Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg Castle

CHAPTER IV.

The sitting of the Imperial Diet being at an end the court of the Kurfürst returned amidst the thunder of cannon fired from the Trutzkaiser to the Castle at Heidelberg, which during the meeting had been only opened for the accommodation of noble guests. The remaining groups of those returning home passed at the same time through the town; they were Polish, Transylvanian and Hungarian Magnates, who had ordered servants and horses to be sent from their homes to meet them in Heidelberg. A contagious disease broke out in the hostelry where the servants had slept, laying all the inhabitants of the house on the sick bed. Erastus was called in, examined the patients, who besides having a violent fever, had their faces, breasts and arm-pits covered with blue, violet and evil looking pustules. The swarthy complexion of the physician turned ashy-pale when he noticed these symptoms, but without saying a word he ordered a spunge dipped in vinegar to be brought, which he fastened to his mouth. He caused his assistants to do likewise, and carry the sick to the Gutleuthaus, a hospital lying outside Heidelberg, which in former days had been founded for the use of the returning Crusaders affected with leprosy. The inns, in which the filthy guests had tarried were closed, the rooms disinfected with alkalines, the beds were burnt, and the doors nailed up. No one was to be permitted to enter the infected rooms for six weeks, with the exception of the medical assistants, who were from time to time to renew the means employed for purification. The population of the afflicted district was severely visited. The matter was hushed up so as not to injure trade, but every one knew that it was the plague, and the unclean guests who had introduced it were shunned. The eight patients lay together in the Gutleuthaus at Schlierbach, six died and but two recovered. These two were inhabitants of the neighbouring villages Schönau and Petersthal. Thoroughly fumigated and provided with entirely new clothing they were permitted to return to their homes. They found it to be to their own advantage not to speak about the malady from which they had recovered, as otherwise no one would have taken them in. But one of them had placed his infected worthless clothing in a bundle which he brought back with him to his home. The other had exchanged the new boots of one of the dead for the inferior pair given him by the authorities of the hospital. Eight days after their return the pest broke out in these two villages with unheard of violence. The mother of the Schönau patient was the first to take the sickness and die, followed by the sister who had watched over her, the clergyman who had administered the sacraments, the women who had dressed out the corpse and those who had attended the burial. The guilty wretch who had caused all this evil, naturally kept silent. He quickly packed up his bundle and left for Schwaben. The same thing occurred in Petersthal. Inhabitants of these villages went from house to house in Heidelberg, offering fruit, vegetables, pine wood, cones, and straw-mats for sale. The physicians reported fresh cases of the plague in all parts of the town. A general fear seized the population. One morning it became known that the court had left for Mosbach. Great was the discouragement of the citizens at this ruthless step, for which the young wife of the Kurfürst was blamed. Whoever could, followed the example thus set. Erastus and his medical colleagues urged the magistrate to stricter measures. All communication with the infested villages was forbidden, the University and schools were closed. The hospital was set aside especially for plague stricken patients, and everyone infected with this terrible sickness was carried thither. A violent thunderstorm which dispelled the evil vapors, aided by a high tide which cleared out the sewers enabled them to obtain the mastery. The Court returned to the Castle and Heidelberg resumed its usual aspect. But even after the disappearance of the epidemic, a victim died here and there of the disease from which they had imagined themselves now free. The cause lay in the continuation of the plague in the neighbouring villages, which in the anxiety to save the town had been neglected. Heart-rending were the accounts heard, but the exertions of the officials were limited to the provision of food, the strictest quarantine being maintained. He who wished to leave to render assistance, could only do so by promising not to return. Erastus finally managed to carry an order through, that the Magistrate and certain physicians should visit the various localities, bringing with them especially medicines, clean clothing, and linen. As the Magistrate fell ill on the day appointed Erastus placed himself at the head of the Commission to see what might be done to abate the evil. Ten of the hospital laborers accompanied them with spades and axes in a second cart. A third cart was loaded with wine, food, lime, and other disinfectants. The physicians found the nearest village still as if all were dead. All the roads leading from the mountains were barricaded and the peasantry armed with hallebards and weapons mounted guard to prevent the entry of the inhabitants of the valleys. The Commissioners were only permitted to pass their carts through with the greatest difficulty, and in spite of the mandate given by the Kurfürst, the peasants declared they would not suffer one of the gentlemen to return that way, as the plague did not seem to trouble itself about princely mandates. They continued on their way through this still valley of death. Here and there a stray beast browsed on the green pastures. The houses of the peasantry above seemed to be abandoned. The Commissioners entered one. A hen seeking for grain in the empty court was the only living being. The doors were broken in, the shutters burst out. Objects which plunderers had not been able to carry off lay scattered on the floor in wild confusion. Further on they found a dead body lying at a little distance from one of the roads to the fields. Where death had overtaken him, there lay the miserable being. The physicians gazed in horror at the wild distorted features of the corpse. "Death caused by the bite of a poisonous viper, or a rabid blood-hound appears in the form of an angel of peace as compared with that effected by the plague," said Erastus. In the next farm they saw a peasant sitting before his door on a bundle of straw. His face was flaming from the inner heat, the eyes gleamed feverishly, he shaded them continually with his hands to avoid the light. "Why do you sit here, instead of being in bed?" asked Erastus.

"I have no one who will bring me water."

"Where are your laborers?"

"Gone."

"Your wife?"

"Dead."

"Have you no one to help you?"

"All are dead."

Erastus fastened the spunge dipped in vinegar once more to his mouth, and entered the dwelling with his colleagues who took the like precautions. The windows were still fastened up, as there was nothing the patient hated so much as light. The commissioners hastily threw them open, so as to dispel by a draught of fresh air the horrible odors. The sunlight disclosed a neatly ordered clean room. The evening meal still stood on the table, a proof, of how quickly the horrible pestilence had seized the various members of the family at the same moment. A child's catechism and slate lay near the window ready for the morning school. A wild confusion was however disclosed in the adjoining rooms. The floors were strewn with rags, bandages, and straw, which proved how terrible the ravages of the plague had been. Two dead children lay in the same bed convulsively grasping each other. On another bed was seen the body of a woman, to which still clung a child, whose waxy little hand hung stiff outside the bed. Erastus himself set to work and with the aid of his assistants carried the bodies outside. The neighboring houses presented the same appearance. The more distant farmyards had all been plundered. The healthy occupants had taken to flight, the plague-stricken had gathered together in the villages, where the houses were nearer at hand, and where they might possibly render each other a little help. All round were heard sighs, shouts of delirium, and the death-rattle. Convalescents and those who were not so heavily afflicted by the infection moved about weakly and stupefied with fever rendering only the most necessary assistance. They brought the bread which had been deposited at a certain place outside the boundary line, into the village, milked the cows, kept up the fires, and buried the dead when capable of doing so.

"Where is the Mayor?" asked Erastus.

"Dead," answered a miserable looking knot of women, around whose necks hung some wretched infants.

"The clergyman?"

"His wife fell ill, he therefore hurried away with his family."

"The schoolmaster?"

"He went off with the clergyman."

"Who looks after you then?"

"No one."

Under these circumstances it was arranged that the physicians and workmen should remain there for a time, dig a grave for the dead, disinfect the houses, and give out medicines and clothes. Erastus however and others would go on to Schönau to see what might be done there. A solitary path in the woods led over the brow of the hill to the village. The farms lying high above on the slopes of the wood had mostly escaped the infection, they were however strictly barricaded, and the inhabitants repelled with hard words any attempt at approach. The first houses in the village they came to, were tightly fastened up, though traces of violence were however not to be perceived. Then they entered the little town, which in course of time had been built around the old abbey. Everything was quiet, but a better order seemed to prevail. Windows were open to admit the fresh air, the sick lay in clean beds, and near them stood a pitcher of water. The rooms were tidy. Pale children went to and fro to help the sufferers. Erastus entered one of the houses, to make some inquiries of a woman who seemed to be on the way towards recovery. He praised the means taken and asked if they were satisfied with their physician.

"We have no physician, none will come to us."

"Who taught you then to air the houses, and apply wet cloths to the head?"

"The clergyman from Heidelberg."

"Who is he?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders and turned her face to the wall. He saw that she did not wish to be disturbed. Outside he met some young men filling buckets with water.

"For whom is the water?" asked Erastus.

"For the sick in the Church."

"Have you turned the Church into an hospital?"

"Yes."

"Who ordered it?"

"The Heidelberg clergyman."

"Where is the Mayor?"

"Gone."

"And the parson of Schönau?"

"Dead."

"And the schoolmaster?"

"Gone."

"Who is it then keeps order?"

"The Heidelberg clergyman."

Erastus became interested in finding out the man, who by his own exertions had worked the miracle, of mustering together a strange parish, and so organizing it that nothing was left for his Commission to do. He entered the large roman church, whose wide spanned aisles had been transformed into well aired cool wards. A long row of patients lay near the walls on beds of straw covered with blankets. The hideous disease showed even here its true character; there were faces who bore the stamp of death, and others distorted grimly by their sufferings, delirious patients who raged, laughed insanely and raved, convalescents who lay stretched out weak and helpless on their beds, many of them wishing that the end of their sufferings might overtake them. But they were all thoroughly cared for, they lay protected from the painful light; in spite of the number of the sufferers the air was pure and continually renewed, without the patients suffering from the draughts. Women moved quietly and lightly hither and thither and provided for all their necessities. The skilled look of the physician took in with satisfaction the picture thus presented to him. He saw a priest kneeling in a dark corner of the Church near a dying man. He heard prayers spoken in low tones, he saw the Catholic sign of the cross made by the priest over the dying man, and could not help shaking his head. "Who can that be?" he thought.

The priest rose, a tall thin figure. "Magister Laurenzano!" cried Erastus in his astonishment. Paul had also recognized Erastus. He approached him in a constrained manner. Then he said "Heaven has sent you to us, Sir Counsellor! It was indeed time that the government should remember us. Please to come with me to the Cloister. Twice did I wish to send in letters and messages, for what we needed, but neither letters nor messengers were allowed in through cowardly fear of infection. Come, come, at last help has reached us."

The look of this young man, who, utterly regardless of his own safety, waited on the sick without using any antidotes against infection, so shamed Erastus, that he secretly placed his vinegared spunge in his pocket, and accompanied Laurenzano to the abandoned monastery which had likewise been turned into an hospital. The young Priest set before Erastus in the high vaulted Refectorium a beaker of wine, and pointing to long rows of bottles and glasses said, "Here are my head-quarters." Erastus joined to his expression of admiration for Paolo's self-denying energy, a few strong remarks on the baseness of the officials who had run away, on the heartlessness of members of families who had left, and on the sordidness of the population.

"Do not say that, Sir," answered Paul, and a gentle tone of sympathy lay in his fine, deep voice. "I have in these days of struggle learnt, on the contrary, that more love exists among us, than I formerly used to think. I have seen proofs of self-sacrifice, which made my heart melt, not only from the mother to her children, or the daughter to her father. Go over there and see these delicate pale women, still for the most part suffering from the fever, who nevertheless indefatigably listen for every impatient groan uttered by the sick."

Erastus interrupted him with an account of how he had found matters in Petersthal.

"Thus was it here also," replied Paolo, "but who is to blame for this state of things? The Prince's government, no one else. The people only needed guiding. Out of shere despair they raged against one another. But it was sufficient, in order to restore confidence among them, merely to tell them that they could help each other, and the apparent coarseness and selfishness gave way to the uttermost self-sacrifice and generosity. Since everything has been organized, since each one knows that he will be found a fitting position for his energies and that he is necessary and indispensable, the people have developed a conscientiousness and faithfulness, which have quite astonished me. I have learnt to think better of your people, since I have led them against this most terrible enemy, than before, when I only saw occasionally the youth of Schönau lounging on Sundays along the country roads."

"But how did you manage to bring about this miracle?" asked Erastus.

Paul smiled but did not answer this question. "Unfortunately we are in want of many necessaries," said he. "Our vinegar is all consumed, all sweat-exciting herbs have been plucked from the mountains; we want lime to spread over the corpses and render the exhalations innocuous. We have now to make large fires, and these are costly and take up time."

"You can have all these things from me," replied the physician. "Here is a list I have made of all the things which we bring you," and he pulled a paper out of his pocket. Paul cast a look at it, then stared fixedly with a look of sudden horror at the handwriting. "Did you write this yourself?" he asked in a tone, as if life and death were depending on the answer.

"Certainly, why do you ask." The priest's hand trembled. "Is that your handwriting?" repeated Paul looking anxiously towards Erastus. The physician did not understand what the priest meant. Convulsively did the young man compose himself. "I will mark out what we require," murmured he absently and left the room in evident confusion. Erastus looked after the strange young man with a shake of the head; he had expected that Paul would have rejoiced at receiving the articles, which he gave gratuitously to the patients.

Once outside the young priest pulled out the physician's list and examined it tremblingly. "There is no doubt," he muttered to himself, "the strokes are the same, as those which Pigavetta caused me to imitate, and Herr Adam, to whom his dictation was addressed, was none other than the heretical Parson Adam Neuser. But he threw the paper before my eyes into the street. Was it the same after all?" and with an expression of despair Paul sank down near the round window of the cloister and gazed gloomily out. "How the vipers of repentance, which for a time had curled up in some dark corner, bite once more? How again the old chain works its way into the flesh?" Should he warn Erastus. He sank into a melancholy train of thought, but could arrive at no determination. At last he shook it away from him. "Let us think of the misery of to-day. Should to-morrow another misfortune arise, it will be time enough. God's mercy does not let every seed of wickedness germinate, which we may have sown unthinkingly, and around me here there is sufficient misery, to requite by good to many, the evil which I have caused to many." Then he arose, so as to prepare himself in his chamber, for the service which he held for the sick every evening in the Church.

The physician wearied by his exertions of the day, remained for a while longer in the Refectorium, and thought over his glass of wine about the young man, for whom he now felt so great an admiration. Shortly an old peasant woman, with white hair and a calm peaceful countenance appeared balancing a basket full of herbs on her head. After setting down her basket, and wiping the perspiration from her brow, she began to pull out and sort the herbs.

"You must be very glad that the Heidelberg clergyman came among you?" said Erastus opening a conversation.

"Glad?" replied the old woman, "it was he who saved us."

"Yes indeed, when one compares Petersthal with your village, one must admire the man."

"If you had only witnessed, how he performed the miracle on the Kreuzwiese, you would speak in quite another way."

"What sort of miracle, mother?"

"You do not know it," said the old woman quickly. "Then you know nothing. You ought to have seen how the man addressed the people all day long but in vain. Those that were healthy packed up, and wanted to escape by footpaths that were not guarded. Wicked ruffians plundered the farm-yards and treated the defenceless owners with every cruelty, the sick lay abandoned in their rooms, in the streets, in the open fields. Then the strange clergyman threatened those who wished to leave with all the punishments of heaven, should they abandon their parish to its fate.--Immediately the first miracle took place. The ring-leader of those about to depart, attempted to reach a footpath by climbing the stone-quarry behind the Sperlingshof, by which one can reach the road to Leiningen, without being stopped. As he reached the top, he stumbled, fell backwards into the quarry and broke his neck. You should then have seen the parson, pointing to the place and calling out to the people with flaming eyes. 'I tell you, that each of you, that attempts this path, will end in this manner,' and he began to call on God, to destroy all those, who wished to leave their brethren to destruction, and to help those who helped their brethren. By the quarry the holy cross still stands, which the Kurfürst ever wanted to break down as being an idolatrous image. The parish however opposed this, as it stood there long before the monastery, and is an old relic. Finally the Holy Virgin and the Disciple were broken off and taken away, but the blessed Saviour was allowed to remain on his Cross. The strange clergyman now turned towards Him, and you should only have heard him, how he addressed Him, it was enough to soften the heart of a stone. The tears streamed down our cheeks. Then he called out as if entranced: 'Thou willest it Lord! Give a sign that thou willest it!' and he stretched both his hands towards the Saviour, as if he wished to embrace him, and called out exultingly. 'See, see, He wills it.' Then it seemed to us that we were dreaming. The stone image raised head and arms and bowed, thrice, four times. It seemed to us once, as if the whole of the sacred body inclined towards us. And then the clergyman turned to us and said: The Lord has said 'yes;' he who now doubts, or refuses, shall be burnt as an heretic, and I shall be the first to set fire to the pile.' Then you should have heard the silence that reigned among the people. I myself did not hear the 'yes' said, because I stood too far off, but there were many there who heard quite distinctly how the stone image opened its mouth and said 'yes' as does a bridegroom at the altar. The clergyman now numbered off the young men: 'Do you get down your spades and dig a large grave in the cemetery capable of holding at least thirty bodies. You,' he said to the older people, 'carry out the bodies and I will bless them so soon as the grave is ready.' Then turning to the young girls, 'do you draw water' and to the older women 'do you purify the houses,' Then he singled out some of the men and women and said, 'you come with me and we shall turn the church into an hospital.' What could we do, his eyes flamed like two fires, his gestures were those of a Kurfürst, or Apostle, or something higher yet. I believe he would have slain with one single word, as St. Paul did Ananias, whosoever had opposed him. By sun-down the village was purified, the sick brought into the Church. Whosoever fell ill, was carried there, in case he could not be properly taken care of at home, and every day the Parson inspects the houses with the old people, to see that nothing is neglected."

"He is indeed a wonderful man," remarked Erastus.

"He is a Catholic," said the old woman in a low tone, "he administers the last unction to the dying."

"Are you sure of that," said Erastus incredulously.

The old woman nodded. "The old faith was however better, it could perform miracles." Erastus stood up. The admiration he had felt for Laurenzano was turned by this one word into disgust. "With the old bogey of the Bare-footed monks and the new Jesuit tricks, he will endeavour to restore papistry here," said the excited physician. "So soon as the Magistrate has the courage to come out here, that stone object of idolatry must be pulled down. We will teach you to perform miracles and conversions." Enraged he stepped aside. He heard through the open windows of the Church the words of the evening service held by Laurenzano for the sick. No healthy person was allowed to enter, but the people stood in groups outside to catch through the open windows the words of the prayers offered. Erastus also approached. He heard how Paul explained the text of the Epistle of St. James to the sick. "Behold, we called them blessed which endured: ye have heard of the patience of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord, how that the Lord is full of pity and merciful." As a gentle soothing song sounded the melodious tone of the melancholy sermon from the church even to the place under the old lindens, fanned by the evening breeze: "Behold, we call them blessed which endured, endured even to the end. Our portion is grief and suffering but they are at rest in the peace of God; we rack our brains to find out how to build up once more our fortunes, they have entered into the rest of the Saints, and are concealed in the eternal mansions; we must raise once more our arms in hard work, whilst they lie in a peaceful calm slumber. Thousands of irksome paths await our weary tread, while their feet are in sweet repose after their long pilgrimage." It seemed as if the patients in their couches were now more tranquil. The groans of agony ceased, the cries of impatience were hushed. "Behold, we call them blessed, which endured," reechoed the preacher, "all of those who have gone forth through these portals to the silent chambers of God, have died in the Lord. But we also, who have been preserved for a fresh struggle, let us call ourselves blessed, in that we have suffered; for then only can we say with the Apostle: as we live, we live in the Lord. The destroying angel of God has come in among us like a prophet and he said: I have a word unto you, you children of men! He found you with your sorrows, cares, enmities, idle thoughts, your coarse enjoyments. Then came the dread angel of the Lord, and he asked you old people, what was the worth of that for which you fret, grieve, quarrel, strive after, in the presence of death. He asked you young maidens, what was the value of your ornaments, finery, and beauty, if the next morning the angel of the plague touched you with its finger. He knocked the cup out of your hands, young men, and hushed your lewd songs. He placed the hand of the brother in that of the sister, he made peace between father and son, between neighbor and relation. Therefore let us call ourselves blessed, that we have gone through this time of tribulation. We take our life from God, as a gift bestowed a second time upon us, now let us make use of it as ordered by the Giver, as being at all time in His hand, which He can at all time demand back in case we misuse it. Let us all, who have endured, suffered, hoped, and feared in common, who have seen in common our own snatched away from our hearts and carried out to that place, from which none return, laid in that grave, which will only open at the sound of the last trump, let us be from henceforth as one family, and when the old spirit of strife, self-seeking, greed returns, then do I place you before those graves, and before this altar, which to-day hears your groans of agony, and ask of you, how much all for which you may be striving may be worth, if the angel whom you have seen within the last days in all his dreadful majesty should return? Then will you live in the Lord, then shall we call you blessed, in that the appearance of the Holy Angel has made you wiser."

A touching prayer followed this discourse. Erastus was deeply moved. His wrath was gone. That which he had heard sounded so differently from the magister's former florid tirades rich in antitheses. Then used he to ape the preacher, this time had he preached. The listeners dispersed. As Erastus was slowly descending from the village, Paul caught him up, in order to accompany him on his way home. "You have petitioned the Council to free you from your spiritual functions," said Erastus, "I see however that you have not observed your own proposal."

"I was ill," said Paul, "sick at heart, poor and suffering, I felt that I had no longer any right to teach others, when I sent in that request," and a sad smile passed over his delicate, pale face. "When I however found that I could do some good by preaching, I naturally overlooked my unworthiness. It would have been very wrong under such circumstances to think of one's self. I am thankful to-day to God, that he sent me this tribulation, which returned to my withered-up heart, the power to think of, and feel for the sorrow of others. These times have been a great blessing for me." As Erastus kept silent, Paul continued. "I have also become convinced once more, of the power of the Church offices as a guide to the ignorant. Only by prayer can these demoniacal powers be subdued. In spite of all reason I had been helpless without preaching and praying."

"You are forgetting the miracles," said Erastus sarcastically. Paul looked at him abashed. "Why do you attain your good intentions by deception and evident quackery? How about that miracle on the Kreuzweg?"

The young Priest smiled. "You have been in Bologna," he said, "and have seen the leaning tower, the Asinella:

This same phenomenon happened to me, when addressing the people. The clouds were being driven by the wind across the blue heaven back of the cross, which, since the rough spoliation of the other figures stands much out of the perpendicular, so that it appears in fact the more the sky is cast over, the more to nod or bend over. No one noticed this. But when I saw that the crowd was deeply affected by the sudden death of a wicked youth, who broke his neck at the time I prophesied, it shot through my brain, to weld the iron whilst it was hot. Thus I made the second miracle quickly succeed the first. You shake your head, but I had no other means to bring the people for their own good under my power. If ever a pia fraus was permissible it was then."

"You are a Romanist," said Erastus coldly.

"I am," answered the young Priest, who seemed to increase in stature. "I shall however leave the Palatinate, so soon as matters are so far in order here, that your officials and clergy can carry on the work." Saying this he stretched out his hand to Erastus as if for a last farewell. The physician hesitatingly gave him his lame right hand. "May it be well with you," he said. But he thought to himself: "from to-day our paths are separate." As Erastus later on reaching a turn in the road looked back, he saw the young Priest coming out of a house with a child in his arms, leading another by the hand. The little ones had apparently lost their parents.

CHAPTER V.

Erastus found a more systematic order in Petersthal, on his return in the evening, but still much was wanting, as the four physicians with their dozen assistants had only accomplished the half of what the Priest had done single handed in the much larger district of Schönau. The laborers themselves had been obliged to undertake the burial of the dead and the cleaning of the streets, all the healthy men having fled. It was impossible to think of cleaning the houses, the women asserted that they were all too weak to help in any way. They could not even be induced to give up the beds and clothing they had used to be burnt, or to purify and air their houses. Out of humor, angry, and wearied of their fruitless toil, the physicians sat together round one of the carts, which they had fitted up as their night-quarters. The horses were fastened to the trees, whilst each man made ready with the means at hand. Erastus still went about the neighboring houses, to at least aid the sick as far as possible, and only when darkness prevented any further visitation did the conscientious physician seek his own narrow cart. Wearied he stretched himself out and gazed upwards at the starry sky, whose pure beauty formed a singular contrast to the misery going on around him. Jupiter beamed in calm splendor, and to the South shone the ruddy Mars. "Can your conjunctions have anything to do with death, plague and pestilence?" thought the physician, who was generally known as an opponent of astrology. Then he also slumbered off, but in his restless sleep he heard the laborers stealing the provision and guzzling the wine set aside for the sick. Towards morning there was an alarm. Some scoundrels had furtively approached the provision cart and attempted to quietly draw it away. But two of the laborers, who contrary to Erastus' orders had laid down between some sacks, awoke and roared for help, at which the thieves disappeared in the darkness. At day-break the expedition arose with stiff limbs, heavy heads, and in a most dejected condition of mind. The fruitless negotiations with the people demoralised through sickness began anew. As Erastus perceived that in this way he would never attain his object, he determined to copy the example which had been set him the day previous. He turned his back to the scolding women, and directed his steps towards the church, whose steeple ranged high above the houses and trees. Surrounded by a low broken down wall, the small white village church gleamed through the fruit trees amidst wooden crosses and sunken graves. The physician thought of turning this into an hospital, but the narrow space would only hold at the most thirty patients. He had to take hay and straw by force from the stalls, and with these the laborers prepared a clean litter along the walls of the church. Erastus and some of his assistants returned to the carts to fetch blankets and linen. On his return, he saw a column of smoke arising near the chapel and an alarm of fire was raised in the quiet village. A peasant enraged at the forcible abstraction of his hay, had set his whole provision on fire, and stole unmolested away. It was useless to think of extinguishing the flames. With a grim laugh the laborers sat on the walls of the church-yard and looked on at the little church burning down. "If these people will not help themselves in any way," said the physicians, "let us leave them. When the pestilence has raged itself out it will cease of itself." Erastus urged them to make one more house to house visitation. They shrugged their shoulders and left it to him. The well intentioned physician met only with senseless objections or coarse abuse on giving orders in the nearest house, that the infected objects should be burnt. He at length lost all patience, and declared he would hand over no provisions to those who refused to obey his directions. He then together with his laborers began clearing out the empty farm-yards, so that after this work had been completed, the healthy could occupy them instead of their infected dens in the village. Here and there large fires fed by the straw beds of the patients now flamed up, and the disgusting smell of burnt linen filled the entire valley. But Erastus' own people had had already enough of the affair. Nothing was done as quick as he ordered it, or as he had ordered it. The laborers took advantage of the evacuation of the sick-dens to pilfer, as predicted by the peasants, and the villagers stood in angry groups together consulting as to whether they could not resist by force the attacks of these strangers. Finally Erastus was compelled to make the humiliating confession to himself, that without priestly intervention he could never attain his object among this debased population. Paul's miracle on the Kreuzweg appeared to him now in a much milder light. So he sat down on a stone and wrote a letter to the Magister. "Jurists and medical men abdicate, and pray for help from the theologians," he began his request to Paul, asking him whether he could not leave Schönau to itself for a short while, so as to place matters here on a better footing. One of the laborers was despatched to the monastery with this prayer to the miracle-monger, a request disagreeable enough to Erastus, who himself returned once more to his thankless duties. The mood of the peasants had now become belligerent. They stood around the carts in groups and declared that the Kurfürst had sent these provisions for their benefit, and that the Counsellor had no right to withhold them. Some of the men and youths, who had kept out of the way on the previous day, now mingled among the groups. They were presumably the same who had made the nightly attack on the cart containing the provisions. Erastus had to summon his men from their work to guard the wagons. The physicians themselves began to be weary of their work. "Let us give the provisions to this rebellious peasantry and leave them to their fate," they said. Whilst thus a violent discussion arose among the members of the Commission, an impudent youth sprang upon the provision cart and tore down the linen covering. Immediately the women surrounded the cart and seized casks and sacks with eager hands. Suddenly the trot of horses was heard at the entrance of the village. "The police magistrate with four mounted men," cried a laborer, "he knows what is necessary to do." The women crept off, in an instant the crowd dispersed and the young men disappeared behind the houses. Herr Hartmann Hartmanni, "the learned Magistrate," as he was wont to be called by the guests at the Hirsch, appeared on the spot and sprang from his horse. He was a handsome man, this magistrate, but his tall figure was broken down through dissipation. Only a few sparse black hairs covered the head of this man yet in the prime of life, and all the seven mortal sins had left their traces on his worn face. His eyes were crooked, and his legs no longer carried out the wishes of their owner. Although the ends of his moustache curled up grimly, the corners of the mouth were weak and flabby. For so severe a man his bearing was rather affected, as he much liked to show off the learning, which he owed to the old school of humanity at Heidelberg. Herr Hartmann Hartmanni did not like work. Instead of fulfilling his office at the town-hall, he preferred making verses, and the reports of his examinations often read like poems. The Kurfürst wished to dismiss him, but the Amtmann of Heidelberg had rendered to Frederic III., at the death of Otto Heinrich, a signal service. He had enabled the poor Duke of Simmern to enter Heidelberg in sufficient time to possess himself of his legitimate inheritance, which the Duke Albert of Bavaria was already preparing to seize. Thus the Kurfürst felt himself bound down by personal obligations, and many a Prince has been compelled to adopt new reforms to render an official whom he does not wish to offend harmless. Herr Hartmann's bad management had rendered the idea of handing over police management to the Presbyters more acceptable to Frederic III., as the Church alone seemed to have an earnest desire to punish sin. Naturally the Magistrate himself was numbered among the friends of the Geneva Ban who would thus relieve him of a part of his burdensome duties. Such was the man who now appeared on Paolo's battle-field of Schönau. Half rake, half pedant he presented at no time a pleasant appearance, but that day he was as wonderfully decked out as if he had copied Holbein's picture of the plague-doctor. In one hand he had a bottle of vinegar which he clapped to his nose so soon as the smell of burnt bedding reached his nostrils; in the other he held drawn his longest sword, as if to keep away every danger from his person. If he had to touch anything, he dropped the vinegar bottle into his pocket, and brought out a pair of tweazers, with which he held out the objects, although he appeared well protected by thick leather gloves. Doublet and hose were stuffed out with camomile and peppermint, and in case this did not suffice, around his breast and back hung hollow balls pierced with holes, from which spunges steeped in medicines, spread a stupefying odor. Deadly fear and silent rage at the disgusting duty imposed on him were expressed on his dark countenance. His first magisterial duty was to arrest the peasant who had caused the fire, and who for the time was bound to a tree. The soldiers brought about by blows and curses the execution of the precautionary measures, which the physician had been vainly endeavouring for the last twenty-four hours to induce the obstinate peasant-women to adopt. At midday the Magistrate held an inquiry as to how the plague had crept in. At first the women kept a sullen silence, till finally a young wench on whose features idiocy was plainly marked stepped forward and related like some cackling hen her confused tale. Every evening before the outburst of the pestilence, a dog with fiery eyes had run across the village snapping at the houses. Wherever he had stopped, the plague declared itself within seven days. The dog was in fact no one else but the herb-woman of the Kreuzgrund, in whose hut he always disappeared. The infection had left off at the Kreuzgrund, not a single person had died there. "So she is again to the front," said the Magistrate. "In the office there is already a series of papers about her misdeeds. Now is she ripe for the stake. Does not her appearance quite coincide with the story of the mad dog at Ephesus, which Apollonius of Tyana ordered to be stoned to death?" he said turning to the Counsellor. Erastus however returned to his cart, he would have nothing to do with the matter. The Magistrate mounted accompanied by two men, to arrest Mother Sibylla. Near them ran the girl who had accused the witch to act as guide. "That she is a witch," she said panting, "one can know from her always having butter, and yet no one has ever seen her churning. She has charmed my Peter and he now keeps company with Sue, and my mother's pains are also owing to her. But there is her house, I won't go any further, else she will do me some harm." The old woman's hut lay in the woody green Seitenthal, whose stream turned the wheels of Werner's mill. It was a small house black with smoke and age having blind windows. The door was shut, one of the soldiers looked through the cracks: "All is empty, she escaped up the chimney the moment she heard us coming."

"Dismount, we must make an inventory," ordered the Magistrate. The men dismounted and a strong shove soon broke in the door of the empty hut. On entering the soldiers made the sign of the cross to guard themselves from the magic arts of the escaped witch. This was a catholic custom and it was well for them that none of the gentlemen forming the Church Council saw them otherwise they would have been dismissed from the service. The room was empty. Only a large black cat sitting by the hearth, glared with ferocious green eyes at the uninvited guests. "Could that be the witch in person." The sergeant approached, "Jesus, Maria, Joseph," he yelled out as the cat made a spring forward and disappeared through the open door. Herr Hartmann Hartmanni maintained his composure, but nevertheless let his men precede him, so that they might fall victims to any magic curse, which the old woman might have left behind. He also took care not to touch anything. Whatever was to be confiscated, he let the soldiers take away. There was however not much. Above the empty hearth, hung a fox's skin, as well as other furs and hides, placed there by the witch to be dried out. A box with old iron seemed to Herr Hartmann to resemble the nails of a scaffold, and the rope hanging near might have been used for hanging. Brooms leaning against the chimney appeared to him worthy of suspicion. All kinds of flowers and herbs were laid out on boards or in wicker-baskets to be dried: elder, dandelions, camomile, lime-blossoms, and others, though it was not really necessary for the devil to have taught mother Sibylla their properties. The disappointed police-officers looked at each other, was that really a witch's kitchen? The sergeant came a sudden exclamation of joy and pointed to a small trap-door carefully concealed by old clothes. Herr Hartmann pushed it open with his sword, and as it gave way ordered the officer to open it. "Here we have her household ware," said the Amtmann with a furious look. The men entered into the room. The bleached skull of a horse gazed at them with hollowed eyes from the opposite wall. On old pots and broken dishes lay dried wolves' eyes, birds' hearts, owls' feathers and claws. Snakes with black backs and white bellies were seen in tightly corked glass bottles, as well as horribly distended toads. Lizards with far cleverer eyes than those of the men looking at them returned their gaze from the glassy confines in which they were placed. On the window-sill were little bottles with salves, fern-seeds, vervain and all kinds of magic powders. That which however most served to convict the witch, was a basket which the wicked old woman had evidently placed hurriedly down after her last trip, before escaping, for in it lay carefully wrapped up in rags and small boxes, all kinds of snake skeletons, toads' bones, a child's skull, wolf's hair, a bottle with pigeon's blood, and numerous bits of paper on which curious symbols were inscribed, together with a skillet with tinder and flint used to cook the witch's broth in the woods. Herr Hartmann Hartmanni did not appear quite satisfied. "A miserably low slut," he said contemptuously, "the whole find is not worth fifty thalers. Take up the basket, as it is, and the old pots with their contents. This Satan's bride has concealed her more valuable implements, otherwise I should have managed to scrape together a pretty considerable sum out of these confiscated pots and kettles. But Master Hammerling will soon open her mouth, and make her tell, where she has hidden her treasure, the moment we have caught her."

"She won't let herself be caught," said the sergeant, "she is now away with the plague, and God only knows what shape she will assume, and whether she won't appear to us to-night as a nightmare."

"The plague take it," said the Amtmann tremblingly.

"I think, Sir," continued the soldier, "it would be as well to leave her property untouched, one never knows how she may revenge herself. It once came to pass, that the Magistrate at Mosbach, after he had confiscated the witch's rubbish, went quietly to bed thinking that his beloved wife was already there; she however turned out to be the witch, pulled his leg out of the socket and otherwise injured him, then she vanished up the chimney, and what he had taken from her, had the next morning disappeared, in spite of having been carefully deposited under lock and key. I vote that we leave it all, as it is."

The Magistrate turned pale. "We can perhaps affix a seal," he murmured. At this instant a long dark figure appeared at the doorway. "Good Heavens," ejaculated the sergeant.

"Holy Martin," stuttered out the Magistrate, utterly regardless of the protestant doctrines.

"Is not the Counsellor Erastus here?" inquired Magister Laurenzano in his musical voice.

"Oh, is it you, Magister," said the Magistrate quite relieved. "You will find the Counsellor in the village, but could you not tell us, where to find the old witch, who lives in this hole?"

"What is she guilty of now?" asked Paul.

The Amtmann answered pathetically. "Strong evidence is adduced, that it was she, who caused the pestilence." Seeing the Magister turn pale, Herr Hartmann raised his arm in a tragic manner. The sight of the learned and renowned pulpit orator inspired him. "Not without reason," began he his declamation, "is this wicked old woman named Sibylla. She has gathered near the Linsenteich the herbs, whose juices, as Plinius tells us, infuse corruption through all the channels of the body. By the white stone, where thorn and thistle thickly growing prevent an access, by the marshy alder stream, by all solitary moors, among the reedy thickets of the Kimmelsbach, in short everywhere, where the tread of man is seldom heard, has she been seen crouching, ensnaring toads and conversing with will-o-the wisps. Among the ruins of the Heiligenberg, where vipers wreath, and in yonder silent woods, where the mountain-cock was her solitary companion, has she been seen, as she divided the invisible regions of the air with hazel-twigs, brought down hail, and murmured invocations whilst crouching in the dust. She has poisoned the source of this brook, so that it brought the plague into the town, and transformed in the similitude of a dog has dropped the poisonous foam in the dark evening hour, on the thresholds of those houses, in which according to evidence the plague first broke out. See here the implements of Satan," and he rapped upon the confiscated wares of the witch, "behold the black and white wand of Circe," said he, taking up a half-pealed hazel-stick from the corner and handing it to the Magister. A lurid fire gleamed in the widely distended eyes of the young Priest, excited at the account of these horrors. "Behold," continued the Magistrate carried away by his own discourse, "the hellish distillations, which she obtained drop by drop from the roots and stalks of plants, see, how she bottled the night-dew and poison of the fulsome toad, to sprinkle over innocent children, here in this kettle did she boil the poisonous vapours, which rising upwards to the clouds came down again as the seeds of pestilence, and behold moreover how this beauteous green wooded valley is already withered by the breath of the witch." Paul Laurenzano turned pale with excitement, his breath came and went quickly and audibly. The old fire of fanaticism gleamed in his dark eye. "I think I know who has concealed her," he said with tremulous voice. "Come, I will guide you."

The Amtmann strode reverentially at the side of the young clergyman. The soldiers followed at a short interval leading the Magistrate's horse. Having proceeded for a brief space, the Magister left the road, and followed the course of a stream towards a mill. "Even in Schönau," he now said, "the report has spread, that the old witch brought in the plague, and as she was not safe in her house, you will find her concealed by the old Dissenter, Miller Werner." Behind the green orchard, overshadowed by poplars and elders, lay the mill sought for by the troop of police, an emblem of peace. The front window-shutters were closed, but the clappering wheels untiringly spoke by day and night the praise of the man, who even during these terrible times had not ceased working, but made bread for the starving inhabitants out of the newly gathered in harvest. The inhabitants of the mill had not heard the arrival of the soldiers owing to the noise of the wheels, but the Magistrate rapped loudly with the pommel of his sword on the closed shutters.

"Don't break in my windows. Peace-breaker," called out the voice of old Werner, "is that the way you ask for bread?" The shutter flew open and the weather-beaten face of the gray headed miller appeared. Surprised, yet without fear, he surveyed the group before his house, whilst the red head of his boy, sprinkled over with flour, like the stalk of a red lily, cropped up behind him curious to hear what all this was about? But before the Baptist could express any astonishment the Magistrate began: "You are sheltering the old witch. Give her up else you will find yourself in the square tower, which you well know."

"Of what is she accused?" asked the old Miller calmly.

"Of spreading the plague," answered Herr Hartmann Hartmanni with due solemnity.

"And you, the Prince's Magistrate believe, that an old woman can have caused all the misery which the united officials of the Palatinate could not prevent? In that case, sir, do not lay your hand on her, lest she injure you through incantations."

"You admit then, that she is here?" asked the Magistrate.

The Baptist made a sign behind his back, and his red-headed boy disappeared through a door leading from within. Instead of answering the question, he then said,

"It is curious, for weeks we have been waiting for the officials to aid in stemming the pestilence. My provisions are devoured, my faithful Martha is worn to a shadow through running, watching and attending others, government however let us rot and perish. But now, now that the plague is almost gone, riders and carts come to take off an old woman who is accused of being the cause of all the trouble." Herr Hartmann Hartmanni was rather taken aback at this unexpected onslaught, but a tremendous noise at the back of the house prevented him from making any answer. A horrible crowing, squeaking, and grunting was heard to proceed from a distant hay-rick. The horse of the sergeant leapt wildly neighing with emptied saddle over the garden hedge, whilst its gigantic master lay miserably grovelling in the dust. The other police officer cursed and swore, whilst endeavoring to hold on to the bridle of the dismounted magistrate's shying steed without letting his own bolt. Paul sprang forwards to discover the cause of the confusion. An old woman ran in his way thinking to reach the mountains unobserved. He laid tight hold of her and immediately the sergeant who had been thrown off picked himself up and seized the old woman by the arm. "Devils' witch," he said, "we will serve thee out for this." At the same moment loud spanks and mournful wails were heard from behind the house. "He who does not hear, must feel, foolish boy," roared the angry voice of the Miller. "How often have I told you not to play the devil. Now thou alone hast made the matter look bad." The two groups met together at the door, the angry Miller holding his howling son by the ear, the Parson and the sergeant hauling along the old woman, who let her feet drag over the ground, uttering the most bestial cries. "Did I not sell you the snakes," she said every now and then to the Parson, "let me go. You also use snakes for your enchantments." At this disgusting sight the Miller let his boy loose. "Shame on you," he cried, "to thus ill-use an old woman, you especially, a Priest!"

"Witch and heretic house together, that has ever been an old custom," replied the Magister angrily, whilst the sergeant and his officer bound the old woman and then threw her on the ground.

"You have given shelter to the witch," now said the Magistrate, "we heard in your yard with our own ears the neighing of the devilish host, who with horns, tails, and claws galloped close past the sergeant as he lay on the ground...."

"Dost thou see, George, what thou hast brought about," interposed the Miller, seizing his boy once more by the arm and shaking him. "He it was who imitated the hellish voices, to laugh over your fright, other devils are not to be found in my house. You will make yourselves ridiculous, if it is known, that you let yourselves be taken in by a child."

Solemnly Herr Hartmann Hartmanni turned round to the red-headed George, who stood sheepishly near the fence not understanding the extent of the danger to his person. "Good, then he goes also with us to Heidelberg, and if he be not found guilty of more devilish arts, he will nevertheless get his quantum satis of birching for ridiculing the district magistrate."

"You will certainly never lock up a mere child in the witch's tower for a boyish trick for which he has been already punished?" said the Miller. "What will become of a child in this terrible prison, he will be frightened to death."

"You will keep him company," now broke in the Magister, "Herr Hermanni, I accuse this Baptist and heretic of intriguing for his sect contrary to the prince's mandates. He has lately availed himself of the terror caused by the plague, and also re-baptised certain families living in Schönau. Besides this you are witness, that he is in communication with the witch who is to be found on all cross-roads."

The Miller drew himself to his full height. "And thou priest of Baal, darest thou speak of cross-roads. Who is it makes appointments with innocent girls after sun-down on the cross-roads, yes, and the worst in repute of the whole district, where evil spirits, or rather evil passions abound." And once more the Miller pushed his boy to the front and called out: "Look on that boy, he it is to whom thou didst entrust thy filthy message." Pale as death Paul made a step backwards. Had when in decent company the whole of his clothes suddenly fallen off his body, he would have scarcely felt such a shock, as he did at his moral nakedness being thus exposed. A painful silence now reigned, all the more annihilating for the young Priest, as the audience had lately been increased, attracted by the noise the Heidelberg physicians together with the laborers and numerous peasant women had hastened up. All watched Paul's lips intently, to hear how he would answer such a serious charge. But he remained silent. It seemed to him as if he had become transparent, and every one pried into his filthy secrets with mocking eyes.

Then the witch on the ground squeaked out. "He it was who enticed Herr Erastus' fair haired daughter of a dark night to the Holtermann."

"What sayest thou of my daughter?" cried out Erastus, approaching the old woman in a rage.

"Well, the Counsellor must best know where it was that his daughter broke her little foot. The Parson wanted to play at marriage with her on the cross-road, where the Evil One meets his mistress every night. But others came before the gentleman, and the bride sprang into the Heidenloch, and that was too humid a bride-chamber for Sir Parson."

"You keep silent, old Dragon," whispered the old Miller, giving her a kick with his foot, but the bound witch only called out her wondrous tale doubly loud to the people around. Erastus' features became distorted, he laughed through very excitement. He resembled at that moment in his maddening sorrow the Devil himself, as his enemies averred; his hair bristled up, his face became black, whilst the white of his eye gleamed horribly from out of his darkened countenance. The cowardly Magistrate drew back. Among what sort of people had he fallen! He had long known Erastus to be a heretic; but now his daughter was a witch; he himself perhaps a sorcerer; did not the terrible man look exactly like one at that moment. And the foreign Parson moreover, whom Herr Hartmanni had never trusted, and who, as he the Magistrate of the district had just been informed, also bought witches' wares, held converse with the Evil one on the cross-road, and brought young maidens to his nightly revels. Not to mention the Baptist, his devilish boy, and the bound witch herself, who fixed him with an evil glare. Everyone who stood there must be clapped into the witches' tower on the Zwinger, but to do this he must have a warrant from the Kurfürst. He must also return with at least half a company of crossbow-men to this valley and root out all heresy and witchcraft. Without saying a word he mounted his horse and rode out of shot of his dreadful neighbors. Then he called out: "The examination can take place in Heidelberg, my business here is at an end. Sergeant, you deliver the witch and incendiary into the tower." He then set spurs to his horse, ordered the other officers in the village to follow him and trotted away as quick as he possibly could down the valley, still in mortal terror of being pursued by this conventicle of witches and heretics. The sergeant and the officer placed the fettered witch between their horses and thus brought her to the village, when being bound together with the peasant to a cart they made their way to the Tower. The Miller had in the meanwhile taken his boy by the arm; they went into the house to the old Martha. Erastus remained behind; he went up close to the young Priest, who stood silently leaning against a pear tree. "Magister Laurenzano," said the wretched father in a husky voice, "is there any truth in the statement made by the witch?" The young Priest remained silent. He looked down as if overwhelmed. "Did you entice Lydia by night to the Holtermann?" now shrieked the Physician in wild despair. The Priest bowed his head. The tall physician fell prostrate on the ground. His companions sprang forwards and carried him to one of the carts, whilst the Priest with his face buried in his hands hastened away.

All was once more still in front of the Miller's house. The frightened fowls ran hither and thither in the down-trodden grass. The mill-wheels clappered their monotonous old song, and gaily gleamed the rivulet in the bright midday sun, while many colored butterflies and dark dragonflies hovered around it. The passionate sobbing of women arose from the interior of the mill. After a while, Father Werner and his son appeared at the edge of the wood, both bearing knapsacks on their backs. The Miller knew, what to expect at the return of the Magistrate and made his way to the nearest frontier. Red-headed George on the other hand seemed not to consider the matter in so serious a light; he followed after his enraged progenitor quite calmly. "Father do not hurry so," he said panting, "the Heidelberg police are always late."