Transcribed from the 1890 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, [email protected]
THEDOVE IN THE EAGLE’S NEST
BY
CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
[Picture: Sitting at the desk]
_ILLUSTRATED BY W. J. HENNESSY_
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London MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK 1890
_The Right of Translation is Reserved_
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_First Edition_ (2 vols. Crown 8vo), 1866. _New Edition_ (1 vol. Crown 8vo), 1869.
_Reprinted_ 1871; January and November 1873; 1875; 1876; 1879; 1882; 1883; 1884; 1888. _New Edition_, 1889. _Reprinted_ 1890.
INTRODUCTION
IN sending forth this little book, I am inclined to add a few explanatorywords as to the use I have made of historical personages. The origin ofthe whole story was probably Freytag’s first series of pictures of GermanLife: probably, I say, for its first commencement was a dream, dreamtsome weeks after reading that most interesting collection of sketches.The return of the squire with the tidings of the death of the two knightswas vividly depicted in sleep; and, though without local habitation orname, the scene was most likely to have been a reflection from the wildscenes so lately read of.
In fact, waking thoughts decided that such a catastrophe could hardlyhave happened anywhere but in Germany, or in Scotland; and the contrastbetween the cultivation in the free cities and the savagery of theindependent barons made the former the more suitable region for theadventures. The time could only be before the taming and bringing intoorder of the empire, when the Imperial cities were in their greatestsplendour, the last free nobles in course of being reduced from theirlawless liberty, and the House of Austria beginning to acquire itspreponderance over the other princely families.
M. Freytag’s books, and Hegewisch’s History of Maximilian, will, I think,be found fully to bear out the picture I have tried to give of the stateof things in the reign of the Emperor Friedrich III., when, for want ofany other law, _Faust recht_, or fist right, ruled; _i.e._ an offendednobleman, having once sent a _Fehde-brief_ to his adversary, wasthenceforth at liberty to revenge himself by a private war, in which, forthe wrong inflicted, no justice was exacted.
Hegewisch remarks that the only benefit of this custom was, that thehonour of subscribing a feud-brief was so highly esteemed that it inducedthe nobles to learn to write! The League of St. George and the SwabianLeague were the means of gradually putting down this authorized conditionof deadly feud.
This was in the days of Maximilian’s youth. He is a prince who seems tohave been almost as inferior in his foreign to what he was in hisdomestic policy as was Queen Elizabeth. He is chiefly familiar to us asfailing to keep up his authority in Flanders after the death of Mary ofBurgundy, as lingering to fulfil his engagement with Anne of Brittanytill he lost her and her duchy, as incurring ridicule by his ill-managedschemes in Italy, and the vast projects that he was always formingwithout either means or steadiness to carry them out, by his perpetualimpecuniosity and slippery dealing; and in his old age he has becomerather the laughing-stock of historians.
But there is much that is melancholy in the sight of a man endowed withgenius, unbalanced by the force of character that secures success, andwith an ardent nature whose intention overleapt obstacles that inpractice he found insuperable. At home Maximilian raised the Imperialpower from a mere cipher to considerable weight. We judge him as if hehad been born in the purple and succeeded to a defined power like hisdescendants. We forget that the head of the Holy Roman Empire had been,ever since the extinction of the Swabian line, a mere mark for ambitiousprinces to shoot at, with everything expected from him, and no means todo anything. Maximilian’s own father was an avaricious, undignified oldman, not until near his death Archduke of even all Austria, and withanarchy prevailing everywhere under his nominal rule. It was in the timeof Maximilian that the Empire became as compact and united a body ascould be hoped of anything so unwieldy, that law was at leastacknowledged, _Faust recht_ for ever abolished, and the Emperor becameonce more a real power.
The man under whom all this was effected could have been no fool; yet, ashe said himself, he reigned over a nation of kings, who each chose torule for himself; and the uncertainty of supplies of men or money to begained from them made him so often fail necessarily in his engagements,that he acquired a shiftiness and callousness to breaches of promise,which became the worst flaw in his character. But of the fascination ofhis manner there can be no doubt. Even Henry VIII.’s Englishambassadors, when forced to own how little they could depend on him, andhow dangerous it was to let subsidies pass through his fingers, stillshow themselves under a sort of enchantment of devotion to his person,and this in his old age, and when his conduct was most inexcusable andprovoking.
His variety of powers was wonderful. He was learned in many languages—inall those of his empire or hereditary states, and in many besides; and hehad an ardent love of books, both classical and modern. He delighted inmusic, painting, architecture, and many arts of a more mechanicaldescription; wrote treatises on all these, and on other subjects,especially gardening and gunnery. He was the inventor of an improvedlock to the arquebus, and first divined how to adapt the disposition ofhis troops to the use of the newly-discovered fire-arms. And in allthese things his versatile head and ready hand were personally employed,not by deputy; while coupled with so much artistic taste was a violentpassion for hunting, which carried him through many hairbreadth ’scapes.“It was plain,” he used to say, “that God Almighty ruled the world, orhow could things go on with a rogue like Alexander VI. at the head of theChurch, and a mere huntsman like himself at the head of the Empire.” His_bon-mots_ are numerous, all thoroughly characteristic, and showing thatbrilliancy in conversation must have been one of his greatest charms. Itseems as if only self-control and resolution were wanting to have madehim a Charles, or an Alfred, the Great.
The romance of his marriage with the heiress of Burgundy is one of thebest known parts of his life. He was scarcely two-and-twenty when helost her, who perhaps would have given him the stability he wanted; buthis tender hove for her endured through life. It is not improbable thatit was this still abiding attachment that made him slack in overcomingdifficulties in the way of other contracts, and that he may have hopedthat his engagement to Bianca Sforza would come to nothing, like so manyothers.
The most curious record of him is, however, in two books, the materialsfor which he furnished, and whose composition and illustration hesuperintended, _Der Weise King_, and _Theurdank_, of both of which he iswell known to be the hero. The White, or the Wise King, it is uncertainwhich, is a history of his education and exploits, in prose. Everyalternate page has its engraving, showing how the Young White Kingobtains instruction in painting, architecture, language, and all arts andsciences, the latter including magic—which he learns of an old woman witha long-tailed demon sitting, like Mother Hubbard’s cat, on hershoulder—and astrology. In the illustration of this study anextraordinary figure of a cross within a circle appears in the sky, whichprobably has some connection with his scheme of nativity, for it alsoappears on the breast of Ehrenhold, his constant companion in themetrical history of his career, under the name of Theurdank.
The poetry of _Theurdank_ was composed by Maximilian’s oldwriting-master, Melchior Pfinznig; but the adventures we
re the Kaisar’sown, communicated by himself, and he superintended the wood-cuts. Thename is explained to mean “craving glory,”—Gloriæmemor. The Germanslaugh to scorn a French translator, who rendered it “Chermerci.” It wasannotated very soon after its publication, and each exploit explained andaccounted for. It is remarkable and touching in a man who married ateighteen, and was a widower at twenty-two, that, in both books, the happyunion with his lady love is placed at the end—not at the beginning of thebook; and in _Theurdank_, at least, the eternal reunion is clearly meant.
In this curious book, König Römreich, by whom every contemporaryunderstood poor Charles of Burgundy—thus posthumously made King of Romeby Maximilian, as the only honour in his power, betroths his daughterEhrenreich (rich in honour) to the Ritter Theurdank. Soon after, by amost mild version of Duke Charles’s frightful end, König Römreich is seenon his back dying in a garden, and Ehrenreich (as Mary really did)despatches a ring to summon her betrothed.
But here Theurdank returns for answer that he means first to win honourby his exploits, and sets out with his comrade, Ehrenhold, in searchthereof. Ehrenhold never appears of the smallest use to him in any ofthe dire adventures into which he falls, but only stands complacently by,and in effect may represent Fame, or perhaps that literary sage whom DonQuixote always supposed to be at hand to record his deeds of prowess.
Next we are presented with the German impersonation of Satan as a wiseold magician, only with claws instead of feet, commissioning his threecaptains (_hauptleutern_), Fürwitz, Umfallo, and Neidelhard, to beset andruin Theurdank. They are interpreted as the dangers of youth, middlelife, and old age—Rashness, Disaster, and Distress (or Envy). One at atime they encounter him,—not once, but again and again; and he has rangedunder each head, in entire contempt of real order of time, the perils hethinks owing to each foe. Fürwitz most justly gets the credit ofMaximilian’s perils on the steeple of Ulm, though, unfortunately, theartist has represented the daring climber as standing not much above theshoulders of Fürwitz and Ehrenhold; and although the annotation tells usthat his “hinder half foot” overhung the scaffold, the danger in theprint is not appalling. Fürwitz likewise inveigles him into putting thepoint (_schnäbel_) of his shoe into the wheel of a mill for turning stoneballs, where he certainly hardly deserved to lose nothing but the beak ofhis shoe. This enemy also brings him into numerous unpleasantpredicaments on precipices, where he hangs by one hand; while the chamoisstand delighted on every available peak, Fürwitz grins malevolently, andEhrenhold stands pointing at him over his shoulder. Time and place aregiven in the notes for all these escapes. After some twenty adventuresFürwitz is beaten off, and Umfallo tries his powers. Here themisadventures do not involve so much folly on the hero’s part—though, tobe sure, he ventures into a lion’s den unarmed, and has to beat off theinmates with a shovel. But the other adventures are more rational. Hecatches a jester—of admirably foolish expression—putting a match to apowder-magazine; he is wonderfully preserved in mountain avalanches andhurricanes; reins up his horse on the verge of an abyss; falls throughice in Holland and shows nothing but his head above it; cures himself ofa fever by draughts of water, to the great disgust of his physicians, andescapes a fire bursting out of a tall stove.
Neidelhard brings his real battles and perils. From this last he is indanger of shipwreck, of assassination, of poison, in single combat, or inbattle; tumults of the people beset him; he is imprisoned as at Ghent.But finally Neidelhard is beaten back; and the hero is presented toEhrenreich. Ehrenhold recounts his triumphs, and accuses the threecaptains. One is hung, another beheaded, the third thrown headlong froma tower, and a guardian angel then summons Theurdank to his union withhis Queen. No doubt this reunion was the life-dream of the harassed,busy, inconsistent man, who flashed through the turmoils of the earlysixteenth century.
The adventures of Maximilian which have been adverted to in the story areall to be found in Theurdank, and in his early life he was probably thebrilliant eager person we have tried in some degree to describe. In hislatter years it is well known that he was much struck by Luther’sarguments; and, indeed, he had long been conscious of need of Churchreform, though his plans took the grotesque form of getting himself madePope, and taking all into his own hands.
Perhaps it was unwise to have ever so faintly sketched Ebbo’s careerthrough the ensuing troubles; but the history of the star and of thespark in the stubble seemed to need completion; and the working out ofthe character of the survivor was unfinished till his course had beenthought over from the dawn of the Wittenberg teaching, which must haveseemed no novelty to an heir of the doctrine of Tauler, and of theveritably Catholic divines of old times. The idea is of the supposedcourse of a thoughtful, refined, conscientious man through the earliertimes of the Reformation, glad of the hope of cleansing the Church, buthoping to cleanse, not to break away from her—a hope that Luther himselflong cherished, and which was not entirely frustrated till there-assembly at Trent in the next generation. Justice has never been doneto the men who feared to loose their hold on the Church Catholic as theone body to which the promises were made. Their loyalty has been treatedas blindness, timidity, or superstition; but that there were many suchpersons, and those among the very highest minds of their time, no one canhave any doubt after reading such lives as those of Friedrich the Wise ofSaxony, of Erasmus, of Vittoria Colonna, or of Cardinal Giustiniani.
_April_ 9, 1836.
The Dove in the Eagle's Nest Page 1