Tales from the German.
Volume II.
by Carl Franz van der Velde.
CHAPTER I.
On christmas-eve, in the year 1628, Katharine, the wife of the merchant Fessel, of Schweidnitz, was standing in her large back parlor, with her infant upon her arm, arranging with feminine taste, upon a long table covered with a snow-white cloth, the Christmas gifts destined for her husband, her children, and the other members of her family.
At a table in the corner, sat the book-keeper, Oswald Dorn, giving the finishing touch to a miniature manger, which he had ingeniously constructed for the children of his employer. He now placed a beautifully painted angel, cut out of isingla.s.s, in the side of the manger in which the infant Savior lay, for the purpose of indicating the celestial mission of the heavenly messenger by its transparent brilliancy. He gave yet another satisfied look at the well executed work, and then approached Katharine, who had, meanwhile, spread out an infinite variety of useful and agreeable presents, articles of dress, pieces of coin, books, toys, &c. She was now distributing to each one his portion of cakes, sweet biscuits, sugar animals, gingerbread, apples and nuts, with just impartiality. In deep thought, the book-keeper took from the table two figures formed of Schweidnitz gingerbread. They represented two of Dr. Martin Luther"s enemies, Tetzel and Eck, in their official robes, disfigured with the heads of animals. The names inscribed on them left no doubt whom they were intended to represent. Dorn examined the caricatures with an ominous shake of the head. "Do not give these ill-shaped things to the children," said he. "Believe me, it is not well for them to be so early taught to make war upon opinions which they do not understand. Mockery and derision are bad aids to the holy cause, and the hand, which grasps filth to throw at an adversary, is itself the first soiled. The bitterness, with which the struggle for truth and spiritual freedom has been carried on, has already spread enough of suffering and misery over Europe. Let not the demon of sectarian zeal intrude itself into the nursery."
"You take every thing in the same earnest and serious way," jestingly answered the friendly Katharine, laying the caricature figures aside.
"Who that heard you would suppose you had bravely drawn your sword for the new faith yourself? The red scar upon your forehead contradicts your words."
"You are right," cried Dorn with emotion. "I have wielded the sword for the new faith. A bold captain of daring robbers, I have achieved many a deed of arms under this pretext; but daily do I pray to G.o.d to pardon me for it!"
He hastened away. The reverend Johannes Beer, who had entered the room unnoticed at the commencement of this conversation, looked after him with astonishment, and then asked the hostess: "that young man talks very strangely--may he not be a papist in disguise, sent into this house as a spy for our destruction?"
"By no means!" cried Katharine with zeal. "You know, my worthy sir, that he was wounded fighting for the Augsburg confession, and during the two years he has dwelt under our roof, he has constantly evinced so true an attachment for us, and such a n.o.ble zeal against the tyranny of the pope, that I would answer for his honesty with my life."
"You judge of others according to the goodness of your own heart!"
cried the parson. "Believe me, in the iron times in which we live one cannot be too cautious. One Judas was found even among the apostles.
Many a one who was a Paul for the pure evangelical doctrines has fallen from the faith, and now rages an angry Saul against his former brethren. The devil has once more become wholly devilish, and the anti-christ again goes about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour. The emperor, incited by the monks, has determined to effect a counter reformation in Silesia; and already in Glogau, the Lichtensteins,[1] those terrible men of blood, who convert by fire and sword, are raging in a furious and shocking manner."
"Ah, reverend sir," complained Katharine, "we have invited you to share our joys and partake with us of the festival of our Lord; but by repeating such dreadful news you will embitter all our enjoyments, and convert our christmas supper into a mourning feast."
"It is the duty of a faithful pastor," said the clergyman, "to frighten away the sleep of safety into which we are rocked by ease and selfishness. Our good Schweidnitz will also have to suffer in its turn.
Have they not already taken from us the honorably purchased church of the cross, and the church of our dear lady of the woods? Have they not already forbidden us the service of G.o.d in the church of the Holy Ghost? They will surely take the earliest opportunity to do the same with St. Stanislaus and St. Wenceslaus. Various suspicious signs and tokens have lately been seen. As I was observing the stars last night, with my colleague Glogero, the constellations were very ominous; and about midnight a fearful sign arose in the heavens from the north. A large red ball of fire described a flaming arch from the edge of the horizon to the zenith of the parish church, where it burst with a powerful explosion. It indicates the near proximity of great danger to our religious liberties."
During this speech so prophetic of evil, Katharine, with a happy feminine tact, contrived to forget the threatened troubles amid the little cares of the moment, and proceeded to ignite the innumerable lights of the christmas-trees, and those placed in the little manger for the purpose of illuminating its interior. The brightness of day was diffused through the large room, which awaked the child upon her bosom, and it smilingly stretched out its little hands toward the joyous light.
"See how my little Johannes is delighted," said the mother to the gloomy man. "Careless of the threatening future, he enjoys the present.
Does not our holy bible say, "unless you become like little children you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven!" Therefore leave the portentous future to the wise guidance of G.o.d, and be happy with us to-night, for once, like this harmless child. Above all, be silent in my husband"s presence, respecting your bad news. He has been very anxious and dejected for some days, and I shall be much grieved if anything occur to render us unhappy this evening, to which christians of all denominations look with general joy as the anniversary of their common origin."
One of Fessel"s apprentices now opened the door. "My master directs me to say to you," cried he, "that you may immediately commence the distribution of the presents, before it is too late. He has yet much to do in the counting-room. Two important letters have arrived. He will come to you at the earliest moment possible."
"That is not at all pleasant!" sighed Katharine, as the messenger disappeared. "There can be no true family festival where the master of the house is missing. Nevertheless, my husband is right! If I delay much longer, the supper will be spoiled and everything will be in disorder." She rang a bell which stood upon the table. A distant shout of children answered the noisy summons. She rang a second time, when the shouts came nearer, and a joyous tumult arose at the door of the room. She now put down the bell, and looked pleasedly toward the door, before which the whispering, laughing and tramping band awaited the third call.
"They must wait a little," said Katharine, smiling, to the clergyman.
"It seasons the pleasure, and is a wholesome lesson for youth, when early taught." The holy man nodded a.s.sent to the pedagogical artifice; but meanwhile the mother"s heart began to yield, and impelled Katharine"s hand toward the bell.
The third call now sounded, when the door burst open as if at the explosion of a petard, and the four children of Fessel, two vigorous boys and two lovely girls, stormed into the room, surrounding and dragging their favorite, the book-keeper, along with them. After them followed the clerks, apprentices, servants and maidens, who modestly arranged themselves in a row near the door until their places were pointed out to them.
The children precipitated themselves toward the richly laden table like a rushing stream, recognizing the portion destined for each with a searching and rapid glance. "I will draw this against Wallenstein!"
screamed the wild Martin, brandishing a little sword that he found among his presents. "A bible and a bunch of quills," cried the intellectual Ulrich, holding them up: "now I will write against the papists like the n.o.ble Hutten, whose name I bear. "Alas, the poor maidens who can never be married!" cried both of the girls, bringing two waxen nuns to their mother.
"Beloved children!" said the clergyman, pressing them all to his heart.
They tore themselves from his arms and broke out in a simultaneous shout of astonishment and joy upon observing the miniature manger. Then as if beside themselves they ran, tumbling over each other, to their mother, the clergyman and Dorn, thankfully showing and praising their several presents.
"Will you not look at your christmas present, master Dorn?" asked Katharine of the book-keeper, who kept himself apart in serious silence.
He turned toward the designated place with a melancholy smile, and as he cast his eyes upon the rich present, a complete and splendid dress-suit with a full complement of the finest linen, he turned again with deep emotion to Katharine, who was pointing out their places to the rest of the household.
"This is too much, madam Katharine," he cried. "How may you thus favor the stranger beyond the children of your house?"
"The stranger?" asked Katharine resentfully. "In our hearts it has been a long time since you were so, and we should much regret to have you consider yourself one. Believe me, we are sensible what a faithful companion and a.s.sistant my husband has acquired in you, and that every thing we can do for you is but honestly discharging our obligations."
"Ah, see, master Dorn, you also have got a sword!" cried Martin, holding up this essential part of the dress of a burgher in those times, which lay by Dorn"s present.
Dorn suddenly approached the boy and taking the magnificent sword from his hands gazed upon it with secret pleasure. At length he could no longer resist the desire to draw and try the temper of the blade.
"You are not angry," asked Katharine, "that a lady should presume to arm you? Really your old sword with its hacked hilt and notched and rusty blade, would not have become your new suit."
"You have done well, worthy lady," said Dorn, proving the blade by pressing its point against the floor and bending it in every direction.
"The old sword had indeed become dear to me, like an old friend who had always remained true in times of necessity and danger; but I never reflect upon the deeds I have performed with it without shuddering. It seems to me that it is possessed by an evil spirit which impels my hand to deeds of blood against my will, and I therefore do not like to touch it. This has as yet drank no blood, and, so help me G.o.d, I will preserve it unstained unless I am compelled to draw it in defence of the hearth where I, a friendless stranger, have been so hospitably received."
"Or in defence of religion," added the parson.
"The true religion, most worthy sir," answered Dorn, "needs not the aid of the sword!"
The reverend man had already opened his mouth to refute this bold proposition, when the master of the house entered with a clouded countenance, holding two open letters in his hand. He briefly greeted the parson, gently put aside the children who gathered about him in their noisy joy, and handed one of the letters to his wife.
"From your mother, at Sagan," said he; and while she proceeded to read it with visible terror, he drew the book-keeper to a window.
"I have a sudden and disagreeable business for you," said he to Dorn.
"The terrible Wallenstein conducts himself in his new dukedom with a tyranny almost unheard of among christians. He has determined to send all the orphan sons of burghers of Sagan to the school he has recently established at Gitschin. Those whom he has found in the place, have been forcibly sent to Bohemia. Their property and relatives are held answerable for the absent. As you already know, my mother-in-law"s nephew, young Engelmann, is at present studying at the gymnasium in this city; and the tyrant has thrown his uncle and guardian into prison until the pupil shall be forthcoming. No other course remains, but to send the poor boy home as soon as possible; and, that he may, in these dangerous times, reach Sagan with safety, it is my wish that you would accompany him. When there, you may also be able to a.s.sist me in another affair. I have loaned a thousand gilders upon the two houses of the joiner Eckebrect. My debtor now informs me that the houses are among those the duke has caused to be demolished for the purpose of opening a better view for his palace. Nothing has yet been said respecting indemnification. I therefore wish you, while on the spot, to obtain all the information you can upon the subject."
"I am very willingly at your service," modestly answered Dorn. "When shall I set out?"
"Did I not fear the sin of keeping you from church on christmas night,"
said Fessel, "I would beg of you to start this very evening. Sagan is distant, and old Engelmann is a very worthy man, whose release from prison I should be glad to effect as soon as possible."
"The performance of duty is G.o.d"s service!" cried Dorn. "I will go immediately and prepare for the journey." He left the room, followed by the boys, who lamented the loss of their best christmas enjoyment in his departure.
"Your book-keeper is indeed no papist," said the parson to Katharine after a long pause; "but there may also be some doubt of his Lutheranism; for he appears to sustain the doctrine of good works. He may be tinctured with Calvinism.
"If he were, he would still be our protestant co-laborer and brother in Christ," answered Fessel in the name of his consort, who was busily reading.
"Calvin, Zuinglius, and the pope--all are heretics alike!" grumbled the parson.
The weeping Katharine now folded the letter, handed it to her husband, and in a soft, submissive voice asked him: "What have you decided upon, Tobias?"
"I wished to advise with you upon the matter first, my Kitty," he answered, in a friendly manner. "They are your nearest relatives who now seek a refuge with us, and I would not willingly leave them in the claws of those fiends; but at all events their coming would increase your domestic cares, and I know not whether you would like to have your mother and sister reside in the family."
"As I know my beloved ones," she joyfully answered, "I have only relief, consolation and joy, to expect from them; and, if my opinion is to decide the matter, I beg you with all my heart to have them brought here."
Dorn now entered the room in his traveling dress, with his rusty sword by his side. He was followed by Martin and Ulrich, and the young Engelmann with his traveling bag in his hand, much grieved at being compelled to leave his dear Schweidnitz for a strange school where he was unknowing and unknown.