Specimens of German Romance Volume I Part 19

"Both shall be done," replied the provost, and made a sign to the city-marshal, who went out.

"Moreover I was put into a bad plight in my arrest at Salzbrunn by your runners, and their rabble," continued Tausdorf, surveying his person indignantly; "and it is not fitting that a knight should die publicly in so unworthy a state, as a mockery to your people; therefore send to the Frau von Netz, that she may forward to me my red velvet suit of ceremony for my last travel."

"It shall be done according to your desire," said the chief provost, confounded by the proud calmness of the condemned.

"The chaplain is ready for you below, Herr von Tausdorf, in my little room below the custom-house," announced the city-marshal.

"Then I must first reconcile myself with my enemies according to the duty of a Christian. I pray you, therefore, gentlemen, to forgive me for having through my unlucky deed given you occasion for the sin of injustice. On my part I willingly and freely pardon you my death. G.o.d favour you with an early repentance! May my blood be the last which shall flow in this unhappy feud betwixt the n.o.bility and citizens."

He departed with the city-marshal; the gens-d'armes followed.

The provosts looked at each other sadly troubled, and from the provost-chief escaped the exclamation, "The business will not be over with the head that is to fall here. Heaven turn all to the best!"

The burgomaster had for a short time betaken himself to his house to give orders for the burial of his son. He had just dismissed the church-servants, and looked from the bow-window of his audience-chamber with silent anguish on the black-mantled undertakers who were carrying out Francis's coffin to the customhouse, where the body still lay, when doctor Heidenreich came in unsummoned. Erasmus received him with angry exclamations.

"So, you will not cease to torment me? I thought that the contested point had been sufficiently discussed between us last night; as to any change, that is past all question now, since the sentence has been p.r.o.nounced."

"I know it," said Heidenreich, troubled. "You have condemned Tausdorf to the sword!"

"Not I," interrupted Erasmus vehemently; "but the provost's court at Schweidnitz. The council has, indeed, approved the sentence; but in regard to that personal interest which I take in the affair, I did not even deem it proper to subscribe my name."

"I neither ask of you generosity nor favour. But I demand justice of you for your own sake; you are on the point of committing a crying act of injustice, and of thereby rending the honourable garland that a long active life has wound about your brows. Your sentence is not only against all equity, but against the laws."

"Against the laws? Mr. Doctor, put a guard upon your tongue, that it may not bring your body into trouble."

"I have heard the murderous story from Tausdorf's servant. Your son was killed by the accused in his just defence. Does not the penal code of Charles the Fifth expressly state, that if any one falls upon, a.s.saults, or strikes another with deadly weapons, and the person so attacked cannot escape without risk and jeopardy to his body, life, honour, or good report, he may then peril life and limb in his just defence without incurring any punishment--and if, moreover, he kills the aggressor, he is not to be, therefore, deemed guilty, nor is he bound to delay with his defence till he is struck, although otherwise against written laws and usages?"

"You have long been known to me as a shrewd advocate," answered Erasmus with mockery; "but the _Carolina_[3] has not yet been formally published to us, and above all things the act of self-defence should have been proved. The mouth of my poor son is shut, the declaration of the accused and of his servant proves nothing."

"There was also a page of Tausdorf's present; and a woman saw the battle from the garden-wall. In the testimony of three witnesses consists truth."

"The witnesses of whom you speak," replied the burgomaster, confused, "did not present themselves for examination. It was, besides, for the judges to decide whether their examination was requisite."

"But I think, Mr. Burgomaster, it was for your own honour to seek out these witnesses, and to defer the execution of the sentence till then, that it might not be said you wished to destroy the accused from a wretched spirit of revenge."

"I am weary of your insolence; instantly take yourself out of my four walls, Mr. Doctor, or I shall give you lodgings in the Hildebrand as a malcontent and fomenter of discord; they are just now vacant."

"You thrust your better angel from your side," replied Heidenreich sadly. "I have not spoken out of favour to the accused, whom I do not know, but from old friends.h.i.+p to yourself. You will not listen to me, and I wash my hands in innocence. But I tell you a day will come when you will think of my words and of this hour with repentance, alas, too late!"

He left the room. Erasmus went to the window to cool the angry glow upon his face in the fresh air, when he saw the gouty Schindel, who was being carried in a chair by servants towards the burgomaster's house.

"Nothing was wanting but the old gossip with his tedious conciliatory efforts," exclaimed Erasmus, and running out he gave the servant strict orders to show the door to Schindel.

The servant went, and when the burgomaster returned to his room, the preacher Samuel, of St. Mary's church, a gloomy zealot, forced himself upon him to condole with the powerful regent on the death of his son.

With infinite unction he groaned out, "If, worthy sir, it is sad, mournful, pitiable, and most grievous to lose a dear, beloved child by a natural death, how much more sad, mournful, pitiable, and grievous must it be for a father when a healthful son is s.n.a.t.c.hed from him through G.o.d's severe, though wise and gracious dispensation, by so sudden, violent, and horrid a death, without first having time to confess and repent his errors, so that in the full flower of his sins he is hurried away before the eternal judgment-seat!"

"For G.o.d's sake, comfort better, Mr. Preacher," cried Erasmus angrily: "You pour aqua-fortis instead of balsam into the wounds of a father's heart."

"The heart of man is an obstinate thing," replied the preacher; "it must be utterly torn and crushed that it may become truly sensible of the consolation of the Gospel; and if you will only allow me a short time, I will undertake so to work upon you, that you shall with pleasure kiss the hand which has struck you thus hardly, and, like a true Christian, shall attune a rejoicing Hosannah on the grave of your murdered son."

During this harangue the brow of Erasmus grew mightily wrinkled, and he was about to answer the wretched comforter in no very friendly way, when the door opened, and Althea entered, leading her boy.

"This is not to be borne!" he exclaimed to her. "We have nothing more to say to each other, Frau von Netz, and I consider it highly indecent that you should force yourself upon me in this way, unannounced, only to burthen me with entreaties, which my oath forbids my hearkening to."

"Misfortune has its peculiar privileges," replied Althea in a faint and tuneless voice; "I was prepared for all harshness when I resolved to come here, and you can treat me as seems good and proper to yourself; but you must hear me once again; I will not stir from this spot first."

"Speak, then, that I may at last get quit of this torment."

"My intended husband is condemned to die. I will no longer contend with you whether he has deserved death, or whether you have a right to inflict it; but the power of pardon belongs incontestably to the emperor. I, therefore, only implore you to defer the execution of the sentence till the return of a messenger whom I will despatch to Vienna with my supplication. That cannot militate against your office. On the contrary, it would become you not to antic.i.p.ate the clemency of your master in a business wherein you must yourself confess you are a party.

In the meantime let the condemned remain in your power, and if the emperor p.r.o.nounces the dreadful NO, we must submit to what cannot be avoided."

"Let the Herr von Tausdorf live, dear burgomaster," said the little Henry, at other times so defying, but now in tears, and kissed the hand of Erasmus with humility. "I am a fatherless orphan, and he would be so good a father to me!"

But the burgomaster withdrew his hand from the child, and eyed now him, now Althea, with piercing glances.

"Take our share in Bogendorf for the brief respite," cried Althea, observing the inveteracy in the eyes of Erasmus. "I will readily make it over to you this very day, and support myself and my son by the labour of my hands, if by that I can only purchase the slightest hope for the safety of the man whom my soul loves."

"You are a fair and a wise lady, Frau von Netz," said the burgomaster at last; "but the old Erasmus is yet too wise for you. You will not find in him the fool you seek."

"Let mercy prevail!" cried Althea in despair, and embraced his knees with wild energy. "Let mercy prevail, as you would that G.o.d should one day be merciful to you!"

"Back!" exclaimed the burgomaster indignantly, and pushed her from him.

"My son is dead. Neither your wealth nor your tears can make him alive again. Blood demands blood, and Tausdorf must die!"

"Not another word of supplication," cried the little Henry to his mother, who was exhausted by her agony; "tis a pity you offered any to the wicked man. Has not uncle Netz told you a hundred times that the rich burgomaster is as cold and as hard as the dollars of which he is always boasting so much? Come, mother; we cannot beg the good man free, and therefore we will weep for him as long as we have eyes. But this house is not worthy of your tears;"--and then turning to Erasmus, he said, with a dignity and spirit beyond his years, "You have heavily vexed and offended the Frau von Netz, Mr. Burgomaster, and it is the duty of a good son to avenge every insult which his mother has had to endure. At present my arm is not strong enough for my inclination; but, please G.o.d, I shall grow every day larger and stouter, and I think to be able to wield the sword shortly. For this time I denounce feud against you, and whatever may come of it, murder or fire, I shall have set my honour above your impeachment."

He pulled away his mother with him, and Erasmus said to the preacher, "Do you hear how the young snake can hiss already? But follow the lady, if you will be so good, comfort her by virtue of your holy office, and exhort her to betake herself to her own house, that she may not excite the people by her lamentations in the streets, and force me to send her home by a couple of gens-d'armes."

"Well advised!" replied the preacher, and hastened after Althea, whom he found at the street-door, her head leaning against one of the stone columns of the portal, while Henry stroked her hand consolingly, and wet it with his tears.

"Submit yourself to the will of Heaven," he began; "and this must be the easier to you when you weigh the justice of the sentence p.r.o.nounced upon the culprit, who was once dear to you. Such a.s.sa.s.sins and bloodhounds must be forfeit to the executioner as a warning to others, and for their own well-earned punishment. Had not the council done justice in this way, I had never endured to abide in the town; and, if I could not have walked out, I should have crept out, with wife and children, from this pit of murder, in which no honest man could have been secure of his life any longer."

Althea lifted up to him her heavy eyes, that were red and swollen with weeping, and merely saying, "May G.o.d comfort you as you have comforted me!" she sunk back into her old position. Still, however, the preacher continued in the same strain for a time; but when he perceived that the sufferer no longer even listened to his splendid grounds of consolation, he suddenly broke off, and removed himself, with a look in which was couched an anathema.

In the mean time Christopher Friend came out of the street-door and gazed tenderly on Althea.

"Poor lady!" he at last said with a voice of as much pity as he could force into it--"No doubt you would go up to my father to implore him for the life of your betrothed; or you have already been with him, and received an unfavourable answer. Yes! I could have told you that before. You would more easily move the lions of granite that rest upon these columns than my father in this neck-breaking business. Would that I were the reigning burgomaster in his place, to be able to serve you, for I am not very angry with your Tausdorf. My late brother was an evil man, who probably brought this affair upon himself; and it is a pity that so brave a knight should, on his account, fall under the hands of the executioner. I have, indeed, some influence with my father, especially since I am his only son; and, if I were to run the risk of his anger and put in a good word, I might at least, perhaps, gain you a short delay, and time gained, all is gained."

"Comfort often comes from where it is least expected," stammered Althea, looking at him with anxious doubt. "You, Mr. Christopher,--you have a heart for my sorrows?"

"What man of my years would not have a heart for so fair a lady?"

replied Christopher, smiling; "but it is only death that can be had for nothing; life is expensive. Time presses, and therefore I will open my mind to you briefly. Herr Tausdorf is lost to you for ever; if his life even should be saved,--which I hold for a half impossibility,--still he would not get off without a long imprisonment and perpetual exile from this country. Therefore give me your fair hand, for which I have already sued without success, and I will try what influence I have over my father's heart."

Althea started back in horror, and laid her right hand thoughtfully upon her forehead, her left upon her poor heart, in which anguish was working convulsively. But the inward struggle was soon over, and with the calmness of resignation she turned towards her ungenerous wooer.

"It would, indeed, be hard for me," she said, "to follow a man who makes a trade of his humanity, and to give this boy a father whom he could not respect; still I would make even this sacrifice for him I love, if I could believe that he would accept it. But I am convinced that he would sooner die a thousand times than let me slowly pine away under the tortures of a wretched marriage. Therefore let him and me perish, in G.o.d's name; I can never be yours."

She took her child by the hand, and departed slowly with him up the street, towards the market-place.