasting life?' He asks. 'If thou art the door, I am
the window,' replies Mary, taking the 'soul' by the hair and flinging
it into heaven through the open casement. And now I ask you, is it not
the same whether you enter Paradise by the door or by the window? And
those abominable Lutherans dare to maintain that one must not invoke
the Virgin Mary." That was the kind of scandalous irreligion exhibited
in the places where formerly the healthy evangelical doctrine was
preached.

The landgrave's submission to the "Interim" only brought him into
contempt. His wife, who had hastened to Spires to beseech the emperor,
was allowed to remain day and night with the prisoner during his week's
stay there. At the departure for Worms I saw the landgrave pass at
eight in the morning, with his escort of Spaniards with long
arquebuses. They hemmed him in in front, behind, and at the sides,
while he himself was bestriding a broken-down nag with empty and open
holsters, and the hilt of his sword securely tied to its sheath. A
serried crowd of strangers and inhabitants, women and servants, old and
young, were pressing around his escort, as if there had been an order
given to that effect. They cried: "Here goes the wretched rebel, the
felon, the scoundrel that he is." They said worse things which, from
certain scruples, I abstain from repeating. It looked like the
procession of a vulgar malefactor who was being taken to the scaffold.

Pure chance made me an eye-witness of a diverting scene at Augsburg. I
have already said that Duke Maurice had ingratiated himself very much
with the Bavarian court ladies. One Sunday, in December, when the
weather was fine, he was ready to go out in a sleigh. I happened to be
at the door with several others, who also heard the following dialogue.
Carlowitz came down the stairs of the chancellerie in hot haste,
exclaiming: "Whither is your Highness going?" "To Munich," was the
answer. "But your Highness has an audience to-morrow with the emperor."
"I am going to Munich," repeated the duke. Thereupon Carlowitz: "If,
thanks to me, the electoral dignity is practically yours, it is
nevertheless true that your frivolity causes you to be despised of
their Majesties and of all honourable people." Maurice merely laid the
whip on his horses, which started off at a gallop, Carlowitz shouting
at the top of his voice: "Very well, then; go to the devil, and may
heaven blast you and your sledge." When the prince returned, Carlowitz
announced his intention of going to Leipzig. "If I miss the New Year's
fair," he said, "I shall lose several thousand crowns." The elector had
only one means to make him stay, namely, to count out the sum to him.

As the restoration of the Imperial Chamber necessitated my return to
Spires to watch my father's lawsuit, I wrote to Pomerania to be
dispensed from following the emperor. This is the answer from our
princes.

"Greetings to our loyal and well-beloved. Our counsellors have informed
us of thy request, which we should willingly grant thee if it were not
prejudicial to our interests and those of the country, and which thou
hast up to the present administered. We therefore invite thee to
exercise some patience, and to serve us with zeal and fidelity as
heretofore; inclined as we are to recall thee after the Diet to give
thee unquestionable proofs of our great satisfaction, as well as the
means satisfactorily to bring to an end the paternal affairs. We rely
on thy obedience, and bind ourselves to confirm all our promises as
above. Given under our hand at Stettin-the-Old, Sunday after St. James,
in the year 1548."

I had lived uninterruptedly for a twelvemonth at Augsburg, save for one
ride to Munich, a city well worth seeing. The Diet being about to
dissolve, I bought a horse, an acquisition which that big dreamer of a
Normann deferred from day to day. Of course, the inevitable happened.
The moment the emperor had announced his forthcoming departure
everybody wanted horses, and he who had ordered himself a handsome
dress, sold it at half-price in order to get a roadster. Normann, who,
in spite of my warnings, had waited till the eleventh hour, unable to
find a suitable mount, took mine, which had been well fed and looked
after in anticipation of the long journey. I by no means relished this
unceremonious proceeding, but I could not help myself, and was
compelled to put up with a seat on a big fourgon, in which I placed the
golden cups intended for Granvelle. At Ulm, Martin Weyer decided that
Normann should give me back my horse when we reached Spires, and that
he should go the rest of the way by the Rhine. When we got to Spires,
Normann was not to be found there, and we finally learnt that he had
gone to the baths of Zell with the chimerical hope of getting rid of
his pimples which disfigured him.

I confided the two pieces of goldsmith's work to Dr. Louis Zigler, the
procurator to our princes, then went by coach to Oppenheim, and by
water to Mayence. On 10 September our ship reached Cologne, and next
morning I went in search of a good horse to pursue my route in company
of friends, when, whom should I meet in the street but Normann. As a
consequence, I was obliged to change my inn, and to part with my
company. Normann was in treaty for a horse, which he finally bought. In
that way we were both provided for, but without a servant, each man
taking care of his own horse; however, the ostlers were excellent, and
there was no need to watch; one had only to command.

We started for the Low Countries on September 12, the emperor going
down the Rhine in a boat. Next day, at the branching off of the high
road, we hesitated. On inquiring at the nearest inn we were told
that one road led to Maestricht, and the other to Aix-la-Chapelle.
The first-named was the shorter by six miles; on the other hand,
Aix-la-Chapelle is the famous city founded by Charlemagne. It contains
the royal throne, it is the city where the emperor is crowned after his
election at Frankfurt. After we had discussed the "for" and "against"
at some length, we hit upon the idea of giving our horses their heads,
and leaving the bridles on their necks. By some subtle and mysterious
intuition the animals chose, according to our secret desire, the road
to Aix-la-Chapelle.

The city itself is large and in ancient style. The country around is
barren, the soil consisting of coal, stone and slate. Previous to the
foundation of the city it was simply a wilderness. There are some
excellent mineral springs; the bath, constructed in beautiful hewn
stone, is square, and about fourteen feet long; three steps enable one
to sit down with the water up to the throat, or to be immersed at a
small depth. Except the baths of the landgravate of Baden, I know of no
other arrangement equally comfortable. At the town hall, castle, and
arsenal of Charlemagne there are hundreds of thousands of sharp iron
arrows stowed away in closed chests. On entering the church one
immediately notices an ivory and gold armchair, fastened with exceeding
great art. At the lower end of the nave, to the west, a huge crown of
at least twelve feet diameter is suspended. I do not know the nature of
the material, but it is gilt and painted in colours. In the way of
relics there are the hose of Joseph. They are only shown at stated
times, but whoever has the privilege of seeing them has a great many of
his sins remitted.

On September 24 we reached Brussels in Brabant, and there I received
the order to go back to my country, the functions of solicitor to the
Imperial Chamber having been conferred upon me. Hence, on St. Denis'
Day, I began this journey of more than a hundred miles, alone and
across unknown countries, with abominable roads, above all in
Westphalia. I was often obliged to stay the night at places which were
more than suspect, and when only half-way my horse came to grief in
consequence of Normann's former rough usage. I had to swop it, paying a
sum of money besides, and was unfortunate enough to have come across a
veritable crock which I was obliged to keep, there being no help for
it. Finally, through good and evil I reached Wolgast on All Saints'
Day.




                              CHAPTER III

How I held for two Years the Office of _Solicitator_ at the Imperial
Chamber at Spires--Visit to Herr Sebastian Muenster--Journey to
Flanders--Character of King Philip--I leave the Princes' Service


As soon as my nomination was drawn up, I was dispatched with it to
Chancellor Citzewitz, at his estate of Muttrin, near Dantzig. The
principal personages of the land had come to consult him, and he kept
me for more than ten days with him in excellent company, making me
share their favourite recreation, and the thing that bored me most,
namely, the chase, to which the country admirably lends itself. I
returned with the chancellor to Stettin, where my warrant of
appointment was duly signed and sealed.

At Wolgast Duke Philip interrogated me at length in his own study, and
with no one else present, on the condition of affairs at Augsburg and
Brussels. He was much surprised at my boldness in having given him such
a plain and straightforward account of the doings of the court. "If
only one of your letters had been intercepted, they would have strung
you up at the nearest tree," he said. This was no exaggeration on his
part; and supposing such a catastrophe had happened, he would, in spite
of everything, have remained a prince of the empire, while there would
have been an end of me. Of course, my behaviour gave him the measure of
my devotion to him. He promised me a good horse; besides this, the
ducal kitchen provided all that was necessary for a farewell banquet,
and, in fact, at supper some pages brought us two hares from the
prince's larder. I received a hundred crowns for my loyal services, and
an appointment of one hundred and forty per annum; the cost of copying
and dispatch of messengers being charged to their Highnesses.

I went to say good-bye to my parents at Stralsund. My mother had
ordered for my sister chains and clasps which the goldsmith had as yet
not delivered. I paid for them, and, moreover, left thirty crowns at
home. "Use them, if there be any need. I'll manage to make both ends
meet with what remains." Duke Philip had given me a strong and lively
hunter. Behind the saddle I had a small saddle-bag, like the court
messengers. My brother Christian accompanied me as far as Leipzig,
where we wished to be for the fair.

Our journey was an uneventful one, except that one day in Mesnia,
having lost our way, we came at the end of a big forest upon a small
tenement which was the residence of a poor gentleman. The fast
gathering darkness compelled us to knock at the noble's dwelling, which
was inhabited by a young widow of only a few weeks' standing with her
mother-in-law. The bad-tempered old woman roughly refused us shelter.
"Go wherever you like," she snarled. Her daughter-in-law, on the other
hand, said; "We did not expect any one, and we do not keep an inn, but
it is getting darker and darker, and you would have to go a long way
before finding one. If you will be content with our humble
accommodation, you may remain for the night." At these words the other
one storms and raves. "May the devil take you and them. You have found
some youngsters who are to your taste, and you have already forgotten
my son." I tried to appease her. "We have never before been in this
country," I said to her; "at daybreak we'll be able to find our way.
You need not be afraid of our using unsuitable language or doing aught
that is not right, and we'll be satisfied with whatever accommodation
you can give us, as long as our horses have some fodder and some straw.
For all this we'll willingly pay." The virago, however, turned a deaf
ear to this. If we were not the lovers of her daughter-in-law why
should we have come at this late hour in the neighbourhood where no
stranger ever came? The young woman was very patient throughout. After
having provided us with hay and straw for our horses, she took us to a
lofty room of very modest appearance. There was no man or woman servant
to be seen; our supper, though, was none the worse for it. After she
had set all our provisions before us, our hostess sat down and told us
the sad existence she was leading. The bed was moderately comfortable,
and the sheets were clean. We paid more than was asked.

At Leipzig I stopped two days to rest my horse. I gave my brother the
wherewithal for his return journey, and continued my way alone. The
country as far as Frankfurt was known to me. From Butzbach I went by
Niederweisel and the Hundfruck, a route I had often pursued with my
former master, the commander of St. John. It is more direct than by
Friburg, but it swarms with highway robbers. As I was walking my horse
up the <DW72> of the forest I caught sight of two horsemen who were
evidently bent on waiting for me, as they posted themselves, the one to
the left and the other to the right of the road, and when I was between
them they began interpellating me in a gruff voice. "From what
country?" "From Pomerania." "What hast thou got in thy valise?"
"Letters." "Whither art thou going?" "To Spires." "To whom dost thou
belong?" "To the Dukes of Pomerania. Here is my safe-conduct."
Thereupon one of them became more friendly. "And how is his Highness
Duke Philip, that excellent prince? I knew him very well at
Heidelberg." And on my recommendation for them to go their way and to
let me go mine, they looked at me very hard for a few moments, but did
not follow me. I sold my horse and equipment at Frankfurt, and went
down the Main as far as Mayence, whence, going up the Rhine, I got to
Oppenheim, and by the coach to Worms and Spires.

I reached the latter town on January 21, 1549. I hired a room with a
dressing closet at a clothshearer's, who was also a councillor. I also
boarded with him, like many young doctors of law and other notable
persons detained at Spires by their functions or by their wish to get
practical experience.

Dr. Simeon Engelhardt, who, by the express act of a formal decision of
his Imperial Majesty, had not been reinstated in his office of
procurator any more than his brother-in-law, the licentiate Bernard Mey
and Johannes Helfmann had transferred his household goods to Landau. At
his recommendation, Dr. Johannes Portius, for procurator, and I brought
him so many clients that he would accept no fees from me. Engelhardt
remained my advocate, notwithstanding the inconvenience of the distance
between us. How often have I walked the four miles between Spires and
Landau! By starting at the closing of the gates, I reached Landau for
the hour fixed for their opening; the morning sufficed to transact my
business with the doctor, and my return journey was accomplished in the
afternoon. Nor did Engelhardt claim any fees, but I remember having
taken to him a client who for a single act paid him twenty crowns
without his asking. The correspondence, thanks to the Pomeranian
couriers always at my disposal, was equally cheap.

The Lloytz of Stettin chose me as their solicitor.[61] Martin Weyer, in
the "Cammin" affair, did the same. There were others, and all, except
Weyer, paid me handsomely. I was getting well known among the
procurators, and I finally acted _pro principale vel adjuncto notario_.
I earned, then, sufficient to live comfortably without having recourse
to the paternal purse. I even could put aside the whole of my
appointments, and something over. The chief benefit, however, lay in
the acquisition of experience, the fruits of which have extended to the
whole of my family, because my pen has always been the sole means of
livelihood. If that business be well learnt and well carried out, it
leaves no one to starve. Folks may mention the word scribe with as much
contempt as they please; the fact remains that I have had many a choice
morsel, and drunk delicious draughts through being a scribe.

From Spires I wrote to Sebastian Muenster that their Highnesses were
particularly anxious not to hurry the printing of his excellent
_Cosmographie_, because a special messenger was to bring him a
description of Pomerania the moment it was finished, and that it would
prove not the least valuable ornament of his work. He sent word that it
was impossible for him to delay; his step-son was so deeply engaged in
the undertaking that he would be ruined if he missed the next Lent fair
at Frankfurt. I transmitted the reply to Pomerania; the same messenger
brought back a big bundle of notes, unfortunately incomplete, as they
pointed out to me. I promptly sent them to Sebastian Muenster, promising
to let him have the rest the moment I received them. He kindly sent me
an autograph letter, which my children will find joined to that of Dr.
Martin Luther.[62]

It struck me that an interview with Sebastian Muenster would enable me
to inform our princes accurately. The Imperial Chamber had its
vacation. It was an excellent opportunity to see Alsace, flowing with
corn and wine, so many handsome towns, the seat of the Margrave of
Baden, bishops and courts, and, above all, the city of Basle. Hence, I
undertook the journey on foot, an affair of about sixty miles there and
back. At Strasburg I lodged at my friend's, Daniel Capito, a poor home,
but we took our meals at the tavern of the _Ammeister_.[63]

In the church at Basle I saw the stone statue of Desiderius Erasmus, of
Rotterdam. I invited Herr Lepusculus, the fugitive of Augsburg, to
dinner, and we talked of many interesting things. I also became well
acquainted with Sebastian Muenster, who gave me a most hearty welcome. A
huge room of his house contained a quantity of plates, either cast,
engraved on wood or on copper. They had come from Germany, Italy or
France; they were geographical, astronomical, or mathematical drawings,
representing pieces of engineering work for the use of miners, and
views of cities, countries, castles, or convents, that were to figure
in his _Cosmographie_. He was most anxious for me to stay with him, so
that he might show me the objects of interest connected with the town;
unfortunately, my time was too short. After having taken leave of
Muenster and Lepusculus, I went back to Spires on foot.

I was just in time for a message from Pomerania relative to the lawsuit
between Duke Barnim and the town of Stolpe. The latter, on the pretext
of an attempt against its privileges, had deputed Simon Wolder to
attend upon the emperor. Wolder was a young jackanapes without
education, but pushing and cunning, and by dint of intriguing he
obtained the confirmation of the said privileges, and for himself the
Imperial safeguard. The people of Stolpe had their triumph, and to
judge by their swaggering one would have concluded they had no longer
anything in common with their prince and lord. Duke Barnim, though,
having entered the town amidst his soldiers, summoned the council and
the burghers to the Town Hall, and when he got them there, he forbade
those who had had a hand in the intriguing to stir, while the others
should stand aside. The majority of those present changed their
positions; the rest, and notably the Burgomaster Schwabe, a near
relation to the Bishop of Cammin, were imprisoned at Stettin, at
Greiffenberg, and at Treptow, while Simon Wolder fled to the emperor,
who was fighting the white Moors (?) in Africa. He succeeded in
obtaining from the emperor the categorical order for releasing the
prisoners, on the express penalty of being put "under the ban"; but
that injunction arrived too late. The friends of the prisoners humbly
interceded for them, and each liberation was bought at a heavy fine and
after a long detention. As for Wolder, far from resting on his oars, he
pursued his intrigues at the Imperial court, ingratiating himself with
the princes, the nobles, and the cities. He enjoyed great favour; he
dressed magnificently. Where did the money for all this display come
from? In short, at the restoration of the Imperial Chamber, an action
was begun.

The dukes of Pomerania had unquestionably cause for anxiety, for their
relations with the emperor were already very strained, and the latter's
victory made him very disinclined to exercise much consideration to the
partisans of the Augsburg confession. Simon Wolder was jubilant; he
looked upon the business as good as won; judges and assessors were
<DW7>s, and their Highnesses under a cloud of Imperial disgrace. We
devoted the most serious attention at Spires to the suit; procurator
Ziegler and advocate Johannes Kalte amply did their duty; if need had
been, I was there to spur them on. At Stettin, on the contrary, Martin
Weyer and Dr. Schwallenberger, to whom the affair was entrusted, were
mere sluggards whose conduct was disgraceful. We shall meet with
Schwallenberger again.

In May our counsellors wrote to me to take the two golden cups to
Brussels to them. The rumour ran, in fact, that the emperor's son was
coming from Spain in great pomp; and our envoys hoped to secure,
through the influence of certain important personages, his intercession
with the emperor. I started immediately, going down the Rhine as far as
the Meuse, and pursuing my journey by land by way of s'Hertogenbosch
(Bois le Due) and Louvain.

When I had delivered my precious deposit, the wish to see something of
Flanders impelled me to Ghent. It is a big city, formerly endowed with
important privileges. For instance, the emperor could impose no taxes
in Flanders or demand anything without the assent of the said city.
Charles V has deprived it of its privileges. He has razed a convent and
several houses to the ground, and on their site built a castle with
huge, deep moats filled with water, besides other remarkable outworks,
so that the city is at his mercy. In the centre of Ghent there rises a
high steeple. I climbed to the top, and it is from there that the
emperor and his brother Ferdinand chose the spot whereon to build their
fortress; they traced there, _propriis manibus_, their symbolum in red
chalk.

The castle where Charles V saw the light is a decrepit, unsightly kind
of tenement, surrounded by water, and accessible only by a drawbridge.
At the head of the bridge, on the parapet, there are two bronze
statues; one is kneeling, and behind it there is the second with
uplifted sword. Tradition has it that they represent two men condemned
to death, father and son, for whom no executioner could be found. They
then promised the father a full pardon if he would behead his son. At
his refusal the offer was made to the son, who accepted it with joy and
gratitude, and severed his father's head from the trunk.

In Antwerp I met with Herr Heinrich Buchow, the future counsellor of
Stralsund. We had both heard much about the house of Gaspard Duitz,
about a good mile distant from the city. People compared it to the
castle of Trent, some even said that it was handsomer. We obtained a
letter from the owner to his steward, who showed us everything, and
really rumour had not been guilty of exaggeration. Though there were a
great number of them, each room was differently decorated; each
contained a bed and a table. The hangings were of the same colour as
the bed-curtains, and the cloth on the table which was either of velvet
or damask, black, red or violet, as the case might be. Musical
instruments everywhere, but varying in every room. Here a kettledrum;
there Polish viols, elsewhere lutes, harps, zithers, hautboys,
bassoons, Swiss fifes, etc. The girl who showed us over the place quite
correctly played the kettledrum, the viol and the lute. In front of the
house a beautiful garden cultivated with art, and enhanced by many
exotics. Further on a zoological collection. The ground floor has one
hall of such magnificence that one day Madame Marie entertained her
brother there. The emperor, having looked and appreciated everything,
asked: "To whom, sister mine, belongs this house?" "To our treasurer."
"Well," rejoined the emperor, "our treasurer evidently knows the
science of profit-making."

This Gaspard Duitz, an Italian by birth, a shrewd and even cunning
merchant, had exercised commerce on a large scale at Antwerp, and
failed twice if not three times. When he had thousands upon thousands
of crowns in hand, he asked his creditors for five years' delay. Madame
Marie, for instance, gave him such letters of respite. Of course,
those rogueries made him very wealthy, and when Madame Marie was in
need of money, her treasurer came to her aid. A house in Antwerp,
which had cost him thousands of florins, not having realized his
expectations--the drawbacks of a structure becoming only apparent after
it is finished--he had it razed to the ground and rebuilt according to
his taste.

The Count Maximilian van Buren (the same who, in the Schmalkalden
campaign, took the Dutch horsemen to the emperor), having heard of
Duitz's famous country seat, "invited himself" to it. Master Gaspard
treated his visitor magnificently, showed him everything, and when
taking leave inquired if perchance the count had noticed some fault or
shortcoming in the decorations or general disposition of the whole;
for, if such were the case, he would alter it, even if he had to send
for artists from Venice or Rome. "No," replied the count; "the only
thing wanting is a high gallows at the entrance, with Gaspard Duitz
securely swinging from it." That was the count's acknowledgment of his
host's hospitality, and he might have added: "With a crown on his head,
as an arch-thief."[64]

From Antwerp I went to Malines. What an admirable country! Louvain,
Brussels and Antwerp, three big and handsome cities, are at an equal
distance from each other, and Malines, which one always has to cross to
get to either, stands in the centre. Along the route there are
magnificent castles and lordly dwellings. Malines is a pretty city,
though the smallest of the four; the water is brought there _labore et
industria hominum_, and enables one to reach Antwerp by boat. I saw the
damage caused by the lightning of August 7, 1546, when it fell on a
powder magazine, which was entirely destroyed, together with the outer
wall; huge quarters were hurled on the roofs of houses. There was a
great loss of life and property.

At Malines I went to see Vogel Heine, who, in the days of Maximilian I,
the great-great-grandfather of the present emperor, went in advance to
prepare the night quarters. The emperor had left him sufficient to live
upon; the woman who took care of him had her lodging and firing. Heine
was so old and so decrepit as to be unable to stir from a room that was
constantly heated. People gave the woman a small tip to see her charge,
and in that way she made for herself a small income instead of wages.

From Louvain I took the most direct and shortest road to Juliers and
Cologne; at the latter place I put up at _The Angel_. The host had a
raven that spoke, and even understood what was said to it. If, in the
evening, there was a knock at the door, the bird asked: "Is anybody
knocking?" "Yes," replied the new-comer. But as the travellers' room
happened to be at the back of the house, overlooking the Rhine, nobody
stirred, and the knocking was repeated, the bird, on its part,
repeating the same question. "Can't you hear?" said the claimant for
admission, out of patience, and knocking much louder, so that they
could hear it from the travellers' room. Naturally, the servant came to
open the door, and endeavoured to mollify the would-be guest's anger by
saying that they had heard no knocking. Thereupon the other called him
a liar, or at any rate treated him as such; thereupon the cage with the
bird in it was pointed out as evidence, and everything was well. The
bird, upon the whole, was most remarkable, and many great personages
made the most tempting offers for it, which were always refused. Six or
seven years later, when I visited Cologne again, I inquired what had
become of the bird, and its owner told me that he was then at law with
a gentleman who, coming in drunk, had drawn his sword and cut the
bird's head off. The host assured me that he would sooner have lost
three hundred crowns.

After having gone up the Rhine as far as Mayence, I took the coach to
Spires.

In June 1549 King Philip, the emperor's son, came to Spires with a
numerous suite. His father had appointed the cardinal of Trent, a
Seigneur de Madrutz, as his marshal. The king was then about twenty-two
years of age, my junior by seven. His far from intellectual face gave
little hope of his equalling his father one day. The Elector of
Heidelberg, the other counts palatine, the ecclesiastical electors, all
of them in their state carriages, attended on him when he went to
church. Well, I often saw his father under similar circumstances. When
he came out of his apartments and mounted his horse in the courtyard,
where princes and electors already in the saddle awaited him, he was
the first to take his hat off. If it happened to rain, so much the
worse. He remained bare-headed, and was not the less affable either in
speech or gesture. He held out his hand to everybody, and did the same
when he came back. When, at the foot of the staircase, he turned out,
faced his escort, took off his hat, and bade them farewell in a
gracious manner.

King Philip, on the contrary, was most exacting with the electors and
the princes, though many of them were old men. While the latter
dismounted at the door of the church, Philip went in without troubling
about them, making signs behind his back with his hands for them to
march by his side, but they merely followed him. After the service they
accompanied the king back to the palace. He jumped down, and went up
the stairs without a look or a word of farewell. His marshal had,
nevertheless, told him that there was a great difference between
Spanish and German princes. As a proof of this, he quoted to him the
paternal example, as typified by the consideration shown to the German
nobles by the emperor, but Philip answered: "Between myself and my
father, the difference is as great, for he is only the son of a king; I
am the son of an emperor." After having officially made their
appearance, the princes promptly left for their own States. Philip
spent a few more days hunting and going about, his suite being reduced
to fourteen or twelve horses, and then the Duke of Aarschot came for
him, by order of the emperor, to take him with a magnificent escort to
Brussels.

Notwithstanding my constant reminders to them of the mortal danger of
delay, the Stettin authorities were terribly slow in sending me the
most indispensable documents for the serious lawsuit against the town
of Stolpe. As some people, moreover, were attempting to discredit me
with Duke Barnim, I wrote to Chancellor Falck, who answered me: "You do
not deserve the slightest reproach. All the neglect is on this side;
but, in truth, the whole of your letter is so much Arabic to me,
because I have not the faintest idea of the lawsuit itself." That is
how things are managed at courts.

On the banks of the Rhine it is the custom to organize at twelfth night
a complete court--king, marshal, steward, cup-bearer, etc. As a matter
of course, the court fool is indispensable. The charges are drawn for
by lot; each pays part of the expenses; alone the fool is exempt. In
1550 there gathered round our table a young baron from the Low
Countries, a bright young fellow, with considerable experience of the
world, also several persons of consideration who were detained at
Spires by their law business. It fell to my lot to be king, with the
baron for my marshal. As for the fool, chance had picked out our host,
the priest, and nature seemed really to have created him for the part.
In my capacity of king I had a many- hooded cloak of English
linen made for him. When we had visitors, and, thanks to the gay baron,
this happened frequently, our host put on his cloak and took our guests
to task. We shook with laughter, but he himself fared very well by it,
for his buffoonery brought him many silver and even gold pieces. He
bought himself silver bells for his cap, and his cloak became spangled
with gold and silver coins.

This went on until "kingdom" time, which is celebrated one Sunday
evening between twelfth night and Shrovetide. There are three or four
kingdoms each Sunday, and the masked people of both sexes go from one
gathering to another in fancy dress and accompanied by musicians. They
have the right of three dances with those who give the entertainments.
All this afforded capital opportunities for every kind of dissipation
and debauch. One evening, for instance, it happened that a husband and
his wife, after having danced together, divided for the second dance
and came together for the third, without, however, recognizing each
other. Side by side they went to another house, and having understood
each other's desires by the pressure of their hands, they indulged
their sudden fancy on their way in the penumbra of a clothworker's shop
in the market place, and never did the hallowed joys of matrimony taste
like the forbidden fruit of infidelity; at any rate, so each imagined.
Being anxious to know who was his partner, the swain cut a snippet from
her dress and, moreover, made her a present of a gold piece, then both
joined the rest of the company. The husband was a chamois-leather
dresser, and next morning some one came to buy a skin, and tendered a
large coin. As he had no change himself, he took his wife's satchel and
found the golden piece, which he recognized at once. When the customer
was gone, the dame had to show the gown she wore on the previous
evening, the husband confronted her with the abstracted piece of stuff.
Denial was impossible, but the one happened to be as guilty as the
other.

We gave our fool ample opportunity to adorn his dress. At the carnival
he made himself conspicuous by many pleasant quips and pranks; the
marshal also did wonders, standing erect before his Majesty, and
zealously attending upon him by bringing up the dishes, carving the
viands, and cleaning the table with many genuflections and kissing of
hands. The king paid very dearly for his three or four hours' reign.

Our host was a careless, irresponsible creature, more fit for the life
of camps or of courts than for the priesthood; a gambler, a rogue, a
boaster, a drunkard, a brawler, and an adept at jesting and practical
joking. He did not care whether his boarders were <DW7>s or
evangelicals. He was one of the three who celebrated early mass at the
cathedral. His young boarders, the graduates, were fond of cards, and
clever gamblers. They thought that a seasoned gamester like their host
must necessarily be a valuable adviser, so they spent their night round
the board. About three in the morning their landlord cried: "Brothers,
don't you move; I am going to say mass. But it will be short and sweet;
just long enough to blow the dust off the altar, and I'll be back." And
he was as good as his word.

It was a custom to place, during the night of Good Friday, a crucifix
in one of the lateral chapels, and the three priests who said early
mass were deputed to watch over it. Long files of matrons prostrated
themselves, face downward, and deposited their offerings. On one
occasion, towards three in the morning, the reverend guardians who no
longer expected contributors, divided the receipts and began to gamble.
Thanks to his long practice, our host won every penny to the annoyance
of his colleagues. A quarrel ensued at the foot of the cross, followed
by blows; our man being the strongest, the victory and the money
remained with him.

In "Rogation Week" the clergy in their richest vestments, and carrying
crosses, banners, and relics, perambulate the fields, followed by
crowds of men and women. A young priest, thinking this a propitious
time for an assignation, left the procession, and disappeared among the
standing corn, whither a young damsel went after him. Two workmen,
though, had noticed the manoeuvre; they watched for the opportune
moment, surprised the couple, and only left the "black beetle" after
having stripped him of his gown and surplice, both which "proofs
positive" they brought to the dean of the chapter.

I have not the least doubt that the King of Spain interceded in favour
of our princes. Assiduous solicitations, but above all the goldsmiths'
work and the gratifications so much prized at courts and in large
cities, mollified the influential counsellers, the Seigneur de
Granvelle, his son, the Bishop of Arras, and others. The emperor
finally consented to an arrangement, one of the conditions of which was
the payment of a fine of ninety thousand florins. The Imperial
chancellerie demanded three thousand florins for engrossing the act of
reconciliation, which I could have done as elegantly in one day. The
Bishop of Arras, to whom reverted half the chancellery fees, abandoned
them in our favour, but he lost nothing by his generosity. In sum, this
little matter cost two hundred thousand florins.

One of the conditions imposed upon our princes was the acceptance of
the "Interim." The Pomeranian clergy unanimously rejected this work of
Satan. The council of Stralsund summoned the ministers before it to
forbid them pronouncing the word "Interim" from the pulpit, and, above
all, to add any ill-sounding expression to it on the penalty of being
deposed from their sacred office. As for the doctrines themselves, they
were at liberty to weigh and to refute them by the Holy Scriptures. But
superintendent Johannes Freder, an obstinate and narrow-minded man,
replied that as a good shepherd he neither could nor would deliver his
flock to the rage of devouring wolves, for to do this would be to
imperil his own body and soul. He furthermore said that if he were
dismissed God would provide, and that, moreover, men of education were
not liked at Stralsund. The council adjourned the meeting, and two of
its members intimated his dismissal to Freder.

The next day the ministers presented a petition signed by all except
Johannes Niemann. They claimed their liberty of conscience and their
right to serve the cause of truth by denouncing from the pulpit the
damnable abominations of the "Interim." "One must obey God rather than
men," they said. The impetuous Alexis Grosse and Johannes Berckmann
were conspicuous by their anger. They hurled the most offensive
accusations against honest Niemann, and tried to carry things with such
a high hand that the council, greatly irritated, decided there and then
upon the dismissal of Grosse, after payment of the arrears due to him.
The other preachers expected the same fate, but matters went no
farther, so Niemann would have risked nothing by adding his signature
to that of his colleagues. Besides, the Interim was assailed from every
direction; the attacks were made in German, in Latin, in Italian, in
French, and in Spanish. Every line was weighed and refuted in the name
of the Holy Word. The pope, for very shame, did not know where to hide
his face.

Let my children bear in mind the high degree of fortune attained by the
emperor. At the summit of that prosperity, when everything seemed to
proceed according to his desires, he imagined that unhindered he could
break his promise to undertake nothing against the Augsburg confession.
For love of the pope, he contemplated ruining the unshakable stronghold
of Luther. From that moment the emperor's star waned; all his
enterprises failed. Instead of being razed to the ground, Luther's
stronghold was, on the contrary, furnished with solid ramparts, and
to-day it counts powerful defenders in Germany, such as the Duke of
Prussia, the Margrave of Baden, the Margrave Ernest von Pforzheim, and
others, while among other nations the number of champions inspired by
the blood of the martyrs is constantly on the increase. That stronghold
shall set its enemies at defiance for evermore.

At Stettin they went on blackening my character so effectually that Dr.
Schwallenberg succeeded in getting himself sent on a mission to repair
the effects of my supposed neglect. On my side, I had made up my mind
to resign the functions of solicitor, and to leave Spires in December.
I wrote to that effect to Chancellor Citzewitz, giving him the motives
for my decision.

At his arrival Dr. Schwallenberg took up his quarters at a canon's of
his acquaintance--an easy method of being boarded and lodged for
nothing; he had retrenched in that way all along the route, though
taking care to put down his expense in the usual manner. When I
presented myself at his summons, he was at table; he did not ask me to
sit down, adopted a haughty tone, and even wished me to serve him. I,
however, protested energetically. "This is not part of my duty. If
there was an attempt to impose it upon me, I should refuse it; in that
respect I have finished my apprenticeship. On the other hand, the
advocate and I are very anxious to have your views on the affairs of
our princes which have entailed so much writing upon me, at present
without any result. Will you please name your own time?" "I'll see the
advocate by himself," replied Schwallenberg. And, in fact, he went to
the lawyer, but instead of entering upon the discussion of the urgent
questions, he insinuated that I was a fifth wheel on the coach. "Get
him dismissed, and his emoluments will increase your modest fees," he
remarked. The advocate was an honourable man. He replied that I was
being slandered, and that he did not care about earning money by means
of a cabal. Thereupon Dr. Schwallenberg went for a trip to Strasburg.

At his return the arguments of the case were ready, but he refused to
read them, alleging that they had to be submitted to the dukes. I
dispatched a messenger, who also carried a missive from Schwallenberg.
The latter then departed for the Diet of Ratisbon. In due time came the
princes' answer, and feeling certain that it related to the lawsuit, I
opened it and read as follows:

"Very learned, dear and faithful! We are pleased to express to thee our
particular satisfaction at thy diligence at re-establishing our
affairs, so greatly compromised by our solicitor that without thy
arrival on the spot they would have entirely lapsed. As for the
arguments thou hast elaborated with the advocate, we have ordered them
to be returned to thee the moment our counsellors shall have examined
and according to need amended them. We also authorize thee to go to the
Diet of Ratisbon at our cost, etc."

It would be difficult to conceive blacker treachery. For at least a
twelvemonth I had despatched messenger after messenger for
instructions. In spite of that, all the delay had been imputed to me. A
rogue presented as his work arguments not one word of which belonged to
him; he had not even taken the trouble to read the documents. And while
the princes tendered him their thanks, my disgrace was complete.

I had no longer anything to expect from my fellow-men; the Almighty,
however, chose that moment to make my innocence patent to every one,
and to confound my enemies. Thus was Mordecai laden with honours after
the ignominious fall of Haman. Yes, even before the arguments were sent
back from Pomerania, the Chamber delivered the following judgment: "In
the matter of the town of Stolpe and of Simon Wolder against his Grace
Barnim, Duke of Pomerania, etc., we decide and declare that the said
duke is acquitted of all the charges and obligations advanced against
him by the plaintiffs." What hast thou to say against that, infamous
libeller? Hide thy head with shame, vile hypocrite! The feelings with
which I despatched a special messenger to the duke may easily be
imagined. It may be equally taken for granted that I did not mince
matters in pointing out the merits of Dr. Schwallenberg. And although
his diabolical machinations had filled my heart with sadness, they
turned to my profit and my salvation, so true it is that the Lord
converts evil into good. I was, however, strengthened in my decision to
abandon the office of solicitor, and, above all, the princes' service,
and that notwithstanding Citzewitz's offer, both verbal and in writing,
of a profitable position at the chancellerie of Wolgast. I had become
disgusted with the life at courts. A new career was open to me in a
town where, though the devil and his acolytes have not quite given up
the game, there is nevertheless a means of enjoying one's self and to
live and die according to God's precepts. My sister, who was married to
Peter Frubose, burgomaster of Greifswald, proposed to me to marry her
sister-in-law. As I expected to be at Greifswald on New Year's Day, I
wrote to her to arrange the wedding before the carnival. A cabinet
messenger, who was going home for good, sold me a young grey trotting
horse, with its bridle and saddle.

Everything being wound up and settled with the advocates and
procurators, etc., and having taken regular leave of them, I bade
farewell to Spires on December 3, 1550, so disgusted with the Imperial
Chamber as to have made up my mind never to return to it during my
life. I had remained in foreign parts for five years in the interests
of my father's lawsuit, in addition to the two years I had spent in
behalf of the dukes of Pomerania. These years were not altogether
without result. In fact, both in the chancelleries of Margrave Ernest
and of the Commander of St. John, as well as at the secretary's office
of our dukes and at the diets, I furthered my own affairs and amassed
more money than many a doctor. It had all been done by my talent as a
law writer, an art which is neither taught in Bartolus nor in Baldus,
but which requires much application, memory, readiness to oblige and
constant practice. Truly, I had worked day and night, and, as this
narrative shows, incurred many dangers. Many folk after me, dazzled by
my success, tried in their turn to become law writers, but they very
soon succumbed to the monotony of the business, to the incessant
labour, to the protracted vigils, to hunger, thirst, cares and dangers.
Barely one in a hundred succeeds.

I reached Stettin on December 21, and, all things considered, there was
nothing to grumble at in the welcome I received. The counsellors, among
whom were Schwallenberg's confederates, heard my explanations at length
as they said on behalf of the prince. I was warned that they had agreed
upon baulking me of an audience. The next day they informed me that the
duke was as pleased with the energy I had shown as with the tenour of
my report, and that I was authorized to bring a plaint against
Schwallenberg. As for the prince's promise of a gratification, he had
not forgotten it, and he asked me to exercise patience for a few days.
He evidently wished to consult with the court of Wolgast. I answered as
follows:

"Great is my joy to learn that my lord and master appreciates my
devotion and acknowledges how undeserved was my disgrace. I should be
grieved to have to attack Dr. Schwallenberger on the eve of my
marriage. The evidence, however, is conclusive; the duke is more
interested than I in the punishment of the rogue. What, after all, have
I to gain by a lawsuit now that the prince, heaven be praised, thanks
me by word of mouth and in writing? Nor is it possible for me to wait
here for the promised recompense. I prefer to come back after the
wedding."

When they became aware of my determination to abandon the court for the
city, all the counsellors intoned a "hallelujah." There was an
instantaneous change of language and behaviour to me. They were lavish
with offers of service, but the first sentence of Chancellor Citzewitz
at our meeting was: "A plague upon the bird that will not wait for the
stroke of fortune." Here ends the story of my life previous to my
marriage.





                                PART III




                               CHAPTER I

Arrival at Greifswald--Betrothal and Marriage--An old Custom--I am in
Peril--Martin Weyer, Bishop


I reached Greifswald on January 1, 1551, at nightfall. I was thirty
years old. After I had written to Stralsund for my parents' consent,
and had conferred with my Greifswald relatives and those of my future
wife, the invitations for the betrothal were sent out on both sides. On
January 5, in the chapel of the Grey Friars, at eight in the morning,
Master Matthew Frubose made a solemn promise to give me his daughter,
in the presence of the burgomasters, councillors, and a large number of
notable burghers. Burgomaster Bunsow gave me a loan of two hundred
florins.

The worshipful council had been obliged to suppress the dances at
weddings, because the manner in which the men whirled the matrons and
damsels round and round had become indecent. Those who infringed the
order, no matter what was their condition, were cited before the minor
court. It so happened that a week after our betrothal my intended and I
were invited to a wedding at one of the principal families. When the
wedding banquet was over, my betrothed came back to me, and, being
ignorant of the council's orders, I danced with her, but most quietly,
and a very short time. Notwithstanding this, an officer of the court
came the next morning and summoned me to appear. At the first blush I
could scarcely credit such an instance of incivility. Moreover, it
boded ill, and I could not help foreseeing struggles, animosities, and
persecution in this manner of bidding me welcome by a satellite of the
hangman after an absence of eight years. Does not the poet say, _Omina
principiis semper inesse solent_? I was very indignant, and ran to the
eldest of the burgomasters. He pointed out to me that urgent and severe
proceedings were necessary against the coarse licence of the students
and others, but my case being entirely different, he promised to stay
all proceedings.

I had not said a word about the dowry, and least of all had I inquired
as to its amount; but my sister told me that my father-in-law gave his
daughter two hundred florins. I made no answer. My chief concern was to
get a wife. According to my brother's calculations, one hundred marks
yearly would suffice to keep the house. Experience told me a different
story.

I went to Stralsund for my wedding clothes and other necessary things.
My father gave me some sable furs he had had for many years. I bought
the cloth for the coat as well as the rest of my marriage outfit. My
father had put in pledge the things I intended offering to my bride. I
was obliged to redeem them. Among several other objects there was a
piece of velvet for collarettes for my betrothed and my sister. At
Frankfurt-on-the-Main I had bought a dagger ornamented with silver.
Those various purchases exhausted my stock of money.

Although I had invited my numerous Stralsund relatives on both sides in
good time, only Johannes Gottschalk, my old schoolfellow and colleague
at the chancellerie of Wolgast, came to my wedding. He made me a
present of a golden florin of Lubeck.

My marriage took place at Greifswald on February 2, 1551. As I was one
of the last to "mount the stone," it may be interesting to give an
account of that old custom. At three in the afternoon, and just before
the celebration of the marriage service, the bridegroom was conducted
to the market place between two burgomasters, or, in default of these,
between the two most prominent wedding guests. At one of the angles of
the place there was a square block of stone, on which the bridegroom
took up his position, the guests ranging themselves in good order about
fifty paces away. The pipers gave him a morning greeting lasting about
five or six minutes, after which he resumed his place in the wedding
procession. The purpose of the ceremony, according to tradition, was to
give everybody an opportunity of addressing some useful remark to the
bridegroom at that critical moment. These remarks were often more
forcible and outspoken than flattering, and were not always
distinguished by their strict adherence to the truth.

Johannes Bunsow, the son of the burgomaster, had been a suitor for my
wife's hand; the preliminary arrangements to the marriage were as good
as completed, and the invitations to the betrothal festivities were
about to be sent out when everything was broken off, in consequence of
the exacting demands of the proud wife of the burgomaster from the
parents of the girl. The burgomaster's wife was considerably upset
about all this. It so happened that on the wedding-day at the breakfast
my wife was seated between the dames Bunsow and Gruwel. My father, who
was her cavalier, sat opposite. All at once, the burgomaster's wife
said to the bride, "Eat, my girl, eat, for this is the happiest day of
thy life. I had made other plans for thy happiness, but thou didst not
fall in with them. The culprit is either thy brother or his wife. Keep
thy husband at a distance, for if thou givest him an inch he will take
an ell; therefore, be 'stand-offish' with him in the beginning." At
these words Dame Gruwel exclaimed: "Good heaven, what sad advice! Make
thy mind easy, child; there are many happy days in store for thee."

Eighteen months later, as we were standing talking in the street, Peter
and Matthew Schwarte and I, Dame Bunsow who went by, spoke to us. With
the admirable volubility that distinguishes the women of Greifswald,
she had a word for all of us. "Dear cousins," she said to the
Schwartes, "how do you do? how are your wives? and how are your
children?" Then, turning to me, "And how are you, cousin? How is your
wife? I need not ask you about the children. You are having a good year
of it. In these hard days one may as well save the bread." "That's
farthest from our thoughts," I answered, "but that's because my wife is
not 'stand-offish' enough with me." She knew what I was driving at,
turned crimson, and went away without saying another word.

A week after my marriage, on the Sunday, I returned to Stettin, as had
been agreed upon. It was a fatiguing, not to say dangerous journey,
because of the inundations. From the moment of my marriage the devil
seemed to have declared war against me. It was, I suppose, his revenge
for my having disappointed him by leaving the court, where I might have
proved of great service. On the other hand, his Master, our Lord and
Saviour, took me under His protection. A very heavy snowfall had been
succeeded by a sudden thaw, the effect of a warm and continuous rain.
As a consequence, the overflowing of banks everywhere, the mill-stream
near Ukermuende had swept away the roadway at several spots. On the very
day of my departure, a van laden, among other things, with a case of
sealed letters, registers, documents and parchments, had passed that
way, coming from Wolgast. Our travellers, knowing that they were on the
high road, went ahead. Suddenly the horses fell into a deep rut; the
cart was overturned, and only by a mighty effort did beasts and men
escape drowning. They had to spend the night at Ukermuende to dry the
letters.

I came to the spot of the accident in the afternoon. I was gaily
trotting along, for I was following the highway and the fresh traces of
the vehicle from Wolgast. My good fortune befriended me in the shape of
a miller's lad who was standing by the water. He called out and showed
me a little lower down, to the right, the way to a small burgh, having
passed which I should find a long road and a bridge, the only available
passage left. Though night was gathering fast, I ventured into the
sodden road, beaten by big muddy waves. My horse was soon breast deep
in the water, the force of the current threatening at every moment to
sweep it off its legs. The poor beast was perfectly conscious of its
danger, and reared whenever it felt the ground slipping away. Finally,
the journey was accomplished without serious mishap, though it was
completely dark when I got to the inn at Ukermuende, where the
travellers from Wolgast and the host himself could scarcely believe
their eyes.

I felt confident of having faithfully served Duke Barnim; I was,
therefore, justified in my expectation of a princely remuneration.
Heaven forbid that I should impute unfairness to this excellent
gentleman, but part of the counsellors connected by birth with the
people of Stolpe, were dissatisfied with the issue of the lawsuit,
while others, such as Martin Weyer, had disgraced themselves by
assisting Schwallenberg in his intrigues. In short, they discussed me
so well that the prince only allowed me five and twenty florins as a
gratification, while Duke Philip, whose business had not given me a
hundredth part of the worry, presented me with five and twenty crowns.
The court at Wolgast had waited to see what Stettin should do. Later on
it employed me in a great many cases yielding large fees and spreading
my name throughout the country. From Wolgast they sent me for my
wedding a wild boar and four deer; at Stettin, the marshal told me that
they intended to do likewise, but no one had paid any further attention
to the matter.

On returning from Stettin night overtook me on the heath. It was
infested with wolves, boars, and other dangerous animals; moreover,
strange apparitions and terrible noises were often seen and heard
there. I saw nothing; I heard nothing; and, besides, felt not in the
least afraid.

I have already mentioned that the discussion with regard to the
bishopric of Cammin had been brought before the Imperial Diet.[65]
Canon Martin Weyer, the delegate of the chapter, was on most friendly
terms with the Bishop of Arras; they had studied together at Bologna.
In the course of their discussions on the subject, they put themselves
this question: If the deposition of the bishop is to be persisted in,
where can we find a candidate agreeable to the emperor, and not too
antipathetic to the dukes of Pomerania? Thereupon his Grace of Arras
conceived the idea of proposing Weyer himself. At first, the latter
opposed the project altogether, objecting that he was not of the popish
religion. His interlocutor assured him, however, that there was a means
of arranging with the legate to obtain a dispensation. Briefly, when
restored to favour, the dukes of Pomerania asked the emperor to accept
as Bishop of Cammin Martin Weyer, their faithful subject, servitor and
counsellor, and besides, a saintly man, almost an angel. He soon laid
bare the bottom of his heart, _honores enim mutant mores et magistratus
virum docet_. At the manifest instigation of the legate and of the
Bishop of Arras, the new prelate sent his secretary to Rome to render
homage to the pope, who afterwards granted the bulls _in optima forma_.

I fancied the time had come for Martin Weyer largely to remunerate the
services I had rendered him as his solicitor at the Imperial Chamber
during two years, but to my written requests he answered with very bad
grace when he answered at all. I must admit that having been for a
twelvemonth or so Weyer's companion at Augsburg, and during the journey
to the Low Countries, I did, perhaps, not treat him with sufficient
ceremony according to his taste. I deemed it sufficient to address him
as "Your Grace," without the "serenissime," and that vexed him.
Besides, he failed to digest the defeat of Schwallenberg and his gang,
not the least accessory to which he had been.

I have seen at the chancellerie of Wolgast a missive from Weyer to Duke
Philip couched in the following terms: "From the authentic copy
herewith of the papal bulls, your Grace" (he did not add "serenissime")
"will perceive that his Holiness, yielding to his inclination for my
person even more than to your Grace's recommendation, has entrusted me
with the spiritual government of Cammin." The affair ended in a
convocation of one day at Cammin, where Weyer was assisted by Dr.
Tauber, of Wittenberg, invested with the title of chancellor. It was
positively stated that he had promised him fifteen hundred golden
florins. I went to the convocation with the delegates of Greifswald to
try to drag something from the new bishop, and finally, Canon von Wolde
succeeded in getting thirty crowns for me. I had therefore an
opportunity of witnessing a sitting of the diet.

Two tables covered with black velvet cloths had been placed in the hall
fifteen paces apart. At the one sat Duke Bogislaw, acting for himself
and in the name of his brothers, at that time absent from the country.
Standing before him were the Marshal Ulrich Schwerin, the Chancellor
Citzewitz, and several counsellors and delegates of the States. The
bishop occupied the other table, Tauber standing by his side; and in
front the episcopal counsellors and the delegates of the chapter. Each
party exposed at length the rights with which it was invested.
Citzewitz having said, "The princes are lords of the chapter," Dr.
Tauber replied, "Yes, _sed secundum quid_? His Grace," turning towards
the bishop, "is in plenary possession of the right of administration of
the chapter." Ulrich Schwerin, who was not well versed in letters,
asked the meaning of _secundum quid_. "It's a term of contempt," said
Citzewitz; "it's tantamount to saying that the dukes are princes like
those on the playing cards." Schwerin's angry face was worth watching.
"A plague upon the scoundrel for treating our princes like playing card
personages." From that time Tauber was known throughout the land as the
doctor _secundum quid_.

After a most lengthy disputation, each party presented its formula for
the convocation of the bishop to the diets and sittings. That of the
princes was as follows:

"To our venerable chief prelate, counsellor, dear and faithful Seignor
Martin, Bishop of Cammin. Our greetings, dear, venerable and beloved!
The welfare of our countries and of the common fatherland forbidding us
from further delay in the convocation of a diet, we have decided to
hold it on the ... in our city of Stettin, where we graciously request
you to be present on the said day, to hear our intentions."

As for the bishop, his formula was indited somewhat differently:

"To the high and venerable in God, the Seignor Martin, Bishop of
Cammin, our signal friend. Our friendly greeting, high and venerable in
God, and signal friend. The welfare of our countries and of our common
fatherland forbidding us from further delay in the convocation of a
diet, we have decided to hold it on the ... in our city of Stettin,
where we amicably request you to be present on the said day."

I never knew the issue of the debate, and took no trouble to find out,
as at the conclusion of the first sitting I embraced an opportunity of
returning home by carriage. I am disposed to think that the chapter had
better remain under the authority of the House of Pomerania. Princely
titles are best suited to born princes; people of mediocre condition do
not know how to bear them. They carry their heads too high, and their
would-be magnificence exceeds all bounds.




                               CHAPTER II

Severe Difficulties after my Marriage--My Labours and Success as a
Law-Writer and Notary, and subsequently as a Procurator--An account of
some of the Cases in which I was engaged


I trust my children may be enabled to read the following attentively
and remember the same as my justification. They will learn that I
devoted every moment to my work, and avoided all useless expense, that
I kept away from the tavern, went but rarely to weddings or banquets,
and only entertained guests when not to do so would have been
unbecoming, as, for instance, on occasions of family feasts or of civic
repasts. It is--thanks to that retired life, scarcely diversified by
the rare indulgence of a favourite dish washed down by a copious
libation--that I have been enabled to amass a sufficient competence to
make the devil and his acolytes burst with envy. Their jealousy goes as
far as to accuse me of having arrived very poor at Stralsund, and to
have ransomed the city, magnified my travelling expenses, and abused
the custody of the seals. This third part of the story of my life will
explain the origin of my fortune. Stralsund has never been instrumental
in making my position, and I have never proved false to my oath.

My monetary provision after my wedding consisted of Gottschalk's golden
florin, hence, two florins of current coin; my savings and the
gratifications were nothing more than a memory. I had nothing to expect
from my father. We were in a bare and cold tenement we had rented; in
default of a boiler my wife did the washing in an earthen jar. Without
money and without a livelihood, I did not dare to ask my father-in-law
for the promised two hundred florins, for he had warned me that it was
my father's duty to begin paying up. I was obliged to listen to the
humiliating words, "To get married without anything to live upon." My
wife herself was getting fretful; a loaf of fine flour on our table set
her grumbling as a luxury beyond our means. She said to her mother,
"You did not advise me; you simply handed me over." A friend of her
childhood, a burgomaster's daughter, had married a wealthy old man.
Wallowing in luxury, the owner of two houses (I was his tenant), she
overwhelmed us with jokes, and asked my wife what she intended to do
with her swallow's tail, alluding to the sword I continued to wear.

What a deplorable beginning! God's help has, nevertheless, enabled me
to provide during the space of forty-six years for my wants and those
of my family. It was not a small affair, considering that the
maintenance and starting in life of my children cost more than nine
thousand florins, and my household, one year with another, three
hundred florins. I, moreover, own a well appointed house, and am
enabled to live _ex fructibus pecuniae salvo capitali_, and for the
last forty-six years could truthfully say: "I am better off to-day than
yesterday." And I have accomplished all this with my pen. Thanks be to
the Lord.

The people of the city asked me to be their scribe. The richest grain
merchant, a personage without merit save that of his money, dictated a
long petition to me, intended for the sovereign. He was pleased with my
editing and writing of it, and he asked me how much he owed me. As I
did not care to accept any remuneration, he flung two schellings of
Lubeck on the table, exclaiming, "Don't be an ass. Have you not got
your paunch to fill?" From the lips of any one else this would have
savoured of sarcasm, but that man meant no harm.

The public and private courses of the _artistae, philosophi et
jurisperiti_ of Greifswald could only be profitable to a scribe and
notary; hence, I spent every available moment attending them. I hired a
room in the priory building, and was there from morn till night, only
going home to dine, and coming back immediately afterwards. My first
clerk was the son of Master Peter Schwarz, but I could do nothing with
him; then I took Martin Speckin, who by now is a rich young fellow. His
Greifswald people brought him to me; part of his duty was to keep my
room at the priory sufficiently heated, and to precede me with the
lantern when I went out. He was a zealous servitor.

Meanwhile, I incurred everybody's criticism, and my wife showed her
displeasure pretty openly. People, she said, thought it disgraceful for
me to return to school once more. My maternal grandmother asked me if
as yet I had not learnt to keep a family. The remarks did not affect me
in the least. I continued attending the lectures of Joachim Moritz, and
day by day it appeared to me I got a better understanding of the
practice of law. My interest in useful literature also increased day by
day. _Crescit amor studii quantum ipsa scientia crescit_. Not less true
did the other proverb begin to appear: _Crescit amor nummi quantum ipsa
pecunia crescit_. I also followed the public courses of Balthazar Rau,
to-day Dr. Rau of the _Libellus de anima_ of Philip Melanchthon. Nor
was I ashamed to join his _discipuli privati_, to whom he expounded at
his house the _Dialectica_ of the same author. I felt very satisfied
with myself for doing all this, and on February 19, 1552, the Imperial
Chamber inscribed my name on the roll of its notaries, on the
presentation of Duke Philip.

My eldest son saw the light on August 29 of the same year. The
confinement was a most critical one, and through the midwife's
blundering, he had a stiff neck for his life.[66] On September 1
he was christened, and received the name of Johannes. His two
godfathers were the burgomasters Gaspard Bunsow and Peter Gruwel,
and his great-grandmother stood as his godmother. My eldest daughter,
Catherine, was born on December 6, 1553, and christened the next
day.[67]

The wife of V. Prien, a daughter of the House of Maltzan, had taken
possession of the fief of Schorsow, in virtue of the privilege accorded
to noble damsels by the laws of Mecklenburg. When she died, and even
before she was buried, the Maltzans of Mecklenburg violently invaded
the fief. Joachim Maltzan, of Osten and of Nerung, who had helped his
cousins by sending them reinforcements, was cited before the Imperial
Chamber, in _poenam fractae pacis_. As he was most uneasy about the
issue of the suit, Dr. B. vom Walde and Chancellor Citzewitz advised
him to send me to Spires provided with counsel's opinion of Joachim
Moritz. I complied with their wish, though the journey was exceedingly
inconvenient to me. Joachim Maltzan provided me with two completely
equipped horses, and the necessary funds; the chancellor and the doctor
promised me a handsome gratification at my return. Instead of a
servant, I took my brother Christian, and we started on the Sunday of
Quasimodo (the Sunday after Easter). At Spires I fully instructed both
procurator and advocate. The document drawn up by Moritz elicited their
praise. They had no idea of the existence on the shores of the Baltic
of a lawyer of that merit. They soon considered their client as being
out of his difficulties, and, my mind at rest, I set out for my return
journey to Pomerania.

I got there at Whitsuntide. When sending back the horses to Maltzan, I
added my report, which put an end to his anxiety, and at the same time
forwarded an account of my expenses day by day, the price of each meal,
etc., leaving him to decide the amount of my honorarium. Well, the
moment he felt reassured, Maltzan did not show the least inclination to
settle with me; on the contrary, he accused me of having been too
lavish. "Look at the fellow, and then consider the copious meals he
took. May all the evils of Job befall thee." That was his favourite
objurgation. In vain did I call to my aid the two counsellors who, as
it were, had forced my hand. Maltzan turned a deaf ear to all my
requests. At the beginning he would have given hundreds to get over his
difficulties, but now he sang out, "I have broken the rope, and I do
not care."

He was very rich, but very mean and coarse beyond description. One
night at Wolgast, I saw him send his hose at bedtime to be repaired.
When early next morning the tailor brought the garment back, he asked a
florin for his work. Maltzan refused to give more than a schelling, and
overwhelmed the poor wretch with curses. The latter had, however, to
take what he could get. Maltzan, who could neither write nor read, was
obliged to have a secretary, but in consequence of his avarice, he had
to be content with mediocre individuals. Dr. Gentzkow found him one who
was satisfied with earning his food and a small salary. After a couple
of years, during which his master had dragged him about with him to
Rostock and elsewhere, everybody knew him as Maltzan's servant. He knew
all Maltzan's investments, as well as the dates of his revenues being
due; it was he who stored away the money in linen bags. "Put a hundred
crowns into each bag, and place them in a line," said Maltzan. "In that
way, I can see at a glance where I am; ten bags make a thousand
crowns." One fine morning the secretary stamped a blank sheet of paper
with the seal of his employer, departed for Rostock, took on credit at
the ordinary tradesman's as much velvet, satin and damask as he could
conveniently carry away, filled in the blank sheet in his master's
name, then returned and took from each bag only ten crowns in order to
dissimulate his theft. After that he went collecting the outstanding
debts, farmers' and tenants' rents, etc., and disappeared with a sum
sufficient to remunerate a good secretary for a decade of years or
more. Maltzan himself had the annoyance of having to make good the
merchant's losses. He had never been married, and his property,
amounting to a hundred thousand golden florins, fell to two cousins,
who spent it in feasting, swilling, and riotous living. One died
burdened with debt; the other is alive, but in a similar position.
Ill-gotten goods do not last.

The only means of bringing Maltzan to book seemed to me to inform the
Spires procurator of everything, and to ask him to write to Maltzan
that he was going to lose his case in default of some documents that
had remained in my possession. Duke Philip immediately recommended me
to hand them over on the penalty of being held responsible for all the
damages that might accrue. I promptly replied that I would bring them
into court, where I should have the honour of presenting my respects to
Signor Maltzan, and to claim at the same time the salary due to me.
This had the effect of making the generous gentleman swear like a devil
incarnate, to the vast joy and diversion of the prince and the
counsellors, who took great pleasure in pouring oil upon the flames.
Maltzan was obliged to count out to me there and then a hundred crowns,
which was much more than I had originally asked, and he received,
besides, a severe reprimand. My energy in the matter was fully
acknowledged, and they added: "If ever we should ask you a similar
service, you may refuse to render it without the fear of displeasing
us."

The sacristan of Mueggenwald committed homicide. The lord of the manor,
who wished to get him out of the trouble, entrusted the case to me. A
relative of the victim had retained Dr. Nicholas Gentzkow and Christian
Smiterlow for the prosecution. I obtained a verdict for the accused.

Dr. Johannes Knipstrow having announced from the pulpit, in the name
and by order of the prince, that Master J. Runge was going to succeed
him in the office of superintendent, the Greifswald council considered
the nomination as an infringement of its rights. Its _syndicus_ at
Stralsund, Dr. Gentzkow, formulated before me, a public notary convened
for the purpose, both a verbal and written protest, of the latter of
which I delivered a duly executed duplicate to the council of
Greifswald, the legitimate charge for the same being three crowns.

Bartholomew, of Greifswald, a most intelligent, but also an exceedingly
depraved goldsmith, had established himself at Stralsund with his
son-in-law, Nicholas Schladenteuffel. As their expenditure exceeded
their income, Bartholomew made counterfeit coin, Lubeck, Rostock,
Wismar and Stralsund currency. The schellings supposed to issue from
the latter city's mint contained nothing but copper. By means of some
tartaric composition he made them look so wonderfully like silver as to
deceive everybody. In a very short time both the city and the country
were inundated with this spurious coin, for Nicholas made large
purchases of cattle for the slaughter-houses. Finally, in September
1552, when the farmers and peasantry came to pay their rent, the
suspicions of the ducal land-steward were aroused, and the fraud
discovered. The witnesses' depositions pointing unanimously to a
cattle-dealer of Stralsund, the prince wrote to the council, asking it
if they struck money of that description. At that very time
Schladenteuffel was going his business rounds. Warning was given, and
one morning, when he came back to the city with some cattle, he was
apprehended and taken to prison, where his wife and five accomplices
promptly joined him. Among the latter there was one of the vicious
sedition-mongers mentioned in the first part of my recollections,
namely, Nicholas Knigge. He was, in reality, the leader of the gang; he
furnished both the copper and the silver, and he found an outlet in
Sweden for sham silver, spoons, goblets, jugs, etc. Dr. Gentzkow, whose
daughter he had married, had his sentence changed to one of lifelong
banishment. Bartholomew, although the people who came to arrest him
were close upon his heels, managed to escape.

In the Semmlow Strasse there lived a very rich merchant named C.
Middleburgh. His sordid avarice kept him away from church. On the other
hand, he carried on an extensive and harmful traffic. He exported
Bogislaw schillings and other good coin; he also got hold of gold and
silver pieces, and clipped those that appeared to him to be overweight.
In spite of this, he did not benefit by his wealth. One day he took the
Rostock coach, but instead of coming down at midday to dine with the
other travellers, he had a sleep. When the company returned and while
the ostler put in the horses, he asked the price of the meal. He was
told it was two schellings. "Very well," he said; "I have earned two
schellings by going to sleep." He was always ready to lend money on
silver plate--of course at high interest. He lived and scraped money
for many, many years. His widow continued his trafficking; she was,
however, less cautious, and fell into the hands of scoundrels, who
reduced her to beggary.

To come back to Middelburg. On October 28, 1552, at two in the
afternoon, he found himself in possession of a big cask containing
twelve barrels of gunpowder of twenty-four pounds each; hence in all
weighing two hundred and eighty-eight pounds. Close to the cask there
sat a young servant weaving some kind of woollen lace, and, as it was
very cold, she had a small stove filled with charcoal under her feet.
At that moment there appeared upon the scene old Tacke and made a
payment of a hundred Bogislaw schellings, which, having been carefully
counted by Middelburg, were left on the table while he went to the
stable for a moment. During his short absence, the servant stirs the
incandescent charcoal, a spark of which falls on the floor and ignites
the grains of powder; the house and the next to it are blown up; walls,
beams, rafters come crashing down with a horrible noise. The city
imagines that the end of the world has arrived. Of the young girl
herself they found a foot here, an arm there, a leg elsewhere, and
fragments of flesh pretty well everywhere. It was never known what had
become of the hundred schellings that were lying on the table or of the
furniture. One servant-girl was dug out from the ruins without a hurt;
she was more fortunate than the brother-in-law of the burgomaster of
Riga. They managed to drag him out by sawing some rafters beneath which
he was buried, but he died of his wounds on the third day. Two
children, though stark dead when picked up, still held a slice of bread
and butter in their tiny hands. Three persons from the country, a
mother and daughter and the latter's intended husband, who had stopped
before the house to make some purchases for their new home, were killed
outright on the spot. There were in all seven people killed. The
neighbours brought an action against Middelburg which he had to settle.
Even as far as the Passen-strasse my father had the window of his
entrance hall broken; the stove in one of the upper rooms cracked and
could never be used again; a hook used for hanging the salmon to be
smoked, and belonging to Middelburg, was found in the gutter on our
roof.

The advice of some well-meaning people, and ever growing necessity
caused me to make up my mind to practise as procurator at the Aulic
Court of Wolgast, though Counsellor Joachim Moritz, who boarded with my
uncle, tried to dissuade me. As a professor of law at Greifswald, a
jurisconsult of the court, and an assessor of the tribunal, he had had
some close experience of the idiocy, the ignorance, and the underhand
methods of my future colleagues. "_Procuratorum officium vilissimum
est_," he said to me. In fact, with the exception of Dr. Picht, the
procurators were but little versed _in grammatica vel jure_. When their
dean, who was a judge at Brandenburg, and a Mecklenburg counsellor,
came up for his degree of _licenctia juris_ at Rostock, he referred to
an insolvent litigant, "_Non est solvendus_," which provoked the
repartee of the promoter: "_Recte dicit dominus licentiandus, quia non
est ligatus_."

One day at Rostock we happened to take our dinner at the same table
with this procurator and the burgomaster of Brandenburg who, however,
was fairly well versed in the _grammatica_. The conversation turned on
a witch who was in prison at Brandenburg, and who professed to be
pregnant by the devil. The burgomaster having put the question, "_Quod
diabolus cum muliere rem habere et impregnare eam posset?_" Our
licentiate replied without wincing: "_Imo possibile est, nam diabolus
furat semen a viribus et perfert ad mulieribus_."

Simon Telchow, another procurator, for a long while master auditor at
Eldenow, and who was married to a damsel of noble birth, after having
set up as a brewer at Greifswald, had "to shut up" shop and come back
to his pen. Having contracted at court a taste for drink, he never went
to bed without being "muddled." As a matter of course, he was not very
matutinal. He, moreover, only practised _pro nudo procuratore_, and his
clients had to provide themselves with an advocate. _In causis
mandatorum_, when the _mandatarii_ eluded execution, Telchow asked for
an _arctiorem mandatum_. Sworn procurators there were none in those
days, and as the procedure in general was oral, any one endowed with
the "gift of the gab" could present himself at the bar. Since then
things have changed to the glory of the prince and the advantage of
litigants.

The experience I had gained at Spires was most useful to me in my new
career. The judges, the chancellor, and the litigants themselves seemed
to listen to me with pleasure; nay, this or that party who had not
entrusted me with his cause, made me, nevertheless, accept his money,
because he wished to retain my services, if the occasion required, or,
at any rate, deprive his opponent of them. People came to fetch me from
the country with chariot and horses to mediate between them. I was
brought back in the same manner, and each time, besides the hard cash I
received, I was laden with all kinds of provisions, hares, shoulders of
mutton, haunches of venison or of wild boar, magnificent hams, quarters
of bacon, butter, cheese, and eggs by the dozen, bundles upon bundles
of flax. My reception at home may be easily imagined. There was no
longer any risk of hearing the sad complaint, "Mother, you did not
advise me; you simply handed me over."

Peter Thun, of Schleminn, a violent-tempered man, and but too prompt to
fire a shot or to draw the sword, was at constant loggerheads with his
neighbour Ber. They were joint owners of a nice pond. Ber claimed the
exclusive enjoyment of the half adjoining his estate, and which also
happened to be the better stocked with fish. Thun, on the other hand,
maintained that the whole of the pond was joint property. Ber having
planted hemp along the common road, Thun sent his cattle to graze
there, and went himself on horseback so that his mount might trample
the plant down. Finally, a lot of peasants went under the personal
command of Thun to Ber's windmill, and promptly sapped its foundations,
so that it came down with a crash. Naturally, the law is set in motion.
Thun is condemned to indemnify Ber _constrictibus_; then comes an
appeal to the Imperial Chamber, which upholds the first verdict with
_executoriales cum refusione expensarum_; the total amounting to about
nine hundred florins.

Puffed up with his success and purse-proud besides, Ber applauded each
scurvy trick his people played his enemy. Thun, on the other hand, was
not a man to be played with. One of Ber's servants (in fact, his
illegitimate son, a young, brazen and robust fellow), finally assailed
Thun. The latter stood his ground valiantly, but his affrighted wife
seized his arm; the bastard's sword went right through him. Thun's only
heir was his nephew, a minor, the succession was most involved, and its
liquidation cost me a great deal of trouble and a number of fatiguing
journeys. My honorarium was fixed at twenty florins per annum. I only
took ten from the minor, because I never returned from Schleminn
empty-handed. Later on, his guardians made it up to me in presents of
money and in kind; they provided for my building operations splendid
oaks, which made magnificent joists. In sum, this affair yielded a good
three hundred crowns to me.

H. Smeker, of Wuestenfeld, was a character who ruined himself in
litigation and in building. He left this or that structure which was
ready to be roofed in to be spoilt by the rain or the snow, after which
he had it completely razed to the ground. A Mecklenburger named
Negendanck was, it would appear, one of his important creditors. To get
his claim settled he employed a means rather common in his country. One
night he arrived at Wuestenfeld at the head of a troop of armed
horsemen. Smeker was asleep in his room, and his wife, who had just
been brought to bed, lay in an adjoining closet. Lievetzow, her
brother, a handsome young fellow, had been accommodated with a room
near the drawbridge. Negendanck, swearing and bellowing, orders the
bridge to be lowered. Lievetzow, in his shirt, issues from his room and
tries to appease him by informing him of the condition of his sister.
Negendanck replies with a shot which kills the defenceless and
scantily-dressed stripling on the spot. Then, taking the passage by
storm, he gets as far as the invalid's room, lays his hand upon
everything, shatters the silver chest, which he knew where to find,
takes whatever he likes, and finally drags the body of her brother to
the foot of the sister's bed. Smeker, who had been awakened by the
noise, had taken flight in his nightgown. Knowing the moat to be
fordable, he had crossed it with the water shoulders high, and after
making for the stables, had taken refuge in a kind of bog inaccessible
to the horsemen. Negendanck took all the horses and cattle away with
him.

Naturally, the Imperial Chamber was finally called upon to try the
affair. A rule having been granted to prove his allegations, Smeker
came to Greifswald to enlist my services. He was an old man with a grey
head and short beard; a fluffy white gown with large pleats and black
girdle reached to his feet. In short, the feathers pretty well
indicated the nature of the bird. I had so often heard them call out at
Spires, "Smoker _contra_ Negendanck," "the Duke Heindrich of
Mecklenburg _contra_ Heindrich Smoker," as to make the name familiar to
me. To my question if he was the identical Smoker, he replied in a
surly tone, "My name is Smeker, not Smoker."

He produced a host of witnesses, many of whom lived in outlying regions
of Pomerania or Mecklenburg; their hearing involved constant
travelling. Smeker would have never got out of the difficulty by
himself, in consequence of his want of ready money. The moment he found
himself in possession of some, he got hold of the horse of one of his
peasantry as if to ride to the nearest village, and never drew rein
until he got to Spires. If, during his journey, the money ran short, he
borrowed from people who all knew him and were sure of being repaid by
his son Mathias. Not only did he pay nothing to his procurator, Dr.
Schwartzenberg, but the latter had to feed him, to advance the
chancellery fees, and to look to his return journey. Mathias, on the
other hand, was most open-handed. His secretary, who came to Greifswald
in order to watch the proceedings, lavished claret wine and tarts on
the commissaries, and even sent some to my wife. Each session was worth
from between fifty to seventy crowns to me. That secretary appreciated
my trouble like a true expert. Said inquiry brought me about two
hundred and fifty crowns.

On the occasion of a suit before the Imperial Chamber, and in which
little Heindrich gained the day against big Heindrich--that was the
designation of Smeker respectively of himself and his adversary--the
Duke of Mecklenburg, the latter carried off all Smeker's sheep. Among
the flock there was an old ram, accustomed to get a bit of bread at
meal times from his master's hands. The animals either escaped, or
perhaps the duke had them driven back to Wuestenfeld. At any rate, the
ram appeared at the head of the flock, its appetite sharpened by the
march, and, moreover, fond of bread, ran towards the table. No sooner
did Smiterlow catch sight of it than he got up, doffed his hat, and
bade it welcome. "What an agreeable surprise!" he exclaimed. "_Bene
veneritis!_ The soup of princes is not to thy taste, it appears,
inasmuch as thou comest back already." But Smeker caught at the chance
of another lawsuit at Spires which brought me twenty crowns.

His son and his son-in-law, who did their best to save the considerable
paternal fortune, hit upon the idea to credit the suzerain, Duke
Heindrich, with the intention of retiring the fiefs. Starting from that
gratuitous supposition, they pointed out to the old man that the
journeys to Spires became more and more difficult to him; that,
moreover, he incurred the risk of being dispossessed, and that, in such
a case, his son would have the greatest possible trouble to be
reinstated. What, on the other hand, could be more simple than the
averting of the blow by a pretended renunciation in favour of Mathias?
He, the father, would take up his quarters for some time in a house
close by, which he liked very much; he should always come and take his
meals with his sons, or merely eat and drink there when he liked; they
would give him a young, nice and bright peasant girl to take care of
him, for in spite of his age he refused to dispense with female
company. Heindrich Smeker, having been prevailed upon, signed an act
duly engrossed on vellum, which the principal county gentlemen of
Mecklenburg attested with their seals, and to which Duke Heindrich
promptly affixed his ratification.

When the old man's eyes opened to the deception it was too late. He was
furious, and accused his son of having enacted the traitor to him,
calling him all kind of names. Then he begged of me to bring the affair
before the Imperial Chamber, but I had an excellent excuse for
refusing, as I was only a notary. His robust constitution enabled him
to make another journey to Spires--on a cart-horse as usual. Having
been politely bowed out by Dr. Schwartzenberg, he simply wasted his
breath with the other procurators--all of whom knew him. Finally,
Schwartzenberg gave him the money to go home. Like a dutiful son,
Mathias loyally kept his promise and showed his father every attention
and consideration. He invited his father to his table or had his meals
taken to him. He sent him beer and wine, and there was always a capital
bed at his disposal when the fancy took him to lay at his former
domicile. It was the sweetest existence imaginable, but the
administration of his property was denied to him.

The worshipful council of Rostock having been cited before the Imperial
Chamber by the kindred of an individual named Von der Luehe, who had
been beheaded for highway robbery, the commissaries entrusted with the
case took me as their notary in the inquiry made at Rostock, and as
delegate notary in the inquiry set on foot by the plaintiffs. The
_attestationes_ and the _sententia definitiva_ conclusively proved my
assiduity in the matter; hence my honorarium amounted to four hundred
crowns, _plus_ a present in silver worth fifty crowns.

The counsellor Anthony Drache, a most pious gentleman, had only one
brother who was drowned and left no issue. Drache pretended to reduce
the widow's share, in accordance with the feudal laws of Pomerania; but
besides his fiefs or hereditary tenures of land, the deceased possessed
considerable property, the dividing of which was to be effected
according to the urban or local statutes. Duke Philip, of blessed
memory, having carried the affair into court, the trustee of the widow
confided the case to me. I worked it up very conscientiously, assisted
as I was by my particular studies, by the courses I had followed of
Joachim Moritz and other professors at Greifswald, and finally by my
private consultations with Moritz, who was good enough to give me his
directions _in specie_. I had a verdict on all counts, though Dr.
Gentzkow was on the other side, which, moreover, could count on the
sympathy of the judges and even of the prince. This success had the
effect of spreading my name throughout the land, and it prompted Dr.
Gentzkow to propose my appointment as secretary to the council of
Stralsund. My client gave me twenty crowns, a quantity of butter and a
flitch of bacon.

Chancellor Citzewitz took me with him to Stettin, and afterwards to
Stargardt to assist him in a personal lawsuit. There was no question of
honorarium, for we were both of opinion that his kindness to me
warranted such gratuitous service.

In 1553 the Owstin family had a lengthy lawsuit with reference to a
village which Citzewitz finally took away from them. In my capacity of
notary to the Owstins, I received forty crowns for my work. When
Valentin von Eichstadt, the new chancellor, married his daughter to an
Owstin, he bore his predecessor a grudge for his success in the matter.
Meanwhile, the grand marshal of the court of Wolgast, Ulrich Schwerin,
became involved in litigation with Dr. B. vom Walde; the latter and
Citzewitz took sides against Schwerin and Eichstadt, and each tried to
harm the other as much as possible. Duke Ernest Louis intervened. The
report of his displeasure was maliciously exaggerated. In a fit of
despair Citzewitz stabbed himself to death.

J. vom Kalen, at that time high bailiff of Ruegen (although he could
neither read nor write), had sentenced an individual for having caught
a small fish in the stream flowing past his garden. The angler appealed
against the sentence, probably at the instigation of expert people,
wishing to do the bailiff a good turn. The latter had entrusted the
affair to me, merely saying that when I got to Wolgast I should get to
know what it was "all about"; but when I presented myself and obtained
communication of the documents, I declined to move in the matter. I
nevertheless considered myself entitled to the three crowns I had
received as a deposit; besides, they were not claimed.

The city of Pasewalk had to stand the brunt of a man named Fuerstenberg,
who, because matters did not always proceed according to his wishes,
had renounced his citizenship. Not satisfied with that, he one night
nailed to the post before the city gates a placard threatening to set
fire to the place. He was almost as good as his word, for he set fire
to several barns outside the walls. He was arrested at Lebus, and
confined in the tower of the castle. The duke chose me to assist the
two counsellors entrusted with the prosecution by the authorities of
Pasewalk. The prisoner was put to the rack in our presence, judged the
next day, and beheaded by the sword. To our great surprise the council
allowed us to depart without offering the smallest present. On the
other hand, the duke sent to my home two measures of rye, worth at that
time about ten florins.

Holste, the governor of the convent of Puddegla, an eccentric and even
dangerous young man, came to Greifswald to entrust me with his law
affairs. He promised to remunerate me largely, and as an earnest gave
me ten crowns. Shortly afterwards he had a difference with the duke,
who had him confined to his quarters, but I succeeded in settling the
affair to the satisfaction of both. My client was short of money for
the time being, but the convent of Puddegla is situated on the banks of
a beautiful lake teeming with fish (as a rule monks are not in the
habit of choosing the worst spots). There was an abundance of enormous
cray-fish, of various kinds of perch, of breams an ell long, of fat
eels, of carp as black as soot and having only one eye, the fat and
flesh having closed the other; they were indeed fit for a king's table.
Holste filled my conveyance with victuals of that description, and I
was glad to cry quits with him for some time to come.

It was well I felt so disposed, for in a short time he got another
affair on his hands. At first he thought that the advice of his
maternal uncle George vom Kalen, and three captains from Ruegen would be
sufficient to settle matters, and as a matter of course he invited them
to his small property at Wusterhausen, where he filled them with food
and drink night and day. It was all in vain; their brain refused to
suggest a way out of the difficulty except that he should send for me,
which recommendation he followed. I drew up a humble petition to the
duke. As I intended to leave early the next morning, Holste gave me six
crowns, for the liquor that was in him already rendered him more
generous than usual and than there was any occasion, considering the
state of his revenues.

The gentlemen caroused till deep into the night, for long after I had
retired I was awakened by George vom Kalen steadying himself by
grasping my pillow. He came to propose to me to transact his law
business for the future. As I was by no means anxious for that
practice, I declined, though in most guarded terms. Notwithstanding
this refusal, my interlocutor drew three crowns from his wallet, and
slipped them into my purse, which he took from under my pillow. His two
companions follow his example, and present me each with two crowns. In
vain do I point out to them that I cannot accept what I have not
earned, and I take the seven coins from my purse to hand them back.
Thereupon George vom Kalen tells me plainly that if I persist in
refusing this money, he will flay me alive as I am lying there. Knowing
the people with whom I had to deal, I deemed it more prudent to listen
no longer to my scruples. The company resumed their drinking, and by
the time I was back at Greifswald with my thirteen crowns in my pocket,
they were probably still snoring stretched under the table.

A small farmer had got his step-daughter with child. When the truth
leaked out, the girl's mother moved heaven and earth to shield her
husband from the death penalty by flight. As for her daughter, her only
child, to fling her upon the world in that condition was exposing her
to disgrace, to starvation, and perhaps to everlasting punishment. At
the request of some friends, I personally went to Wolgast and presented
a petition to be handed immediately to the prince. After considerable
waiting, I saw him come out of his apartment. "Why does this woman
speak of her daughter and not of her husband?" he asked. "Because he
has taken flight," I answered; "besides, considering the heinousness of
the crime, she is afraid that to mention him will not avail much." "You
lawyers," retorted his Highness, "you have a way of presenting things,
of polishing and whitening the most atrocious and blackest horrors. It
really requires some experience to determine whether your petitions are
compatible either with law, equity, or religion. I am bound to remember
that God has entrusted me with the punishment of gross and impious
excesses. I shall not decide upon this case to-day, but think it over."
These are the words of a just, but nevertheless merciful prince, and
the petitioner had the proof of it.

Michael Hovisch, the son of poor peasants, had been brought up from his
earliest years in town, put to school, and then into a business
establishment. He succeeded in gaining the confidence of his employers,
who sent him to Sweden and Denmark. Gradually he began to operate on
his own account. Modest in behaviour, neat, and even elegant in
appearance, he could aspire to a good match. Meanwhile Captain Dechow
took it into his head to claim him for gratuitous and enforced
seignorial labour. An old ducal farm had to be rebuilt. In vain did
Hovisch offer a considerable sum instead. Dechow resolved to constrain
him by imprisonment. He was a relentless despot, who tried to make
himself conspicuous by oppressing the peasantry and, wherever it could
be done, also the urban populations. Hovisch was compelled to take
flight. At the request of some personages whom I was anxious to oblige,
and being moreover strongly interested in the young fellow himself, I
personally presented to Duke Philip a petition in which the vexatious
proceedings of the captain were set forth at length. I defy people to
guess the prince's reply. Here it is: "That my subjects load thee with
butter, eggs, cheese, poultry, geese, sheep and the rest, is all very
well, nay, perfect in its way," he said. "Take my word for it, though,"
he went on, "that I can manage to govern them rightly enough with the
assistance of my captain without your meddling." I told Citzewitz
plainly that if the oppressed were thus deprived of their right of
humble petition there was "no saying" how things would end. "Dechow,"
remarked Citzewitz, "is an arbitrary, hasty brute, but he has managed
to ingratiate himself with the duke. Fortunately, his Highness has been
warned. I'll recur to the subject when I get an opportunity; there must
be a change." Dechow left Wolgast for Lubeck, where the people soon got
tired of him. Michael Hovisch was never again heard of. It was the last
time I took it into my head to present a petition, and especially to
wait for its answer.

To sum up, in the space of two years, the occupation of procurator,
and, above all, of notary, brought me eleven hundred and four and
twenty crowns in hard cash.

_Magister_ J. Schoenefeld acted as notary in four cases before the
court presided over by Dr. von Walde. Duke Philip was the plaintiff. As
it happened, Schoenefeld was too old to proceed energetically; the
going from "pillar to post" frightened him; besides, people had become
more exacting. He therefore decided upon handing his documents over to
me, and they contained several interesting items. The prince, for
instance, summoned Lutke Maltzan to prove his right to the fiefs of
Sarow, Gantzkendorf, and Carin. Maltzan declined, pleading prescription
in virtue of thirty years' possession. The fiefs in question had
belonged to Jacob Voss, nephew and ward of Berendt Maltzan, surnamed
"the Bad." (Berckmann and other historians amply explain the reasons
for the sobriquet.) The uncle having advanced two hundred or three
hundred florins on the lands of his nephew, persuaded the latter to go
to the war with a couple or so of horses. He made sure of never
beholding him again. Jacob Voss, a model of honour and courage,
distinguished himself in many a campaign, and the esteem in which he
was held by all enabled him to borrow the necessary sum to redeem the
paternal property. He gave notice to Berendt Maltzan of his intention
to refund the money at the new year, and at the appointed time he
arrived at his uncle's--a fortified domicile, most appropriate to his
brigandage, rapine and exactions. For several days Maltzan loaded him
with kindness, they drank together, played cards and diced; in short,
honest Jacob Voss, instead of redeeming his lands, lost the borrowed
money.

His despair and his thirst for vengeance prompted him to extreme
measures, and with a servant expressly engaged for the purpose, he
several times set fire to his former possessions. Thereupon his uncle
enjoined his tenants to proceed to his nephew's capture. One Sunday
Voss and his companion having fallen asleep in the wood near
Gantzkendorf, which they intended to burn down that night, were
discovered by a little dog of some peasants gathering nuts; and not
later than the Monday following Berendt Maltzan had the son of his
sister "racked" alive. During the journey Jacob Voss apostrophized the
tenants at labour by their names. "Johannes, Peter, Nicholas," he
exclaimed, "can you understand this horrible and ignominious death for
claiming my own property?"

To come back to the suit of the prince against Maltzan. The judge sent
the document to the faculty of law at Leipzig, which asked an
honorarium of forty crowns. Its decision, the seal of which was broken
in the presence of the parties as represented by their counsel and read
there and then, concluded in favour of Maltzan, to the great vexation
of the ducal advisers, Chancellor Citzewitz severely reprimanding Dr.
von Walde for not having opened the reply in order to amend it. An
appeal was entered at the Imperial Chamber, and the case only ended
several years after my establishment at Stralsund. The parties paid me
more than one thousand crowns.

Towards 1542 a Dane said to Christopher von der Lanckin, of Ruegen, that
the willow bow-nets for the catching of fish in the Danish fashion
would be more profitable to him than two big houses he had at
Stralsund. In fact from the time two of those contrivances arrived,
Christopher, who had been very hampered in money matters, settled his
debts very quickly. Struck with the result, two notable burghers of
Stralsund, namely councillor Conrad Oseborn and Olof Lorbeer, the son
of the burgomaster, went into partnership with some of their kindred,
and promptly exploited the invention. The new nets, though, in
consequence of their size, obstructed the entrance to the streams; the
fish no longer passed, and it meant ruin to the inhabitants of the
interior. There were protests on all sides. Duke Philip wrote to
Stralsund; the council replied ironically that fish not being taken by
hand, everybody was free to ply for it as he liked. An inquiry was set
on foot, the prince prohibited the big bow-nets, and had those
belonging to Lorbeer seized. Thereupon the whole gang began to shout
that the liberties of the city were in peril, a galley was fitted out
to guard the nets, and finally, Stralsund resorted to law.

If, in taking the succession of Schoenefeld, I had suspected my
countrymen of being so unreasonable as they were in this instance, I
should certainly have declined the brief, albeit that my presence
counterbalanced the hostility of the inquiring magistrate. In his
examination C. von der Lanckin stated loyally that from his point of
view, the Danish bow-nets were excellent, inasmuch as they had enabled
him to pay his debts, but that on his faith and honour of a gentleman
the new contrivance would ruin the country. The deposition of the
fishermen was very clear: "Whosoever will rid us of those nets will no
longer need to go to church or to say Paters. We ask for nothing else
from heaven from morn till night."

In spite of everything, Stralsund persisted in its wrong. Finally, on
the opinion of counsel and the verdict of September 28, 1554, the duke
gained his cause, and the city was condemned in costs. On the spur of
the moment the council wanted to lodge an appeal, but it thought the
better of it. The suit had lasted twelve years, and had bred between
the two parties a feeling of misunderstanding which only vanished with
the death of the prince. As there had been two hundred and fifty
witnesses, the six hundred crowns I received in fees was, I take it,
not an excessive remuneration.




                              CHAPTER III

The Greifswald Council appoints me the City's Secretary--Delicate
Mission to Stralsund--Burgomaster Christopher Lorbeer and his
Sons--Journey to Bergen--I settle at Stralsund


The Greifswald magistrates, who had the opportunity of seeing me daily
at work, gradually arrived at the conclusion that I could not be
altogether devoid of merit, considering that highly placed personages
and even the prince himself entrusted me with important affairs.
Schoenefeld, being no longer up to the standard required, they offered
me his charge on the condition of my completely relinquishing my
practice as procurator. In consequence of this, on December 29, 1554, I
was appointed secretary to the city of Greifswald.

[Illustration: View of Stralsund. _From an old Print_.]

The first burgomaster of Stralsund, Christopher Lorbeer, had two sons,
who spent their time in the chase, in the taverns, and at the brilliant
receptions of the nobility and of the opulent burgher class. They took
it for granted that they might do anything they liked, and operated
with dogs and nets on Greifswald territory. It so happened, though,
that several young nobles and rich burghers of the latter town had
excellent packs of hounds, and were, in consequence, often invited by
the prince. As a matter of course, they objected to this poaching on
the part of the Lorbeers. One day the two parties came face to face,
and the attitude of the Greifswald people caused the others to face
about and to abandon their nets. As a balm to their wounded pride, the
Lorbeers, lying in ambush at the inn at Testenhagen, assailed pistol in
hand a carter from Greifswald, maltreated him, and finally carried off
his best horse. The Greifswald council wrote to Stralsund in the most
measured terms, as ought to be done among neighbours. The reply was
supercilious, and couched in most intemperate terms. I was, therefore,
instructed to draw up an appeal to the duke. The moment was
unquestionably exceedingly well chosen, considering the behaviour of
Stralsund in the matter of the bow-nets. And although the reports of
that lawsuit were as yet not published, I was familiar with them, and
had no difficulty in conceiving the irritation of the prince against
the Lorbeers. I nevertheless disadvised having recourse to his
intervention; I deemed it more prudent to go to Stralsund and discuss
the matter.

The moment I had presented my credentials the Stralsund council met in
solemn assembly. One of them received me most graciously, and
introduced me. Burgomaster Lorbeer's polite anxiety to make room for me
on the bench of the council showed to me his secret hope of seeing me
betray the interests of my clients, and of metaphorically falling at
his feet. After the usual civilities, I pointed out to the meeting the
seriousness of the case, going fully into the facts in a firm and
perhaps somewhat plain language, reminding them of the Imperial
"orders" with regard to the preservation of the public peace. Nor did I
scruple to represent, as a good neighbour ought to have done, the
danger of obstinacy, above all with a prince who was already more or
less displeased.

I could read the exoneration for this bold speech on many a
countenance, but Christopher Lorbeer and his staunch adherents, who
were not accustomed to hear the truth to their faces, turned colour;
their hitherto affable looks changed into scowls, and the burgomaster,
beside himself with anger, rose and said: "Thou art too eager to break
thy first lance. I beg to submit that this man be strictly watched."
"And clapped into gaol if necessary," I retorted. Thereupon Lorbeer
walked out, and I was dismissed without being reconducted as I had been
introduced. In a little while, word was sent that the affair requiring
further examination, the answer would be communicated later on. A
couple of hours afterwards Dr. Gentzkow, the syndic, sent for me to
come to the St. Nicholas' Church. "I am obliged to admit," he said,
"that your language was justified in law as in fact, but Master
Christopher has taken mortal offence at it, inasmuch as he is not
accustomed to have people adopt this tone with him, or to hear himself
and his sons taxed with disturbing the public peace. He can do you a
great deal of good or a great deal of harm. His influence, both in the
city and in the country, is immense. In short, if the council have
rightly interpreted your message, the Greifswald folk desire to
terminate this affair in a friendly manner; very well, let us appoint a
day at Reinberg to arrange matters as good neighbours should. I am
asking you for your best endeavours to bring this about."

The Stralsund people made their preparations for the day in question by
slaughtering a great many birds and game, by roasting and boiling the
same, and by broaching casks upon casks of beer and wine. Besides the
principal burghers of the city related to them by blood and in thorough
sympathy, the Lorbeers invited their friends from the neighbourhood,
and their young boon companions, who appeared armed with pistols,
arquebuses and spikes, so that the gathering looked more like a call to
arms than like a friendly meeting. Consequently, some of the
councillors and citizens of Stralsund secretly warned the people of
Greifswald to send no one to the spot, and my father was particularly
cautioned not to let me go, for that I should surely be killed. The
Greifswald magistrates remained coy, and did not reply a word to the
invitation; then, at the very hour of the invasion of Reinberg by the
Lorbeer band, they wrote that if the horse were returned to them in
three days they would return the nets sequestrated in just reprisal. If
this were not done, the prince would be requested to dispense justice.
At the news of Greifswald's abstention from the quasi-festivities the
Lorbeer camp broke into an avalanche of imprecations and threats. Wound
up with drink, they swore that they would murder everybody.
Nevertheless, before the three days had expired, a stable-man brought
back the horse, receiving in return the nets; and so there was an end
of that disagreement.

There was a time when "milord" burgomaster Christopher Lorbeer did
pretty well as he liked with everybody without meeting with any
resistance, and as a matter of course, his wife and children followed
suit. Odd to relate, my mission was coincident with the heyday of his
fortune, and it was really owing to a few simple words from my lips
that his star suddenly waned. He did not mind being treated as ungodly,
and as a soul likely to incur eternal punishment, and when I say this I
am speaking on the authority of his eldest son, but he objected to
being accused of endangering the public peace, or, in other words, to
forfeiting his honour; it is that which put him beside himself. His
annoyance at having failed in his contemplated revenge against
Greifswald and against me seriously undermined his health. A most
painful illness confined him to his bed for six months, during which no
one was allowed to see him. It seemed a terrible retribution which
profoundly moved both the city and the country. The burgomaster's
victims raised their voices, and the exactions by which he had hitherto
kept up his grand style of living were at an end. When his wife
attempted to revictual the establishment as of old, she met with
refusals. A grain dealer to whom she had sent her pigs to fatten
brought them back to her, pretending "hard times." She was beginning to
"ride the high horse" with him, but he pointed to the room of the
burgomaster, saying: "Don't forget that 'I command you' is lying
there." After a protracted agony, which practically reduced him to the
condition of a mere animal, Christopher Lorbeer died on October 16,
1555, and was buried in the choir of the St. Nicholas' Church, by the
side of my mother and my two sisters, and under the same flagstone
where my father subsequently lay. The council, greatly affected by his
death, let three weeks pass before naming a successor to the deceased;
after which the syndic, N. Gentzkow, and the first secretary, Anthony
Lickow, were solemnly and joyously elected to the dignity.

Though as yet my emoluments were not fixed, the Greifswald council had
already given me several proofs of its high confidence. At Stralsund,
on the other hand, I was the constant butt of the violent enmity of the
most notable citizens, who would have rent me to pieces if they had got
hold of me. Stralsund being thus closed to me, no place was more
suitable as a residence than Greifswald, where I was born and had many
of my kindred. But the owner of the house I rented made me very
uncomfortable with his mania for transforming the dwelling into a
storehouse for the most lumbering material, such as wood, stone,
mortar, sand, etc.; he also used the place for the weddings of his
servants, without the least regard for my wife, whether she was sick or
in childbed. All our objections were met with the same answer: "If you
do not like it you had better move." Hence, I finally made the
acquisition of a house in the Fischhandler Strasse (Fishmonger Street),
belonging to Johannes Velschow, the father-in-law of Brand Hartmann.
Its price was three hundred and fifty florins, payable in four
quarterly instalments. Brand Hartmann was the son of that George
Hartmann with whom my father had had such grave differences. He felt
very wroth at seeing the house his father had built for his use pass
into my possession, but the sale was effected in due legal form. I had
given the deposit (God's pfenning) and put down the first hundred
florins in the presence of several councillors and notable burghers.

Masons and carpenters were set to work at once. The front door had to
be widened, the heavy roof to be strengthened, the rooms, stables,
cellar and yard to be overhauled. My father had had a great deal of
building done in his days and gained much experience. He came to
superintend matters. Now and again he somewhat bullied the workmen, and
even dismissed them, replacing them by others. Looking back on all
this, I cannot help wondering at my audacity, for my purse was
practically empty, and the workmen had to be paid on Saturdays. With
God's help my practice provided the necessary money every week. My
profession took me away from home a great deal; hence, there was some
delay in the building operations, but for every florin I lost in that
way, I earned ten and more elsewhere.

On September 25, 1555, Duke Philip, with a numerous suite stopped at
Stralsund for the night and was entertained by the council. He was
going to Bergen, in the island of Ruegen, where he stayed until October
11, and at his return he lay once more at Stralsund, equally at the
expense of the city. The aim of the journey was to check the
encroachments of the Jasmund nobility, which, not content with cutting
down the forest of Stubenitz for its own benefit, conceded the same
rights to others--for a consideration. The prince took me with him as
secretary. The aristocracy having proposed a friendly settlement, there
was much parleying, during which the duke was at a loss to kill time.
He was lodged in the apartments of the prior at the monastery of
Bergen, and which looked out upon the courtyard, and spent hours in
watching from his windows the pages and valets and their constant
bickerings, quarrels and fights. He could even hear their opinions of
him. One day, when standing in his usual coign of vantage while four
Polish violins performed several pieces of music in the room itself, he
heard a valet below saying to his fellow, "The people of Stralsund have
much better musicians than their prince. What he has got is simply
ridiculous. Duke Bogislaw keeps four trumpeters and a kettledrum
player; they, at any rate, produce some effect. But this prince up
there, with his caterwauling things, is absurd." The duke sent Prior
Gottschalck to ascertain who was talking in that strain, but
Gottschalck, having noticed a relative of his in the group, made them a
sign to be off, and went upstairs, saying that they had been too quick
for him, and that he had failed to recognize any one. The prince
promptly repeated to his familiars word for word what he had heard on
the art of keeping up his rank, and long afterwards he was fond of
reminding them of the incident.

Another anecdote: A lot of boys were noisily playing in the courtyard,
and one of the most turbulent was the illegitimate son of the bailiff
(his real father having sent him to school, though he bore the name of
his putative parent, Arndts, the tailor of Bergen). His Highness having
given order to drive the yelling beggars away and to box their ears if
necessary, the footmen executed his orders to the letter, right and
left. The prince noticed, though, that they spared Arndts, and he
shouted that he more than any of the others deserved correction, but
the servant to whom the recommendation was addressed simply smiled and
shrugged his shoulders. "Do you hear me?" cried the duke; "rub it into
the little devil." "Oh, no," replied the flunkey. "Oh, yes, lay it on
thickly." "Nay, nay; heaven preserve me from doing such a thing." "And
why, what's to prevent you?" "What? to trounce the son of a bailiff! I
should repent it afterwards." At these words the duke burst out
laughing. He told the story to every one, even in the bailiff's
presence. On one occasion the boy was sent for and placed by the side
of his father. His eyes, his nose, his head and his legs were compared
with those of his sire. The governor of Cammin, after having made the
lad march up and down the room, said to the bailiff, "That's your son,
right enough; he is shaped like you."

The attempt at conciliation having failed, the parties met at the
monastery in a large room provided with chairs, seats and two tables,
one for his Highness, the other for the _pares curiae_. I took place at
the latter in my capacity of _notarius judicii_. The chancellor, in his
master's name, gave a summary of the facts, after which, the prince,
rising from his seat, came to the second table, and there, facing me,
he made a long speech, not at all badly composed. I only give its
conclusion: "In your presence, Master Notary, I maintain having been
animated by most friendly intentions towards my subjects, but they
rejected all attempts at settling matters. In consequence of this, and
as a guarantee of my rights, I command you to state everything that has
happened, including the present declaration, and to draw up a duly
attested act which you shall remit to me in consideration of your
lawful remuneration." The matter did not go farther that day, but the
duke instructed me to pursue the inquiry jointly with the Governor of
Cammin, which took us several days.

The "instrument" gave me a great deal of trouble, filling, as it did,
seven of the largest skins of parchment, constituting fourteen sheets.
It contained more matter than a quire of paper. There was no room to
affix my signature and the _signum notariatus_ at the end of the deed,
according to custom, so I made an impression in wax of my seal engraved
on lead, and suspended it from the string holding the sheets together.
His Highness, without asking, gave me a fee of thirty crowns.

_Magister_ Joachim Moritz, _professor juris_ at Greifswald and ducal
counsellor, had never been to Stralsund, and knew nobody there. At my
return from Bergen he asked me to "put him up" at my father's, which I
was very glad to do. Having risen early to see the city, he went
shortly after seven into St. Nicholas' to hear the sermon. Zabel
Lorbeer, who caught sight of him, mistook him for his former boon
companion, George Steinkeller. The likeness between these two seems to
have been so striking as to have deceived people generally. Many a
gentleman upon beholding Moritz on the bench at Wolgast, said to his
neighbour, "And where the devil did Steinkeller get his knowledge of
the law from, to constitute him a judge?" Lorbeer, then, coming from
behind, takes Moritz by the ears and shakes him for full a minute, the
professor, altogether nonplussed, asking himself all the while who it
could be giving him such an energetic welcome. He made sure it was me.
Finally, he managed to turn round, and Lorbeer, perceiving his mistake,
was most profuse with apologies. Moritz was fond of relating the
adventure, especially in the hearing of the Stralsunders, and no one
enjoyed the story more than the duke.

The Stralsund council took the opportunity of my visit (which happened
during the very week of Burgomaster Lorbeer's funeral), to offer me the
position of secretary. My surprise may easily be imagined. I considered
myself so compromised in the eyes of the Stralsunders that, without the
company of the governor of Cammin and the commission I held of the
prince, I should not have deemed myself safe in the city. Those
overtures, though, caused me as much pleasure as they did to my
kindred; nevertheless, I felt bound not to give a definite answer until
I was relieved of my engagement at Greifswald, although I had not taken
the oath. Being anxious to hasten my return, the Stralsund council sent
me a messenger to Greifswald with a saddle-horse.

I pointed out to my friends and to the magistrates at Greifswald that,
although I had to a certain extent begun my functions, there had as yet
been no positive agreement; not a syllable had been uttered, for
instance, about salary. Why then should I decline the important
Stralsund appointment? My uncle and godfather, Burgomaster Bertram
Smiterlow, summoned the council to the chancellerie, and a fixed salary
of eighty florins was allotted to me. Never had a secretary been so
well paid. I asked to let the matter stand over till the next morning,
so that I might consult with my family. My wife's relatives implored me
to accept; my father-in-law, a centenarian, promised me, with tears in
his eyes, a hundred florins if I stayed. At the instance of all these,
I declared myself ready to receive the luck-penny (the earnest-money)
commensurate with the dignity of the office and of the council, it
being, furthermore, understood that I should be allowed to remain at
the chancellerie and not be elected to the council. The _camerarii_
counted me out eight crowns as earnest-money, and my predecessor,
Johannes Schoenefeld, sent me word to engross my own act of
appointment. More than one precedent justified me in expecting about a
year's salary as earnest-money, but after some hesitation I took the
eight crowns.

My father-in-law was anxiously waiting for the result of the interview.
I flung the money on the table. "Just look, father," I exclaimed, "did
I not sell myself at my worth? You had better get your hundred florins
ready." But he had apparently recovered from his first depression, and
seemed not at all touched by my obvious sacrifice, for he said
tetchily, "If it suits you to go, very well, go; but you'll not have
one florin as far as I am concerned." I felt hurt, although I fully
intended to refuse the hundred florins, lest my brother-in-law should
look askance at me.

I put the Stralsund horse up in Burgomaster Smiterlow's stable, my own
not being ready. My first impulse was to send it back the same day.
Then I began to reflect that it would be better to draw up my "act of
appointment"; after that, the letter to the Stralsund council would not
take long. In drawing up the act, I could, however, not help noticing
that neither the period nor the place of payment was stated, and next
morning I went to ask Schoenefeld about all this. He told me that I
should receive two florins one day from this person, and half a florin
the next from another, so that at the end of the year the eighty
florins would be complete. I certainly did congratulate myself for
having kept a back door open, for the misunderstanding was very
serious, casual instalments and fixed appointments being by no means
the same thing. After leaving Schoenefeld, I ran against Burgomaster
Smiterlow and the _camerarii_ in the market-place, and told them that
if Schoenefeld's version was true, I preferred returning the wretched
earnest-money. "Your conduct will surprise them," they replied. "To
summon the council at such a short notice is no more possible than to
take back the earnest-money without its leave." I, on the other hand,
maintained that it was yet time to arrange affairs. "Should I be
deserving of the magistrates' confidence if I were so incapable of
conducting my own affairs? I am going to the burgomaster at once to
deposit the earnest-money on his daughter's table. She'll know right
enough to whom to hand it. After which I shall get into the saddle and
take the road to Stralsund." Thereupon the council was summoned.

I went to tell my wife, her brother, and my sister whom he had married.
My wife, not satisfied with shedding tears, declared categorically that
she should not leave Greifswald. She would take a room somewhere and
earn her living knitting. My sister and her husband were also much
excited. "What shall you do with your nice house?" said my sister. "Why
vex our parents? Stop here out of consideration for them; here where
there are so many opportunities of being useful to them." An old aunt,
a sensible, upright and honest matron whom my wife had called to her
aid was the only one to express a contrary opinion. "Dear nephew," she
said, "though I should be too pleased to keep you near me, for after
God you are the prop of my old age, I'm bound to admit that there is no
comparison between the post of Greifswald and that of Stralsund. If I
placed an obstacle to your stroke of good fortune, my conscience would
reproach me afterwards, so take my advice and carry out your plan. Do
you remember how your wife mourned her mother? Does she still cry at
the mention of her name? Well, she'll get just as used to living at
Stralsund." My wife's tears flowed all the faster at these words.

The messenger from Stralsund went to saddle my horse. Booted and
spurred I joined him almost immediately, and had the animal brought
round to Burgomaster Smiterlow's door where, somewhat impatiently, I
awaited on the steps his return from the Town Hall. He told me that no
secretary in the past had received the appointments allotted to me, and
that no secretary in the future was likely to receive them, and yet I
had still found better; hence the council felt most reluctant to hamper
my career and sent their best wishes for my welfare. I immediately got
into the saddle and left the town, avoiding our house, on the threshold
of which I could see my wife standing surrounded by her kindred. It was
on November 29, 1555. My residence at Greifswald dated from January 1,
1551. During that period my earnings amounted to five thousand three
hundred florins, exclusive of presents in kind, which often exceeded
the strictly necessary. Here ends the third part of the story of my
life.




                                THE END




                                 INDEX


      Aarschot, 273

      Acquapendente, xx. 5, 151, 171

      Aepinus, Johannes, 39, 249

      Affenstein, Ritter Wolf von, 246

      Agricola, Johannes, 246

      Aix-la-Chapelle, 19, 254, 255

      Albrecht, Duke of Mecklenburg, 63, 64, 72, 80, 107, 231

      Alexander III., 96

      Algau, 192, 221

      Alpinus, Johannes, 12

      Alsace, 223

      Alsen, Island of, 63

      Altenkirchen, 40

      Altenkuke, Heinrich, 187

      Altingk, Johannes, 45, 46
        Werner, 45

      Alva, Duke of, 216, 218

      Amandus, Dr. Johannes, xv., 20

      Ammeister, 264

      Amsterdam, 3

      Anclam, 1

      Ancona, xx. 146, 147

      Anelam, 46

      Anglus, Dr. Antonius, 95

      Anhault, xii. 48

      _Annales Pomeraniae_, 79, 82, 89

      Antwerp, xxiii. 4, 85, 268, 270

      _Appeal to the Christian Nobility_, xi.

      Arndts, 331, 332

      Arnsburg, 97

      Arras, Bishop of, 222, 224, 249, 277, 291, 292

      Ascagne, Count St. Florian, 150

      Artopaeus, Herr Petrus, 263

      Augsburg, xiii., xxii., 111, 176, 177, 195, 212, 215-230, 239,
        244-249, 252, 253, 257, 263, 264, 292
        Bishop of, 246

      Augustus, Duke, 228



      Babylonish captivity, The, xi.

      Baden, 195, 255
        Margrave of, xix. 263, 278

      Badenweiler, 120

      Balhorn, 103

      Bamberg, 208, 209

      Barbarossa, 245

      Baremann, Nicholas, 69

      Barns, xx.

      Barnes, 95, 96, 103

      Barth, 4

      Basle, xxiii., 223, 263

      Bavaria, Duke Albert of, 228, 233, 246
        Duchess of, 229

      Becker, Peter, 263

      Belbuck, 11, 13

      Benter, 196

      Ber, 308

      Berckmann, Johannes, 28, 54, 79, 82, 83, 85, 89, 278, 320

      Bergen, 330, 333

      Berkentin, 50

      Berlin, 190, 199

      Bensancon, 224

      Besserer, George, 246

      Beuter, 203

      Biberach, 227

      _Bilder aus der Deutschen Kulturgeschichte_, 228

      Bischof, 43

      Bitterfeld, 201, 202

      Blumenow, Johannes, 82, 84, 85, 88

      Bole, Victor, 34

      Bogislaw X., Duke, 9, 11, 14, 16, 17, 18
        Duke Barnim, 16, 17, 30, 190, 205, 213, 214, 216, 265, 273,
          281, 290, 293, 331
        Duke George, 16, 17, 28, 30, 48

      Boineburg, Ritter Conrad von, 241

      Bois le Duc, 267

      Boldewan, Abbot, 11, 13

      Bologna, 160, 165, 166, 171, 173, 179, 291

      Bolte, Nicholas, 75

      Bonus, Herrman, 39

      Bonnus, 40

      Botzen, 176, 177

      Brabant, 255

      Brandenburg, xxiii., 9, 196, 205, 226, 306
        Culmbach, 231
        Elector of, 189, 197, 228, 246, 247
        Wachim of, xiii., xxiii.

      Brandenburg-the-Old, 202

      Brassanus, Matthias, 40, 42

      Bremen, Christopher, Bishop of, 80

      Brenner, xx.

      Brettheim, 125

      Brixen, 176, 177

      Broecker, Jacob, 97

      Bruchsall, 122

      Brunswick, Duke Henry of, 137, 138, 210, 228
        Duke Philip of, 161

      Brunswick-Luneberg, xii.

      Bruser, Hermann, 49, 51, 53, 54, 103

      Bruser, Leveling, 94

      Bruser, Mrs. xviii., xix.

      Brussels, xxiii., 227, 230, 255, 267, 270, 273

      Buchow, Bartholomaei, 19

      Buchow, Heindrich, 268

      Bugenhagen, Johannes, 11

      Bukow, 51

      Bunsaw, Gaspard, 35, 285, 298

      Bunsow, Dame, 288

      Bunsow, Johannes, 287, 288

      Burgrave of Mesnia, 182

      Burenius Arnoldus, xvii., 96

      Burn, Count Maximilian, 269

      Burnet, Bishop, x.

      Burtenbach, Captain Schaerthin von, 176

      Burwitz, Joachim, 54

      Buss, Valentine, 56

      Butzbach, 131, 132, 260



      Calvin, 249, 265

      Camerarius, 169

      Cammin, 261, 291, 333, 334, 246
        Bishop of, 226, 266, 293, 294

      Cannstadt, 178

      Capito Daniel, 263

      Carin, 319

      Carlowitz, Christopher, 195, 196, 230, 235, 248, 252

      Carmelites, 250

      Cassel, 132

      Cassules, 93

      Castle of St. Angelo, 159

      Cellini, Benvenuto, xx.

      Charlemagne, 254, 255

      Charles V., xii., xiii., xxii., 9, 161, 177, 197, 220, 235, 267,
        146, 97

      Citzewitz, Jacob, 187, 188, 189, 200, 215, 225, 227, 236, 257,
        262, 279, 281, 283, 293, 299, 314, 319, 321

      Citzewitz, James, xxii.

      Classen, Bernard, 7, 8

      Clerike, Jacob, 299

      Cleves, Anne of, 96

      Cleves, Duchy of, 263,
        Duke of, 113, 228

      Coburg, 206, 209

      Colburg, 99, 226

      Cologne, 225, 270, 271
        Elector of, 246

      Compestella, 19

      Constance, 234

      Copenhagen, 39, 80

      _Cosmographie_, Munster's, 262, 264



      Damitz, Captain Moritz, 191, 193, 236, 237, 238

      Danquart, 98

      Dantzig, 7, 22, 257

      _De Anima_, xvii.

      Dechow, Captain, 318, 319

      Denmark, King of, 228

      Deux Fonts, Prince, 195

      Devonne, 208

      Dialectica Caesarii, 99

      Dick, Dr. Leopold, 107

      Dueren, 113

      Dinnies, Laurence, 187

      Domitz, Maurice, 128

      Donat, 31

      Donauwerth, 216, 217

      Dorpat, Bishop of, 98

      Drache, Anthony, 313

      Droege, Gerard, 19, 89

      Duitz, Gaspard, 268, 269, 270



      Eck, Dr., 17, 246

      Eger, 191

      Eichstedt, Valentin, 78, 314
        Bishop of, 228

      Einfriedlaw, 19

      Eisleben, 166, 246

      Elbe, 200, 217

      Eldenow, 306

      _Emek Habakha_, 143

      Engelhardt, Dr. Simeon, 51, 108, 111, 117, 120, 121, 127, 250,
        260, 261

      Engeln, 48

      _Epitome Annalium Pomerania_, 79

      Erasmus, Desiderius, 264

      Erckhorst, Cyriacus, 49, 55

      Erfurt, 103

      Ernest, Margrave, 120, 123, 125, 282

      Esslingen, 122



      Faber, 169

      Fachs, Dr., 246

      Falck, Chancellor, 273

      Falcke, Dr., 190

      Falsterbo, 70, 99

      Farnese, Peter Aloys, 160

      _Fasti_, Ovid's, 99

      Ferrara, 173, 174

      Ferdinand, King, 119, 177, 180, 182, 191, 196, 204

      Florence, 172

      Franconia, 206

      Frankfurt, 130, 138, 178, 247, 254, 259, 262, 286

      Frederick, III., Duke, xxii., 210, 211, 212

      Frederick, King of Denmark, 61, 207

      Freder, Johannes, 277

      _Freedom of a Christian Man_, xi.

      Frese, Widow, 15

      Friesland, 133

      Fribourg, 131, 208, 260

      Friedrich, Johannes, 193, 197

      Frobose, Peter, 5, 7, 281

      Frock, Otto, 12

      Froment, 16

      Frubose, Matthew, 285

      Furstenburg, Count Wilhelm, 239, 240
        Frederick von, 240, 315



      Gadebusch, 100

      Gantzkendorf, 319, 320

      Garpenhagen, 100

      Gatzkow, Abraham, 198

      Gelhaar, Joachim, 43, 59, 102

      Geneva, 16, 265

      Gentzkow, Dr. Nicholas, 86, 300, 302, 303, 313, 326, 329
        Burgomaster Nicholas, 54

      Ghent, 267
        Charles of, 220

      Goeslin, Margaret, 237

      Gotha, 104

      Gottschalk, Heinrich, 299
        Johannes, 41, 187, 188, 287, 296
        Prior, 331

      _Grammatica Bonni_, 40

      Granvelle, Cardinal, xxiii.
        Nicholas, Perremot de, 224, 227, 249, 253, 277

      Greiffenberg, 266

      Greifswald, xi. xvii., xix., xxiv., 2, 5-7, 20-31, 33, 35, 39,
        46, 48, 93, 98, 99, 110, 197, 235, 281, 282, 285, 287, 288,
        297, 302, 306, 310, 313-317, 324-338

      Grellen, Barber, 83

      Gribou, 2

      Grosse, Alexis, 278

      Gruwel, Peter, 288, 298

      Gruyere, Count Michael de, 207

      Grynaeus, Simon, 168, 169

      Guelderland, 113

      Gutzkow, Count, 65, 93



      Hahn, Werner, 201, 202

      Halle, xxii., 201, 206

      Hamburg, 3, 26, 65

      Hannemann, 99

      Hartmann, Brand, 329
        George, 24, 25, 26, 29, 329

      Hase, Dr. Heinrich, 195, 246

      Hausen, Erasmus, 187, 188

      Hawthorne, xx.

      Heidelberg, 114, 169, 260
        Elector of, 272

      Heidelsheim, 122

      Heimsdorff, 195

      Heindrich, Duke, 80, 207

      Heinrichmann, Dr., 246

      Helfmann, Johannes, 261

      Henry II. of France, xiv.

      Henry VIII., 95

      Hentzer, 264

      Heine Vogel, 270

      Hertogenbosch, 267

      Herwig, Christian, 86

      Hesiod, 53

      Hesse, Philip of, xii.

      Hildebrand, Nicholas, 86

      Hirnheim, Johannes Walther von, 237

      Hochberg, 120

      Hochel, Dr. Johannes, 106

      Holde, Dr. Conrad, 247

      Holme, Johannes, 66

      Holste, 315, 316

      Holstein, Duke Christian, 62, 66, 79

      Homedes, Jean de, 130

      Horns, the family of, 1, 2

      Hose, Dr. Christopher, 116, 117, 119

      Hovisch, Michael, 318, 319

      Hoyer, Dr. Gaspard, 149, 150, 155, 164, 165, 176, 186

      Hundfruck, 260

      Hutten, Ulrich, von, 24



      Ingoldstadt, 224

      Innspruck, 177

      _Itinerarium Germanicae_, 264



      Juliers, Duke of, 111, 270


      Kalen, George von, 316

      Kalen, J. von, 314

      Kalte, Johannes, 267

      Kantzow, Thomas, 78

      Kasskow, Master, 68

      Kempe, George, 12

      Kempten, 141, 142, 221, 175

      Ketelhot, Christian, xvi., 11, 12, 13, 20, 23

      _King Arthur_, 21

      Kirchschwarz, 24

      Kismann, 99

      Klatteville, Peter, 81, 82

      Kloche, Johannes, 49, 69

      Krugge, Nicholas, 86, 303

      Knipstrow, Dr. xxii., 22, 23, 34,48, 187, 302

      Koenigstein, 132

      Krahow, Valerius, 235

      Krossen, Johannes, 81

      Krou, Frau, 38

      Kruse, 23, 65

      Kurcke, Johannes, 11

      Kussow, Michael, 93



      Labbun, Christopher, 187

      Lagebusch, Johannes, 100, 101, 102

      Lanckin, Christopher von der, 321, 322

      Landau, 250, 261

      Landshut, 178

      Lasky, Stanislas, 228, 245

      Leipzig, 17, 45, 107, 192, 248, 252, 258, 321

      Lepper, Hermann, 100, 101, 102

      Lepusculus, 235, 264, 265

      Lertmeritz, 191, 192, 193

      Leveling, 49, 55, 56
        Marie, 56

      Lezen, Johannes von, 246

      Lickow, 329

      Liegnitz, xxii.
        Duke Frederick von, 207, 208, 212, 214

      Lievetzow, 309

      Lingensis, Heinrich, 96, 97, 98

      Livonia, 13

      Lloytz, The, of Stettin, 261

      Loewe, Nicholas, 87

      Loewenstein, Christopher von, 130, 133, 135, 138

      Loewenhagen, Joachim, 99

      Lorbeer, Christopher, 12, 19, 20, 41, 50, 55, 67, 71-74, 79, 85,
        88, 93, 324, 326-328, 334
        Olaff, 84, 321
        Zabel, 57, 333, 334

      Loretto, xx., 149

      Lorraine, Dowager of, 228

      Louvain, 267, 270

      Lubeck, xvii., xix., 3, 4, 26, 39, 40, 48, 50-52, 61-63, 66, 71,
        72, 77, 80, 95, 100, 103, 128, 165, 297, 303

      Lubbeke, 48

      Ludwig, Duke Ernest, 89

      Lake, Constance, 227

      Luehe Von der, 313

      Luther, Martin, xi.-xvii., 9, 14, 17, 18, 78, 94, 96, 103, 135,
        152, 166, 200, 228, 250, 278



      Madrid, 224

      Madrutz, Gandenz von, 246, 271

      Maestricht, 254

      Magdeburg, xiii., 192

      Malines, 270

      Manlius, 169

      Mantel, Jacob, 244

      Mantua, 173, 174, 175
        Duke of, 180

      Marburg, xii., 133

      Marforio, 227

      Marie, Fraeulein, of Saxony, 78

      Maries, The three, 57, 58

      Marquardt, Johannes, 195, 222, 224, 226

      Marschmann, 86

      Mattzan, Berendt, 320, 321
        Joachim, 2, 99, 300-302
        Lutke, 319

      Maurice, Duke, 195, 200, 231, 235

      Mauritz, 177

      Maximilian, Archduke, 119, 204, 231

      Mayence, 128, 130, 132, 139, 141, 254, 260, 271
        Bishop of, 246
        Elector of, 246

      Mecklenburg, 51, 71, 79, 95, 96, 100, 115, 299

      Meisisch, Leonard, 40

      Meiseburg, 246

      Memmingen, 221

      Melanchthon, Philip, xvi., xvii., 104, 106, 248, 298

      Mesnia, 258

      Mense, 267

      Mey, Bernard, 261

      Meyer, Christopher, 6, 7

      Meyer, Gerard, 81

      Meyer, Hermann, 12, 19

      Meyer, Marx, 62-67, 81

      Middleburgh, C. 304, 305

      Milan, 149, 175, 176

      Moller, Rolof, xv., 9, 10, 12, 16, 18, 19, 20, 31, 61, 85, 87, 91

      Moller, George, 85

      Monkwitz, Von, 216

      Montefiascone, 171

      Montfort, Count Hugo von, 246

      Moritz, Joachim, 298, 299, 306, 313, 333, 334

      Mount Scarperia, 173

      Muggenwald, 302

      Muhlberg, xxii., 188, 193, 194, 195

      Muleg Hassan, King of Tunis, 245

      Munich, 252

      Munster, Sebastian, 262, 263, 264, 265

      Musculus, 235

      Muthrin, 257



      Nares, 195

      Naumberg, 206
        Bishop of, 246

      Naumberg, Duke of, 228

      Naves, Seigneur Jean, 116

      Negendanck, 309, 310

      Nering, Nicholas, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85

      Nerung, 299

      New Camp, 225

      Neuenkirchen, 25

      Nicholas, 165, 175, 176, 177

      Niederweisel, 130, 131, 132, 260

      Niemann, Johannes, 277, 278

      Nordgau, 227

      Nordhauser, 183

      Normann, George, 33, 235, 253, 254, 256
        Heinrich, 191, 238

      Nuremburg, 9, 14, 18, 155, 181, 209, 211, 223



      Octavius, Duke, 160, 168

      _Offices_, Cicero's, 97

      Offing, 108

      Oppenheim, 130, 254, 260

      Ornans, 224

      Oseborn, Zabel, 10, 321

      Osnaburgh, 39

      Osten, 2, 299

      Ostiglia, 174

      Ovid, 99



      Palatine, Count, 195
        Elector of, 246

      Pappenheim, Marshal von, 229

      Parow, Christian, 82, 83

      Pasewalk, 315

      Pasquin, 227

      Paul III., Pope, 150, 175

      Petrus, 147, 148, 165, 169, 175

      Pflug, Gaspard, 191, 192
        Johannes, 246
        Julius, 192, 228

      Pforzheim, xix., 120, 122, 126, 127, 140
        Ernest von, 279

      Philip, Duke, 78, 99, 190, 195, 260, 290, 298, 301, 318, 322, 330

      Philip I., 17, 272

      Philip V. of Spain, 233

      Picht, Dr., 306

      Place Moland, 16

      Plate Simon, 235-238

      Plawe, 181

      Po, 173, 174

      Poland, King of, 228

      Pomerania, xii., xv., 3, 17, 28, 122, 145, 146, 151, 189, 200,
        226, 238, 260
        Duke of, 224

      _Pomeranus_, 11

      Portius, Dr. Johannes, 261

      _Praecepta Grammaticae_, 40

      Prestor, John, 220

      Prien, V., 299

      Prussia, Duke of, 278

      Pritze, Joachim, 69

      Puddegla, 315

      Putkammer, Dr., 190

      Putten, 44



      Quilow, Johannes Osten von, 2



      Ranke, 196

      Rantzau, Count Johannes, 63, 64

      Rantzin, 1, 3

      Rantzow, Joachim 69, 74

      Ratisbon, 178, 180, 233, 247
        Diet of, 280

      Rau, Balthazar, 298

      Ravenna, 147

      Reiffstock, Dr. Frederick, 106, 107, 108, 109

      Reinburg, 327

      Rheinfeld, 228

      Rheinhausen, 122

      Rhodes, 130, 131

      Ribbenitz, 97, 102

      Richter, 232

      Rhode, Nicholas, 19, 49, 51, 52, 55

      Roetteln, 120

      Roevershagen, 36

      Rode, Nicholas, 73, 74

      Rome, 28, 147, 175, 178, 222, 269

      Rostock, xvii., 19, 36, 37, 50, 61, 71, 85, 95, 96, 97, 100, 128,
        300, 301, 303, 313

      Rosse, Martin van, 113

      Rotterdam, 264

      Rubricken, Bock, xxiv., 10

      Rugen, 33, 34, 93, 321, 330
        Prince of, 93

      Runge, 23, 302

      Rust, Joachim, 187, 188



      Sachsen, 197

      St. Angelo, Governor of, 160

      St. Brigitta, 16, 27, 164

      St. Flore, Cardinal, Count de, 150, 164, 186

      St. Simon, Duke, 233

      St. Alrich, 218

      Saluces, Marquis de, 196, 245

      Salzburg, 247

      Sandow, 23

      Sansenberg, 120

      Sarow, 319

      Sastrow, Amnistia, 299
        Anna, 5
        Barbara, 7, 8
        Bartholomew, ix., x., xv., xvi., xix., xx.-xxiv., 103, 106,
          110, 196, 197, 235
        Catherine, 6, 8, 299
        Christian, 7
        Gertrude, 7
        Jeremy, 4
        John, xx., 1, 2, 7, 39, 53, 93, 108, 122, 128, 149, 134, 298
        Magdalen, 7

      Sastrow, Nicholas, xvi., xvii., xviii., 94, 116

      Saxony, Duke of, 78
        Elector of, 114, 189, 191, 196, 205, 208, 222, 245, 247, 249
        John of, xii., xiii.
        Maurice of, xiii., xv., 195

      Schaerlini, 223

      Schenck, Dr. Jacob, 106

      Schermer, Frau, 14

      Schladenteuffel, Nicholas, 303

      Schlackenwerth, 191

      Schlemm, 307, 308

      Schlieben, Eustacius, 246

      Schmalkalden, League of, 182, 188, 190, 197, 234, 269

      Schwallenberg, 290, 292

      Schoenfeld, Johannes, 319, 322, 324, 335, 336

      Schorsow, 299

      Schwede, Bailiff, 10, 15

      Schwabe, Bartholomew, 226, 266

      Schwallenberger, Dr., 267, 279, 280, 281, 283

      Schwarte, Matthew, 288
        Peter, 288

      Schwartz, Arndt, 149
        Christian, 21, 33, 36, 81

      Schwartzenberg, 310, 312

      Schwartz, Dr. Peter, 297

      Schwendi, Lazarus von, 223

      Schwendi, Lazarus, 242, 243, 245

      Schwenkfeld, Gaspard von, 108

      Schwerin, Marshal Ulrich, 293, 314

      Seld, Dr. George Sigismund, 195, 222, 224, 246

      Selneccerus, 169

      Senckestack, Johannes, 69

      Sickermann, Heindrich, 12

      Siena, Virgo, 172

      Sievershausen, 196, 232

      Silesia, 108, 191, 207

      Sitten, Nanz von, 128

      Sixtus IV., Pope, 156, 157

      Skramon, Admiral Peter, 64

      Sleidan, 188, 196, 203, 219, 234, 239, 240, 241

      Smalkald, xxi., xxii.

      Smeker, H., 309, 310, 311, 312

      Smiterlow, Anna, xvi.
        Bartholamaei, 4
        Bertrand, 28, 34, 36, 37, 334-337
        Christian, 14, 258, 302

      Smiterlow, George, 40, 43, 89,91
        Johannes, 40
        Nicholas, xvi., xviii., 4, 5, 10, 12, 14, 18, 20, 26, 29, 31,
          35, 41, 49, 50, 61, 66-74, 79, 83, 87, 89, 91, 311

      Solms, Count Reinhard, 241

      Sonnenberg, Nicholas, 56, 84, 101
        Heinrich, 100

      Speckin, Martin, 297

      Spires, xii., xix., xxiii., 9, 52, 103, 105, 106, 108, 111, 114,
        116, 120, 125-129, 140, 178, 230, 250, 251, 254, 260, 262, 266,
        271, 273, 279, 282, 301, 307, 310, 312

      Stargurdt, 214

      Stainbruck, 64

      Steinkiller, 333

      Steinwer, Canon Hippolytus, 12, 30

      Sterzing, 177

      Stettin, 16, 17, 35, 103, 190, 253, 257, 266, 267, 273, 279, 282,
        289, 290, 314

      Stiten, Franz von, 98, 138

      Storentin, Frau, 99

      Stochkolm, 54

      Stolpe, 13, 265, 273, 281, 290

      Stralsund, xv., xvi.-xix., xxiv., 3, 5, 7, 9, 11-28, 40, 43, 45,
        50, 52, 54, 61, 66, 71, 72, 77, 82, 87, 96, 100, 102, 110, 190,
        197, 214, 235, 268, 277, 286, 287, 295, 302, 303, 314, 322,
        328, 330, 333-337

      Stranck, Anna, 58, 59

      Strasburg, 108, 123, 223, 233, 246, 263
        Bishop of, 129

      Stroientin, Dr. Valentin, 24-26

      Stubenitz, Forest of, 330

      Sturm, Jacob, 233, 234, 235, 246

      Suave, Peter, 11

      Suavenius, Petrus, 228

      Svendsburg, 64

      Swabia, 108, 120, 178, 192, 221



      Tauber, Dr., 292, 293

      Telchow, Simon, 306, 307

      Terence, xvii.

      Testenhagen, 325

      Thomas, Wolf, 244

      Thun, Peter, 307, 308

      Tollenstein, 65

      Torgau, 193, 197, 217
        Castle of, 78

      Torrentius, 31

      Trent, xx., 175, 176, 177, 245, 268, 271
        Cardinal of, 228
        Council of, 173

      Trepstow, 11, 266

      Treuenbrietzen, 200

      Treves, Elector of, 19

      Truchess, Prelate Otto, 116

      Tulliver, sen., Mr., x.

      Tunis, King of, 245



      Ulm, 108, 111, 178, 246, 253

      Ulrich, Duke, 143

      Upsal, Archbishop of, 22

      Ukermuende, Geo. von, 11, 12, 128, 236, 289, 290



      Valentine, 188, 213

      _Valley of Tears_, 143

      Venice, 175, 269

      Verona, 175, 176

      Virgil, 174

      Vischer, L., 15, 19

      Viterbo, 168

      Vogelsberg, Sebastian, 223, 239-245

      Vogt, Johannes, 100

      Voss, Jacob, 320



      Walde, Dr. B. von, 299, 314, 321

      Wallenstein, xii.

      Walter, Anthony, 99

      Wardenburg, Zutfeld, 12, 26

      Wedel, George von, 205, 207, 210, 222

      Weingarten, Abbe von, 228, 246

      Weinleben, Chancellor, 198

      Welch, 241

      Welfius, Heinrich, xvii.

      Welsers, 216

      Wessels, Franz, 12, 19, 27

      Westphalia, xiii., 256

      Wetteran, 131

      Wetzlar, 12

      Weitmulen, Sebastian von, 191

      Wezer, Martin, 226, 253, 261, 267, 290-293

      Willemberg, Castle of, 200

      Willershagen, 101

      Wismar, 51, 61, 71, 72, 303

      Wissemberg, 223, 227, 240, 242

      Wittenberg, xvi., 6, 11, 14, 17, 18, 40, 95, 103, 188, 193, 194,
        197, 202, 222, 224, 245, 248, 292

      Wolde, Canon von, 293

      Wolder, Simon, 266, 281

      Wolfenbuttel, 65

      Wolff, Frau, 39

      Wolgang, 228

      Wolgast, xxii., 17, 40, 47, 86, 187, 190, 199, 205, 256, 257,
        289, 290, 292, 300, 306, 314, 317, 319, 333

      Worms, 9, 116, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 133, 139, 228, 230,
        250, 251, 260

      Wulflam, Wulf, 56

      Wullenweber, George, xvii., 5, 61-66, 71, 79, 80, 190, 192

      Wurzburg, Bishop of, 106, 246

      Wustenfeld, 309, 311

      Wustenhausen, 316



      Zell, 122, 254

      Ziegesar, 39

      Ziegler, 267

      Zigler, Dr. Louis, 254

      Zittau, 191

      Zober, 54

      Zwingli, xii.



                               FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: At the beginning of the sixteenth century the monetary
unit in Pomerania was the golden florin, which within a fraction
was equivalent to the Rhenish florin and represented eight francs,
sixty-five centimes, regard being had to the fact that the value of
silver compared to that of gold was a third more than to-day. The
golden florin was divided into forty-eight schellings (not shillings),
sixteen of which constituted a mark; the schelling again was divided
into twelve pfenning. The schelling of Hamburg and of Lubeck were worth
double that of Stralsund.--Translator.]

[Footnote 2: House property was classified in three categories:
dwelling houses (_Haeuser_), shops (_Buden_), which were very light
constructions set apart for trade or for accommodating strangers, and
cellars (_Keller_), or places below the level of the ground floor. The
scale of house-tax was for booths, stalls or shops half, for cellars a
quarter of that due for dwelling-houses. A census of 1554 gives for
Stralsund 559 houses, 1,133 booths or shops, and 535 cellars; of which
numbers 30 dwelling houses, 39 booths and 38 cellars are not tenanted.
To these figures must be added for the faubourgs or beyond the gates
239 tenements of lesser importance.

On the site of the house in Huns' Street stands or stood a few years
ago the Hotel Jarmer. An inscription on its frontage recalls the birth
of Jeremy Sastrow. According to a competent etymological authority, the
name of the Hunnenstrasse in Greifswald has not the faintest connexion
with the Huns, but is simply a Low German corruption of Hundestrasse,
_Platea Canum_, like in Lubeck and in Barth. In the latter town the
thoroughfare thus designated was the locale of the Prince's pack of
hounds.--Translator.]

[Footnote 3: Nicholas Smiterlow, who was councillor in 1507 and
burgomaster in 1516, enacted an important part at Stralsund at a period
when the political influence of that city spread far beyond its walls.
Events pleaded loudly in favour of the resolute and prudent burgomaster
against his adventurous adversary, George Wullenweber. In spite of his
dislike to popular agitation, Smiterlow was "one of the first and best
upholders of the Reformation," if we are to believe the evidence of a
chronicler of the sixteenth century. He died in July, 1539. Hailing
originally from Greifswald, he had got married at Stralsund in 1498.
The Smiterlows, Schmiterlows, or Smiterloews interpreted their name in
the sense of "Smiters of Lions." Their arms represented a man wielding
a club and a lion by his side. It was said that during the Crusades
their ancestor had laid low one of those animals with the blow of a
club.--Translator.]

[Footnote 4: It was the custom to give a present to a relative or to a
friend as a contribution to the furnishing of his house.--Translator.]

[Footnote 5: When Sastrow became secretary of Stralsund he took care to
collect, under the title of "Rubrikenbuch" all the documents relating
to the privileges and property of the city; a collection which proved
useful to the magistrates in office and which is of interest to-day as
a contribution to the local history.--Translator.]

[Footnote 6: The ancient monastery of Belbuck, near Treptow on the
Rega, became, under Abbot Boldewan, a nursery of learning. From thence
came George von Ukermuende, who was the first to preach the reformed
doctrine at Stralsund; the impassioned preacher Kurcke or Kureke;
Ketelhot, born in 1492, died in 1546, whom the chronicler Berckmann
calls the "Apostle of Stralsund and the founder of the holy doctrine";
Peter Suave, the pioneer of the Reformation in Denmark and Holstein;
and finally, Johannes Bugenhagen, famous under the name of _Pomeranus_,
born in 1485, died in 1558, pastor at Wittemberg since 1523, the author
of the first historical work on Pomerania, the translator of the Bible
into Low-German, and the veritable organizer of Protestantism into
those northern regions. Duke Bogislaw X, displeased with the spirit
that prevailed at Belbuck, suppressed that institution in 1523; the
dispersion of the monks only resulted in the prompter diffusion of the
new doctrines.

The chronology of the history of the Reformation at Stralsund remained
uncertain up to 1859, in which year the archives of the Imperial
Chamber, forgotten at Wetzlar, brought to light the documents in
connexion with the lawsuit brought by Canon Hippolytus Steinwer against
Stralsund, in order to despoil the city of certain revenues and
privileges. The principal dates may be fixed as follows: 1522.--First
conflict of the city with the Catholic clergy who refuse to be taxed;
Zutfeld Wardenburg, administrator of the diocese, flies to Rome. 1523
or end of 1522.--Arrival of the first reformed monks and preachers,
George Kempe, Heindrich Sichermann, George von Ukermuende. 1524.--First
preachings of Ketelhot (at Easter), and of Kurcke on St. Michael's Day.
1525.--The Monday after Palm Sunday (April 10), the churches and
convents are invaded; suppression of Catholic worship. 1525.--The
Sunday after All Saints' (November 5), official recognition of the
Reformation through the promulgation of the ecclesiastical and
scholastic ordinances of Johannes Alpinus.

With regard to political events the confusion was the same. Otho Frock,
the recent historian of Pomerania, made it his business to apply the
remedy, and the following are the results arrived at. 1524, from May to
June.--Installation of the Forty-Eight; voluntary exile of Smiterlow.
1525, January.--Frustrated attempt of Smiterlow to return to Stralsund
with the support of the Hanseatic towns. 1525 (probably April
15).--Riotous election of Rolof Moller and Christopher Lorbeer as
burgomasters, of Franz Wessel, Hermann Meyer and six other partisans of
the Reformation as councillors. 1525 (at St. John).--Entry into
Stralsund of Dukes George and Barnim; the rendering of homage and
confirmation of privileges. 1527 (July 24?).--Rolof Moller leaves
Stralsund, and on August 1 or 5 Smiterlow returns. 1529.--Return and
death of Rolof Moller.--Translator.]

[Footnote 7: There are various versions of the origin of this famous
tumult. According to some documents the servant's mistress was a widow
named Frese, who lived in the old market.--Translator.]

[Footnote 8: The fishmonger's bench or stall of Vischer reminds one of
that of the reformer Froment, preaching on the Place Molard at Geneva,
just as the departure of the nuns of St. Brigitta, at Stralsund,
reminds one, though not quite so seriously, of the flitting from Geneva
of the Sisters of Santa Clara.--Translator.]

[Footnote 9: In the ducal House of Pomerania the law of succession
admitted all the sons indistinctly to the throne. They reigned in
common, but if an understanding was impossible, the county was divided
between them. In 1478 the whole of Pomerania was united under the
sceptre of Bogislaw X. At the death of this able prince, which took
place in 1523, Dukes George and Barnim wielded power conjointly, in
spite of their utterly opposed sentiments. George remained faithful to
the old belief; Barnim, on the other hand, proceeded to the university
of Wittemberg, and in 1519 had accompanied Luther to Leipzig when he
was disputing with Eck. The honour accrued to Barnim in his capacity of
rector, a dignity seldom conferred upon a student.

George died in 1531, leaving an only son, Philippe. The division of
Pomerania long desired by Barnim occurred the following year. Barnim's
chance gave him Eastern Pomerania as far as the Swine, and with Stettin
as a residence. To his nephew, Philip I, fell Western Pomerania, of
which Wolgast became once more the capital. That agreement, concluded
for ten years, was renewed in 1541, and its effects were prolonged
until 1625, at which date there was a new reunion under Bogislaw XIV,
of the Stettin branch, who died in 1637, the last of the House. The
franchises of Stralsund, in fact, were so extensive as to reduce the
authority of the princes to a mere nominal rule. The bond between them
only consisted of a kind of perfunctory rendering of homage and the
payment of a small tribute, the amount of which had been fixed once for
all. The suzerain only entered the city after a notice of three months.
In 1525, with the political and religious crisis at its height, the
rendering of homage was preceded by protracted negotiations. No
safe-conduct, though delivered by the prince, was valid at Stralsund
unless it was countersigned by the council. The city exercised its
jurisdiction not only within its walls, but in its exterior domains.
Though exempt from military obligations as far as the reigning dukes
were concerned, the city imposed compulsory service both by sea and by
land on its citizens. It had the power to conclude treaties and was its
sole arbiter with regard to peace or war. These privileges were
preserved by Stralsund during the whole of the sixteenth century, in
spite of the decline of the Hanseatic bond.--Translator.]

[Footnote 10: Franz Wessel, born at Stralsund, September 30, 1487, died
May 19, 1570, was the son of a brewer of the Lange Strasse. At a very
early age--when scarcely more than twelve--he embraced a commercial
career and made long stays in foreign countries, besides pilgrimages to
Treves, Aix-la-Chapelle, Einfriedlaw, and St. James of Compostella. In
1516 he was back at Stralsund, and was one of the most energetic and
first promoters of the Reformation. Councillor in 1524, burgomaster in
1541, he played a scarcely less important political part. Wessel is the
author of a curious piece of writing on divine worship at Stralsund at
the period of papistry. The very year of his death, Gerard Droege,
who had been brought up in his house, published his biography at
Rostock.--Translator.]

[Footnote 11: Christopher Lorbeer, who was councillor in 1507,
burgomaster in 1524, and who died in 1555, belonged to a much
respected family of Stralsund and enjoyed great consideration
there.--Translator.]

[Footnote 12: According to tradition King Arthur or Artus, chief of the
Knights of the Round Table, lived in the sixth century. He and his
companions had devoted themselves to the recovery of the Holy Grail.
Arthur himself is supposed to have conquered Sweden and Norway. On the
other hand, the historian Johannes Magnus, Archbishop of Upsal, who
died in 1554, mentions a Swedish Arthur famed for his doughty deeds,
and he adds: "Even in our days, there exist in certain towns along the
Baltic, for instance at Dantzig and Stralsund, houses, _domus Arthi_,
on which the term illustrious has been bestowed; it is there that the
notables foregather for the relaxation of their minds, as if it were a
kind of school of the highest courtesy and amenity." Hence in the
trading cities of the north the magnificent structures set apart for
public and private rejoicings, as well as for commercial transactions,
were intimately bound up with the tradition of a legendary hero. If I
am not mistaken, only one of those buildings still remains, namely, the
_Artushof_ of Dantzig, which does duty as an exchange, and the ancient
halls of which were the scene of the interview of the German Emperor
and the Czar in September, 1881. The local chroniclers assert that the
_Artushof_ of Stralsund was built with the ransom of Duke Eric of
Saxony, taken prisoner by the city troops in 1316 The great fire of
June 12, 1680, completely destroyed it. On its site stands the official
residence of the military governor of the place.

When near his end Ketelhot expressed his regret at having, at that
period of his scant resources, too eagerly accepted the burgher's
hospitality. Johannes Knipstro (Knypstro or Knipstrow), born May 1,
1497, at Sandow in the March, was at first a Franciscan monk. He and
Ketelhot are considered as the most active propagators of the
Reformation at Stralsund. But for the earnings of his wife, it
is said, he would have been compelled to beg his bread, his salary
being too small to keep body and soul together. She was an erewhile
nun, and provided for both with her needle. Knipstro became
superintendent-general at Wolgast in 1535, and professor of theology at
Greifswald. He died October 4, 1556.--Translator.]

[Footnote 13: Doctor and ducal councillor Valentin Stroientin was the
friend of Ulrich von Hutten. Bugenhagen dedicated his _Pomerania_ to
him. He died in 1539.]

[Footnote 14: Johannes Aepinus (in German Hoeck or Hoch, high), was
born in 1499 at Ziegesar in the Urich, and died in 1553 superintendent
at Hamburg, where he had discharged the ministry since 1529. Aepinus
laboured hard at ecclesiastical and scholastic reform. Many writings,
especially against the Interim, came from his pen.--Translator.]

[Footnote 15: Hermann Bonnus, born in 1504, near Osnaburgh; he
preached the new doctrine at Greifswald, Stralsund and Copenhagen, and
died on February 12, 1548, superintendent at Lubeck, a post which had
been confided to him in 1531. Bonnus has written a chronicle of
Lubeck.--Translator.]

[Footnote 16: Nicholas Gentzkow, doctor of law, born December 6, 1502,
the son of a shoemaker, according to the annalist Berckmann, and
deceased February 24, 1576, was elected burgomaster of Stralsund in
1555. He, nevertheless, remained syndic, that is, legal adviser to the
city, just as, after his admission to the council, Sastrow continued
his functions of protonotary, or first secretary. Sastrow, who had many
disagreements with Gentzkow, as, in fact, with others, succeeded him in
the dignity of burgomaster. Gentzkow left a diary of which Zober
published extracts in 1870.--Translator.]

[Footnote 17: Wulf Wulflam, the head of the patricians of Stralsund,
and illustrious in virtue of his warlike exploits, treated on
a footing of equality with the crowned heads of the fourteenth
century.--Translator.]

[Footnote 18: The same story is related of the Schwerin family at
Lubeck.--Translator.]

[Footnote 19: A jocular allusion to the three Maries of Bethany, viz.,
the mother of James the Minor and sister of the Virgin; the mother of
the Apostles James and John, and Mary of Magdala.--Translator.]

[Footnote 20: The dean of the Drapers had precedence of the deans of
all the other corporations; in all the ceremonies he came immediately
after the council.--Translator.]

[Footnote 21: George Wullenweber was born about 1492, probably at
Hamburg. When the political and religious struggle broke out at Lubeck,
he was settled there as a merchant, and he distinguished himself by
being in the front rank clamouring for changes. At the end of February,
1533, he was elected councillor and afterwards burgomaster. From that
moment the whole of his attempts tended in the direction of the
restoration of the commercial monopoly the Hanseatic cities had so long
possessed on the shores of the Baltic. The aim was to close those ports
to the Dutch merchant navy, and to cause the influence of Lubeck to
prevail in the three Scandinavian kingdoms.

In the spring of 1533, Lubeck made up its mind to come to close
quarters with the Dutch, those detested rivals. A well-equipped fleet
stood out to sea; the erewhile landsknecht, Marcus Meyer, who began by
being a blacksmith at Hamburg, and had married the rich widow of a
burgomaster, assumed the command of the mercenaries. The others had,
however, been forewarned, and only some unimportant captures were made.
Meyer, after having confiscated English merchandize found on board of
the captured craft, made the mistake of landing on the English coast to
revictual; he was arrested for piracy and taken to London. By a whim of
Henry VIII, jealous of the power of the Netherlands and of Charles V,
Marx Meyer, instead of being put to death, received a knighthood and
immediately served as an intermediary between the king and Wullenweber
in the more or less serious negotiations they started.

This first campaign had cost much, and its issue was not very
profitable. The Dutch fleet had got some good prizes, and pillaged on
the Schonen (Swedish) coast some of the factories belonging to the
Hanseatic combination. The complaints of the traders themselves became
general. Was the war to be pursued? A diet foregathered at Hamburg in
March, 1534, in order to come to an understanding. Wullenweber was
received with universal recrimination; his haughty attitude drew from
the Stralsund delegate the famous and prophetic reminder recorded by
Sastrow a few pages further on. The proud burgomaster left the place at
the end of a few days, angry and embittered at heart; in spite of this,
an armistice of four years was signed:

Naturally, Wullenweber felt it incumbent to retrieve this check. The
elective throne of Denmark had become vacant through the death of
Frederick I of Holstein: His son, Christian III, was unfavourably
disposed towards the Hanseatic cities. Under those circumstances
Wullenweber hit upon the idea of the candidature of Christian II, who
had been deposed and afterwards confined to the castle of Sunderburg in
the island of Alsen. A condottiere of high birth, Christopher of
Oldenburg, accepted the chief command of the expedition. But the bold
burgomaster, not satisfied with the restoration of Christian II.,
offered to Duke Albrecht of Mecklenburg the crown of Sweden at that
time borne by Gustavus Wasa. That monarch had committed the blunder of
not showing himself sufficiently grateful for the aid lent to him by
Lubeck in days gone by.

The beginnings of the campaign were successful. Copenhagen opened even
its doors to the Count of Oldenburg. Christian III, however, had
secured an able captain in Count Johannes Rantzau, who, leaving the
enemy to carry on his devastations in Sealand, boldly came to invest
Lubeck, inflicted a bloody defeat on Marx Meyer and captured eight
vessels of war. Wullenweber understood that it was time to make
concessions; his partners retired from the councils, and on November
18, 1534, the very curious convention with Rantzau was concluded at
Stockeldorf by which the Lubeckers were left free to continue warring
in Denmark in favour of Christian II, but bound themselves to cease
hostilities in Holstein.

The candidates for the Danish throne increased. Albrecht of Mecklenburg
and even Count Christopher laid more and more stress upon their
pretensions; Wullenweber, in order to conciliate the Emperor, put
forward at the eleventh hour the name of a personage agreeable to the
House of Hapsburg, namely, Count Palatine Frederick, the son-in-law of
Christian II. The war went on with Christian III, whose cause Gustavus
Wasa had espoused. Marx Meyer fell into the hands of the enemy; left
prisoner on parole, he broke his pledge, made himself master of the
very castle of Warburg that had been assigned to him as a residence,
and his barbaric and cruel incursions terrified the country all round.
The naval battle of Borholm on June 9, 1535, was not productive of a
decisive result, a storm having dispersed the opposing fleets, but on
June 11 Johannes Rantzau scored a victory on land in Denmark; and
finally, on June 16, at Svendsburg, the Lubeck fleet fell without
firing a shot into the hands of Admiral Peter Skramon. Added to all
these catastrophes, Lubeck was threatened with being put outside the
pale of the Empire; the game was evidently lost. Nevertheless peace
with Christian III was only signed on February 14, 1536.

Marx Meyer, after a splendid defence, surrendered Warburg, on the
condition of his retiring with the honours of war; in spite of their
promise, the Danes tried and executed him together with his brother on
June 17, 1536. On July 28 of the same year Copenhagen capitulated,
after having sustained a twelve months' investment, aggravated by
famine. Christian III gave their liberty to Duke Albrecht of
Mecklenburg and to Count Christopher, although he inflicted repeated
humiliations on the latter. As for the Duke, the adventure left him
crestfallen for a long while.

At Lubeck the men of the old regime obtained power once more,
Wullenweber having resigned towards the end of August, 1535. In the
beginning of October, while crossing the territory of the Archbishop of
Bremen, the brother of his enemy, Duke Heinrich the Younger, of
Brunswick, he was arrested, taken to the castle of Rothenburg, and put
on the rack as a traitor, an anabaptist and a malefactor. After which
he was transferred to the castle of Stainbrueck, between Brunswick and
Hildesheim, and flung into a narrow dungeon, where to this day the
following inscription records the event: "Here George Wullenweber
suffered, 1536-1537." Finally, on September 24, a court of aldermen
summoned at Tollenstein, near Wolfenbuettel, by Heindrich of Brunswick,
sentenced the wretched man to suffer death by the sword, a sentence
which was carried out immediately, the executioner quartering the body
and putting it on the wheel. Such was the deplorable end of the man
whose ambition had dreamt the political and commercial domination of
his country in the north of Europe. According to a sailor's ditty of
old, "The people of Lubeck are regretting every day the demise of
Master George Wullenweber." The historian Waitz has devoted three
volumes to the career of the famous burgomaster; the purely literary
men and dramatic authors, Kruse and Gutzkow, have also seized upon this
dramatic figure.--Translator.]

[Footnote 22: Under the name of Wends, the Sclavs settled on the shores
of the Baltic, engaged in maritime traffic, and became the founders of
the Hanseatic League. In the sixteenth century the kernel of that
confederation still consisted of the group of the six Wendish cities:
"Lubeck the chief one, Hamburg, Luneburg, Rostock, Stralsund and
Wismar."--Translator.]

[Footnote 23: The Hanseatic League had established its most important
factories, and above all for the herring traffic, in Schonen; enormous
fairs were being held there from the beginning of July to the end of
November. The centre of all this commerce was Falsterbo, at the extreme
southwest of Sweden.--Translator.]

[Footnote 24: Valentin Eichstedt died in 1600 as Chancellor of Wolgast.
He wrote the life of Duke Philip I, an _Epitome Annalium Pomerania_ and
_Annales Pomeraniae_. Johannes Berckmann, a former monk of the order of
St. Augustine, and preacher, an eye-witness of the scenes of the
Reformation at Stralsund, is the author of a chronicle of that city
which was published in 1833 by Mohnike and Gober. Sastrow has now and
again borrowed from him for events anterior to his personal
recollections; he nevertheless rarely misses an opportunity of
attacking his fellow-worker in history. This may have been due to
hatred of the popular party and perhaps to professional jealousy, apart
from the fact of Berckmann being more favourable to his patron Christopher
Lorbeer than to Burgomaster Nicholas Smiterlow. Born about the end of
the fifteenth century, Berckmann died in 1560.--Translator.]

[Footnote 25: Robert Barnes, chaplain to Henry VIII, and sent by the
latter to Wittemberg in order to consult the theologians on the subject
of Henry's divorce from Catherine of Arragon. At his return to London
he showed so much zeal for the new faith that Henry sent him to the
Tower. He recanted in order to recover his freedom; then overwhelmed
with remorse fled to Wittemberg and stayed there several years with
Bugenhagen under the name of Dr. Antonius Anglus. Henry VIII, after his
rupture with the Pope, reinstated Barnes as his chaplain and entrusted
him with the negotiations of his marriage with Anne of Cleves; but when
the divorce took place, Barnes was brought before Parliament and was
burned July 30, 1540. He wrote the lives of the Roman pontiffs from St.
Peter to Alexander III.--Translator.]

[Footnote 26: Arnold Bueren, the son of a peasant, took his name from
the hamlet of Bueren, in Westphalia, in the neighbourhood of which he
was born, in 1484. He spent fifteen years at Wittemberg with Luther and
Melanchthon. The latter recommended him to the Duke of Mecklenburg,
Henry the Pacific, as a tutor to his son Magnus, who was reported to be
the most learned prince of his times. To Bueren belongs the credit of
having restored the prestige of the University of Rostock, seriously
impaired by the pest and by the troubles of the Reformation. He died on
September 16, 1566. His tomb is in St. Mary's, at Rostock; among the
scutcheons adorning it are the Genevese key and eagle.--Translator.]

[Footnote 27: The herring fishery and the brewing industry gave a great
importance to the coopers' guild, which was moreover protected against
foreign competition by ancient enactments.--Translator.]

[Footnote 28: Gaspard von Schwenkfeld, born in 1490 at the castle of
Offing, in Silesia, died at Ulm in 1561. Entered into holy orders, he
reproached Luther with restoring the reign of literal interpretation
and with neglecting the spirit. Banished from Silesia as a fanatic, he
made his way to Southern Germany, and stayed at Strasburg, Augsburg,
Spires and Ulm. For some time he seemed to incline towards the
Anabaptists, but soon parted from them to found a particular sect. He
taught that God reveals Himself in direct communication to every man,
and that regeneration is accomplished by the spiritual life and not by
outward means of grace. His profound conviction and great piety gained
him many adherents, notably in Swabia and Silesia. A colony of his
persecuted disciples settled in Philadelphia, U.S.--Translator.]

[Footnote 29: At the head of the bands recruited by the Duke of Cleves
and the King of Denmark, Martin van Rosse, or von Rossheim, acting in
concert with the French troops, had ravaged Brabant. Not only did the
Duke of Cleves retain Guelderland, on which Charles V pretended to
have claims, but he continued his intrigues with France and Denmark. To
put an end to these, Charles, in 1543, got together 35,000 men,
Spaniards, Italians and Germans, and proceeded down the Rhine. The
fortified place of Dueren having been carried by assault, the Duke
considered himself lucky to be able to conclude a peace which only cost
him Guelderland, and Martin van Rosse took service once more with the
Emperor.--Translator.]

[Footnote 30: Sastrow has the whole of the grant of poet laureate,
with the full description of the arms conferred. In reality it
was not a patent of nobility in the proper significance of the
term.--Translator.]

[Footnote 31: Les especes enlevees, il renferma la bourse et le fou de
s'ecrier: "Monseigneur, appelez votre coquin de pretre (il ne le
calumnioit point) qu'on le taille a son tour. Votre Grace sait qu'il a
engrosse une fille de Butzbach." On suspendit derriere le poele les
angelots cousus dans un sachet.]

[Footnote 32: Duke Henry of Brunswick endeavoured to hold his own
against the Protestant princes, but in 1545, abandoned by the
mercenaries, he was compelled to surrender to the Landgrave Philip of
Hesse.--Translator.]

[Footnote 33: On the subject of the child Simeon, the following may be
read with interest in the martyrology of the Israelites, entitled _Emek
Habakha_, or _The Valley of Tears_ (published by Julian See, 1881): "At
that period (1475), a scoundrel named Enzo, of Trent, in Italy, killed
a child of two years old with the name of Simeon and flung it secretly
into a pond, not far from the house of the Jew Samuel without any one
having seen the deed. Immediately, as usual, the Jews were accused of
it. At the order of the bishop their houses were entered into; the
child, of course, was not found, and everybody went back to his home.
The body was found afterwards. The bishop, after having had it examined
on the spot itself, ordered the arrest of all the Jews, who were
harassed and tortured to such a degree as to confess to a thing which
had never entered their mind. Only one among them, a very old man,
named Moses, refused to avow this signal falsehood and died under his
torture. May the Lord reward him according to his piety."

Two Christians, learned and versed in the law came from Padua to judge
for themselves. The wrath of the inhabitants of Trent was kindled
against them and they were nearly killed. The bishop condemned the
Jews, heaped bitterness upon them, tortured them with red-hot pincers,
finally burned them, and their guiltless souls ascended to heaven. He
subsequently took possession of all their property as he had intended,
and filled his cellars with spoil. The child was already reported as
admitted among the saints, and was supposed to perform miracles. The
bishop disseminated the announcement of it throughout all the
provinces, crowds rushed to see, and they did not come empty-handed.
All the people of that country began to show great hatred to the Jews
in the spots where they resided, and ceased to speak peacefully to
them. Meanwhile, the bishop having asked the pope to canonize the
child, considering that it was among the saints, the pope sent one of
his cardinals with the title of legate to examine the affair more
closely, and the latter did not fail before long to discover that it
was nothing but an imposture and fancy. He also wished to see the
corpse; the corpse was embalmed. Thereupon the cardinal began to jeer;
he declared in the presence of the people that it was nothing but sheer
deception. The people, however, became furious against him; he was
obliged to flee and to take refuge in a neighbouring town. When there
he sent for all the documents relating to the avowals of the
unfortunate Jews and the measures taken against them, had the servant
of the scoundrel who killed the child arrested, and the latter declared
that the crime had been committed by order of the bishop in order to
ruin the Jews. The cardinal took the servant with him to Rome, gave an
account of his mission to the pope, who refused to canonize the child
as the bishop kept asking him. The child was only "beatified," but up
to the present (1540) it has not been "canonized." Still, it was
canonized in 1588, and its "day" is celebrated with great pomp at Trent
on March 24.--Translator.]

[Footnote 34: Ascagne, Count of St. Florian and Cardinal, was the son
of Constance Farnese, daughter of Pope Paul III.--Translator.]

[Footnote 35: Duke Octavius was the son of Peter-Aloys
Farnese.--Translator.]

[Footnote 36: This epicure was prelate of Augsburg, Johannes Fugger,
who in reality travelled for the sole purpose of getting a knowledge of
the different vintages. His servant had the following words cut on his
tombstone: "_Est, Est, Est et propter nimium Est; dominus meus mortuus
est._" The defunct left a legacy to empty so many bottles of wine on
his grave once a year, a ceremony replaced nowadays by a distribution
of bread to the poor. The wine of Montefiascone owes its name of _Est,
Est, Est_ to this adventure.--Translator.]

[Footnote 37: The famous Captain Schaertlin von Burtenbach had received
the command of the Protestant forces, among which figured the
contingents of Ulm and Augsburg: The successful night-surprise against
the fortress of Ehrenberg-Klause marks the beginning of the war of
Schmalkalden. From that moment Schaertlin, having become master of the
passages of the Tyrol, could stop the reinforcements despatched from
Italy to the emperor; he could descend into the plain and drive away
the Council of Trent. The citizens of Augsburg, though, being anxious
for the safety of their own town, pressed him to come back. "He obeyed,
racked," says one of his own companions, "by the same despair that
Hannibal felt when recalled from Italy by Carthage." The taking of the
same fortress by Mauritz of Saxony in 1552 compelled Charles V to leave
Innspruck in hot haste.--Translator.]

[Footnote 38: Here follows a very unsavoury passage, showing the
lamentable want of cleanliness even among the educated middle classes
in the sixteenth century throughout Europe, for the particulars given
by Sastrow did not apply to Germany only.--Translator.]

[Footnote 39: It is not the final dissolution brought about by the
defeat of Muehlberg. A passage from Sleidan explains the league of
Schmalkalden at the end of 1546. "The embassies of the Protestants,
which were not agreed, foregathered with the hope of being enabled to
deliberate more efficiently. But inasmuch as the 'Allied of the
Religion' gave no help, and the confederates of Luneburg and Pomerania
did not assist in anything, inasmuch as the other States and towns of
Saxony were most sparing with their subsidies, as there came nothing
from France, and the army dwindled down day by day because the soldiers
took their discharge on account of the season and other discomforts, it
was proposed to adopt one of three measures: to give battle, to retire
and put the soldiers into winter quarters, or to make peace. The
discussion resulted in a hint to make peace. But because the emperor,
who was aware of the state of things through his spies, proposed too
onerous conditions, it was decided to take the whole of the army into
Saxony. In consequence of all this, the war was by no means
successfully conducted."--Translator.]

[Footnote 40: Gaspard Pflug, the chief of the Protestant party in
Bohemia, must not be mistaken for Julius Pflug, Bishop of Naumburg, one
of the three men who drew up "the Interim."--Translator.]

[Footnote 41: Sastrow gives only one specimen, but I cannot reproduce
it.--Translator.]

[Footnote 42: After the victory of Muehlberg, the imperial army went to
lay siege to Wittenberg, which finally capitulated at the advice of
Johannes Friedrich of Sachsen himself.--Translator.]

[Footnote 43: The jurist, George Sigismund Seld, born in 1516, the son
of a goldsmith at Augsburg, had become vice-chancellor at the death of
Nares. His deputies were Johannes Marquardt of Baden, and Heinrich
Hase, formerly counsellor to the Count Palatine and the Prince of
Deux-Ponts. Seld died in 1565.--Translator.]

[Footnote 44: Christopher von Carlowitz, born at Heimsdorff, near
Dresden, on December 7, 1507, died on January 8, 1578. He was the able
counsellor of the valiant but changeable Maurice of Saxony, who, as is
well known, deserted the Protestant side for that of the emperor, and
was rewarded with the electoral dignity of which his kinsman and
neighbour Johannes-Friedrich was deprived. A few years later, Maurice,
at the head of the vanquished of Muehlberg, recommenced the struggle
against the emperor, and in 1552 imposed upon that monarch the peace of
Passau. In July 1553 Maurice met with a glorious death on the
battlefield of Sievershausen, where the Margrave of Brandenburg
suffered a defeat.--Translator.]

[Footnote 45: It was at Ingoldstadt that the challenge of the
Protestant princes was presented to Charles V. by a young squire,
accompanied by a trumpeter. The emperor simply sent word to the two
messengers that he granted them a safe-conduct; as for those by whom
they were sent, he should know how to deal with them. That is the
modern version of Ranke. According to Sastrow there were two challenges
and he gives them both. The first was brought to Landshut by a
gentleman accompanied by a trumpeter. Charles refused to receive him.
The second is that of Ingoldstadt, and is posterior by three weeks to
the other. It was presented on September 2. "This missive," adds
Sastrow, "has been the cause of all the great ills that have befallen
Germany, and I verily believe that wishing to chastise the German
nation for her sins, God allowed it to be written with infernal ink.
Neither Sleidan nor Beuter mentions it; it seems to me that there was
an attempt to garble or altogether to suppress it."--Translator.]

[Footnote 46: Sastrow had no easy task for his diplomatic beginnings:
Charles V had gained the crushing victory of Muehlberg over the German
Protestants on April 24, 1547; the League of Schmalkalden had ceased to
exist; its chiefs, the Elector Johannes-Friedrich of Sachsen and the
Landgrave of Hesse, Philip the Magnanimous, were both prisoners. Though
they were members of that league since 1536, the Dukes of Pomerania
had, it is true, observed a neutral attitude during the latter years;
nevertheless, the emperor's resentment inspired them, not without
reason, with great fear. Preparations for defence commenced everywhere;
Greifswald and Stralsund strengthened and increased their
fortifications. Finally, the dukes obtained their pardon, in
consideration of humiliating excuses, the acceptance of the Interim,
and the payment of a large contribution, towards which Stralsund
contributed 10,000 florins.--Translator.]

[Footnote 47: The Duke Frederick III von Liegnitz in Silesia, born in
1520, had become reigning duke in 1547. His ill-regulated conduct
caused him to be called "the Extravagant." Finally, the Emperor ordered
him to be deposed. Frederick III, who died in 1570, spent the last six
years of his life dependent upon private charity at the castle of
Liegnitz. Heindrich XI, his son and successor, followed his example in
every respect.

Far distant from Silesia, in a mountainous region of Switzerland, there
lived at that period another offshoot of an illustrious princely house,
namely, Count Michael de Gruyere, who, the last of his race, was soon
compelled to abandon to his creditors even the manor of his ancestors
By a curious coincidence the two incorrigible spendthrifts met at the
French court and became, it appears intimately acquainted, for the
noble Silesian paid a visit to the French noble in 1551 at his seat at
Devonne, near Geneva. It would be impossible to conceive a better
matched couple. Michael, finding his guest to be suffering from fever
caused by a fall from his horse at Lyons, took him to the Castle of
Gruyere. True to his custom, Frederick soon asked for a loan, and
obtained a big sum which the count himself had borrowed.

When it came to repayment they fell out; there was a lawsuit at
Friburg, and the Duke, ordered to refund, gave some jewels as security,
which, after all, were not redeemed. A letter from the Countess de
Gruyere says, in fact, that Count Michael, holding several precious
stones of great beauty, having belonged to the Duke von Liegnitz, has
pledged part of them with the lords of Lucerne and another part with
various people of Friburg. An innkeeper of that town with whom
the prince had lodged put a distraint on certain jewels and other
objects. Frederick succeeded in leaving the country, as usual, without
paying.--Translator.]

[Footnote 48: Those who refused to Charles V the title of Emperor
Called him Charles of Ghent.--Translator.]

[Footnote 49: Lazarus von Schwendi was born in 1525. After a brilliant
university career at Basle and Strasburg, he entered the service of
Charles V, who employed him both in warfare and in diplomatic
negotiations. It was he who was ordered to arrest, at Wissemburg,
Sebastian Vogelsberg, who, in spite of the Emperor's prohibition,
had taken service with France, and was relentlessly executed as an
example to Schaerlin and other Protestant captains who had taken refuge
at the court of the king. Schwendi became a member of the Imperial
Council for German Affairs. He went through all the campaigns in
Germany, the Low Countries and Hungary. In 1564 he was appointed
general-in-chief against the Turks. He retired to Alsace, and died
there in May, 1583, bequeathing to Strasburg ten thousand florins for
poor students.--Translator.]

[Footnote 50: Nicholas Perrenot de Granvelle, born at Ornans (Doubs) in
1486, died at Augsburg in 1550. He was the most influential minister of
Charles V. His son, Anthony, who was born at Besancon in 1517,
inherited the paternal omnipotence. Appointed Bishop of Arras
at twenty-three years of age, he died a cardinal at Madrid in
1586.--Translator.]

[Footnote 51: These "Portuguese" golden coins were pieces of mark and
often served as presents.--Translator.]

[Footnote 52: Margrave Albrecht of Brandenburg-Culmbach, nicknamed
Alcibiades, was born in 1522 and died in 1555. These two princes were
fated to oppose each other in 1553 at Sievershausen, where Maurice,
though victorious, perished. He had been ordered to reduce Albrecht
to order, as the latter continued to trouble the peace of the
Empire.--Translator.]

[Footnote 53: "Truc" was a kind of game of skill, not unlike billiards,
but more like bagatelle. There is a reproduction from an ancient
picture of a "truc" board in Richter's _Bilder aus der Deutschen
Kulturgeschichte_, vol. ii. p. 385.--Translator.]

[Footnote 54: At a grand ball at the court of Philip V of Spain,
the Duke de Saint Simon saw nearly two centuries later the ladies
seated on the carpet covering the floor of one of the reception
rooms.--Translator.]

[Footnote 55: Jacob Sturm, of Sturmeck, the great magistrate and
reformer of Strasburg, "the ornament of the German nobility," and who
undertook not less than ninety-one missions between 1525 and 1552. He
was born at Strasburg in 1489, and died therein 1553.--Translator.]

[Footnote 56: Of all the towns of Upper Germany Constance was the last
to submit to the emperor. On August 6, 1548, it was suddenly placed
without the ban of the Empire, and on the same day a contingent of
Spaniards endeavoured to take it by force. Though surprised, the
inhabitants took up arms. The enemy, already master of the advanced
part of the town, made for the bridge over the Rhine, and it was feared
that they would enter pell-mell with the retreating defenders. At that
critical moment, a burgher who was hard pressed by two Spaniards,
performed an act of heroism; he took hold of his adversaries, and
recommending his soul to God, dragged them into the stream with him,
giving his townsmen time to close the gates. Constance escaped for the
nonce, but, after having vainly waited for help, it had to capitulate
on the following October 14.--Translator.]

[Footnote 57: Sastrow's portrait is wanting in the collection of
portraits of the burgomasters of Stralsund. The passage above suggests
Sastrow's likeness to Jacob Sturm.--Translator.]

[Footnote 58: The "Interim" was the document drawn up by Charles V in
1548, which, until the decision of a general Church Convocation, was to
guide both Catholics and Protestants, which document was disliked by
both.--Translator.]

[Footnote 59: Johannes Walther von Hirnheim belonged to an old knightly
family and had no children by his wife Margaret Goeslin.--Translator.]

[Footnote 60: In 1548, after the promulgation of the "Interim,"
Melanchthon and some other theologians proposed a _modus vivendi_ which
was called the "Leipzig Interim." They accepted the jurisdiction of
bishops, confirmation and last unction, fasts and feasts, even those of
the _Corpus Domini_, and nearly the whole of the ancient Canon of the
Mass. All this, according to them, was so much _adiophora_, in other
words, things of no importance, to submit to which was perfectly
permissible for the sake of the unity and peace of the Church. This
concession, which was considered as a sign of weakness by many, caused
an animated polemical strife.--Translator.]

[Footnote 61: The Lloytz were the richest merchants of Stettin. They
went bankrupt in 1572 for twenty "tuns" of gold, i.e. for 280,000
pounds sterling. Half a century later the council of Stettin still
attributed the bad state of business to that failure.--Translator.]

[Footnote 62: The letter of the celebrated geographer is in Latin and
reads as follows: "I received thy letter dated from Spires January 22,
together with a large bundle of manuscripts and maps coming from
Pomerania. The ducal chancellor Citzewitz when I saw him promised me
those documents before Christmas without fail. We even waited for
another month, and nothing having come, we proceeded with our work. The
same thing happened with the Duchy of Cleves. In the one case as in the
other, I decline all responsibility, for in both I gave the rulers of
those countries ample notice. Herr Petrus Artopaeus asks me to send
thee the map of Pomerania, which he dispatched to me from Augsburg two
years ago. I comply with his wish; thou no doubt knowest what to do
with it. At the Frankfurt fair I shall write to the Chancellor of
Pomerania; I am too busy to do so at present: We are printing the last
sheets of the _Cosmographiae_; the printer must be ready to offer this
costly work for sale at the next fair, and it must be illustrated with
a number of figures. Among the things sent from Pomerania, I have found
the drawing of a big black fish with an explanation which I detach from
it in order for thee to copy it clearly, for I have my doubts about the
word '_Braunfisch_' (if I have read aright), and even stronger doubts
with regard to the English and Spanish. I shall feel obliged by thy
writing me those names more distinctly and to send them to me at the
Easter vacation by one of the many merchants from Basle who pass
through Spires on their return from the fair. Meanwhile, I wish thee
good health! Basle, Wednesday after _Riminiscere_ (the second Sunday in
Lent)." The printer of the _Cosmographie_ was H. Petri. Artopaeus
points out the theologian Peter Becker as the author of the description
of Pomerania largely consulted by Muenster.--Translator.]

[Footnote 63: A very ancient custom obliged the Ammeister, or first
magistrate of Strasburg, regularly to take his two meals per day during
his year of office at the expense of the city, at "The Lantern," unless
he preferred the stewpans patronized by his own tribe. The table was
open to every one willing to pay the fixed price. "_Ad istum prandium
omnibus et incolis et peregrinis pro certo pretio accedere licet_,"
says the _Itinerarium Germaniae_ of Hentzer, who visited Strasburg in
1599. Seven years later a gentleman from the March mentions also in his
journal the _Ammeisterstube_ (the _Ammeister's_ room), where the
_Ammeister_ and two _Stadmeister_ take their daily meals. Everybody is
free to go in and to be served by paying. Each tribe (set) has its
particular stewpan. What becomes of the _Ammeister's_ usual haunt when
the _Ammeister_ is a member of that particular tribe? Nevertheless, the
establishment mostly patronized is that of the Grain Market, which is
conveniently situated. Among other strictly observed formalities are
the blessing and the grace, announced by the rapping with a wand, and
the proceedings are always opened by a reminder of the submission due
to the authorities. The custom no doubt had its origin in the
provisions for public order which induced the magistrates of Geneva to
close all the taverns in 1546. They were replaced by five so-called
abbeys, each having at its head one of the four syndics or their
lieutenant; but after a few weeks, this reform, the idea of which had
been brought, perhaps, from Strasburg by Calvin had to be abandoned.
The _Ammeister_ for 1570 being too feeble to eat twice a day at the
expense of the city, the supper was suppressed. It would appear,
however, that the magistrates "forgot themselves" at table, for the
Council of Fifteen made an order in 1585 obliging the _Ammeister_ to be
at the Town Hall at one o'clock. "The magistrates too often only
appeared at the Senate and at the chancellerie between three and four
o'clock," says a chronicler. Apparently the order did not remedy the
evil, as in 1627 it was decided to do away with the ancient
institution.--Translator.]

[Footnote 64: An allusion to the thief whose execution Sastrow saw in
Rome.--Translator.]

[Footnote 65: The bishopric of Cammin had been secularized; the
importance of the debate bore wholly upon the revenues.--Translator.]

[Footnote 66: This son, who became a doctor of law and who died in 1593
without issue, had a very hasty temper. On one occasion he drew his
sword at a sitting of the Council whither his father had sent him to
present a document. On another occasion he shook the hall by violently
striking the magisterial bench with his fist, while his father kept
saying: "Gently, Johannes, gently."--Translator.]

[Footnote 67: It is to his two daughters Catherine and Amnistia, and to
his two sons-in-law Heinrich Gottschalk and Jacob Clerike, and to their
children, that Sastrow has dedicated his _Memoirs_, his son being
already dead.--Translator.]



                               *   *   *

    Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.








End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bartholomew Sastrow, by
Bartholomew Sastrow and Albert D. Vandam

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