Roast goose was the centrepiece of the traditional fare, and if England was suffering from famine this year, there was no sign of it here in Würtemberg, a city whose people’s pleasure in rich food, served with abundance and generosity, was legendary.
‘To the perfect environment for a perfect Christmas. Health and long life to our host and his charming wife.’ The earl raised his glass and we drank the toast. This environment saw him at his best; after years of imprisonment, he enjoyed company, and the warmth of the family atmosphere made us all feel secure.
His Grace was right about the city It was an ideal resting-place during the festivities. The previous evening we had wandered round the huge marketplace, lit entirely with rushes and candles, and sampled food and wine from the many stalls. Then we had ambled beside the river, along Gartenstrasse, a wide walkway between quiet gardens and a favourite place for townspeople to walk. Already we could feel our energies being restored and our courage for the journey ahead fortified.
Thomas, most of all, seemed in his element. He had invited me to join him in a number of fascinating discussions with Professor Fuchs, who proved easily able to match his reputation for erudition. Thomas told me the professor’s background. At the age of twenty-three he had graduated from the university of Ingolstadt both as Master of Arts and Doctor of Medicine, and pursued the study of medicine for many years thereafter. He had, in the process, become concerned that many physicians were woefully ignorant of both the medicines they prescribed and the plants from which those medicines were derived, and he had committed himself to rectifying this.
De Historia Stirpium was his contribution: a book on herbs and herbal medicines, in which the illustrations, created and printed from woodblocks, were of such importance that he named and thanked the painter, the draughtsman and the woodcutter who were responsible for their creation. This was one of the books that Thomas had planned to purchase in Basel, where originally it had been printed in 1542, and so he was speechless with pleasure when the great man presented him with a signed copy.
Like Thomas, Fuchs was a believer in the pragmatic research of Vesalius and, like him, was unwilling to follow Galen and others in accepting the information found in old books unless he had personally satisfied himself of its truth, by observation and analysis. His book demonstrated how carefully he had observed his subjects.
He was explaining his approach, using the phrase ‘Observe, interpret, draw, attach notes,’ when both Thomas and I began to grin. The professor could not see the funny side, especially when I made an aside to Thomas that his approach was ‘more complicated than yours’. Thomas had to explain that ‘observe, draw, attach notes’ was a much-repeated maxim between us, and that we were therefore surprised to hear it used so far from home. Fuchs was not at all surprised, for, as he said, ‘Vesalius used that phrase, and I learned it from him on a visit to Padua. I believe you also were there for some time.’
Thomas confirmed that he was, but asked why Fuchs had added a further word of his own.
‘ “Interpret”? Yes, I added that word. I felt it was necessary when talking to my students to get them to think about what they were seeing before drawing it. We must ask ourselves not only what the form is, but what purpose that form supports, and why God made it that way.’
Thomas and I looked at each other and nodded. We immediately agreed to adopt the additional word and Professor Fuchs smiled benignly at us. We had learned a good lesson and made a good friend.
CHAPTER 10
December the 30th 1555 – Augsburg, Bavaria
We left Tübingen with heavy hearts on December the 28th and crossed into Bavaria. Leonhard Fuchs had made us so welcome during our stay that we found it hard to drag ourselves away from him, but as soon as Eckhardt and Niccolò rejoined us, we knew it was time to move on.
Our guides now began to make us nervous, for not only did they take pleasure in reminding us how enormous were the mountains we would have to cross, they also kept telling us that we were in for a surprise, while refusing steadfastly to give us any clue as to what it was. Perhaps we should have been warned by our company on the roads as we approached Augsburg: with each hour, the number of travellers around us increased, and although we were in what was usually considered the quiet period between Christmas and New Year’s Day, the roads were almost crowded.
Our first thought was that our fellow travellers must be pilgrims, but that idea was quickly refuted by their manner. These were no pious or poor pilgrims; these were tough, experienced travellers, who knew the road and showed a sense of urgency not usually seen amongst the religious travellers. It did not take long for the truth to dawn, for we were approaching Augsburg, one of the great cities of Europe, named after Caesar Augustus, who had founded it in the year 15BC, as one of the northernmost limits of the Roman Empire.
Now the Free Imperial City had a new purpose, for as the home of the three great merchant families of Fugger, Rem and Welser, it had become the banking centre of southern Europe and financed trade and merchant activity from China and the East Indies to the province of Caracas in Venezuela and across Europe as far as London. We were entering the world of the wealthiest men in Europe, and now, and only now, our guides revealed their secret.
Far from being a remote and tiny mountain path to be travelled with only their guidance, our way forward over the Brenner Pass into the Italian States was a great trade highway – a huge road, busier and more important by far than the Silk Road about which so many romantic stories had been told, for it carried into northern Europe nearly all of the silks, spices and other exotic products that were brought along the Silk Road as well as those that arrived through the Byzantine empire by ship into Venice.
Although it was late in the evening when we arrived, the city was packed with people of all nationalities and we struggled through the crowds to find some poor accommodation. Not that it mattered, for the sights, sounds and smells of the city were so exciting that none of us wanted to go to his bed until very late; we could always sleep in the cart tomorrow
We woke early, wanting to see more of Augsburg before we embarked on the next stage of our journey The city was truly amazing: in addition to the merchants and traders, the streets were full of diplomats and clerics, both Catholic and Lutheran, many of whom had apparently been there since the previous February in attendance at the Imperial Diet. This had met to address the growing rift between the two religious groups which had finally reached such a crescendo that the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V had called the sides together to make a peace agreement. They had argued and fought over every word for months, but in the end had signed the Peace of Augsburg, on September the 25th 1555. Since then there had been continuing arguments over the interpretation of the peace agreement; judging by the number of interested parties still present, the arguments would continue for some time.
Eckhardt explained to me the significance of the agreement. It formally recognized only two religious authorities, he said: Catholic and Lutheran; and it laid down the terms under which they would coexist in peace.
A fine theory. In practice, only one denomination was to be officially recognized in each imperial state, and the religion of the respective prince’s choice was thus made obligatory for his subjects. The peace, Eckhardt said, was holding throughout most of the German-speaking states, but it was a brittle peace.
As always, it seemed, there was one law for the poor and another for the rich. Here, as in other free imperial cities, citizens were, in theory, allowed to exercise their religion as they pleased. The reality was different. In Augsburg, the power and wealth of the great Catholic families was so great that they rode roughshod over the agreement while the ink was still wet, and Lutherans were once again being hounded out. Despite its money and power, it was not altogether a happy city.
I shook my head. ‘What a world. Why can men not find a way to exist peacefully beside their fellow men, tolerating their religious opinions and agreeing to differ, while continuing to work together?
’
Eckhardt agreed. It was hard to understand and even harder to accept. ‘In Venice they have a more casual approach, which you may find more to your liking.’
Looking back at the ‘Free’ Imperial City as we departed, I certainly hoped that was true. I would soon know.
CHAPTER 11
January the 9th 1556 – Bolzano, Alto Adige
Dear Father and Mother,
So much has happened since I last had an opportunity to write.
We have travelled right across Germany, led by a new guide, a German called Eckhardt Danner, who joined us at Cologne. The weather has been kind to us and the German people, generally, have been helpful and friendly.
We spent Christmas at Tübingen, a beautiful old city with a very ancient and prestigious university. There Professor Fuchs, who is a famous physician and expert on plant medicines, entertained us.
From there we passed to Augsburg, a great city, perhaps larger than London, and certainly much wealthier. It is the home of the Fugger family, wealthy merchants, who finance trade all over the world, but especially between Venice and northern Europe. We left Augsburg on January the 2nd and began to climb into the mountains as part of a larger travelling party. We accepted our Fugger guide’s recommendation that our carts should be modified to allow them to be towed by oxen. His Grace was concerned that oxen would slow us down, but their ability to maintain a steady speed in the face of steep hills is remarkable, and by the time we reached Garmisch Partenkirchen, we were pleased to have made the change.
Most of the merchandise using the route comes north, and so there are many carts returning south half-empty We have therefore been able to ride these carts, and all of our horses have been able to walk unburdened and unsaddled, at oxen pace, which has eased the challenge of the mountains for us and for them.
When we joined the Fuggers, there were over thirty strangers travelling in the party. Slowly, we have begun to speak, and with little to do but ride the carts, we have become a sort of family, with each of us falling into a role within the group. Amongst our travelling companions are a prioress, two nuns, a friar and a number of other priests, most of whom are travelling on to Rome.
Thomas has been accepted as the physician, giving advice and caring for the ailments of our party, although to date there have been few. His Grace, however, does not join us in the carts, but has a tendency to ride on ahead as we approach our final destination for the day, taking charge of the sleeping and eating arrangements. I do not believe he trusts anyone else to look after his interests, and he always seems to have the best room when we settle for the night. Some of the English members of the party have christened him ‘The Knight’, for he is fond of wearing some of his armour outside his clothing when on the road. I think he believes it sets him apart from the rest of us. He certainly manages to look a picture of chivalry and has been catching the eye of a married lady from Baden-Baden, who is travelling south to join her husband in Verona.
Many of the travellers are merchants who seem to travel vast distances across Europe and into the Byzantine Empire. They appear tough and self-sufficient but are extremely interesting once they start to talk. We also have some sailors: one shipman tells me he has crossed the Atlantic Ocean and visited a place called Caracas. He says the Fuggers financed the original voyage that discovered it and now they own it. It is hard to understand people owning countries but, having seen the wealth in Augsburg, I am willing to believe anything.
By January the 4th I assumed we had crossed the high mountains, for we began to descend again into a beautiful valley called Seefeld. From there we followed a precipitous path into an even larger valley and proceeded to the city of Innsbrück. As we approached, any thoughts that we had already passed the highest mountains were dashed by the snow-topped peaks that came into view. For the next two and a half days, we paid the price of climbing downward by having to ascend again; this time much higher. Amazingly, the road is magnificent. I have no idea how these mountain people make roads so wide and comfortable, but having done so, they reap their reward, for we have to pay handsomely for every ox, cart, guide and resting-place along the way.
Finally on the afternoon of January the 7th, we reached the highest point, known as the Passo di Brenna. It was as if the earth had fallen away from us. But the guides would not let us rest and drove the party forward with renewed energy. We entered the valley of the Adige River and followed it down, and down, and down again, through Chiusa, eventually arriving here in Bolzano.
Even now, we have not fully reached the plain below, but the country is beginning to flatten out and finally we can safely say the mountains are behind us. The last week has been a most miraculous experience and I was so pleased, when we rested last night, to meet a merchant, a manciple, who is travelling in the other direction – all the way to London – having completed his purchases in Venice. He has kindly agreed to take this letter that far, and I hope it will finally reach you. By that time, we will have reached our destination. It is feeling warmer already.
There is one amusing incident I must tell you of before I give this message to our carrier. Last night I wandered the market here, buying bread and enjoying stretching my legs. I decided to practise my Italian, and the baker asked me if I was from Venice. He said I had a Venetian accent! I thought long and hard about this and remembered that Lady Jane had regularly practised her Italian at Court with the Venetian Ambassador. Strange, but I suppose it would have been stranger still had the baker in Bolzano recognized a Devon accent!
The carrier is waiting, so I must end. Do not worry about me. All is well, and also with Thomas. Please pass this message to his family, in case his letter (which travels also with the manciple) does not succeed as well as this one. I will write again on arrival.
Your loving son,
Richard
PART 2
Arrival
CHAPTER 12
January the 14th 1556 – Albergo Il Bo, Padua, Republic of Venice
‘Padova, La Bellissima!’
I looked across at Thomas and was surprised to see he had tears in his eyes. It might have been relief, I thought, for it was over fifty days since we had left Louvain, and apart from our four days’ rest over Christmas we had been travelling fairly continuously for over seven weeks. But it soon became clear he was overcome by the sheer pleasure of returning to this beautiful city where, as he had told me many times, he had spent four very happy years as a young medical student.
‘It is such a pleasure to see you again.’ Thomas was leaning on the pommel of his saddle and staring, lost in thought, across the frosty plain, quietly talking to the city walls as if they were old friends.
It could not have been a more perfect setting for his return, for the weather was clear but almost windless. With the sun setting behind our right shoulders, we could almost feel the warmth radiating from the city walls, their deep orange glow tinged with purple as the sun dropped behind the hazy blue Euganean Hills, now sticking up like a row of upturned cups along the ruler-flat plain only a few miles to the south-west.
‘I don’t think I was ever as happy as I was here.’ Thomas was indeed a picture of happiness as we rode together towards the great gates. ‘We were young, fit and keen to learn. We worked hard, we played hard and we took our leisure with the enthusiasm of youth. And this fine city offered everything a young man could ask.’ He looked across at me and winked. ‘Yes, and I mean everything. I was unmarried then, and even though I never seemed to have any money, life was very good to me.’
I was surprised at what sounded like a hint of regret in his voice, as I had always known him as a committed and contented family man. ‘Surely, Thomas, you have no regrets about life since returning to England, to medicine and to marriage?’
He laughed. ‘None whatsoever, but returning here is like seeing myself over twenty years ago, with all that hope and all that energy. If only I had had the knowledge I have now with the energy I had then.’
I grinned back
at him. ‘Perhaps it was gaining all that knowledge that drained you of all that energy?’ It was said in jest, for even in his forties Thomas could not be matched for energy and had the steady pulling power of a Suffolk Punch. He smiled, turning in the saddle to be sure that the rest of the party had not fallen too far behind.
It was an hour later but still warm and light when we finally arrived at the Albergo Il Bo, under a sign depicting an ox. All around us was the evidence of wealth and faith in the future: new buildings being constructed; busy people looking confident and comfortable. Before leaving us in Bolzano, Niccolò had promised me that I would feel the standard of living rising as we approached Venice, and I could certainly feel that now.
‘There’s the medical department of the university opposite us,’ called Thomas excitedly, and I could see him reliving the past as he looked across the narrow, cobbled roadway at the yellow plaster-work building and the dark, arched stone doorway through which he must have passed a thousand times as a young man. I looked through the darkness of the archway and could see the light still streaming down into the courtyard beyond.
Suddenly I felt as if I understood what our endless days of travel had been about. The largest part of our journey was done; we had arrived at the first of our destinations.
Eckhardt made his farewells to us here, for he planned to join friends in the city. His Grace, Thomas and I entered the inn to see what, if anything, they could offer for our comfort. Luckily they had plenty of room and we were able to establish ourselves quickly, without having to undergo the earl’s usual ritual of manipulating the conversation to be sure he got the best room. To be fair, it was he who settled the accounts at the end of each stay, but occasionally I wished that we were not reminded quite so frequently of his status in our little group.
Daughters of the Doge (Richard Stocker) Page 4