# Hoffmann's Strange Stories/Chapter 1

Hoffmann's Strange Stories.
THE COOPER OF NUREMBERG.
The Cooper's trade is noble; And may his companions be, Love—pure, chaste and stable; Wine—generous, rich and free.
I.
At the commencement of the month of May, in 1580, the respectable society of coopers, of the free city of Nuremberg, celebrated, according to an ancient custom, the annual feast of its institution. A short time after this solemnity, one of the chief men, clothed with the title of Master of the Candles, having departed this life, they thought of choosing his successor. The voices in favor of master Martin were unanimous. Master Martin yielded to no one in all that concerned his profession. He knew marvellously well how to make casks, both elegantly and strongly, and understood how to organize a cellar according to the best rules. His well known reputation increased his custom, entirely composed of rich and distinguished people; and, thanks to luck, which had favored all his enterprises, he enjoyed a very considerable fortune for a man in his station.
When the election of master Martin was known and proclaimed, the counsellor Jacob Paumgartner, who presided over the assembly, arose and said—"You have done perfectly well, my dear friends, in choosing master Martin for one of your chief officers, for this dignity could not be conferred upon ​a man more capable of exercising it. Master Martin enjoys the general esteem, and all those who know him bear witness to his skill. Notwithstanding his riches, he has preserved the habit and taste for labor. His whole conduct is a model worthy of being offered to you. Let us salute our dear master Martin, and let us congratulate him on the unanimous choice which honors and rewards in his person a whole life of probity and labor."
On finishing this discourse, Paumgartner arose and advanced several steps towards the subject of it, his arms stretched out as if to embrace master Martin. But the latter, rising only for good manners, and very much embarrassed by his corpulence, returned the salutation of the counsellor with very little ceremony, and fell back into his arm-chair, without appearing to care much for the brotherly embraces of Jacob Paumgartner.
"Ah, so, master Martin," continued the counsellor, "are you then not satisfied with being elected by us Master of the Candles?"
The cooper, throwing back bis head, and patting gently with both hands his ample paunch, appeared to collect himself in the midst of the silence of the company; then taking up the conversation—"Well, my worthy friend," said he to Paumgartner, "how should I not be satisfied with the justice that is done me! And what man, I pray you, is such an enemy to himself, as to disdain the legitimate price of the efforts he has made? Is the tardy debtor, who comes some day to settle the whole or part of an old account, chased from the door? What has been, my dear friends," continued he, turning towards the assembly, "the motive which has inspired you with the idea of choosing me? What duties shall I have to perform? Will it be necessary, to justify the honor of your choice, to know pertinently every detail of our trade? I flatter myself with having given proof, in constructing, without the assistance of fire, my mammoth tun, a masterpiece known by you all! Will it be necessary, to please you more, to add to ​this goods and money? Come to my house, I will open to you my chests and closets; I will satiate your eyes with the pleasure of counting a mass of bags of gold and vessels of silver, of no trifling weight. If to flatter your vanity, the newly elected Master of the Candles ought to receive the humble respect of the lowly and the consideration of the great, ask the first of the citizens of our good city of Nuremberg, ask of the noble bishop of Bamberg what opinion they have formed concerning master Martin. I do not fear, God be thanked, either comparison or criticism."
Hereupon master Martin, satisfied with the speech that he had just improvised, threw himself back in his arm-chair, and patting again his big belly; he threw around him glances that called for applause; then, seeing that his audience remained dumb, except some slight attacks of cough, which signified pretty distinctly the discontent of some of his fellow members, he added some few words to bring back the minds that his pride had just wounded.
"Receive," said he to them, 'my very sincere thanks for a choice which honors you; for you have all felt that the dignity of Master of Candles ought justly to reward the man who has raised to such renown the respectable society of coopers. You all know that I shall zealously fulfil the duties that are laid out for me. Every one of you will find in me a counsellor and an assistant. I shall defend as my own the privileges of all; and to seal the compact of devotion which ought to unite us, I invite you to a friendly banquet which shall take place on Sunday. It is in joyfully tasting some old flagons of Johannisberg, that we will agree upon measures to be taken, with one consent, to assure protection to the general interest."
This gracious speech produced a marvellous effect. All faces were radiant, all voices broke out into noisy acclamations, which raised to the clouds the capacity, the merit and the liberality of master Martin. Each one came in his turn to embrace the new Master of the Candles, who allowed it to ​be done by some without making too many grimaces, and who even deigned to grant to some the favor of extending to them his horny hand.
II.
The worthy counsellor, Jacob Paumgartner, had to pass the house of master Martin to go on his own. On arriving before the cooper's door, Jacob, after a sign of farewell, was about to continue his road, when master Martin, taking off his fur cap, and bowing as low as his enormous obesity would allow, addressed him in these words—"Could I not have the honor of receiving, for a few minutes, in my humble domicil, my worthy friend the counsellor? I should be too happy if he would do me the favor to allow me to enjoy more of his esteemed conversation."
"By my faith, master Martin," answered Paumgartner, I will very willingly make a short stay under your roof; but, truly, you are too modest in speaking of what belongs to you, as if we did not know that your humble domicil, as it pleases you to call it, is more amply furnished than any other with quantities of furniture and objects of value, whose variety and elegance are the envy of the richest citizens of Nuremberg; and I lay a wager that there is not a great lord who would not be glad to possess such a jewel."
Now there was no exaggeration in the praises lavished on the cooper's abode; for as soon as the door was open, the peristyle, of exquisite architecture, already offered the graceful effect of a little fanciful room. The floor was figured in the wood mosaic very artistically put together; the pannels of the wood work enclosed paintings which were not without merit, and chests, sculptured by the best workmen of that epoch, stood along the walls. It was, at the time we see these two personages enter, suffocatingly hot; a sultry and heavy atmosphere oppressed the breathing on reaching these apartments. For ​this reason, master Martin conducted his guest into a room disposed in such a manner that a current of fresh air circulated unceasingly through it; this room resembled a dining room; it was garnished with the furniture and plate necessary for splendid feasts. On entering, the sonorous voice of master Martin called Rosa. This was the only daughter of the proprietor of the dwelling.
Rosa made her appearance immediately. All the beautiful creations of Albert Durer could not give the idea of so perfect an assemblage of feminine graces. Figure to yourself a waist supple and frail as the stalk of a white lily—cheeks in which the rose was mingled with the alabaster—a mouth ornamented with every seduction—a look impressed with a mysterious melancholy, which hid itself under long eyelids, surmounted by ebony-hued eyebrows, and shone like the soft reflection of the May morn—hair running in silky waves on her alabaster shoulders,—and you will only have a faint idea of all the attractions of this young and interesting person, who looked more like an angel than a woman. You would have thought that you saw alive the beautiful Margaret of Faust, whose ideal the painter Cornelius has so well represented.
The charming Rosa made a childlike salutation to her father, and took his hands, which she kissed with a respect full of tenderness. At the sight of this sweet creature, the face of old Jacob was covered with a warm tint of red, and the almost extinguished fire of his antique youth struck some sparks from his embers, long since grown cold. The honorable counsellor was re-animated for an instant, as the pale ray of the setting sun colors, before fading away, with a last flame-tint, the embrowned foliage of an autumn landscape. "Surely," exclaimed he, "master Martin, you have there a treasure which is singly worth all those that your house contains; and if our old beards tremble with pleasure when we look at such sweet attractions, we must not be astonished at the effect produced by them upon youth. I am sure that your Rosa causes many distractions at church among the youth of ​the neighborhood, and that in the parties frequented by the young girls, gallantries and bouquets are for her alone! And I engage, that to marry her to whoever is best in Nuremberg, you will only have, dear master Martin, the embarrassment of choice."
Instead of listening with pleasure to the praises of the counsellor, master Martin frowned discontentedly, and after having ordered his daughter to bring a flagon of his best Rhine wine, he said to the ardent Jacob, who watched Rosa as she retired, red as a cherry, and with her eyes modestly lowered—"You are right, counsellor; I confess that my daughter is endowed with remarkable beauty; and I add, that she possesses besides, other precious qualities. But you must not speak of those things before a young girl. And as to the best in the city of Nuremberg, I think little of it, truly, as for as regards choosing a son-in-law."
Rosa, who re-entered at this moment, placed on the table a flagon and two crystal glasses superbly cut. The two old men took seats at the table facing each other, and master Martin was pouring into the glasses his favorite liquor, when the step of a horse rang on the pavement before the house. Rosa ran to see who it was, and came back to announce to her father that an old nobleman, named Heinrich of Spangenberg, wished to speak to him.
"Blessed be this day!" exclaimed the cooper, "since it brings to me the noblest and the most liberal of all my customers. It is undoubtedly concerning some important order. Heinrich of Spangenberg, is a man who deserves a good reception."
Saying which, master Martin ran to meet the new comer, as fast as his old legs would allow him.
III.
The wine of Hochheim sparkled in the Bohemian crystal, and the three personages soon felt a new life diffuse itself within them. Many a sprightly story was given forth by them without too many scruples, to such a point that the chest of master Martin floated on his enormous belly, here and there, giving vent to tremendous bursts of laughter. The counsellor Jacob himself felt his parchment face unwrinkling.
Rosa was not long in entering the room with an elegant willow basket, from which she drew a tablecloth, as white as snow. The table was laid in the twinkling of an eye, and master Martin's dinner had a very inviting appearance. Paumgartner and Spangenberg could not take their eyes from this admirable young girl, who invited them, in her sweetest voice, to partake of her father's repast, which she herself had prepared; and master Martin, buried in his armchair, with his hands clasped, contemplated her with the pride of an idolizing father. As she was about retiring discreetly, the old Spangenherg sprang from his seat with the quickness of a young man, and seizing the young girl by her waist, he exclaimed, his eyes moistened with tears—"Oh, dear angel! Oh, child of heaven!" Then he pressed to his lips, twice or thrice, the forehead of the beautiful maiden, and sank back into his seat, a prey to a sad pre-occupation.
The counsellor Jacob proposed to drink a full glass in honor of Rosa. "I tell you, master Martin," exclaimed he, "and the worthy lord Spangenberg is assuredly of my opinion, I tell you that Heaven has made you a priceless present in giving you this beautiful daughter; and I already see her, in a near future, the wife of some high personage, with a string of pearls on her forehead, and a splendid carriage covered with the most illustrious blazonry."
"Indeed, gentlemen," continued master Martin, "I do not understand the warmth that you show in speaking of a ​thing about which I do not trouble myself, Rosa is hardly eighteen years of age, and truly, at this age, a daughter ought not to think of quitting a father for a husband. God only knows what awaits her in the future; but I can answer for, as a man assured of the fact, that no noble or citizen, were he rich in mountains of gold, would have the slightest right to the hand of my daughter, if he had not given proof before all of the most finished skill in the labors of the profession I honor, and which I have followed for a half century. All that I ask of him, besides that, is to obtain the love of my daughter, whose inclination I will never force."
Spangenberg and the counsellor fixed their astonished gaze upon master Martin. "So then," said one of them, after a pause, "your daughter is condemned to marry no one except a mechanic, a journeyman cooper?"
"God wills it," replied master Martin.
"But," said Spangenberg, "if the master of another profession, or an artist already celebrated by his works, should ask of you her hand, and if your daughter loved him, how would you decide?"
"My young friend, I should say to this spark," replied master Martin, throwing himself back in his chair, "show me for masterpiece a fine mammoth tun like that which I made in my youth. And if he could not satisfy so legitimate a desire, I would not positively turn him out of doors, but I should desire him, very politely, never to step his foot into my house again."
"Nevertheless," replied Spangenberg, "if the young lover replied to you humbly that he could not offer you such a piece of workmanship, but that this magnificent house, which rises with pride at the corner of the market-place, was built after his plans, certainly a like labor would be worth as much as the workmanship of any other profession."
"Well, for heaven's sake, my worthy guest," exclaimed the cooper, "do not give me ideas which are of little use at this time, and to which I would accord, in any case, very little ​credit. My wish is that the husband of my daughter should practise my profession, and honor it, as I have done; for I hold that it is the first trade in the world. Hooping a cask is not all; the spirit of the calling consists in knowing how to manage and improve generous wines. To make a regular cask, it is necessary to calculate and guage; then a very skilful hand is necessary to bring together the staves and tie them solidly. I am the happiest man in the world when I hear from morning to night the klipp, klapp, klipp, klapp, of the mallets of my joyful workmen; and when the work is finished, is polished, is made elegant, and when I have nothing more to do than to apply the master's sign, truly I am proud of my labor, as God must have been of the creation. You speak of the trade of architect; but when the house is built, the first rustic who sleeps upon money can buy it, establish himself in it, and from his balconies laugh at the artist who is passing by in the street on foot. And what answer shall he make to the rustic? Instead of which, in our handiwork we lodge the most generous, the noblest of creatures. Long live wine and casks; I see nothing beyond them!"
"Approved!" said Spangenberg, finishing his glass;—"but all the good and fine things that you have just said do not demonstrate that I am so much in the wrong, nor that you are wholly in the right. I suppose now that a man of illustrious race and princely nobility comes to ask your daughter. There are times in this life, master Martin, when the most stubborn minds reflect many times before letting certain opportunities escape which are not lavished."
"Very well," cried master Martin, half rising, his eyes on fire, his neck stretched out, his voice short and quick—"well, I should say to that gallant, of illustrious race and princely nobility—My good sir, if you were a cooper, we might talk with you; but—"
"But," interrupted the old nobleman, who persisted in not losing the thread of his ides—"but if some day a young and brilliant lord came to you, surrounded by all the pomp that ​his riches and rank might give him, and if he besought you with entreaties to give him your little Rosa?"
"I would shut doors and windows in his face, and I would triple bolts and bars," howled master Martin; "and I should tell him through the key-hole, Go farther, my fine lord; it is not for you that the roses in my garden bloom. My cellar and my ducats are very much to your taste, I am sure, and you will do my little daughter the honor to accept her into the bargain? March on, march on, my gallant!"
These words made the color mount into the face of the old nobleman. He leaned on the table, appeared to meditate a few instants, then he added, his eyes down, and in a grave voice, through which appeared, as if in spite of himself, a certain emotion—"Master Martin, you are inflexible in this affair; but let us learn your last word. I suppose that the young lord of whom I have just spoken to you, to be my son, and that I accompany him to you to sustain his demand; would you shut your door in our faces, and would you think that we were attracted by the charms of your cellar and your ducats?"
"Heaven forbid that I should ever have such an idea of you, my worthy lords," replied the cooper, "I would give you an honorable welcome, such as you merit; and I should put myself at the disposition of such respectable visitors. As for my daughter, I repeat to you———But, truly, I ask you, what is the use of killing time by solving such singular questions? We forget our filled glasses, in discussing things neither of the time, nor of our age. Leave here, I beg you, imagining sons-in-law and the future marriage of Rosa, and let us drink to the health of your son, who is said to be the most gallant youth of Nuremberg."
The two talkers touched glances with the counsellor Jacob Paumgartner, who had long listened to their conversation without putting in a word. Spangenberg added constrainedly—"Do not believe, master Martin, that all we have said is in the least serious; it is on my part pure pleasantry; for ​you well understand that my son, unless he become madly in love with some little girl, cannot and ought not to choose a wife except from the bosom of some noble family. There was no occasion for proving so warmly that your Rosa could not suit him, and you could have, it seems to me, manifested less bitterness in your answers."
"Truly, I hasten to tell you as much," replied the cooper quickly. "I was joking, as you were. As for the bitterness which you reproach me with, it does not exist; and if I have some pride, pardon it, I beg you, for my position. It is the pride of the trade. You will not find in the whole country a cooper of my capacity, practising his profession without charlatanism, and without caring for criticism; and this flagon which we have just emptied, and which I am ready to replace, is the best guarantee of my knowledge of how to live."
Spangenberg answered no farther; he appeared mortified, or under the influence of very deep reverie. The wise counsellor Paumgartner tried to lead the conversation to other subjects. But, as it happens, after an ardent debate, the minds too much on the stretch are suddenly relaxed; something feverish, without their knowledge, ran in the veins of these three men. Suddenly the old Spangenberg, leaving the table, called his servants, went out of master Martin's house without taking his leave, and without speaking of coming back.
IV.
Master Martin saw him go in this manner with some regret; and as Paumgartner was also about to retire—"Do you know," said he to him, "that I cannot explain to myself the grieved look of that worthy gentleman, Heinrich Spangenberg?"
"Dear Martin," answered the counsellor, "you are the best man that I know, and you ought certainly to think well ​of the business which has procured you riches and honor. But take care that this sentiment does not mislead you sometimes. Already, this morning, in the assembly of the masters of the corporation, you have spoken in a manner to make you more than one enemy. However independent you may be, is it generous to abase others? See now what has just happened to you. You little thought, doubtlessly, of taking for other than pleasantry the words of Spangenberg; and yet with what bitterness you have called the people of the nobility, who might think of the hand of your daughter, avaricious fortune hunters. Could you not have answered him, what would have been more suitable and truer, that such a proposition coming from him, would have destroyed your most decided prejudices? You would have parted in a much more agreeable manner, and without leaving anything to wound more, some day, what you call your principles."
"At your ease, my dear counsellor," answered master Martin. "I agree that I may have been wrong; but why did this diabolical man pull, as it were, the words from my throat?"
"But still," continued Paumgartner, "what urges you to make your daughter marry a cooper by force? Is this not to wound the holiest laws of nature, to wish to limit the circle of the affections of a young girl? And do you not fear that there will proceed from it for you and for your child, the most deplorable results?"
"Yes, I feel now," replied the cooper, shaking his head; "I see that I ought to have told you the truth immediately. You think that my resolution not to accept any one for son-in-law except a cooper, comes from an exaggerated love for my profession. No, it is nothing of all that; I have a hidden motive. Seat yourself there, my dear Jacob, and listen to me, whilst drinking this flagon that, in his ill-humor, Spangenberg has left full. Touch glasses, I pray you; do me this favor."
Paumgartner understood nothing of the graciousness with ​which master Martin loaded him. It was a thing so contrary to his habits, that he had indeed every reason to be surprised. Master Martin did not leave him time to think much of it, and commenced the following narration:
"I have sometimes told you that my poor wife died in giving birth to Rosa. With her then lived, if it can be called living to exist thus, an old relative bowed down by infirmities, and besides all, paralytic. One day Rosa was sleeping, tended by her nurse, in the chamber of this old relation, and I was contemplating this dear child with sad and mute melancholy, when my looks were turned towards the poor sick woman; but seeing her so calm, so motionless, I began to think that she was not, perhaps, much to be pitied. Suddenly I saw her thin and wrinkled face become highly tinted with purple. She raised herself, extended her arms with as much facility as if a miracle had cured her, then she articulated these words—'Rosa, my good Rosa!' The nurse gave her the child, and figure to yourself the surprise I felt, mingled with fear, when the old woman sang, in a voice clear and vibrating, a song after the fashion of Hans Berchler, the innkeeper at Strasbourg:—'Tender child, with cheeks so blooming, Rosa, listen to my counsel. Dost thou wish to preserve thyself from suffering and care? Have no pride, criticise no one, and guard thyself from vain desires. Listen to my words, if thou wishest that the flower of happiness should bloom amongst thy days, and that God should grant thee his blessing!'
"After having sung several couplets in the same manner, the old lady laid the child on the coverlid, and passing over her little angel's head her bony and wrinkled hand, she murmured several words that I did not hear; but her attitude announced that she was praying. Then she fell back again into a stupor, and at the moment when the nurse went out of the chamber with the child, she breathed her last breath without agony."
"That is a strange story," said Paumgartner, after having listened to the relation of master Martin. "But explain to ​me, I pray you, what connection can exist between the song of your old relation and the future of Rosa, that you so obstinately hold to making her the wife of a cooper,"
"How is it that you do not understand," exclaimed master Martin, "that the modest virtues recommended to Rosa, cannot be met with more certainly than in a family of good and honest work-people? The old woman also spoke in her song of a neat house, of perfumed waves, and little angels with wings of fire. The neat house could not have more elegance than a cask made as a masterpiece by a master workman; the perfumed waves are the generous wines with which is filled the masterpiece of the cooper; and when the wine sparkles and ferments, the bubbles that rise from the bottom, do they not seem to you like little angels with enameled wings? That is really, I assure you, the sense of the mysterious words muttered by the old woman; and as this explanation suits me, I have decided that Rosa should marry no one but a cooper."
"But," continued the counsellor, "do you believe that it is sufficient to interpret thus vain words, instead of allowing yourself to be guided by the inspirations of Providence, that always knows much better than we ourselves what is suitable to our happiness? And I add, that it appears just and wise to me, to leave to the heart of your daughter the care of seeking a husband worthy of her."
"That is all nonsense," exclaimed master Martin, striking the table with his fist. "I tell you, and I repeat, that Rosa must be the wife of the best cooper that I can discover."
The counsellor Jacob Paumgartner would willingly have got angry with the singular obstinacy of master Martin, but he had the good sense to restrain himself, and rising to take his leave—"The hours gallop," said he to his host; "let us leave our empty glasses and our discussions, which are little less so."
As they were going out of the house, the one to retire, and the other conducting him, they perceived a young woman ​with five little boys. "Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Rosa, "Valentine is dead, for there are his wife and children!"
"What do I hear?" said master Martin. "Can Valentine be dead? Oh, what a frightful misfortune! He was the most skilful of my workmen, and the most upright one that I have ever known. He wounded himself with his adz several days ago. The wound became inflamed; gangrene came to aid the fever, and the poor devil dies in the flower of his age."
Then comes the disconsolate wife, complaining to see her children doomed to misery.
"How then," exclaimed master Martin—"how can you think that I will abandon you after your husband has died in my service? Not so, good woman; it shall not be as long as master Martin lives, and as long as God preserves his fortune. You all belong to my family from this day. To-morrow you will go and establish yourself, with your children, in my farm house outside of the Frauenthor, and I will go and see you every day. You will take the management of my house, and I will bring up your boys so that they will become good and substantial workmen. You have still an old father who worked well in his time. If his strength no longer allows him to do much, labor, he can always be useful in some manner. Take him with you, then; you will all be welcome."
At these words the poor widow felt so much joy, that she was near fainting. Master Martin pressed her hand affectionately, whilst the little children, whom Rosa was loading with caresses, clung to him on all sides. The counsellor Jacob Paumgartner could not restrain a big tear.
"Master Martin," exclaimed he, "you are a singular man; and in whatever humor we find you, there is no such thing as being angry with you."
And they separated.
V.
On a verdant lawn, from whence the eye loses itself in the distance amid the flowery horizon, do you see that fine young man seated in the simple costume of a laborer, which takes nothing from his good looks? Frederick is his name. The sun is half plunged into the purple of evening, and its last rays sprinkle with ruddy flames the vault of the sky. In the distance spring into the air the fretted spires of the royal city of Nuremberg. Silence reigns in the deserted country. The shadow lengthens, and comes nearer and nearer. The young workman is leaning on his travelling bag, and his animated look seems to interrogate the depths of the valley. His careless hand plucks the petals of several pinks, and suffers them to be carried away by the breath of the breeze. Then his eyes gradually veil themselves and become sad; his chest rises, swelled by a secret emotion, and tears escape, drop by drop, from his half-closed eyelids. But a sudden thought gives him courage and strength for he raises his head, opens his arms as if to clasp a cherished being, and his fresh and pure voice improvises one of those little simple songs that the children of old Germany imagine so well:
Oh country, ever sweet, My eyes dost thou greet? From thee far away Could my faithful heart stay?
From thy warm-tinted sky, The clouds seem to fly; And roses so sweet,
Seem to fall at my feet.
My heart bounds with joy, That love will not cloy, For each step brings me near To the rose I hold dear,
My love messengers be,
To her I would see, Sweet twilight of gold!
Sweet evening star bold!
To the rose that I cherish
Carry joy that will nourish;
For her that I burn,
Take the kiss of return.
Should I die ere her I see,
And she asks for me,
Say that in her love perished
Is the heart that she cherished.
When Frederick had sung, he took from his wallet a little piece of wax, softened it with his breath, and moulded with his fingers a pretty hundred-leafed rose; and whilst doing this delicate work, he repeated, in a low voice, the couplets of his song, without noticing another young man standing before him, and very attentively examining his work.
"Well, truly, my friend," said the new comer, "that is a charming work that you are doing there." Frederick raised his eyes, and fixing on the stranger a look of sweet and calm expression—"How can you, my dear sir," said he to him, "find any merit in what is to me nothing but a passing amusement?"
"The devil!" continued the unknown; "if you call amusement the work that you are now doing with such piquant perfection, you must be some artist of high renown. I am doubly charmed with the chance that has caused our meeting, for I am moved by the delicious song that you were warbling after the style of Martin Haescher; and I admire besides the address with which you sieze the ideal of form. How far do you think of going this evening?"
"The destination is before us," answered Frederick. "I am returning to my country; I am going back to Nuremberg. But the sun is setting, night is falling, and I am going to seek for shelter in the next village. To-morrow's dawn will find me on the way to Nuremberg."
"Let us then finish the trip together," exclaimed the unknown. "We will share the same lodging to-night, and to-morrow we will enter Nuremberg together."
​At these words Reinhold, for that was the name of the young man, threw himself on the grass by the side of Frederick, and continuing his questions—"Are you not," said he, "an artist goldsmith? I suppose, after what I have seen you model, that you generally work in materials of gold and silver?"
"Alas, my dear sir," answered Frederick, without raising his eyes, which were fixed on the earth, "I am neither worthy of the fine name of artist, nor capable of executing what you suppose. I am nothing, I must tell you, but a poor journeyman cooper, and I am going to Nuremberg with the hope of working with a master whose renown is spread throughout Germany. Instead of moulding or chiselling figures, I simply make cask hoops."
"Well," exclaimed Reinhold, "do you believe me stupid enough to disdain your profession? One confidence is well worth another; know then that I also am a cooper."
Frederick questioned by a glance the person who thus spoke to him; for the equipment of Reinhold resembled but little the costume of a journeyman cooper. His black small clothes were of fine stuff, with velvet slashes. A broad and short sword hung by his side, and his head-dress was a cap ornamented with a long floating feather. It would have been said, on seeing him, that he was some rich merchant; and yet there was in his whole person I know not what of eccentricity and extreme freedom, that silenced such a supposition.
Reinhold, understanding the doubt of Frederick, took from his travelling bag a cooper's apron and an adz—"Look here, my friend," said he to Frederick; "dost thou still think that I have lied, and that I am not a simple workman like thyself? I conceive thy surprise at seeing me thus splendidly costumed; but it will immediately cease, when I tell thee that I come from Strasburg, where all the journeymen coopers are dressed like princes. Formerly, I sought strenuously to get out of the rut, and enter the adventurous career of art; but I am well cured of that fancy, so far that now I see nothing above ​my calling of cooper; and I have even attached to it hopes for the future. But thou, comrade, of what art thou thinking? Thy face is sad, and thy look seems to fear to near the future! Thou wast just singing with a feeling of melancholy, and I believed, under the empire of a singular fascination, that thy soft accents came out of my own breast to pass into thine. It might be said that thy heart opens before me like a book. Give me thy whole confidence; and since we are going, both of us, to fix ourselves at Nuremberg, let us form together, from this moment, a union of solid friendship."
Frederick threw his arms round the neck of his new friend.
"Yes," continued he, "the more I look at thee, the more I feel my sympathy increase. In the depths of my heart vibrates a sweet voice which seems to answer to the sweet call of friendship. Oh! I wish that my soul might mingle with thine; for there is in life things that the heart alone understands—pains which it alone has the means of softening;—listen, then, to the history of the few events that have taken place during my life. From early youth I had dreamed for myself the glory of the artist. I aspired to the happiness of equalling in the art of moulding and chasing metal, master Peter Fischer, or Benvenuto Cellini. I made my first attempts under the instruction of Johannes Holzschuer, the most celebrated worker in silver in my country. This master was frequently visited by master Tobias Martin, the cooper, who brought with him his daughter, the delicious Rosa. I became enamored of this young girl, without being able to explain to myself the mystery of this passion. I quitted my country, and I went to Augsburg, to accelerate the progress of my apprenticeship; but hardly was I separated from her who had taken possession of my heart and all my thoughts, than I had constantly before my eyes the celestial image of Rosa. Labor became painful to me. I no longer had more than one study, that of reaching the felicity that I dreamed of. At last the news having reached me that master Martin had announced that he would only give his daughter to the most ​skilful cooper in the city, I renounced my vocation of artist, to become a workman. I have now come back to Nuremberg to beg master Martin to accept me as one of his journeymen. But the nearer I approach to the fulfilment of my wishes, and the more I think of Rosa, who must be much improved by this time, timidity and the fear of being refused, struggle in my soul; for I know not if I am loved, or if I can ever hope to be."
Reinhold had listened to the story of Frederick with mute attention. When this confidence was ended, he spoke; but his features expressed a painful anxiety, which he tried in vain to conceal. "Is it true," said he at last, "that Rosa has never given you any pledge of affection?"
"Never!" exclaimed Frederick. "Rosa was only a child when I left Nuremberg. I can suppose, without vanity, that I was not disagreeable to her. When I plucked for her the finest flowers in Mr. Holzschuer's garden, she always thanked me with angelic smiles; but"——
"There is then a gleam of hope for me!" exclaimed Reinhold, with an explosion of vivacity which made his friend tremble. His tall figure straightened, his sword rattled by his side, and his eyes flashed.
"For heaven's sake!" asked Frederick, "what is passing in thy mind?"
And before this face, then so sweet, and now so violently agitated, he could not avoid a shudder; and, making a step backwards, he struck his foot against Reinhold's travelling bag. This shock sounded a mandolin that was tied to the baggage.
"Accursed companion!" cried Reinhold, throwing at him a savage and threatening glance. "Do not crush my mandolin!"
And immediately taking the instrument, he struck the strings with a violence that might have broken them; then suddenly a reaction took place in his movement; he became ​calm after this fever fit, and hanging the mandolin on his back, he held out his hand to Frederick.
"Let us go, dear brother," said he affectionately—"let us go to the neighboring village. I have a sure remedy to chase away the phantoms that might attack us on the road."
"Well, my friend, of what phantoms could we be afraid? Let us descend into the valley, and sing, sing on! I feel unspeakable pleasure in listening to thee."
Myriads of brilliant stars studded the sombre blue of the sky. The night wind rustled the high grass; the brooks ran murmuring along their borders, and the voices of the solitude were prolonged like sighs from an organ under the dome of the forests.
Frederick and Reinhold slowly descended the road that conducted to the village. When they reached the inn, Reinhold, throwing aside his travelling gear, pressed Frederick to his heart, and wept long and earnestly.
VI.
The following day, Frederick, on awaking, no longer finding his new friend lying by his side, thought that he had perhaps changed his route, when Reinhold reappeared suddenly before him, his bag on his back, but in a different costume from that which he had worn the evening before. He had taken from his cap the long floating feather, no longer wore his short sword, and a sack of very common stuff and color replaced the elegant doublet which had set off the beauty of his form.
"Well, brother," exclaimed he, "wouldst thou take me now for a good and hearty workman, such as I wish to be? But for a lover, thou hast, it seems to me, slept famously. Look and see how high the sun is already. Come quickly—some courage, and more legs!"
Frederick, absorbed in thoughts of the future, hardly answered the words of Reinhold, who, completely electrified by a ​strange joyousness, talked at random, throwing his cap into the air, and capering like a mad man. When they approached the city, Frederick became still more serious, and stopping suddenly, he exclaimed—"No, I cannot really go another step! Sadness weighs upon my heart, and I can no longer support it. Let me seek a short repose under these trees."
On saying this, he threw himself on the ground, as if annihilated. Reinhold seated himself by his side, and began to talk of the night before.
"Last evening," said he, "I must have given you a strange surprise. When you related to me your love adventure, and when you deplored the uncertainty of the future, I felt myself an agitation which I could not explain. My brain was in a ferment; I should have become mad, if, when I met thee, thy sweet patriotic song had not calmed me as if by a miracle. This morning I awoke joyous and cheerful; the phantoms which had possessed me yesterday are vanished, and I have recovered calmness and serenity of mind. I no longer remembered any thing but the lucky chance which led to our meeting; and I think of nothing more than cultivating the friendship which I had conceived for thee at first sight. Friendship is a gift from heaven, whose fruits are invaluable. I wish in this connection to relate to thee a touching event which took place, several years ago, in Italy, at a time when I made a short stay there myself. Listen attentively:
"There was a noble prince, a friend to art, and an enlightened protector of true talent, who had put up for competition a considerable prize for the best painting of a very interesting subject, the details of which were surrounded with difficulties. Two young artists, who were united by the most tender affection, and who lived and worked together, presented themselves to dispute the prize. They placed in common, to tempt success, all that they possessed of imagination and practical science. The eldest, endowed with great aptitude for drawing and composition, drew the sketch almost instantaneously. Before the bold stroke of a mind powerful to create, the ​youngest felt discouraged, and he would have abandoned his brushes, if his friend had not sustained him by energetic counsels. When they had commenced to paint, the youngest took his revenge from the first day, by the delicacy of his touch and the fineness of his coloring, which he carried as far as the most experienced artists could have done. There resulted from this association of two talents, that the youngest of the two friends placed at the exhibition a picture of exquisite perfection of drawing, and the eldest for his part had never before produced any thing more delicately executed. When the two pieces were finished, the two masters threw themselves into each other's arms, congratulating themselves on the success which they had promised each other. The youngest obtained the prize.
"'Oh!' exclaimed he, 'how can I accept the golden laurel! What would be my solitary work without the counsel and touches of my friend!'
"And the eldest answered him—'Hast thou not also aided me by thy advice? We have united in each of our works all that we both possessed of experience and imagination, for the purpose of arriving at success. The triumph of one of us is not a defeat for the other. Glory always covers two friends like us with the same crown.'
"The painter was right, was he not, Frederick? Can jealousy ever find access to noble souls?"
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Frederick; "thus our friendship dates from our first meeting; and, in a few days, the same labors will occupy us in the same city. Who knows but that soon we shall rival each other as to who shall make the best, without fire, a fine mammoth tun, as masterpiece of an accomplished journeyman! May God preserve from all low envy the one of us that shall receive the prize for the work!"
"What say you?" continued Reinhold, with joyful vivacity. "But I wish that each one of us shall help the other. And truly I give you notice, that for all that relates to drawing, to the science of measuring and guaging, you will find in ​me positive guidance; more than that, as regards the choice of woods, you can rely upon me. I will guide thee in thy work with devoted zeal, without fearing that my masterpiece will be less perfect, because I shall have communicated to a friend the secrets of my art."
"Well, my dear Reinhold," interrupted Frederick, "why are we talking now of masterpieces and rivalry? Has the time arrived for contending for the beautiful Rosa? Truly, all my ideas are stirred up in my poor head!"
"And who, then, speaks to thee of Rosa?" said Reinhold, with a burst of laughter. "I believe that you are dreaming with your eyes open. Come, we are not yet at our journey's end."
Frederick took the road again, and they reached the nearest inn, at the entrance of the city.
"To whom shall I offer my services?" said Reinhold.
"I know no one there, unless, dear brother, you will conduct me to master Martin."
"Oh, thanks for that thought," answered Frederick, hastily. "Yes, we will go together and find master Martin. I feel that with you I shall have less fear, and I shall be less troubled in re-entering that house."
The two friends, after having equipped themselves like respectable working men, went from the inn to go and visit master Martin. That day was the precise Sunday fixed upon by the rich cooper to celebrate by a banquet his election to the respectable office of the master of the candles. It was towards noon when our young travellers entered his house, which resounded with the clinking of glasses and the joyful conversation of the guests.
"Unfortunate moment!" exclaimed Frederick.
"On the contrary," said Reinhold; "it is in the midst of joy excited by generous wines, that men are most accessible, and I engage that master Martin will give us a good welcome.
At this moment, master Martin, to whom their presence had been announced, came towards them, his walk a little ​unsteady, and his cheeks sufficiently rubicund. He immediately recognized Frederick—"It is thou, my fine boy," exclaimed he; "thou hast returned again. That is well; that is well. Hast thou learned the noble profession of cooper? I remember that the mad master Holzschuer pretended, when I spoke to him concerning thee, that thou wast formed for carving figures and balustrades, like what are seen here in the church of Saint Sebald, and at Augsburg in the house of Fugger. But all those stories had very little effect on me, and I congratulate thee on having chosen for thyself the good calling. Be then a thousand times welcome at my house."
Speaking thus, master Martin closely embraced him. Poor Frederick felt his courage return in the arms of the cooper, and he hastened to profit by this fortunate opportunity to solicit the admission of himself and companion into the workshop of master Martin.
"Be thou still more, and both of you, welcome," added the cooper, "for at this moment work is coming in from all quarters, and good workmen are rare. Throw down your travelling bags, and come into our banquet; dinner is nearly at an end, but we shall yet find for you some scraps, and Rosa will take charge of you and treat you well."
They all three entered the dining-room. All the venerable masters of the society of coopers were joyfully seated at tables presided over by the worthy chief, Jacob Paumgartner. These gentlemen were at dessert, and Rhine wine sparkled like gilded wares in goblets of great capacity. The conversation was very animated, and interrupted by hearty bursts of laughter, which made the glasses tremble; but when master Martin appeared, with the two companions whom he wished to present, all eyes were turned towards the new comers, and silence reigned as if by enchantment. Reinhold threw an assured glance around him; but Frederick, his eyes cast down, felt his heart ready to fail him.
Master Martin placed the two friends at the end of the table: and that place, the humblest a moment since, became ​immediately enviable, when the pretty Rosa came and seated herself between the two guests, busily occupying herself in offering them the best wines and the most delicate viands.
Frederick, by the side of this delicious creature, could hardly restrain his emotion; and, with his eyes fixed upon his plate, as yet full, for he was too much in love to swallow a single mouthful, he said in his soul a thousand tender things to his beloved. As for Reinhold, he was a free liver, very attentive to the attractions of the young girl, and very prone to become affected by them.
Rosa could not refrain from feeling a secret pleasure in listening to the details of his journey. It seemed to her that she saw appear, under real forms, all the events of his life that he related. Her heart allowed itself to be captivated involuntarily by the charm of this eccentricity of character, and she had not the strength to withdraw her hand, which Reinhold had taken several times, and pressed in a very significant manner.
Meanwhile Frederick, incited by his friend, had drunk a full goblet of Rhine wine. The heat of this liquid mounted to his brain, and loosened his tongue; he became more animated, and his blood circulated more freely.
"God! how happy I feel!" exclaimed he suddenly. "I feel an ineffable joyfulness!"
The daughter of master Martin could not restrain, at these words, a malicious smile.
"Rosa!" continued Frederick, "can I dare believe that you have borne me in remembrance?"
"How could I have forgotten you?" answered the young girl. "I remember the dear days of my early childhood, when you liked to play with me; and I have kept with great care that little basket made of silver wire, that you gave me one Christmas eve."
"Rosa, my beloved!" exclaimed Frederick, beside himself, his breathing accelerated, and his eyes flashing.
"I awaited your return with much impatience," continued ​Rosa. "But when I think of the pretty work that you formerly executed under master Holzschuer, I cannot imagine or understand how you have quitted the career of artist to become a journeyman cooper in my father's workshop."
"But that is on your account," interrupted Frederick enthusiastically. "It is for you alone that I have made this sacrifice."
He had hardly uttered these words, when he blushed and trembled as if something had escaped him which he ought not to have said. There was, certainly, a little imprudence in this confession so unseasonably uttered.
Rosa, who had very well understood him, lowered her glance, blushed, and remained silent, until, by a lucky chance which relieved her from her embarrassing position, master Jacob Paumgartner, knocking on the table with his knife, to command silence, announced that master Vollrad, the most celebrated singing master in the city, was about to sing a song.
Master Vollrad immediately arose, coughed, spit, blew his nose, struck a position, then sang, in a full and sonorous voice, a national song, composed by Hans Vogelgesang. All the guests felt as if electrified, and Frederick himself regained his youthful assurance.
After the singing master had sung several pieces, in various styles, he invited some of his friends to follow him. Reinhold took his mandolin, and after having sweetly preluded, he sang the following words:
The cooper's trade is noble, And may his companions be, Love—pure, chaste and stable; Wine—generous, rich and free.
Where is the little spring, Whence comes the generous wine? It from the glorious cask they bring, And call its taste divine.
Who makes the precious cask, For the cherished little spring? That always was the cooper's task, And glory may it always bring.
When the cooper drinks his wine, From his goblet both rich and rare, The bubbles upon the wine do shine, And the journeyman claims his share.
The cooper's trade is noble, And may his companions be, Love—pure, chaste and stable; Wine—generous, rich and free.
Applause, loud and long, drowned the voice of the singer; but no one in the audience appeared to be better pleased than master Martin. And without listening to the jealous comments of Vollrad, who exerted himself to prove that Reinhold's method had some of the imperfections of Hans Muller, he filled and raised as high as he could the largest festive goblet, and cried out—"Come here, my good companion and joyful singing master, come and take a drink from the cup of master Martin."
Reinhold obeyed; then, returning to his place, he told Frederick, in a whisper, to pay for his entertainment by singing the song which he had sung the night before.
"The devil take the mad man!" growled Frederick with a gesture of impatience.
But Reinhold, without taking notice of it, rose and said aloud—"My venerable masters and lords, here is my dear brother Frederick, who knows better than myself a crowd of ballads and songs, with which he would regale you, if his throat was not a little dry from the dust that we have met with on our route; it shall then be, if you will permit it, for your next meeting."
At these words, all began to compliment Frederick. There were even some honest people, who took a notion, without having heard it, to set a higher estimate upon his voice than upon the talents of Reinhold.
Master Vollrad, who had just engulphed an enormous goblet, pretended, that Reinhold's method resembled too much the insipid Italian style, and that Frederick's alone preserved the natural German stamp.
​As for master Martin, he threw himself back in his arm-chair, according to his old custom, and striking with little measured blows his belly, swelled like a balloon, he exclaimed, "Here are, gentlemen—here are, indeed, my companions, the joyful table and workshop companions of master Tobias Martin, the most celebrated cooper in Nuremberg!"
The company found no objection to make to this declaration; and after having drowned in the bottom of their goblets the little that remained to them of reason and solidity of leg, they staggeringly separated to go to their beds. As for Frederick and Reinhold, master Martin opened a very gay little chamber for them in his house.
VII.
After several weeks of trial and labor, master Martin noticed in Reinhold uncommon skilfulness in the art of measuring and calculating with the assistance of dividers and lines; but he was a feeble workman for the labor of the workshop, whilst Frederick was indefatigable. For the rest, they were both commendable for their good conduct. From morning till night, they charmed the hours by joyous songs, of which Reinhold possessed a rich store; and when Frederick, privately catching sight of the pretty Rosa, suddenly took a saddened tone, Reinhold immediately sang these joking words—"The cask is not a lute—the lute is not a cask!" and old master Martin, who did not see the meaning, often remained with his arm raised, without striking, and laughing heartily. But the little Rosa, who understood more, knew well how to make a thousand and one excuses to come into the workshop. One fine day master Martin entered his workshop with a care-worn look. His two favorite workmen were adjusting a cask. He stopped before them with his arms folded.
"My good friends," said he to them, "I am very well satisfied with you and your labors, and yet I am very much ​embarrassed. They write me that the harvest of Rhine wine must exceed this year all that has ever been known before; a famous astrologer has predicted the appearance of a comet, whose heat must produce a marvellous fertility; the fruits of the vine will be increased a hundred fold, and that this surprising meteor will not appear again in three hundred years. You can judge of what an enormous quantity of work is about to flow into my workshop. And even now, the venerable bishop of Bamberg, the greatest epicure in Germany, has sent me an order for an immense tun. We shall never be able, by ourselves, to execute all the jobs which will be offered us; and I must really engage another workman, skilful, zealous and active, like yourselves. God preserve me from getting here any fellow of whom I am not very sure. What is to be done, then, when time presses, and we wish to be well served? Can you not point out to me some clever fellow of your acquaintance? From whatever distance it is necessary to bring him, and whatever sum it costs me, I am ready for it."
Master Martin had hardly finished this speech, when the door of the workshop was burst open, and a tall, broad shouldered young man cried, in a stentorian voice—"Hallo! is this master Martin's workshop?"
"Undoubtedly this is the place," answered master Martin, himself going towards the stranger; "but you could have entered, my boy, without acting as though you meant to break every thing, and above all, don't scream so loudly. That is not the way to come into people's houses."
"Ha, ha, ha!" continued the young man, laughing heartily. "You are, perhaps, Martin himself; big belly and double chin, bright eyes and ruby nose; that's it, exactly; the description given me is the most exact. Master Martin, I salute you with veneration!"
"And what the devil do you want of master Martin?" asked the cooper ungraciously.
​"I am," replied the young man, "a journeyman cooper of some merit, and I want work."
Master Martin started back, struck with surprise at seeing so stout a workman present himself in his precise time of need. He examined the new comer, and, pleased to find him so vigorously formed, he hastened to ask him for the certificates of the masters with whom he had worked.
"I have nothing of that kind with me," replied the young man "but in a few days I will send for them; at present I think it quite sufficient to give you my word as an honest and good workman."
And without giving master Martin time to seek for an answer, the young journeyman, going to the end of the workshop, threw into a corner his cap and his travelling bag, exclaiming, in a decided manner—"Let us see, master Martin, what shall I begin with?"
Master Martin, very much surprised at this unceremonious manner, which did not seem to admit of the possibility of a refusal, reflected a few minutes; then, addressing the stranger—"Comrade," said he to him, "since you are so sure of yourself, give me an off-hand proof of your skill. Take an adz, and shave and finish polishing the hoops that are to encircle this hogshead."
The stranger workman did not wait for a second bidding, and in the twinkling of an eye the trial job was perfect. "Well," said he, then, with his joyous laugh—"well, master Martin, do you still doubt my skilfulness? Now, then, I should like to examine a little the quality of the tools that are used here."
Speaking thus, he moved them about, examining each article in its turn, with the eye of a connoisseur. "Master," said he, from time to time, "what is this hammer, I pray you? Is it not one of your children's toys? And this little adz, is it not for the use of the apprentices?" At the same time whirling in his powerful hand an enormous hammer, which Reinhold could not have used, and which Frederick ​could hardly lift; he handled with the same ease master Martin's adz. Then continuing his feats of strength, he made a pair of heavy tuns spin round with the same ease that he would have handled simple barrels. At last, taking in both hands a solid stave which had not been thinned by the shave—"This," exclaimed he—"this is good oak, and that ought to snap like glass;" and suiting the action to the word, he broke the stave as easily as if it were a shingle, on the edge of the grindstone.
"By the relics of Saint Sebald, stop there, if you please, my friend!" exclaimed master Martin. "Would you not, if I let you, break the bottom of this big tun, and split to pieces my whole workshop? Why don't you sieze that beam and beat the whole house into ruins! And don't you wish me to get for you, as a shave, the sword of Roland, the knight, which is kept at the City Hall of Nuremberg!"
"Truly yes, if you please," answered the young man, casting on master Martin a glance full of fire; but he immediately lowered his eyes, and continued in a softer voice—"I only thought, dear master, that you might have need, for your heavier work, of a vigorous workman, and I have, perhaps, exceeded in your eyes the bounds of propriety. I beg you will pardon me, and allow me to remain with you, to labor as rudely as you may be pleased to require."
Master Martin grew more and more surprised. The sudden calmness of the young man produced on him an undefinable sensation. He could not tire with looking at his regularly beautiful features, which shadowed forth a soul of the purest honesty. He thought he could discover, in his physiognomy, some resemblance with that of a man whom he had formerly known and venerated, but whose remembrance only recalled to him a remote likeness. He at last acceded to the entreaties of the young workman, with the condition that he should immediately produce the recommendations of the masters with whom he had learned the trade of cooper, and received the first degree.
​Whilst this affair was being arranged, Reinhold and Frederick were finishing their hogshead, and began to hoop it; at the same time, to lighten their labor, they sang one of Adam Puschmann's songs. But immediately Conrad, (thus the new workman called himself,) sprang from the bench, crying out—"What is this charivari? One would say that a million mice were besieging the workshop! If you will meddle with singing, try at least to do it in such manner as to give us heart to labor. I could give you an example of what is necessary for that."
And, in his stunning voice, Conrad began to howl a hunting song, crowded with choruses, which ended with hallo and huzza. Now he imitated the barkings of a pack in full cry, then the cries of the huntsmen, with such force that the house trembled. Master Martin stopped his ears, and the children of dame Martha, the widow of Valentine, who were playing in the workshop, ran and hid themselves behind a pile of chips. At the same time Rosa came, much frightened, and not knowing what misfortune could have occasioned these unheard-of bellowings.
As soon as Conrad perceived the beautiful young daughter of master Martin, he stopped short in the middle of his song, and going towards her, he said to her, in the noblest manner and the softest tone—"Oh, my charmer, what heavenly light has illumined this poor workman's cabin since you entered! Oh, if I had known that you were so near, I should have taken good care not to wound your delicate ears by my wild song. Hallo, you others!" continued he, addressing himself to master Martin and the two journeymen; "can you not silence your mallets for a moment, whilst this dear young girl is among us? We ought to hear nothing but her sweet voice, and we ought no longer to think of any other occupation than that of hearing her will, and obeying it humbly!"
Reinhold and Frederick exchanged a look which sufficiently signified the discontent that this address occasioned them. As for master Martin, he burst into a laugh, according to his ​praise-worthy custom, and answered—"Zounds, Conrad, you appear to me the most singular screech-owl that ever put foot into my house. You commenced here by threatening to crush every thing under your ill-bred giant foot, then you stun us with your barking, and, to crown all your follies, you treat Rosa like a princess, and you use towards her the manners and fine words of a great lord! I believe, indeed, that a madman's cell would suit you better than my workshop."
"Your dear daughter," replied Conrad, without appearing to be offended by this cutting reproach—"your dear Rosa, my worthy master, is, I can assure you, the most graceful and the noblest creature in the universe; and Heaven grant that she will deign not to remain insensible to the homage of the most gallant heir of noble race, who will place at her feet his tender love and armorial bearings!"
Master Martin held his sides with both hands, but in spite of his efforts, a homeric laugh seized him, and he rolled on the bench like one possessed; then when he had regained strength to articulate—"At thy ease, good journeyman," exclaimed he; "give to my Rosa the most precious names that thou canst imagine; I place no obstacle in the way, on the contrary; but I beg thee not to lose a blow of thy hammer, for here work is before gallantry."
Conrad felt this reprimand pierce his heart like a red hot iron; his eyes flashed like lightning, but he restrained himself, and answered coldly—"It is true!" Then he returned to his labor.
Rosa had seated herself by the side of her father, on a little barrel, that Reinhold had just scraped to give it a more advantageous look, and Frederick had just gallantly approached.
Master Martin begged his two favorite workmen to re-commence, for the benefit of Rosa, the little song that Conrad had so rudely interrupted. The latter remained silent, and no longer appeared to have eyes for any thing but his work.
When the song was finished, master Martin continued the conversation, and said—"Heaven has given you a fine talent, ​my dear companions; you cannot imagine to what excess I carry the passion for singing. I formerly had some serious inclination towards the profession of singing-master, but nothing succeeded with me, and I only obtained as the fruit of my labors, jokes and jeers; for at one time I sang in a false key, or out of time; and when singing correctly, by chance, I always mixed up the melody. Now, then, I am very glad to see that you do better than your master; and I should be very glad to acknowledge that the workmen of Tobias Martin have succeeded, where he had failed. Next Sunday, the singing-master will give a concert in the church of Saint Catherine. You will both of you be able to co-operate at it in a very brilliant manner, for a part of the time will be devoted to strangers, who wish to be heard before a discriminating public. So then, master Conrad," continued master Martin, turning to his third workman, if your heart leads you to desire to gratify them with your wild song, you will be able to do it quite at your ease."
"Why do you laugh at me, dear master?" answered Conrad, without raising his eyes. "There is a time for every thing, and I count on passing the time that you devote to the concert, in rambling through the flowery meadows."
What master Martin had foreseen happened. Reinhold mounted the stage, and sung several pieces to the satisfaction of all. When Frederick followed him, he threw on the assembly around him, for several minutes, a long and melancholy look, that went to Rosa's heart. Then he sang, in a gracefully modulated voice, a song of Heinrich Frauenlob, which was enthusiastically applauded, for all the singers immediately recognized how much the young stranger excelled them all.
When night came, and the concert was ended, master Martin, charmed with the success of his two favorite companions, allowed them to accompany him with his daughter to a flowery lawn, which was on the outskirts of the city. Rosa walked slowly and gracefully between the two young men. Frederick, ​proud of the praises which had been lavished on him in her presence by the singers, made bold to slip into her ear some sweet expressions, whose amorous intentions were easily guessed, but of which, from modesty, the young girl appeared not to understand the true meaning. Instead of listening to Frederick, she apparently attended to Reinhold, who pushed audacity or freedom so far as to take possession, without ceremony, of the prettiest little arm that ever a feminine creature owned.
On arriving at the meadow that served on that day as the object of their promenade, they found groups of young men practising all kinds of games of exercise, in which physical strength decided the victory. Shouts and hurras came continually from the crowd of spectators. Master Martin, curious like the rest, elbowed his way through the crowd, to get a nearer view of the conqueror who received these ovations. It was no other than his workman Conrad, who took all the prizes in the race, at wrestling, and in throwing the bar. At the moment master Martin approached, Conrad, raising his voice, challenged the most skilful of his rivals to a bout of fencing. Several combats took place, in which Conrad always had the advantage; so that he carried off, without exception, all the honors of that day.
The sun was setting; the rosy flames of the dawning twilight extended themselves like a bar of gold in the horizon. Master Martin, Rosa, and the two journeymen coopers, were seated in a circle near a sparkling fountain, which spread freshness and fertility on the green. Reinhold related a thousand remembrances of brilliant Italy; but Frederick, buried up in himself, kept his eyes fastened on those of Rosa. Now here is Conrad, who approaches them slowly, like a man who has a project, but hesitates about putting it into execution.
"Well, Conrad, come here," cried out master Martin to him, as soon, as he saw him. "You have had fine and joyful success in ail the physical games, and I sincerely congratulate you. I like to see my journeymen distinguish themselves in ​any thing. Come, then, and place yourself there, quite near us."
Conrad, instead of being touched by this cordiality, threw on his master a proud and disdainful glance, and said—"It was not you that I sought here, and you can believe that I should have no need of permission to seat myself near you, if I wished to do so. I have to-day vanquished all those who tried to wrestle with me, and I wished to supplicate your beautiful young daughter to grant me, as the price of my victories, the perfumed bouquet which reposes on her bosom."
Saying this, he humbly bent his knee before Rosa, whom he gazed at with fiery glance. "Beautiful Rosa," said he to her, "do not refuse me this trifling but precious favor."
Master Martin's daughter could not resist this prayer, so courteously made. "A knight of your merit," answered she, "ought to receive some souvenir from the lady of his thoughts. I will let you take this bouquet, but see how its flowers are already faded!"
Conrad covered the flowers with burning kisses, and attached them to his cap, in spite of master Martin, who appeared to be annoyed by these familiarities. "Come, come," exclaimed he. "let us quit this folly, for it is time to regain our home."
Master Martin took the lead. Conrad took the young girl's arm with a hasty gallantry, which singularly differed from his habitual manner. Reinhold and Frederick followed, with a cold and sullen look. Every one seeing them pass in this manner, said—"See there! that is the rich cooper, Tobias Martin, and his worthy journeymen."
VIII.
From the dawn of the following day, the pretty Rosa alone, seated near the window of her little chamber, sweetly meditated on the preceding evening. Her work of embroidery had ​slipped from her lap to the ground; her white hands, blue-veined, were joined as if for prayer; and her charming head was bent upon her bosom. Who could say where her thoughts were wandering at this moment? Perhaps she thought in an innocent dream, still listening to the tender songs of Reinhold and Frederick; or perhaps she liked better to see handsome Conrad, kneeling and asking, with so ardent a look, so caressing a voice, the price of the victories he had gained in yesterday's games. Now the lips of the young girl murmured some notes of a song, then they allowed to escape, by syllables obscured by a half slumber—"Do you wish for my bouquet?" At this time a practised eye would have surprised on her cheeks a reflection rosier than ordinary. Beneath her eyelids, nearly closed, he would have seen a rapid glance make her dark lashes tremble; he would have guessed the secret of the sigh that swelled her slender waist. But just then dame Martha, the widow of Valentine, entered the little chamber, and Rosa, suddenly awaking to her remembrance, took the occasion to relate to her, with all its details, the feast of Saint Catherine, and the evening's walk in the flowery field. When she had finished this important recital, dame Martha said to her, smilingly—"I hope that you are happy, my dear Rosa; here are three fine gallants, from among whom you are free to choose."
"For heaven's sake!" exclaimed the young girl, blushing in her fright—"for heaven's sake, what do you tell me?—I, three gallants!"
"And why not?" replied Martha; "is it with me that it is necessary to make a mystery concerning a thing that is apparent to the eyes of every body? Do you think that it is not well known, at present, that the three journeymen of master Martin have conceived a violent passion for you?"
"Oh, what do you tell me!" interrupted Rosa, hiding her face in her hands, whilst the tears came into her eyes.
"Come, my dear child," replied Martha, drawing Rosa towards her; "come, my good Rosa, do not hide the truth ​from me; it cannot be that you have not perceived that these three young men forget their work as soon as you are near them, and that their mallets miss the blow, because they cannot take their eyes from you. Do not young girls immediately guess these things? Do you not well know that Reinhold and Frederick keep their finest songs for the time that you come to work by the side of your father? Have you not remarked the sudden change that takes place in the rude manners of the savage Conrad? Each one of your glances makes one happy and three jealous. And then, is it not very sweet to feel one's self beloved by three fine young men? And if you should come some day and say to me, caressingly—'Dame Martha, advise me—which of these pretty wooers most deserves my heart and hand?' do you know, dear Rosa, what answer I would make you? I should answer—'Choose the one you prefer;' there you will find happiness. For the rest, if I had to discuss their merits, Reinhold pleases me, Frederick also, Conrad equally; and in one or the other of the three, nevertheless, I find defects. When I see those three fine journeymen work so heartily, from morning till night, I think, in spite of myself, of my poor departed Valentine, and I say that if he was not so skilful at his trade, he devoted himself to it much more seriously. You would never have seen him occupy himself with any thing except shoving his plane, or forming good staves; whilst the three new journeyman of master Martin, have the appearance to me of people who have imposed upon themselves a voluntary task, and who are patiently hatching a project that I do not yet guess. For the rest, my child, if you believe me, Frederick should be your chosen one. I believe him generous and frank as sterling gold; and then it seems to me that he is simpler, and that his language, his manners, his appearance, are more like those of our class of people. And then I like to follow in him the slow and silent progress of his timid love; he has the candor and timidity of a child. He dares hardly raise his glance to meet yours. As soon as you speak, he blushes. ​Those qualities, my dear, are better than other more brilliant ones; and this is why I feel a sympathy for this young man."
Whilst listening to dame Martha speaking thus, Rosa could not restrain the two big tears that had for some moments stood in her eyes. She arose, and turning her back to Martha, went and leaned her elbows on the window sill. "I certainly like Frederick," said she, pouting; "but does Reinhold seem to you so little worthy of being noticed?"
"Ah, truly," exclaimed dame Martha, "I must confess that he is the handsomest of the three. I have never seen such sparkling eyes as he has when he looks at you; but there is in his whole person something strange and affected, that causes me an indescribable uneasiness. I say to myself that such a workman does too much honor to the workshop of master Martin. When he speaks, one would believe that he heard soft music, and every thing that he says carries you out of real life; but if one reflects on what he has said, one is forced to confess immediately that one has understood nothing of it. For my part, I consider him, in spite of myself, a being of a nature entirely different from ours, and made to exist in another state of life. As for the third, the savage Conrad is a mixture of pretension and pride, which disagrees singularly with the leather apron of a simple workman. Each one of his gestures is as imperious as if he had the right to command here; and, in fact, master Martin, since he has been here, has not been able to help yielding to his ascendancy, and to bend before his iron will. However, in spite of this inflexible character, there is not a better or more honest man than Conrad; and I will go so far as to say, that I should prefer this rudeness and this wildness, to the exquisite elegance of the manners of Reinhold. That fellow must have been a soldier, for he knows too well how to handle arms and practise various difficult exercises, to have been until now an obscure workman. But how is this, dear Rosa; you are quite absent, and a hundred leagues off from what I am telling ​you. Come, then, once more I ask you, which of these three gallants would you prefer for a husband?"
"Oh, don't ask me that," answered the young girl. "All that I can tell you, is, that I do not judge of Reinhold as you do."
At these words dame Martha arose, and making a friendly sign to Rosa with her hand—"All is said," continued she. "Thus it is Reinhold who will be the husband; that changes all my ideas."
"But I beg of you," cried Rosa, following her to the door, "I supplicate you to neither believe nor suppose; for who can know what the future will be? Let us leave the care of it to Providence."
For several days, quite a new activity animated the work-shop of master Martin. To fill all the orders that came in, it had been necessary to enlist apprentices and journeymen, and from sunrise until sunset, the noise of the mallets made a stunning bustle. Reinhold had been entrusted with the calculation of the guage of the great tun ordered by my lord the prince, bishop of Bamberg. After this labor of reflection and intelligence, Frederick and Conrad had lent him the aid of their hands; and the work, thanks to their zeal, had arrived at so great a degree of perfection, that master Martin was beside himself with joy. The three journeymen occupied themselves, under his superintendence, with the hooping of it; the mallets arose and fell in measure. Old Valentine, the grandfather of the little orphans, shaped the staves, and the good dame Martha, seated behind Conrad, gave a portion of her time to the family work, and a portion to watching her babes.
The work was so noisy, that they did not hear old Johannes Holzschuer enter. Master Martin, who first perceived him, went to meet him, and asked him what he desired.
"Two things," answered Holzschuer; "first, I wished to see my old pupil, Frederick, again, whom I see working there so bravely. Afterwards, I came to beg of you, dear ​master Martin, to construct for my cellar, one of the largest size tuns. But I see that you are just finishing one which would exactly suit me; tell me your price for it."
Reinhold, who was about going to work again, after a few minutes' repose, heard the words of Mr. Holzschuer, and immediately answered for master Martin—"Do not think of it, my dear sir; this tun that we are finishing is ordered and bought by the respectable prince, bishop of Bamberg."
"In truth, I cannot sell it to you," added master Martin; "but, really, from the choice wood and the finish of this work, you ought to have guessed that such a masterpiece could only descend into a prince's cellar. Thus, as my companion Reinhold has said, think no more of this tun. When the vintage is over, I promise to make you a plainer one, which will answer your purpose just as well."
The old man Holzschuer, piqued by the manners of master Martin, immediately retorted, that his silver was as good as the gold of the prince, bishop of Bamberg, and that he could furnish himself elsewhere, and even to better advantage, with as well made tuns as his were.
Master Martin could hardly restrain his anger. Forced to remain silent in the presence of Mr. Holzschuer, who had great influence all over the city, he concealed his spite, and looked about him for an object on which to give it vent, when Conrad, who paid very little attention to the conversation, commenced hammering again with all his force, to drive the hoops down, for the purpose of binding the staves more firmly together. The master cooper, turning towards him, and stamping his foot—"Stupid animal!" exclaimed he; "are you mad? Do you not see that you are shattering the finest tun that has ever been made in the Nuremberg workshops?"
"Ho! ho!" said Conrad, "my little master is angry; and why should I not shatter this famous tun, if it pleased me?" And he commenced striking again more forcibly, until the principal hoop having been broken by a false blow, the whole machine was racked.
​"Dog!" howled master Martin, foaming with rage; and snatching from old Valentine's hands a stave that he was scraping, he struck Conrad a rude blow on the shoulders with it. The journeyman was nearly stunned for a moment, his eyes flashing, as he gritted his teeth. "Struck!" exclaimed he, hoarsely; and, siezing the biggest adz in the workshop, he threw it with all his force at master Martin, whom Frederick had only time to push aside. The edge of the tool, (the stock of which would have split open the old man's head,) only wounded him in the arm, from which blood flowed. He lost his equilibrium, and fell over an apprentice's bench.
They all threw themselves before Conrad, whose fury was exasperated by the evil which he had done. His strength, redoubled by anger, put aside all resistance, and, raising the bloody adz, he was about to strike a second blow, when Rosa, who had heard the noise, came running in, pale as death. Conrad was disarmed by her appearance; and, throwing away his murderous weapon, he folded his arms on his breast, and remained for a moment as immoveable as a statue. He then by an inward struggle returned to consciousness, and uttering a cry of grief, he fled.
No one pursued him. The witnesses of this scene raised master Martin, who was covered with blood. It was then discovered that the injury was only a flesh wound. The old man Holzschuer, who had taken refuge behind a pile of boards, then ventured to make his appearance. He commenced a scorching tirade against trades that place in the hands of ignorant people such murderous weapons, and begged Frederick to quit this workshop, and come back to his first trade, the art of moulding and carving metals.
As for master Martin, when he came to himself, and found that he was more frightened than hurt, he had only words to regret the damage caused to the tun for the prince, bishop of Bamberg.
After this event, they had master Martin and Mr. Holzschuer carried back in a sedan chair. Frederick and Reinhold ​came back to the city together on foot. On the way, as night was coming on, they heard groans on passing near a hedge, from a voice that they recognized. Suddenly a tall figure arose, which made them start back in surprise. It was Conrad, whom they thus found again, who was in despair for his rash act, and the irreparable results which it had created for the future. "Farewell, my friends," said he to them—"Farewell! we shall never see each other more! Only say to Rosa, that I love her, and conjure her not to curse my remembrance. Say to her, that as long as I live, her bouquet shall never quit the place in which I have put it on my heart. Farewell, farewell, my good comrades!"
He then disappeared across the fields.
Reinhold said to his friend—"This poor Conrad is not an evil-doer; but there is in that young man something strange and mysterious. His actions are not after the ordinary rules of morality. Perhaps we shall know sometime the secret which he has hidden from us."
IX.
Loneliness and sadness reigned after that day in the workshop of master Martin. Reinhold, disgusted with labor, remained whole hours shut up in his chamber. Martin, who carried his wounded arm in a sling, opened his mouth only to curse the wicked stranger. Rosa, dame Martha herself, and her little ones, no longer dared to go to the place that had witnessed this bloody scene; and as is heard sometimes, at the approach of winter, the blows of the solitary woodman, breaking the silence of the forest, so Frederick finished slowly and alone the bishop of Bamberg's tun, and his mallet alone resounded the livelong day.
By degrees discouragement and melancholy took possession of his soul. Rosa no longer appeared at the workshop, since Reinhold, under pretence of illness, remained in his room. ​Frederick concluded from this that the young girl loved his friend. He had already well remarked that she reserved for Reinhold her most gracious smiles and her sweetest words. But this time he could no longer doubt her sentiments.
The following Sunday, instead of accepting the invitation of master Martin, who, almost cured of his wound, wished to go with Rosa to walk out of the city, he went away alone, a prey to all the anguish of his thoughts, towards the hill where he had seen Reinhold for the first time. Arrived there, he threw himself on the grass, and reflected on the deceptions of his life, from which each hope was effaced, like a star falling from the sky. He wept over the flowers hidden in the moss, and the flowers bowed their heads under the dew of his tears, as if they had understood his sorrow. Then, without his being able to explain to himself how it was, his sighs, that were carried away by the breeze, gradually became articulated in words; then these words were softly modulated, and he sang his sadness as he would have sung his joy.
Where art thou gone, O Star of Hope? Alas, thou art forever gone from me! Thy brilliant beams no longer ope, Save to gladden the eyes that called to thee.
Arise, ye stormy nights, arise! Ye are less terrible than these, That tear my heart from its surprise, And cover it with mournful leaves.
My eyes are drowned in briny tears, My poor heart sadly moans and bleeds, Whilst the balmy forest ever hears The murmurs softly, sweetly plead.
Golden clouds that veil the heavens, Why do ye glisten with joyous beam? Alas, ye cast your shades at even Upon sad Lethe's joyless stream.
The tomb it is my solitary hope, Its peaceful slumber I perchance may meet, When this sad, lonely life with death shall cope, And the eternal shores my heart shall greet.
​Frederick's voice became animated as he sang. His oppressed heart felt some relief, and his tears flowed with less bitterness. The evening breeze rustling among the leaves of the young lindens, the mysterious echoes which inhabit the woods, brought to his ear accents as sweet as animated words; and the horizon, fringed with purple and gold, seemed to invite him towards pleasant paths in the future.
Frederick, a little consoled, arose and descended the flowery hill in the direction of the village. He recalled in thought the evening when he and Reinhold followed the same road; he recalled his promises of eternal friendship. But when he thought over the story that Reinhold had related to him of the two Italian painters, his eyes were opened as if by enchantment. The past became clear to him like a painful certainty. He persuaded himself that Reinhold had formerly loved Rosa; that this love had brought him back to Nuremberg, to master Martin's house; and the narration of the friendly rivalry of the two painters, for the golden laurel, appeared to him an emblem of the love rivalry of which Rosa was to be the prize. All of Reinhold's words came back to his remembrance, and took an entirely different sense from what he had ever attached to them. "Between two friends," exclaimed he, "there can exist neither hate nor envy. It is to thee, then, friend of my heart—to thee, even, that I will go to ask if the time is already come for one to renounce all hope."
This reverie lasted Frederick until he reached the door of Reinhold's apartment. The rising sun lighted with its joyous rays the little chamber. A profound silence reigned there. The young man pushed the door, which was not closed, and entered softly; but hardly had he taken a step, than he remained fixed to the floor, as immoveable as a statue. Rosa, in all the brilliancy of her charms, appeared to him admirably painted, the size of life. Near the easel, the painter's maulstick and pallet, all prepared, announced a recent labor.
"Rosa! Rosa! oh heaven!" sighed Frederick.
At this moment Reinhold touched him on the shoulder, and ​said to him, softly, with a happy smile on his face—"What do you think of this picture?"
"Oh! thou art a superior man; thou art a great artist," answered Frederick, embracing Reinhold. "Now all is clear to me; thou hast well deserved the prize that I had the madness to envy thee. And yet, dear friend, I also had a fine artist's project. I had dreamed that it would be nice to cast a silver statuette in the divine likeness of Rosa; but I feel that it was the dream of foolish pride. It is thou alone who art happy; thou alone who hast created the masterpiece. Look, how her smile is animated with heavenly life! and what an angelic glance! Ah! we have both wrestled for the same victory; but to thee, Reinhold—to thee, the triumph and the love! For me, to quit this house, this country! I feel that I can never see Rosa again; it would be beyond my strength. Pardon me, dear friend—pardon me, for this very day I am going to re-commence my sad pilgrimage through the world, and I shall carry nothing away with me except my love and my misery!"
With these words Frederick was about to depart, when Reinhold stopped him. "Thou shalt not leave us," said he, with affectionate entreaty; "for all may turn otherwise than thou thinkest here, and I will no longer hide from thee the secret of my life. Thou hast already seen that I was not born to follow the trade of a cooper, and the sight of this picture may prove to thee that I am not in the last rank among painters. In my tenderest youth, I travelled through Italy to study the masterpieces of the great masters. My talents, developed by a natural inclination, made rapid progress. Soon fortune came to me, as well as glory; and the duke of Florence called me to his court. I was ignorant at that time of all that German art has produced, and I spoke, without knowledge of the cause, of the defects, of the coldness, of the dryness of your Dürer and your Cranach, when one day a picture seller showed me a little canvass of old Albert. It was a portrait of the Virgin, the sublime and the finished ​execution of which transported me with enthusiasm. I immediately understood that there was something better than the mannerly grace of the Italian style; and I soon resolved to visit the studios of the celebrated German painters, to initiate myself into the secrets of their compositions. On arriving at Nuremberg, the first object that struck my sight was Rosa; and I thought that I saw the beautiful Madonna of Albert Dürer. An immense love burst out in my soul like a conflagration. The rest of the world was effaced from my thoughts, and Art, which until then had so exclusively occupied me, seemed to have no other mission for me than to produce numberless sketches of the features of the divine object of my passion. I sought means to introduce myself into master Martin's house; but nothing was more difficult. The ordinary tricks employed by lovers became impracticable. I was then about to announce myself openly to Tobias Martin, and ask of him the hand of his daughter, when, by chance, I learned that this worthy man had formally decided that he would accept no other for son-in-law than the most skilful cooper in the country. Far from becoming discouraged at this obstacle, I set off for Strasburg, where I secretly learned this laborious trade, leaving to providence the care of rewarding my efforts. Thou knowest the rest; and I have only one thing more to reveal to thee, which is, that quite recently master Martin, in a fit of good humor, predicted that I should become, under his auspices, a famous cooper, and that it would please him to see me become, some day, the husband of his pretty daughter, who, as he said, was not too indifferent to me."
"Oh, yes, I feel it well, it is thou that she loves," interrupted Frederick. "I am in her eyes nothing but a miserable workman; but in thee she has discovered the artist."
"Stop there!" said Reinhold; "thou art extravagant, and thou forgettest, dear brother, that the little Rosa has not decided. I well know that until now she has shown herself full of kindness and amenity towards me, but this is far from ​love. Promise me, dear brother, to remain three days longer here, in perfect quiet. I long since neglected our hogsheads, but it was, as thou seest, since I busied myself about this picture; all which distracted my attention from it seemed excessively tiresome; and the longer I go on, the less I feel capable of continuing our trade of stupid workmen. I have decided to throw the adz and mallet to the devil. In three days I will sincerely reveal to thee the feelings of Rosa. If she loves me, thou shalt go, and thou wilt soon see that time cures all sorrows, even those which break the heart."
Frederick promised that he would wait.
In three days from that time, towards night, Frederick, after having finished his work, came slowly back to the city. He thought with uneasiness of the rather severe admonitions he had received from master Martin, for some of his awkwardness. He had also noticed that the master seemed preoccupied with a secret sadness, and had heard such words escape his lips as "Cowardly intrigue," "Forgotten kindness," &c. Master Martin had not thought proper to explain himself, and Frederick knew not what to think of it, when he met, at the gates of Nuremberg, a man on horseback—it was Reinhold.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "you have come just in time. I have many things to tell thee." And dismounting, Reinhold passed the bridle around his arm, and pressing his friend's hand, they both walked on. Frederick had noticed from the first that Reinhold had replaced the costume that he wore when they first met. The horse, equipped for the road, carried a portmanteau on his back.
"Be happy, my friend," said Reinhold, in a tone which had suddenly become rude and bitter. "Be happy! and handle at thy ease, henceforth without a rival, the hammer and the plane. I abandon, at this moment, the kingdom of hogsheads. I have just taken leave of the beautiful Rosa and the respectable master Martin."
"How?" exclaimed Frederick, trembling as if a thunder-clap had burst over his head; "thou art going, when master ​Martin accepts thee for son-in-law, and when Rosa loves thee?"
"There again," said Reinhold, "is a phantasmagoria of thy jealous brain. I know, my dear brother, that Rosa would have accepted me for a husband, in obedience to or through fear of her father; but hearts are not taken by force, and her care is not for me. But, really, had it not been for that, I should truly have become a cooper, and like any other, scrape, hoop and guage during six days, and on the seventh display my dignity with the graces of madame Reinhold, in the church of Saint Catherine or Saint Sebald, and then in the evening walk virtuously in the flowery meadows."
"Oh, do not mock," said Frederick, "these simple and peaceful manners. Happiness is hidden in common places."
"Thou art more than right," continued Reinhold, "but let me go on. I found the opportunity to tell Rosa that I loved her, and that her father would consent to our union. At these words I saw the tears start to her eyes, her hand trembled in mine, and she answered me, turning her head aside—'Reinhold, I shall obey the orders of my father.' I took very good care not to press the matter further. A sudden light found its way to my soul, and I very fortunately discovered that my love for the cooper's daughter was nothing but the dream of an enthusiast. It was not Rosa that I loved, but it was an ideal being, of which she had shown me a copy, that I incessantly retraced with all the passion of an artist. I understood that I was in love with a portrait, with a dream, with a fantastic beauty; and I caught a glimpse, with a shudder of disgust, at the poor future that awaited me when I should be installed in the dignity of master workman, with a family. What I loved in the little Rosa, was a heavenly image, which clothed itself in my heart with divine brilliancy, and which my art will cause to live in the creations that I shall spread around me. The destiny of the artist is to go incessantly towards the future, without stopping to pluck flowers by the way. How could I have renounced the ​triumphs of art, and trampled under foot the crowns that it promises? I salute thee from afar, land of arts and antique genius! O Rome, I shall soon see thee again!"
The two friends arrived thus at a place where the road was forked. Reinhold turned to the left. "Farewell!" said he to Frederick, embracing him—"Farewell, my friend; let us separate; who knows if we shall ever meet again!"
He then sprang to his saddle, and spurred on without looking behind him.
Frederick remained long in the place, his eyes fixed on the lonesome road. He then returned to the house, his heart oppressed with grief. Dark forebodings agitated his soul. He fancied that separation resembles death!
X.
At some time from that, master Martin, sad and thoughtful, finished the bishop of Bamberg's tun. Frederick, who was working by his side, said not a word! The departure of Reinhold had deprived him of all joy. Finally, master Martin, throwing his mallet down, folded his arms angrily, and muttered between his teeth!—"There is Reinhold gone after Conrad. He was such a painter as is seldom seen, but he thought to make me a dupe! How could one imagine such rascality under such distinguished traits, with manners so frank, so civil! At last, he is unmasked; and Frederick at least, will remain faithful to me, for he is a clever and simple workman. And who knows what might happen? If thou shouldst become, my dear boy, a skilful master, and should please my little Rosa.—I shall see, I shall see."—And saying this, master Martin picked up his mallet, and returned to his labor. Frederick whilst listening to him had felt a warm emotion thrill through his whole being; but at the same time an indefinable discouragement deprived him of hope. Rosa appeared in the workshop, where she had not put her foot ​for many days; but her face bore the impress of an ill-disguised sadness; it could be seen that she had been weeping. "The departure of Reinhold is the cause of these tears; she loves him then!" said Frederick to himself. This thought nearly broke his heart, and he dared not raise his eyes towards her.
Meanwhile the great tun was finished. Master Martin, before his work, felt his former gaiety return. "Yes, my boy," said he to Frederick, striking him familiarly on the shoulder, "if thou canst succeed in doing a piece of work like this, and if thou pleasest Rosa, thou shalt be my son-in-law; this will not prevent you from cultivating the art of singing, and thus you will gain two excellent reputations."
As work came from every quarter to his work-shop, master Martin was obliged to engage two new journeymen, very skilful men at their trade, but free livers, drinkers and roysterers. The work-shop soon resounded with jokes or such gross songs that Rosa was forced to abstain from going there, and Frederick was completely isolated.
When at times Frederick met his beloved, he sighed and fixed a glance upon her that seemed to say:
"My cherished Rosa, you are no longer good and charming to me, as at the time when Reinhold was here!" To which the young girl, lowering her eyes, answered by her modest embarrassment: "Master Frederick, have you any thing to say to me?" But in these very rare instances, the poor young man remained speechless, and as if petrified: and Rosa disappeared like the soft flashes of lightning during the warm summer evenings, which the eye admires without being able to seize upon them.
Master Martin did not cease to insist that Frederick should set himself about preparing his master-workman's master-piece. He had himself selected a sufficient quantity of oak boards without veins or knots, and which had already undergone five good years' seasoning, sheltered both from dampness and dryness. No one was to assist Frederick, except the old man ​Valentine. The poor boy, already disgusted with the trade by his forced intimacy with his new workshop companions, had no longer spirit to work; he felt a want of confidence before an enterprise whose want of success would cause all his dreams of happiness to vanish. A vague instinct, that he could not define, repeated to him unceasingly that he would fail under the weight of his task, and he became suddenly ashamed at having condemned himself to a manual labor which was so repugnant to his vocation of artist. The disgrace of Reinhold was always present to his memory. From time to time, to withdraw himself from the painful besetting of his fears, he feigned indisposition to force himself from the duty of going to the work-shop, and he hurried away to pass whole hours at Saint Sebald's church, examining the Peter Fischer's master-piece of carving, and exclaiming with inspired exaltation:—"Oh, Heavenly Father! to imagine such things and have the power in one's self to execute them, is it not the greatest happiness on earth?" and when, on recovering from these ecstacies, the reality of the staves and hoops of master Martin's workshop stared him in the face, when he thought that Rosa would be the price of a miserable tun fabricated with more or less art, he felt despair consuming his strength, and his brain wandering. At night, Reinhold appeared in his dreams, and spread out before him inimitable models whose realization would have immortalized the founder. And, in these marvellous designs, the figure of Rosa was always the principal subject, framed in the most capricious mixture of foliage and flowers. All this seemed to become animated, grow green and flourish; the metal, like a brilliant mirror, reflected the image of the adored young girl; Frederick extended his aims towards her, calling her by the sweetest names; but when he thought to reach her, the fantastic picture evaporated like a fugitive haze. On awaking, the poor artist detested a little more his sad future as cooper. An idea came into his head that he would go and confide his grief to his old master Johannes Holzschuer. Charmed to ​see his favorite scholar again, he allowed Frederick to come to his house and carve a little work, for the execution of which he had gradually and for a long time gathered the necessary gold and silver. Frederick took hold of this work with such ardor that he almost entirely neglected his labor in the work-shop of master Martin, and many months elapsed without his master-work being talked of, which was to rival the Bamberg tun. But, one fine day, master Martin pressed him so earnestly, that it was necessary, willing, or unwilling, to take up again the adz and mallet. When the work was commenced, the master came to examine the progress; but at the sight of the boards already spread out, he became violently angry and exclaimed—"What is all that? What paltry work art thou making, my poor Frederick? A three days' apprentice would not cut up wood in that manner! Frederick, what demon has guided thy hand to spoil the best oak-wood that I have seen for a long time? Is that thy masterpiece?"
Frederick could no longer hold out against the unmeasured reproaches of master Martin, and throwing his tools to the other end of the workshop:—"Well! master," exclaimed he, "I am done! no, should it cost me my life, should I fall into the depths of misery, no, I will work no more! I renounce this trade which I hate, and for which I was not formed. For I too am an artist! I too love your daughter passionately, deliriously; it was my love that tempted me to this odious trial. I now see that all happiness, all hope is lost for me! I shall die, but I will die an artist, and I will leave behind me some token of remembrance! And now I return to my first and worthy master, Johannes Holzschuer, whom I had abandoned!"
Master Martin's eyes flashed fire when he heard Frederick reply so spiritedly. "And thou also?" exclaimed he; "thou also hast deceived me! So the cooper's trade is odious to to thee! So much the better, so much the better, good for nothing! out from here! out from here." And without giving Frederick time to recover himself, he took him by the shoulders ​and pushed him out, to the great glorification of the journeymen and apprentices, who had witnessed this scene. The old man Valentine, his hands clasped and his brow clouded, said in a low voice:—"I thought that there was something better in that journeyman than in a common workman." Dame Martha, who liked Frederick, and her little ones whom he often regaled with delicacies, were inconsolable at his departure.
XI.
Master Martin's workshop became sadder than ever. The new journeymen gave him nothing but care. Forced to watch over the least details, he passed his days in burdensome fatigue, and at night, tormented by wakefulness, he repeated incessantly: "Ah! Reinhold, ah! Frederick, why did you thus deceive me? Why were you not simply honest and laborious workmen?" The poor man visibly failed, and was many times on the point of giving up his calling, and dying of langour. He was seated one evening before the door of his house, preoccupied with painful reveries, when he saw coming towards him Jacobus Paumgartner, accompanied by master Johannes Holzschuer; he thought truly that they were going to speak to him about Frederick. In effect, Paumgartner turned the conversation towards this subject, and Holzschuer exerted himself in eulogizing the young artist; and both rivalled each other in praising the excellent qualities of Frederick, and in predicting the future that was reserved for his talents, supplicated master Martin to give up his prejudices in his favor, and not to renounce the idea of granting the hand of his daughter to this young man, who after all would make her happy, and would do credit some day to his father-in-law. Master Martin allowed them to have their say: then taking off his fur cap slowly, he very calmly answered them:—"My dear gentlemen, you take so pressing an interest in what relates to this youth, that I would fain pardon him ​something at your solicitation. But, for the rest, I will not relinquish my resolution; and, as to the marriage above all, there will never be any more relations between him and my daughter."
As he was saying this, dwelling on each syllable, Rosa came into the room, pale and trembling, and placed upon the table a flagon of the famous Hochheim wine and three glasses,—"It must be, then," said Holzschuer, "that I allow poor Frederick to depart, who has resolved, in his grief, to expatriate himself? And yet, look, dear master, look at this work in carving that he has executed at my house, under my supervision, and say, if you can, that there was not in this young man material for a great artist. It is a farewell remembrance that he asks you to allow your daughter to accept. Only look at this pretty work!" And master Holzschuer drew from his pocket a silver goblet, delicately wrought; and master Martin who prided himself upon his good taste, examined it very carefully. It was, indeed, a little masterpiece. Around it ran a wreath of vines and roses, and from each blown rose peeped the figure of a little angel, carved with perfect grace. The bottom on the inside, lined with gold, was ornamented with similar little figures; and when you poured into the goblet a flood of golden wine, these little smiling angels seemed to move as if to rise to the surface.—"I confess that this is an excellent piece of workmanship," said master Martin, "and I will keep this cup if Frederick will accept twice the value of it in good new ducats."
Saying this, master Martin filled the goblet and emptied it at a draught. At this moment the door was softly opened, and Frederick, disfigured by grief and the tears that he had shed, appeared and remained immovable at the entrance of the room, in the attitude of a criminal who is about to hear his condemnation. Rosa, who perceived him first, uttered an exclamation, and fell lifeless into his arms.
Master Martin dropped the goblet, and looking at Frederick fixedly, as if he had seen a spectre, he arose, and said with emotion—"Rosa, Rosa, dost thou then love this Frederick?"
​"More than my life!" said the poor girl in a broken voice.
"Well, then, my boy, I pardon thee; embrace thy betrothed; yes, yes, thy betrothed."
Paumgartner and the old man Holzschuer looked at each other in astonishment, and master Martin continued aloud, but speaking to himself:
"Good Heaven! it is thus, then, that this prophecy of the grandmother is to be accomplished! Is this not, in effect, the pretty house, the little angels with enamelled wings? Besides, the goblet is nothing but an infinitely little tun, and truly everything is for the best, for I can thus consent without changing my mind; I ought to have thought of that sooner."
Frederick, overcome with joy, had hardly strength to press the prettty Rosa more closely to his heart.—"Oh, my dear master," exclaimed he, when he had recovered himself a little, "what! can it be true that you consent to accept me as son-in-law, and allow me to practise my art?"
"Yes, yes," replied master Martin: "thou has fulfilled the prediction of the old grandmother, thy trial-work no longer remains to be done."
"No, dear master," replied Frederick, "do not let me give it up yet; I will, on the contrary, finish my mammoth tun; I will leave it to you as a mark of my respect for the profession you have rendered illustrious, and I will afterwards return to my crucibles."
"Honor to thee for that good thought," said master Martin, rising with enthusiasm; "finish, then, thy masterpiece. The day thou shalt give the last blow of the mallet, shall be thy wedding day."
Frederick went to work with great zeal, and the immense tun that grew up under his hands was the admiration of all the leading coopers. Master Martin was at the height of joy. The wedding day was fixed, and the trial-work, filled with generous wine and ornamented with flowery garlands, was placed at the entrance of the house. The master coopers with their families, conducted by the worthy counsellor Jacobus ​Paumgartner, and the master of jewellers, united in a brilliant procession to go to the church of Saint Sebald. At the moment of setting out, the noise of horses and the sound of music was heard before master Martin's house: and he, running to the balcony, recognized lord Heinrich Spangenberg, having by his side a young and brilliant cavalier, wearing a sword and hat ornamented with floating plumes and precious stones. Near the young man rode a marvellously beautiful lady, and behind these three personages pranced a numerous retinue of servants in costumes of all colors.
The music having stopped, the old man Spangenberg cried out to master Martin, raising his head:—"Ho, ho, master Martin, it is neither for your cellar nor your ducats that I come here; I come on account of the marriage of your pretty daughter. Will you receive me, dear master?"
Master Martin, a little confused by the recollection of these words, went down as fast as his legs would allow him, to receive with all kinds of salutations, his old and noble customer. The beautiful lady and the cavalier also dismounted and entered the house. But hardly had the worthy cooper looked at the young cavalier than he started back in surprise.—"Good heaven!" exclaimed he, clasping his hands, "this is Conrad."
"Truly, yes," said the young man, smilingly; "I am your former journeyman. Pardon me, dear master, a certain wound which I have kept in remembrance. I could very well have killed you that day, for you had treated me very rudely! But all is for the best, let us think no more of it."
Master Martin assured him that he was very thankful that the cursed adz had only slightly cut him; he then begged his guests to enter the principal room, where the bride and bridegroom and the friends of the family had united to witness the ceremony. The appearance of the beautiful lady was saluted by a very flattering murmur; everybody remarked that her beauty resembled in a surprising degree the ravishing features of the young bride; they might have been taken for twin sisters.
​Conrad gallantly approached towards the cooper's daughter, and said to her with exquisite grace:—"Permit, my beautiful young lady, Conrad to partake of your felicity to-day; deign to tell him that you forget his former outbursts, and that you pardon him as your father has done."
And as Rosa stood disconcerted, and master Martin and the guests were looking on in astonishment, the elder Mr. Spangenberg spoke to end this embarrasment.
"You think that you are dreaming!" said he. "But this is my son Conrad, and there is his ravishing affianced wife whose name is Rosa, like master Martin's pretty daughter. Remember then, dear master, the other day that, talking with you over a flagon of your old wine, I asked if you would refuse your daughter to everybody, even to my son. I had good reasons, for speaking thus. My rash son was in love with her, to such a point that it was necessary, in order not to drive him to despair, that I should take upon myself the management of this affair. When I related to him, to cure him, the reception which you had given me, and your strange caprice in the matter of son-in-law, Conrad could think of nothing better than slipping into your house as workman, in order to be near Rosa, and with the design of stealing her away from you some day. Luckily for you, the blow of the stave on his shoulders broke the wings of his love. I congratulated myself on it, and my son, to remain faithful in some degree to his first inclination, fell in love with a noble heiress, who bears like your daughter the name of Rosa, and who very nearly resembles her."
The young lady then approached Rosa, threw around her neck a fine pearl necklace of great value, and taking from her bosom a bunch of faded flowers,—"Here," said she to her, "here is the bouquet which you gave to Conrad, and which he has carefully kept. Are you not angry that he has given it to me? It was, he told me, what he held most precious!" A bright color mounted to the pale cheeks of the cooper's daughter.
​"Ah, noble lady," said she in a low voice, "it was you alone that this young lord ought to have loved. He knew you, I am sure, before thinking of me. The resemblance in the names and the likeness of features has procured for a short time his attention. It was the recollection of you that he sought for in me. But I am not angry with him for it."
As the procession got ready for the second time to leave the house of master Martin, a fine young man, who wore with rare elegance a rich Italian costume, came forward and embraced Frederick. "Reinhold! my friend Reinhold!" exclaimed the bridegroom: and the two friends embraced each other closely. Master Martin and Rosa partook of their joy.
"Did I not tell thee truly," said the artist, "that happiness would come at the sound of the mallet? I arrive in time to share thy joy, and I bring thee my bridal gift."
Two servants then entered, and discovered, to the astonished gaze of the guests, a magnificent canvass, on which were painted master Martin, with Reinhold, Frederick and Conrad, working on the prince bishop of Bamberg's tun, at the moment that Rosa appeared among them.
"That is," said Frederick smilingly, "thy masterwork; mine is down below, full of wine; but patience, I shall have to make another."
"I knew all," continued Reinhold, "and I find thee more fortunate than myself. Be faithful to thy art, which, better than mine, can agree with a calm life and the sedentary habits of a good home. Happiness, friend, is only found in common places."
At the nuptial feast, Frederick seated himself between the two Rosas, and opposite to him master Martin placed himself between Conrad and Reinhold. At the dessert, the counsellor Jacobus Paumgartner filled the silver goblet, carved by Frederick, and drank the first draught in honor of master Martin and his joyous companions. Then the goblet made the circuit of the guests, who celebrated until the morrow, the good cellar of the master of the candles.
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