Slowly crawling on, he slid down the bank, and then stopped to see what course he should take. There appeared to be no sentries on the watch on that side of the castle, it being supposed probably that escape of any prisoners was impossible. He was thus able more boldly to search for a pa.s.sage across the moat. The night was cloudy and the wind blew strong, which, though he was in consequence not so well able to find his way, prevented him being seen or heard. At length, partly wading and partly scrambling over the rubbish, he reached the opposite bank. He waited to rest, that he might the more rapidly spring up the bank. He gained the top, when looking back and seeing no one, he hurried along the open ground. He stopped not till he had obtained the shelter of some brushwood, which formed, as it were, the outskirts of the forest. He was well aware that, as at daylight his escape would be discovered, and that he could easily be tracked, he must make the best speed his strength would allow. He knew the country so well that he had no difficulty in finding his way even in the dark. He could not, however, venture to return to his own cottage. There was no lack of hiding-places where he might remain till the search after him had somewhat slackened.
At length, weary from his exertion, and having overrated his strength, he sat himself down to rest, as he thought in safety, for a few minutes.
His eyelids closed in slumber, and, unconsciously to him, hour after hour had pa.s.sed away.
The sound of horns and the cries of huntsmen were heard in the forest.
They awoke old Moretz from his sleep. He started up, but it was too late to conceal himself. A horseman in a rich costume, which showed his rank, was close to him. "Whither away, old friend?" he exclaimed, as Moretz instinctively endeavoured to conceal himself in some brushwood near at hand. He stopped on hearing the voice of the huntsman.
"My lord," he answered, "I throw myself upon your mercy. I am guiltless of any crime, and was cast unjustly into prison, from which I have made my escape. If I am retaken, my life will be forfeited."
"That is strange," exclaimed the n.o.bleman. "I will do my best to protect you, but I cannot venture to dispute with the law, as I might have done once on a time. As we came along we met a gang of persons, hunting, they told us, for an escaped prisoner. There is no time to be lost. Here!" and the n.o.bleman called to one of his attendants, a tall man, very similar in figure to the woodcutter. "Here; change dresses with my old friend, and do you, as you are a bold forester and a strong, active young man, climb up into the thickest tree, and hide yourself as best you can till these hunters of their fellow-men have pa.s.sed by."
The n.o.bleman"s orders were speedily obeyed, and Moretz, dressed in his livery, mounted the groom"s horse and rode on with the party. The groom, meantime, who had put on the old man"s clothes, affording no small amus.e.m.e.nt to his companions, climbed up into a thick tree, as he had been directed to do by his master.
"We will send thee a livery, my man, in which thou may"st return home soon, and satisfy thy hunger, which may be somewhat sharpened by longer abstinence than usual," said the count, as he rode on.
Scarcely had these arrangements been made, when the party from the gaol in search of the fugitive came up. "Has the Count Furstenburg seen an old man in a woodcutter"s dress wandering through the forest?" inquired their leader, in a tone which sounded somewhat insolent.
"The Count Furstenburg is not accustomed to answer questions unless respectfully asked," replied the n.o.ble; "and so, master gaoler, you must follow your own devices, and search for your prisoner where you may best hope to find him." Then sounding his horn, he and his whole party rode on together through the forest, taking care to keep old Moretz well in their midst. Making a wide circuit, the count led them back to the castle.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
The woodcutter"s astonishment at hearing who had rescued him, and where he was to find shelter, was very great. He had always entertained a great dread of the count, who, from common report, was looked upon as a cruel tyrant. The count"s first care on reaching the castle was to send a servant with a livery in which the groom might return home, directing him in the same package to bring back the old woodcutter"s clothes. He gave him also another message: it was to visit the cottage on his return, and to give little Meta and Karl the joyous information that their grandfather was out of prison and in safe keeping.
"And now, my friend, I will have a few words with you in my private room," said the count, as the old man stood, cap in hand, gazing at him with astonishment. "I know you better than you suppose," he said, as Moretz entered the room; and he told him of the interview he had had with his grandchildren. "I rejoice to see the way in which you are bringing them up. How is it you have taught them so to love the Bible?
Do you know about it yourself?"
Moretz seeing no cause for concealment, told the count of the visit of Gottlieb Spena, the book-hawker.
"That is strange indeed," said the count. "From the same Gottlieb Spena I also, my friend, have learned the same glorious truths. You have, I doubt not, always heard me spoken of as a bad, cruel man. So I was, but I have been changed. G.o.d has found me out, and in His love and mercy has showed me the way by which I may escape the punishment most justly due to my misdeeds; and not only that, but due also to me had I never committed one-tenth part of the crimes of which I have been guilty."
It was strange to hear the once proud count thus speaking to the humble woodcutter, as to a brother or a friend.
For many weeks the old man was sheltered safely within the walls of the castle. Not only had the count, but all his house, abandoned the faith of Rome, many of them having truly accepted the offers of salvation. At length, so widely had spread the doctrines of the Reformation, that the authorities at Hornberg no longer ventured to persecute those who professed it, and Moretz did not, therefore, require the count"s protection. Meta and Karl had remained at the cottage, notwithstanding the threats of Herr Herder. Every day, however, they had been expecting to receive another order to quit their home.
One morning, as they were seated at breakfast, before Karl went out to his work, a knock was heard at the door. Karl ran to it, wondering who it could be at that early hour. A shriek of joy escaped Meta"s lips as, the door opening, she saw her grandfather, and the next instant she and Karl were pressed in his arms.
Great changes had of late taken place in Germany, and the authorities who had imprisoned Moretz no longer ventured to proceed as they had before done. The peasants, oppressed for centuries by the owners of the soil, and treated like slaves, had long been groaning for the blessings of civil liberty. On several occasions they had revolted against their lords, but their rebellions had always been put down with bloodshed and fearful cruelties. Once more the same desire to emanc.i.p.ate themselves had sprung up in all parts of the country. This desire did not arise in consequence of the progress of the Reformation. It had existed before, and Luther and the other reformers who had been aware of it had used every means to induce the people to bear their burdens, and to wait till, in G.o.d"s good time, a better heart should be put into their rulers, and they should be induced to grant them that liberty which was theirs by right. Unhappily, however, men are too fond of attempting to right themselves rather than trust to G.o.d. While, as has been said, this desire for civil liberty was extending, so also was the Reformation making great progress. Many abandoned popery without embracing the gospel, and these were the people especially who desired to right themselves by the sword. Scarcely had old Moretz returned to his hut, than he was visited by several of the peasants, small farmers and others, who came to urge him to join the band they were forming in the neighbourhood. His imprisonment and its cause had become known, as had also the way he had escaped. Among others, greatly to his surprise, his old enemy, Johann Herder, rode up to his door.
"We were foes once, but I wish to be your foe no longer, and I have come to invite you to join our n.o.ble cause."
"I am thankful to see you, Master Herder," said Moretz, "but I cannot promise to join any cause without knowing its objects."
"They are very simple," answered his guest. "We consider that all men are equal. We wish to right ourselves, and to deprive our tyrants of their power."
"But if they refuse to agree to your demands, how then will you proceed?" asked Moretz.
"We will burn their castles and their towns, and put them to death," was the answer.
"That surely is not the way to induce people to act rightly," answered Moretz. "The Bible nowhere says that we should not be soldiers, but the gospel does say very clearly that we should do violence to no man--that we should love our enemies and do good to them that persecute us.
Burning houses and putting people to death is not in accordance with the will of G.o.d: of that I am sure."
"But the gospel gives us freedom, and we have accepted the gospel, and therefore have a right to liberty," answered Herder.
"The liberty of which the gospel speaks is very different from that which you desire, my friend," said Moretz. "The freedom which that gives us is freedom from superst.i.tion, from the tyranny of Satan, from the fear of man, from the dread of the misfortunes and sufferings to which people are liable. No, friend Herder, I cannot join you."
Much more was said on both sides. Moretz remained firm; and Herder went away, indignant that one to whom he had offered to be reconciled--very much against his own feelings--should have refused to join what, in his smaller knowledge of the gospel plan, he considered right and justifiable. Herder had become a Protestant, and knew enough about the truth to be aware that Christians are bound to forgive their enemies.
He also was convinced that the saints cannot hear prayer, that purgatory is a fiction, and that confession should be made to G.o.d and not to man.
But he had no grace in his heart. He prided himself greatly on having visited old Moretz and expressed himself ready to become his friend.
Moretz, on the other hand, had accepted not only the letter but the spirit of the gospel. He knew himself by nature to be a sinner. He had given his heart to G.o.d. He desired to please Him by imitating the example of His blessed Son, and he trusted for salvation alone to the complete and perfect sacrifice made on the cross.
Moretz soon found that the proposed rebellion had commenced in various districts, and that already several peasant bands had proceeded to acts of violence. Immediately he thought that the castle of the Count of Furstenburg might be attacked, and he accordingly set out to warn him of the danger. Had he been able to write he would have sent Karl, but he was sure that his warning would more likely be attended to if he went himself. He was aware that he ran a great danger if he were to encounter any of the peasants, who would look upon him, should they discover his object, as a traitor to their cause. He therefore made his way across the country, avoiding all public paths, and keeping as much as possible out of sight of anybody he met. He at length reached the castle in safety. The count could at first scarcely believe the information he gave him. It was impossible that the peasants should dare attack the castles of the n.o.bles. Moretz convinced him, however, at last. He sat for some time without speaking, while he rested his head on his hands, bending over the table. His lips were moving in prayer.
"I will not oppose these poor people," he said, at length. "I will rather reason with them, and bring them to a knowledge of their error.
If I were to defend the castle I might kill a good many, and perhaps succeed in driving them away. If I cannot persuade them to give up their enterprise, I may perhaps come and pay you a visit. I would rather abandon my castle than slay my fellow-creatures. I am grateful to you, my friend, for bringing me the warning, as it will give me time for consideration how to act."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
Moretz returned, as he had come, to his cottage. Karl soon after arrived, having gone out into the forest for wood. He reported having seen large bodies of men armed in every possible way collecting at a distance, but he kept himself out of sight, for fear they might compel him to accompany them.
In the meantime the count remained, as he had determined, at his post.
The day after Moretz had visited him, the report was brought that a large body of men were approaching the castle. Acting according to his resolution, in the plainest dress he ever wore he mounted his charger and rode forward to meet them. As he appeared he was welcomed with a loud shout, and several persons, detaching themselves from the crowd, approached him.
"We have come, friend Furstenburg," they said, "to invite you to join our n.o.ble cause. We will give you military rank, and make you one of our leaders; but we can allow no n.o.bles among us, and therefore it must be understood that you will sink your t.i.tle."
"This is a strange proposal to make to me, my friends," answered the count, after the insurgents had explained their objects and plans. "You profess to be guided by G.o.d"s word, and yet you undertake to act in direct opposition to it. When the Israelites were led forth to attack their enemies they were under the guidance of G.o.d, and made especial instruments for the punishment of evil-doers, who had long obstinately refused to acknowledge Him. You, who have no right to claim being led by G.o.d, take upon yourselves to punish those whom you choose to consider your enemies. When Christ came a better law was established, and by that law we are taught to forgive our enemies, and leave their punishment to G.o.d, and not to attempt to take it into our own hands."
Again and again the insurgent leaders urged the count to accept their offers, refusing to listen to his arguments. He saw, by the gestures and the expressions they used, that they would probably take him by force. To avoid this was very important, and he therefore requested further time to consider the matter. Some of them evidently desired to enter the castle with him, but this he declined; observing that if he was to act freely, he must be left at liberty. Fortunately they were persuaded to allow him to depart, and he safely reached the gates of his castle.
The insurgents on this marched off in the direction of other castles, whose owners they hoped to enlist in their cause. The count, on entering, ordered the gates to be closed, and then summoning his retainers, told them that he had resolved to abandon the castle, rather than kill any of the misguided people who might come to attack it. He gave them their choice of remaining within the open gates, or obtaining safety by concealing themselves in the neighbourhood. "I have no children, and my distant heir has no right to blame me for my conduct,"
he said, when remonstrated with for this proceeding. "I have, besides, One to whom I am first answerable, and He I am sure approves of it."
There was, however, a large amount of plate and valuables of various sorts in the castle: these he had carried to a place of concealment, such as most buildings of the sort in those days were provided with.
These arrangements were not concluded till nearly midnight. He then set out unaccompanied, and took his way to the hut of old Moretz.
The next day, when the insurgents returned, they found the castle of Furstenburg deserted. Some of their leaders urged them to burn it to the ground, in consequence of having been tricked, by its owner. They were about to rush in, when an old man, who had remained concealed close to the gates, presented himself before them.
"What are you about to do, my friends?" he exclaimed. "Is this the way you show your love of liberty? Because a man does not approve of your mode of proceeding, are you right in destroying his property, and injuring him in every way you can? You speak of the tyranny of your rulers--is not this greater tyranny? I am one of yourselves, and know what you all feel. I feel the same. I desire that our people should have their rights; but I am very sure that by the way you are proceeding you will not obtain them. A just cause cannot be supported by unjust means."
Moretz, for it was he, spoke more to the same effect. Happily, Herder was not with the party, or his success might have been different. At length they were convinced by his arguments, and consented to depart without destroying the castle. After they had gone to a considerable distance, Moretz hurried back to the count with the good news.
"Alas!" said the old n.o.ble, "it matters, in truth, but little to me. I am childless, and almost friendless; for with those I once a.s.sociated I have no longer a desire to mix; and, except that I may live a few years longer, and forward the n.o.ble cause of the Reformation, I should be ready even now to lay down life."
"Count," said the old man, rising and standing before him, "you say that you are childless--but are you really so? You once had a daughter?"
"I had, but I cruelly drove her from my door; but I know that she is dead; for, having taken every possible means for her discovery, I could gain no tidings; and I am very sure, knowing her disposition, that ere this, had she been alive, she would have sought a reconciliation. Of the death of her husband I received tidings. He died fighting in the Spanish army against Barbarossa, and on hearing that my child was left a widow, my heart relented towards her. But tell me, friend, have you any tidings of my daughter?"