When a thunder-storm has blown over, the water-brooks are still turbid and muddy; and so, a great stirring event, is generally followed by a time of small and annoying work, until everything has returned to its old routine.
This experience, Dame Hadwig was forced to make also. There was a great deal to arrange and put in order, after the driving away of the Huns; but this she did willingly enough, as her lively spirit and the pleasure she took in active interference, quite made up to her, for the trouble this gave her.
The widows and orphans of the slain arrier-ban-men, as well as all those whose houses had been burnt, and whose harvests had been destroyed, came to sue for assistance. Help was given to every one, as far as this was possible. Messengers were sent off to the Emperor, to report that which had happened, as well as to make proposals, for taking the necessary precautions against any possible future invasion. Wherever the fortress was found deficient, improvements were made; the booty was distributed, and finally the erection of a chapel on the grave of the christian warriors, was decided upon. With Reichenau and St. Gall, there was also a good deal of business to transact, for ecclesiastics seldom forget to present their bills, for any services that they have rendered. They well knew how to bemoan and bewail the damages done to their monasteries, as well as the great loss of goods and chattels, which they had experienced; and every day some delicate hint was dropped to the Duchess, that a donation of land, would be most desirable for the afflicted servants of God. Far away in the Rhine-valley, where the Breisach-mountain with its dark, scorched rocks, narrows the bed of the river, the Duchess owned some property, called Saspach. On a vulcanic soil the vine thrives particularly well,--so this would have suited the pious brothers of the Reichenau admirably; if it were only to find out the difference, between the Rhine-wines and those that grew near the lake; besides its being some slight compensation for their military services, and for the reciting of the necessary masses for the souls of the dead.
One day, on which Dame Hadwig had not appeared quite disinclined to make the donation, was followed by the arrival of the subprior in the early morning, bringing a parchment with him, on which, the whole formula of the donation was written down. It sounded really very well when read aloud, how everything was to be given to St. Pirminius; house and yard, with all that was in it; cultivated and uncultivated land; woods and vineyards; meadows and brooks, with the right of building mills and of fishing; as well as the vassals, both male and female, who were living there ... even the customary curse was not wanting, and ran as follows: "If anyone should dare to doubt the donation, or, worse still, to try and rob the monastery of it, theAnathema Marantha, shall be pronounced on him. The anger of God Almighty, and all the holy angels shall fall on him. May he be stricken with leprosy, like Naaman the Syrian, and with sudden death like Ananias and Sapphira, besides paying a fine of a pound of gold to the exchequer in expiation of his crime."
"The Lord Abbot, wanted to save our gracious sovereign the trouble of writing the donation herself," said the Subprior. "There has been left an empty space, for adding the name and boundaries of the property; as well as for the signatures of both parties, and the necessary witnesses."
"Have you learned to be so quick in all your doings?" replied Dame Hadwig. "I will look at that parchment of yours, some day or other."
"But it would be a very dear and desirable thing for the Abbot, if I could bring him back the deed, signed and sealed by your Highness, to-day. It is only on account of the order and precision in the monastery's archives, the Abbot said."
Dame Hadwig, casting a haughty look at the man, then said: "Tell your Abbot, that I am just now summing up the account, of how much the quartering of the brothers on the Hohentwiel, has cost me in kitchen and cellar. Tell him likewise that we have our own scriveners, if we should feel so inclined, to give away landed property on the Rhine, and that" ... she wanted to add a few more bitter words, but the Subprior here fell in coaxingly, telling her a number of cases where Christian kings and princes had done the same. How the King of France for instance, had generously indemnified St. Martin of Tours, for the losses which he had suffered through the Norman invasion; and how beneficial the donation had been for the giver's soul; for as fire was extinguished by water, thus the soul was purified by alms-giving.... But the Duchess, turning her back on him, left him standing there in the hall, with his many yet untold examples, on the tip of his tongue.
"Too much zeal, is an evil thing," muttered the monk, "'the greater hurry, the less speed,' as the proverb has it." Dame Hadwig having reached the entrance, turned round once more, and with an indescribable movement of the hand, now said: "If you wish to go, you had better go at once!"
So he made his retreat.
To annoy the Abbot, the Duchess, on the very same day, sent a golden chain to the venerable Simon Bardo, in acknowledgement of his prosperous leadership.
The fate of Cappan, the Hunnic prisoner, was a matter of special interest to the Duchess. At first he had spent some anxious days. He did not then understand why his life had been spared, and he walked shyly about, like one who has no just claim to himself; and when he slumbered on his couch of straw, evil dreams came to him. Then he saw large flowery plains, on which numberless gallows were growing like thistles, and on every one of them, hung one of his countrymen, and he himself was suspended from the highest of all; and he could not find fault with this, as it was the usual fate allotted to war-prisoners in those days. No gallows however, were erected for him. For some time he still cast sundry suspicious glances at the linden-tree in the courtyard, which had a nice leafless branch; and he fancied sometimes that this branch was beckoning to him, and saying: "Heigho! how well thou wouldst adorn me!"
By degrees, however, he found out, that the lime was merely, a fine shady tree, and so he became less timid. His wounded foot was now healed and he wandered about in yard and kitchen, looking on with mute astonishment at the doings of a German household. It is true, he still thought that a man's home, ought to be the back of his horse; and that a skin-covered cart sufficed for women and children; but when it rained, or the evenings were cool, the hearth-fire and the sheltering walls did not appear altogether despicable to him. Besides this, he began to find out, that wine was better than mare's milk, and a woollen jacket softer than a wolf's skin. So his wish to fly, dwindled away, and homesickness could not attack him, as a home was an unknown luxury to him.
In those days, a maiden worked in house and garden, whose name was Friderun; and her figure resembled a many-storeyed building with a pointed roof; her head having the shape of a pear. The first freshness of youth, had for some time passed away from her, and when she opened her broad mouth for speech or laughter, a single long tooth became visible, indicative of her mature state. Evil tongues, were wont to whisper, that she had once been Master Spazzo's sweetheart; but that was long ago, as her affections had been bestowed these many years on a herdsman, who had met his death in the ranks of the arrier-ban, by some Hunnic arrow,--and so her heart was lonely now. Very tall people are generally goodnatured, and do not suffer under the evil consequences of too much thinking. So she cast her eyes on the Hun, who was slinking about all alone in the courtyard, and her compassionate heart fastened on him, like a glistening dew-drop on a toad-stool. She tried to instruct him in all the arts which she practised herself; and often when she had weeded the garden and dug the ground, she would give the hoe to Cappan, who willingly did what he had seen his instructress do before him. In the same way he followed her example when he saw her gathering beans or herbs, and after a few days, whenever water was to be fetched, the slender Friderun had only to point at the wooden pail, to make Cappan take it up on his head, and walk down with it to the splashing fountain.
Only in the kitchen they had no reason to be oversatisfied, with the docile pupil's achievements; for one day when a piece of game was entrusted to him, to beat tender with a wooden drumstick, old memories arose in his mind; and so he devoured part of it quite raw, along with the onions and leek, which had been prepared for seasoning the meat.
"I really believe, that my prisoner pleases thee," Master Spazzo called out one day to her, when the Hun was busily splitting wood in the courtyard. A deep blush covered the cheeks of the tall one, who cast down her eyes. "If he could only speak German, and were not a damned heathen" ... continued Master Spazzo, but the slender maiden was too bashful to speak.
"I know how well thou deservest to be made happy Friderun," Master Spazzo began again. Then Friderun's tongue was loosened. "With regard to the speaking of German,"--said she, still looking down,--"I really should not mind that so much; and as for his being a heathen, I do not see why he need remain one. But ..."
"But what?"
"He cannot sit down like a decent human being, when he eats. If he is to enjoy his meals, he must always be stretched out on the ground."
"That, a spouse like thee, would soon cure him of. How is it, hast thou already some sort of understanding on this subject with him?"
Friderun again held her tongue, and suddenly ran away like a frightened deer; her wooden shoes clattering over the stone flags. Master Spazzo then walked up to the wood-splitting Cappan, and clapping him first on the back to make him look up, he pointed with his forefinger at the flying Friderun, nodded his head interrogatively, and looked at him sharply. Cappan first pressed his right arm to his breast, bowed his head, and then jumped high up in the air, so that he spun round like the terrestrial globe on its axis, and finally stretched his mouth into a broad, joyous grin.
Master Spazzo could now see well enough, how matters stood, with both of them. Friderun however, had not witnessed the Hun's demonstrations of joy. Heavy doubts were still weighing on her soul; therefore she had gone out of the castle-gate. There, she plucked a wild flower, and was now eagerly pulling off the white leaflets, one after the other, murmuring, "he loves me, loves me not, he loves me." When all had become a prey to the winds, her murmur ceased, and looking with beaming eyes, at the stalk with its last remaining white leaf, she smilingly nodded her head at it.
Meanwhile, Spazzo the chamberlain, expounded the case to the Duchess, whose active mind at once took up the idea of settling Cappan's fate. The Hun had given proofs of understanding many a useful art in the garden. He well knew for instance, how to stop the cunning subterranean digging of the moles. With bent willow-boughs, at the end of which a nooze was fastened, he had contrived an untimely end, for many a one of the black little animals. In one and the same moment, they were jerked up to sunlight, gallows and death. He also manufactured excellent traps for mice, in short he showed himself an able huntsman, in all that regarded the lowest kind of sport.
"We will give him some acres of land, at the foot of the Stoffler-mountain," said Dame Hadwig, "in return for which, he can wage war against all obnoxious and injurious animals, as far as our land goes; and if the tall Friderun really likes him, she can have him; for I very much doubt whether any other of the maidens of this land, has cast loving eyes on him."
So, she told Ekkehard to prepare the prisoner, for baptism, in order that he might be received as a member into the Christian community; and when he shook his head, rather doubtfully, Dame Hadwig added: "The good will must here make up, for that which is wanting, in the understanding. The instruction you can make short, for he, no doubt, will understand as much as the Saxons did, whom the great Emperor Charles, had driven into the Weser."
Ekkehard did as he was told, and his instruction fell on good soil. Cappan had picked up many a German word, in the course of his warlike expedition, and had in common with all his countrymen, a great talent for guessing what was required of him, even when the words had not been quite understood. Signs and tokens, also helped a good deal; for when Ekkehard sat before him, with the open bible with golden initials on his knee, and pointed heavenwards, the Hun knew of what he was speaking. The likeness of the devil he also understood, and indicated by gestures, that he was to be abhorred, and before the sign of the cross, he fell on his knees, as he had seen done by others. In this way the instruction was carried on.
When Cappan had also made progress in expressing himself, it came out, that his past life had really been a very bad one. He nodded in the affirmative, when asked whether he had taken pleasure in the destruction of churches and monasteries, and from the number of his outstretched fingers, it became evident, that he had assisted more than once, at such sacrilege. With evident signs of sincere repentance, he confessed to having once eaten part of a slain priest's heart, in order to cure himself of fever. In expiation, he now diligently learned to express his guilt in words, and whenever a word was missing, Friderun helped him. So, in a short time, Ekkehard could declare himself satisfied; though his mind certainly had not yet taken in all that St. Augustine requires, in his book on the teaching of infidels. The same day was then fixed upon, for both baptism and wedding. According to the Duchess's desire, he was to have three godfathers; one from Reichenau, one from St. Gall, and a third from the arrier-ban, in remembrance of the battle in which he had been taken prisoner. Those of the Reichenau, sent Rudimann the cellarer, whilst the arrier-ban was represented by Master Spazzo; and because the god-fathers could not make up their minds, whether the converted should be called Pirminius in honour of the Reichenau, or Gallus, they brought the case before the Duchess, to abide by her decision. She said: "Call him Paul, for he also has gone out breathing fury and vengeance against the disciples of the Lord, until the scales were taken from his eyes."
It was on a Saturday, when the godfathers led Cappan, who had fasted during the whole day, to the castle-chapel, and they alternately spent the night with him, in prayer. The Hun was resigned and devout, and on the whole in a becoming frame of mind. He believed that the spirit of his mother, dressed in lambs' skins, had appeared to him, saying: "Poor son, thy bow is broken, and thou no more canst flee; and those who have disarmed thee, thy masters now shall be."
Early, on Sunday morning, when the pearly dewdrops were still hanging on the grass, and the first lark was soaring up to the bright blue sky, a small troop, bearing a cross and flag, marched down the hill,--this time no funeral train!
Ekkehard walked in front, dressed in a purple priest's garment, and behind him came the Hun, between his two god-fathers. Thus they walked through the luxurious meadow-lands, down to the shores of the little river Aach. Arrived there, they stuck the cross into the white sand, and then formed a semi-circle round him who for the last time, was to be called Cappan. In the quiet of that Sabbath morning, the clear notes of the litany rose up to God, imploring Him, to look down mercifully on the man who was now bending his head before Him, longing for deliverance from the yoke of heathendom and sin.
Then they told him to undress down to the belt. He was kneeling on the sand, whilst Ekkehard pronounced the exorcism over him, in the name of Him whom angels and archangels adore; before whom the heavens and earth tremble and abysses open. He then breathed three times on his forehead, and putting some consecrated salt into his mouth, as a symbol of new wisdom and new thoughts, he anointed his forehead and breast with holy oil. The Hun was perfectly awed, scarcely daring to breathe; so much the solemnity of the action impressed him, and when Ekkehard asked him, in the words of the prescribed formula: "Dost thou renounce the Devil and all his works and doings?" he replied with a clear voice: "I renounce him!" and then repeated the words of the creed, as well as he could. Upon this, Ekkehard immersed him in the river; the baptism was pronounced, and the new Paul rose from the waters.... One melancholy look he cast at the fresh mound on the newly dug grave, at the border of the wood,--then his god-fathers drew him out, and wrapped his trembling form, in a dazzling white linen garment. Proudly he stood amongst his new brothers. Ekkehard then preached a short sermon, on the text, "He is blessed who taketh good care of his garments, so that he shall not be found naked," and exhorted him to wear this spotless linen, in sign of his regeneration from sin to godliness, wrought in him by baptism; and finally he laid both hands on his head. With loud-sounding jubilant hymns, they led back the new christian to the castle.
In the arched window embrasure, in one of the basement chambers, the tall Friderun had been sitting meanwhile; Praxedis gliding about her like an unstable will-o'-the-wisp. She had sued the Duchess's permission, to array the awkward bride, on this her day of honour. Her hair was already entwined with red ribbons, and the apron with its wonderful amount of folds, falling down to the high-heeled shoes, was put on. Over this was fastened the dark belt with its gilt border,--only he who wins the bride may unclasp it,--and now Praxedis took up the glittering crown, bedecked with innumerable coloured glass beads, and tinsel gold.
"Holy mother of God," exclaimed she, "must this also be put on? If thou walkest along in that head-gear, they will believe in the distance, that some tower had sprung into life, and was going to be wedded."
"It must be," said Friderun.
"And why must it be?" said the Greek. "I have seen many a smart bride at home, wearing the myrtle wreath, or the silver-green olive branch in her locks, and it was well so. To be sure, neither myrtle nor olive grows in these dark, gloomy fir-woods of yours, but ivy would be pretty also, Friderun?"
But she turned round angrily on her chair. "Rather not marry at all, than go to church with leaves and grass in my hair," replied she. "That may do well enough for foreigners, but when a Hegau maiden, goes to her wedding, theSchappel-crownmust adorn her head. Thus it has always been, ever since the Rhine flowed through the Bodensee, and the mountains have stood here. We Suabians are a princely race, as my father said many a time."
"Your will shall be done," said Praxedis, fastening the spangled crown on her head.
The tall bride arose, but a frown had gathered on her forehead, like a fleeting cloud, that throws its shadow on a sunny plain.
"Wilt thou cry now already, so that the tears may be spared thee in wedlock?" asked the Greek.
Friderun made a serious face, and the ungracious mouth assumed a very sorrowful expression, so that Praxedis had some difficulty in restraining a laugh.
"I feel so depressed," said the bride of the Hun.
"And what is depressing thee, future rival of the pine-trees on the Stoffler-mountain?"
"I am afraid that the young men will play me some trick, because I marry a foreigner. When the convent-farmer of the Schlangenhof, brought home the old widow from Bregenz wood, they went to his house on the wedding-night, and with bull's horns, brass kettles and sea-shells made such a terrible noise, as if a hail-storm was to be frightened away; and when the miller of Rielasingen came out of the house, on the first morning after his marriage, they had put a dry and withered May-pole before his door, and instead of flowers and ribbons, a wisp of straw and a ragged apron, hang from it."
"Be sensible," said Praxedis, soothingly.
But Friderun would not take comfort, and dolefully went on, "and what, if they should treat me, like the gamekeeper's widow, when she married the apprentice boy? Her roof was cut intwain during the night, so that one half fell down to the right and one to the left; and the starry sky shone into their marriage-bed; and the rooks flew about their heads, without their knowing why and wherefore."
Praxedis laughed. "I hope that thou hast got a good conscience, Friderun?" said she significantly; but Friderun was now very nearly crying.
"And who knows," said she evasively, "what my Cappan ..."
"Paul," Praxedis corrected her.
"... may have done in his younger days. Last night I dreamt that he held me close in his arms, when suddenly a Hunnic woman, with yellow face and black hair, came and tore him away. 'He is mine,' cried she, and when I did not let him go, she became a serpent, and tightly coiled herself around him."
"Leave alone serpents and Hunnic women now," interrupted Praxedis, "and get thyself ready, for they are already coming up the hill. Don't forget the sprig of rosemary, and the white handkerchief."
Cappan's white garment shone out brightly in the courtyard, and so Friderun gave the slip to all foreboding thoughts, and walked out. The bride's-maids welcomed her outside; he who had just been baptized, laughed at her with his whole face; the chapel-bell rang out merrily, and so they went to be married.
The religious ceremony was over, and the new couple walked out of the castle-yard with beaming faces. Friderun's kith and kin had come; strong healthy-looking people; who, as regarded bodily height, did not fall short of Friderun. They were farmers and yeomen on the neighbouring lands, and had come to help in lighting the first fire on the new hearth, at the foot of the Hohenstoffeln, and to celebrate the wedding in all due form. On a cart decorated with garlands, which headed the train, the bride's outfit was to be seen. There, the huge bedstead of pine-wood was not missing, on which roses and magic signs were painted; meant to drive away night-mares, goblins and other nightly sprites. Besides this, there were still sundry boxes and trunks, containing the necessary household articles.
The bride's-maids carried the distaff, with the bundle of flax, and the prettily adorned bridal broom, made of white birch twigs; simple emblems of industry and order for the future household.
Loud shouts of joy and merriment were not wanting either, and Cappan felt, as if the baptismal floods had swept away all recollection of his having ever governed, and lived on the back of a swift-footed horse. Decently and soberly, he walked along with his new relations, as if he had been a bailiff, or magistrate of Hegau, since his youth. Before the noise of the merry-makers going down the hill, had died away, two nice-looking lads, the sons of the steward at the imperial castle of Bodmann, and cousins of Friderun, appeared before the Duchess and her guests. They came to invite them to the wedding; each with a cowslip stuck behind his ear, and a nosegay in his button-hole.
Somewhat embarrassed, they remained standing at the entrance, until the Duchess made them a sign to approach, upon which they walked on a few steps, stopped again, and scraping a deep bow, they spoke the old customary words of the invitation to the wedding-feast of their cousin, begging her, to follow them over dale and vale, roads and moats, bridges and water to the house of the wedding. There she would find some vegetables, such as the good God had given. A tun would be tapped, and violins ringing, a dancing and singing, jumping and springing. "We beseech you, to accept two bad messengers for one good one. Blessed be Jesus Christ!" so they concluded their speech, and without waiting for the answer, they scraped another bow, and quickly hurried away.
"Shall we give the honour of our presence, to the youngest of our christian subjects," gaily asked Dame Hadwig. The guests well knew, that questions which were so graciously put, must not be answered in the negative. So they all rode over in the afternoon. Rudimann, the deputy of St. Pirmin's monastery, accompanied them; but he was silent and watchful. His account with Ekkehard had not yet been settled.
The Stoffler-mountain, with its three basalt pinnacles, feathered with stately pine-trees looks proudly down over the land. The castle, whose ruins now crown its summit, was not built then; only on the highest of the three points stood a deserted tower. Somewhat lower down, on a projecting part of the hill, there was a modest little house, hidden amongst the trees, which was to be the domicile of the newly married pair. As a tribute, and sign that the owner of the house was the Duchess's vassal, it was decreed that he should furnish every year fifty moles' skins, and on the day of St. Gallus a live wren.
On a green meadow in the woods, the wedding-party had erected their camp. In large kettles and pans, a tremendous cooking and frying was going on; and he who could not get some dish or plate, feasted off a wooden board; and where a fork was wanting, a double pointed hazel-wand, was installed in its place.
Cappan had made an effort to sit decently and upright by the side of his spouse; but in the depth of his mind, he was revolving the thought, whether after some time, he could not resume his old custom, of lying down during meal-times.
During the long intervals between the different dishes,--for though the repast had begun at midday, it was to last until sunset,--the Hun rested his limbs, which had been tortured by the continual sitting.
Welcomed by the sounds of the rustic musical band, the Duchess with her train, now approached, on horseback. Stopping her palfrey, she looked down into the crowd of merry-makers, amongst which the new Paul was shewing off his wild antics. The music, not being sufficient for him, he shouted and whistled his own time, wheeling his tall spouse about, in a labyrinthine dance. It looked like a walking tower, dancing with a wild cat; the slow one, dancing with the swift; now together, then apart; now breast to breast, then back to back. Sometimes he would suddenly thrust his partner away, and beating his wooden shoes together in the air, he made seven capers, one always higher than the other; and finally dropping on his knees before Dame Hadwig, he bowed his head as if he would kiss the dust, which her horse's hoofs had touched. This was the expression of his gratitude.
His Hegau cousins, looking on at this wonderful dancing, conceived the laudable desire of emulation, and perhaps later, they had themselves instructed in the art; for one still hears a legendary account of the "seven capers," or the Hunnic "hop" in those parts, which as a variation from the customary monotonous Suabian round-dances, had since those days, become the crowning feat of all festivals.
"Where is Ekkehard?" asked the Duchess, who after getting down from her palfrey, had walked through the ranks of her subjects. Praxedis pointed over to some shady spot, where a gigantic pine-tree lifted its dark-green top towards the sky. On its knotty, rugged roots, the monk was sitting. The loud merriment of the crowd of people oppressed his heart, though he could not tell why. So he had gone aside, and was dreamily gazing at the faint distant outlines of the Alps, rising over the woody hills.
It was one of those soft, balmy evenings, such as Sir Burkhart of Hohenvels enjoyed in later times from his huge tower on the lake; "when the air is tempered and mixed up with sun-fire." The distance was shrouded in a soft glowing haze. He, who has ever looked down from those quiet mountain-tops, when on a bright, radiant day, the sun is slowly sinking down, arrayed in all the splendour of his royal robes; when heaven and earth are palpitating with warmth and light, whilst dark purple shadows, fill up the valleys, and a margin-glory, like liquid gold illumines the snowy alpine peaks,--he will not easily forget that aspect; and perchance when sitting later, within his dusky walls, the memory of it will rise in his heart, as soft and bewitchingly sweet, as a song uttered in the melting tones of the South.
Ekkehard was sitting there, with a serious expression on his countenance; his head supported by his right hand.
"He is no longer as he used to be," said Dame Hadwig to the Greek maid.
"He is no longer, as he used to be," thoughtlessly repeated Praxedis, for she was intently gazing on the women of the Hegau, in their holiday-garments; and whilst scrutinizing those high, stiff bodices; and tun-like, starched skirts, she wondered whether the genius of good taste, had left that land for ever in despair,--or whether his foot had never entered it.
Dame Hadwig now approached Ekkehard. He started up from his mossy seat, as if he saw a ghost.
"All alone, and away from the merry-makers?" asked she. "What are you doing here?"
"I am thinking, where real happiness may be found," replied Ekkehard.
"Happiness?" repeated the Duchess. "'Fortune is a fickle dame, who seldom stays long anywhere,' says the proverb. Has she never paid you a visit?"
"Probably not," said the monk, riveting his eyes on the ground. With renewed vigour, the music and noise of the dancers struck the ear.
"Those who lightly tread the green meadowlands, and know how to express with their feet, what oppresses their hearts, are happy," continued he. "Perhaps one requires very little to be happy; but above all,"--pointing over to the distant, glittering Alpine peaks,--"there must be no distant heights which our feet may never hope to reach."
"I do not understand you," coldly said the Duchess, but her heart thought otherwise than her tongue. "And how fares your Virgil," said she, changing the conversation. "During those days of anxiety and warfare, I am afraid that dust and cobwebs will have settled on it."
"He will always find a refuge in my heart, even if the parchment should decay," replied he. "Only a few moments ago, his verses in praise of agriculture, passed through my mind. Yonder the little house, nestling in the shade-giving trees; down below, the dark fertile fields; and a newly wedded pair, going to earn their bread with hoe and plough from kind mother Earth. With a feeling almost of envy, Virgil's picture rose before me:"
"Simple and artless, his life is with many a blessing surrounded,Rich with many a joy, and peaceful rest after labour,Grottoes and shady retreats, affording a shelter for slumber."
"Simple and artless, his life is with many a blessing surrounded,Rich with many a joy, and peaceful rest after labour,Grottoes and shady retreats, affording a shelter for slumber."
"You well know, how to adapt his verses to life," said Dame Hadwig, "but I fear, that your envy has made you forget Cappan's duties of destroying the moles, and the obnoxious field-mice. And then the joys of winter! when the snow rises like a wall up to the straw-thatched roof, so that daylight is sorely perplexed through what chink or crevice, it may creep into the house." ...
"Even such a dilemma, I could bear with composure, and Virgil too, knows how this may be done."
"Many a one, in the winter, will sit by the glare of the fire,Late in the evening then; the light-giving torches preparing,--During the time that his wife his favourite ditties is singing,Throwing the shuttle along, with a dexterous hand through the texture."
"Many a one, in the winter, will sit by the glare of the fire,Late in the evening then; the light-giving torches preparing,--During the time that his wife his favourite ditties is singing,Throwing the shuttle along, with a dexterous hand through the texture."
"His wife?" maliciously asked the Duchess. "But if he has got no wife?"--
From the other side there now arose a loud shout of delighted laughter. They had put their Hunnic cousin on a board, and were carrying him high above their heads; as they used to carry the newly chosen king on his shield, in the olden days of election. Even in this elevated position, he made some gleeful capers.
"Andmaynot have a wife?" said Ekkehard absently. His forehead was burning. He covered it with his right hand. Wherever he looked, the sight pained him. Yonder, the loud joy of the wedding-guests; here the Duchess, and in the distance, the glittering mountains. An inexpressible pain was gnawing at his heart; but his lips remained closed. "Be strong and silent," he said to himself.
He was in reality no longer as he used to be. The undisturbed peace of his lonely cell had forsaken him. The late battle, as well as all the excitement, brought on by the Hunnic invasion, had widened his thoughts; and the signs of favour which the Duchess had shown him, had called up a fierce conflict in his heart. By day and by night, he was haunted by the recollection, how she had stood before him, hanging the relic round his neck, and giving him the sword, that had been her husband's; and in evil moments, self-reproaches,--misty and unexpressed as yet,--that he had received these gifts so silently, passed through his troubled soul. Dame Hadwig had no idea of all that was stirring in his heart. She had accustomed herself to think more indifferently of him, since she had been humiliated by his apparently not understanding her; but as often as she saw him again, with his noble forehead clouded by grief, and with that mute appealing look in his eyes,--then the old game began afresh.
"If you take such delight in agricultural pursuits," said she lightly, "I can easily help you to that. The Abbot of Reichenau has provoked me. To think of asking for the pearl of my estates, as if it were a mere crumb of bread, which one shakes down from the table-cloth, without so much as looking at it!"
Here something rustled in the bushes behind them, but they did not notice it. A dark brown colour might have been seen between the foliage. Was it a fox, or a monk's garment?--
"I will appoint you steward of it," continued Dame Hadwig. "Then you will have all that, the lack of which has made you melancholy to-day; and far more still. My Saspach is situated on the merry old Rhine, and the Kaiserstuhl boasts the honour, that it was the first to bear the vine in our lands. The people are honest and good thereabouts, though they speak rather a rough language."
Ekkehard's eyes were still resting on the ground.
"I can also give you a description of your life there; though I have not Virgil's talent for painting. Fancy that autumn has come. You have led a healthy life; getting up with the sun, and going to bed with the chickens,--and so vintage-time has arrived. From all sides men and maids are descending, with baskets full of ripe, luscious grapes. You stand at the door looking on ..."
Again the rustling was heard.
"... and wondering how the wine will be, and whose health, you are going to drink in it. The Voges-mountains seem to wink over at you, as bright and blue, as the Alps do from here; and as you are gazing at them, you see a cloud of dust rising on the highroad from Breisach. Soon after, horses and carriages become visible, and--well, Master Ekkehard, who is coming?"
Ekkehard who had scarcely followed her recital, shyly said, "who?"
"Who else, but your mistress, who will not give up her sovereign right of examining her subjects doings!"
"And then?"
"Then? then I shall gather information about how Master Ekkehard has been fulfilling his duties; and they will all say: 'he is good and earnest, and if he would not think and brood quite so much, and not read so often in his parchments, we should like him still better.'" ...
"And then?" asked he once more. His voice sounded strange.
"Then I shall say in the words of Scripture: 'well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things.'"
Ekkehard stood there like one, but half conscious. He lifted one arm, and let it fall again. A tear trembled in his eye. He was very unhappy.
... At the same time, a man softly crept out, from the bushes. As soon as he felt the grass again under his feet, he let his habit, which had been gathered up, drop down. Looking stealthily back once more at the two, standing there, he shook his head, like one who has made a discovery. He had certainly not gone into the bushes, to gather violets.
The wedding-feast, by slow stages had got to that point, where a general chaos threatens. The mead was having its effect, on the different minds. One, hung his upper garment on a tree, feeling an almost irresistible inclination to smash everything; whilst another strove to embrace everybody. A third, who remembered having culled many a kiss from Friderun's cheek, ten years ago, sat gloomily at the table, where he had emptied many a goblet, and looking down at the ants, that crept about on the floor, said to himself: "Heigho! None of them is worth a straw."--The two youths, who had looked so very shy in the morning, when they came to invite the Duchess, were now playing an Allemannic trick, on their Hunnic kinsman. They had dragged a large linen sheet out of one of the wedding trunks. On this they placed the unfortunate Cappan, and then taking hold of the four corners, they jerked him up into the air. The victim of this trick, taking this treatment as a mark of friendship and respect, customary in those parts, submitted with perfect good grace, swinging himself gaily up and down.
Suddenly the tall Friderun gave a loud shriek, upon which all heads were turned round to see what might have caused it. The two cousins almost let fall the sheet, when a shout of delight broke forth, so loud and uproarious, that even the old fir-grown basalt rocks, were probably surprised by it; used though they were, to the noise of tempests and storms.
Audifax and Hadumoth were there, on their way back from the Huns, and had been discovered first by the tall bride. Audifax led the horse that carried the treasure-boxes, by the reins, and with beaming faces, the two children walked side by side. That day they had once more beheld the top of the Hohentwiel, and had greeted it with a shout of delight. "Don't tell them everything," whispered Audifax, putting long willow-branches over the panniers.
Friderun was the first who ran to meet them, and snatching Hadumoth up from the ground, she carried her off in triumph.
"Welcome ye lost-ones! Drink bag-piper, drink my boy!" so they cried on all sides, for they all knew of his captivity, and held out the huge stone-jugs in sign of welcome.
The children had agreed together on the road, in what way they should accost the Duchess, when they came home.
"We must thank her very prettily," Hadumoth had said. "And I must give her back the gold Thaler. I got Audifax for nothing, I shall tell her."
"No we will add to it still two of the biggest gold coins," Audifax had replied. "This we will present, begging her to remain our gracious mistress as before. That shall be our thanks, as well as the fine, for my having slain the woman of the wood."
So they had got the gold all ready prepared.
They now caught sight of the Duchess, standing with Ekkehard under the pine-tree. The wild burst of joy had interrupted their agricultural conversation. Praxedis came bounding along, to impart the wondrous news, and following on her heels, the two youthful runaways, walked hand in hand. They both knelt down before Dame Hadwig; Hadumoth holding up her Thaler, and Audifax his two big gold coins. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him.... Then Dame Hadwig, with lofty grace, addressed the surrounders.
"The silliness of my two young subjects, affords me an opportunity, to give them a proof of my favour. Be witnesses thereof."
Breaking off a hazel-wand from a neighbouring bush, she approached the children, and after first shaking the golden coins out of their hands, so that they flew into the grass, she touched their heads with the branch, saying: "Arise, and in future scissors shall never cut off your hair any more. As vassals belonging to the castle of Hohentwiel, ye have knelt down, as freedmen, stand up again; and may ye be as fond of each other in your free state, as before!"
This was the form of granting freedom, according to the Salic law. The Emperor Lotharius, had already shaken the golden Denar, out of his old servant Doda's hand; thus freeing her from the yoke of slavery; and as Audifax was of Franconian birth, Dame Hadwig had not acted according to the Allemannic laws.
The two children arose. They had well understood what had happened. A strange dizzy feeling had seized the little goat-herd's brain. The dream of his youth,--liberty, golden treasure,--all had become true! a lasting reality, for all days to come!
When the mist before his eyes, had cleared away again, he beheld Ekkehard's serious countenance, and throwing himself at his feet with Hadumoth, he cried: "Father Ekkehard, we thank you also, for having been good to us!"
"What a pity that it is already so late," said Praxedis, "or you might have joined another pair in wedlock; or at least have sanctified a solemn betrothal; for these two, belong as much to each other, as yonder pair."
Ekkehard let his blue eyes, rest for a while on the two children. Laying his hands on their heads and making the sign of the cross over them, he softly said to himself, "where is happiness?"----
Late at night, Rudimann the cellarer rode back to his monastery. The ford being dry he could cross it on horseback. From the Abbot's cell, a gleam of light still fell on the lake. So Rudimann knocked at his door, and but half opening it said: "My ears have taken in more to-day, than they liked to hear. 'Tis all over with the Saspach estate on the Rhine. She is going to make that milksop of St. Gall steward of it." ...
"Varium et mutabile semper femina!Woman is ever fickle and changeable!" murmured the Abbot, without looking round. "Good night!"
During the time in which all that has been told until now, was happening on the shores of the Bodensee, far away in the Belgian lands, in the monastery of the holy Amandussur l'Elnon, a monk had been sitting in his cell. Day after day, whenever the convent rules permitted it, he sat there transfixed as by a spell. The rough and cheerless winter time had come; all the rivers were frozen up, and snow covered the plain as far as eye could see,--he scarcely noticed it. Spring followed and drove away winter,--he heeded it not. The brothers talked of war, and evil tidings, which had reached them from the neighbouring Rhine-lands,--but he had no time to listen to these tales.
In his cell, every article of furniture, nay even the floor was covered with parchments, for almost all the monastery's books had emigrated to his chamber. There, he sat reading and thinking, and reading again, as if he wanted to find out the first cause of all being. On his right, lay the psalms and holy Scriptures; on his left the remains of heathenish wisdom. Everything he peered over assiduously; now and then, a malicious smile interrupting the seriousness of his studies, upon which he would hastily scribble down some lines, on a narrow strip of parchment. Were these, grains of gold and precious stones, which he dug out of the mines of ancient wisdom? No.
"What on earth, can be the matter with brother Gunzo?" said his fellow-monks amongst themselves. "In former times his tongue rattled on like a millwheel, and the books were seldom disturbed in their rest, by him; for, did he not often say with boasting mien: 'They can only tell me, what I know already?'--and now? Why, now his pen hurries on, sputtering and scratching, so that you may bear the noise it makes, even in the cross-passage. Does he hope to become notary or prime minister of the Emperor? Is he trying to find the philosopher's stone, or is he perhaps writing down, his journey in Italy?"
But brother Gunzo, continued his labours undisturbed, whatever they were. Untiringly he emptied his jug of water and read his classics. The first thunder-storms came, telling of summer's heat; but he let thunder and lightning do as they pleased, without minding them. His slumbers at night were sometimes broken by his rushing up to his inkstand, as if he had caught some good ideas in his dreams; but often they had vanished before he had succeeded in writing them down. Still his perseverance in trying to attain his aim, never wavered, and consoling himself with the prophetic words of Homer: "Yet though it tarry long, the day is certainly coming," he crept back to his couch.
Gunzo was in the prime of life; of moderate height and portly dimensions. When he stood before his well-polished metal mirror in the early morning, and gazed somewhat longer than was necessary, on his own image, he would often stroke his reddish beard with a threatening gesture, as if he were going out there and then, to fight in single combat.
In his veins, flowed Franconian as well as Gallic blood, and this latter gave him something of the liveliness and sprightliness, which is wanting in all those of pure Teutonic race. For this reason, he had bitten and torn a good many more goose quills, whilst writing, than any monk in a German monastery would have done, besides holding many a soliloquy, in the same space of time. In spite of this he mastered the natural restlessness of his body, and forced his feet to keep quiet, under the heavily laden writing desk.
On a soft, balmy summer evening, when his pen had again flitted over the patient parchment, like a will-o'-the-wisp, emitting a soft creaking sound, it suddenly began to slacken its pace,--then made a pause; a few strokes more, and then he executed a tremendous flourish on the remaining space below, so that the ink made an involuntary shower of spots, like black constellations. He had written the wordfinis, and with a deep sigh of relief he rose from his chair, like a man from whose mind, some great weight has been taken. Casting a long look on that which lay before him, black on white, he solemnly exclaimed, "praised be the holy Amandus! we are avenged!"
At this great and elevating moment, he had finished a libel, dedicated to the venerable brotherhood on the Reichenau, and aimed at,--Ekkehard the custodian at St. Gall. When the fair-haired interpreter of Virgil took leave of his monastery, and went to the Hohentwiel, he never, though he searched the remotest corners of his memory, had an inkling of the fact, that there was a man living, whose greatest wish and desire was to take vengeance on him; for he was inoffensive and kindhearted, never willingly hurting a fly. And yet so it was, for between Heaven and Earth, and especially in the minds of learned men, many things will happen, which the reason of the reasonable, never dreams of.
History has its caprices, both in preserving and destroying. The German songs and epics, which the great Emperor Charles had so carefully collected, were to perish in the dust and rubbish of the following ages; whilst the work of Brother Gunzo, which never benefited any one of the few who read it, has come down to posterity. Let the monstrous deed, which so excited the Gallic scholar's ire, therefore be told in his own words.
"For a long space of time,--thus he wrote to his friends on the Reichenau,--the revered and beloved King Otto, had carried on negotiations with the different Italian princes, to let me come over to his lands. But as I was neither of such low birth, or so dependent upon any, that I could have been forced to this step, he himself sent a petition to me, of which the consequence was, my pledging myself to obey his call. Thus it happened, that when he left Italy, I soon followed him, and when I did so, I did it with the hope, that my coming,--whilst harming no one, might benefit many; for what sacrifices does the love of one's fellow-creatures, and the desire to please, not entice us into? Thus I travelled onwards, not like a Briton, armed with the sharp weapons of censure, but in the service of love and science.
"Over high mountain-passes and steep ravines and valleys, I arrived at last at the monastery of St. Gall, in a state of such bodily exhaustion, that my hands, stiffened by the icy mountain air, refused me their service, so that I had to be taken down from my mule by stranger hands. The hope of the traveller, was to find a peaceful resting-place, within the monastic walls; which hope was strengthened, on beholding the frequent bending of heads, the sober-coloured garments, soft-treading steps, and sparing use of speech, prevalent there. So I was wholly unprepared for what was to follow; although by a strange chance, I happened to think of Juvenal's saying with regard to the false philosophers.