"Thus I acknowledge thee for my va.s.sal, as my father did thy father."

Then turning to his attendants he cried, "Bring hither the camp furniture." Hereupon the circle of spectators parted in two, and the pages led up, first, Vidante's horse, upon which he sprung; then others followed, bearing rich garments and his father's signet, and laid them down before him, saying, "Kinsman, the garments and the seal of thy father." A third and a fourth bore a large couch with a white coverlet, set it down before him, and said, "Kinsman, a couch for thee and thy wife." Then came a great crowd, bearing plates and dishes, and napkins, and table-covers, besides eleven tin cans, a fish-kettle, and a pair of iron pot-hooks; in short, a complete camp furniture; all of which they set down before the young man, and then disappeared.

During this entire time no one noticed his Highness the Duke, though he was indeed the feudal head of all. Even when the trumpets sounded again, and the va.s.sals pa.s.sed out in procession, they lowered their standards only before Otto, as if no princely personage were present. But I think this proud Lord Otto must have commanded them so to do, for such an omission or breach of respect was never before seen in Pomerania. Even his Highness seemed, at last, to feel displeasure, for he drew forth his knife, and began to cut away at the little wooden Adam, without taking further notice of the ceremony.

At length when the va.s.sals had departed, and many of the guests also, who wished to follow them, had left the hall, the Duke looked up with his little glittering eyes, scratched the back of his head with the knife, and asked his Chancellor, Jacob Kleist, who had evidently been long raging with anger, "Jacob, what dost thou think of this _spectaculo?_" who replied, "Gracious lord, I esteem it a silly thing for an inferior to play the part of a prince, or for a prince to be compelled to play the part of an inferior." Such a speech offended Otto mightily, who drew himself up and retorted scornfully, "Particularly a poor inferior who, as you see, is obliged to draw the plough by turns with his serfs." Hereupon the Chancellor would have flung back the scorn, but his Highness motioned with the hand that he should keep silence, saying, "Remember, good Jacob, that we are here as guests; however, order the carriages, for I think it is time that we proceed on our journey."

When Otto heard this, he was confounded, and, descending from his throne, uttered so many flattering things, that his Highness at length was prevailed upon to remain (I would not have consented, to save my soul, had I been the Prince--no, not even if I had to pa.s.s the night with the bears and wolves in the forest before I could reach Treptow); so the good old Prince followed him into another hall, where breakfast was prepared, and all the lords and ladies stood there in glittering groups round the table, particularly admiring the bear's head, which seemed to please his Highness mightily also. Then each one drained a large goblet of wine, and even the ladies sipped from their little wine-gla.s.ses, to drink themselves into good spirits for the dance.

Otto now related all about the hunt, and presented me to his Grace, who gave me his hand to kiss, saying, "Well done, young man--I like this bravery. Were it not for you, in place of a wedding, and a bear's head in the dish, Lord Otto might have had a funeral and two human heads in a coffin." His Grace then pledged me in a silver becker of wine; and afterwards the bride and bridegroom, who had sat till then kissing and making love in a corner; but they now came forward and kissed the hand of the Duke with much respect. The bridegroom had on a crimson doublet, which became him well; but his father's jack-boots, which he wore according to custom, were much too wide, and shook about his legs.

The bride was arrayed in a scarlet velvet robe, and bodice furred with ermine. Sidonia carried a little balsam flask, depending from a gold chain which she wore round her neck. (She soon needed the balsam, for that day she suffered a foretaste of the fate which was to be the punishment for her after evil deeds.) And now, as we set forward to the church, a group of n.o.ble maidens distributed wreaths to the guests; but the bride presented one to the Duke, and Sidonia (that her hand might have been withered) handed one to me, poor love-stricken youth.

It was the custom then, as now, in Pomerania, for all the bride-maidens, crowned with beautiful wreaths, to precede the bride and bridegroom to church. The crowd of lords, and ladies, and young knights pouring out of the castle gates, in order to see them, separated Sidonia from this group, and she was left alone weeping. Now the whole population of the little town were running from every street leading to the church; and it happened that a courser [Footnote: A man who courses greyhounds.] of Otto Bork's came right against Sidonia with such violence, that, with a blow of his head, he knocked her down into the puddle (she was to lie there really in after-life). Her little balsam-flask was of no use here. She had to go back, dripping, to the castle, and appeared no more at her sister's nuptials, but consoled herself, however, by listening to the bellowing of the huntsman, whom they were beating black and blue by her orders beneath her window.

I would willingly have returned with her, but was ashamed so to do, and therefore followed the others to church. All the common people that crowded the streets were allowed to enter. Then the bridegroom and his party, of whom the Duke was chief, advanced up to the right of the altar, and the bride and her party, of which Fabia.n.u.s Timaeus was the most distinguished, arrayed themselves on the left.

I had now an opportunity of hearing the learned and excellent parson Dilavius myself; for he represented his patron (who was not present at the feast, but apologised for his absence by alleging that he must remain at the castle to look after the preparations) almost as an angel, and the young ladies, especially the bride, came in for even a larger share of his flattery; but he was so modest before these ill.u.s.trious personages, that I observed, whenever he looked up from the book, he had one eye upon the Duke and another on Fabia.n.u.s.

When we returned to the castle, Sidonia met the bridemaidens again with joyous smiles. She now wore a white silk robe, laced with gold, and dancing-slippers with white silk hose. The diamonds still remained on her head, neck, and arms. She looked beautiful thus; and I could not withdraw my eyes from her. We all now entered the bridechamber, as the custom is, and there stood an immense bridal couch, with coverlet and draperies as white as snow; and all the bridemaids and the guests threw their wreaths upon it. Then the Prince, taking the bridegroom by the hand, led him up to it, and repeated an old German rhyme concerning the duties of the holy state upon which he had entered.

When his Highness ceased, Fabia.n.u.s took the bride by the hand, who blushed as red as a rose, and led her up in the same manner to the nuptial couch, where he uttered a long admonition on her duties to her husband, at which all wept, but particularly the bride-maidens. After this we proceeded to the state hall, where Otto was seated on his throne waiting to receive them, and when his children had kissed his hand the dancing commenced. Otto invited the Prince to sit near him, and all the young knights and maidens who intended to dance ranged themselves on costly carpets that were laid upon the floor all round by the walls. The trumpets and violins now struck up, and a band was stationed at each end of the hall, so that while the dancers were at the top one played, and when at the lower end the other.

I hastened to Sidonia, as she reclined upon the carpet, and bending low before her, said, "Beautiful maiden! will you not dance?" [Footnote: It will interest my fair readers to know that this was, word for word, the established form employed in those days for an invitation to dance.] Upon which she smilingly gave me her little hand, and I raised her up, and led her away.

I have said that I was a proficient in all knightly exercises, so that every one approached to see us dance. When Sidonia was tired I led her back, and threw myself beside her on the carpet. But in a little while three other young n.o.bles came and seated themselves around her, and began to jest, and toy, and pay court to her. One played with her left hand and her rings, another with the gold net of her hair, while I held her right hand and pressed it. She coquettishly repelled them all--sometimes with her feet, sometimes with her hands. And when Hans von Damitz extolled her hair, she gave him such a blow on the nose with her head that it began to bleed, and he was obliged to withdraw. Still one could see that all these blows, right and left, were not meant in earnest. This continued for some time until an Italian dance began, which she declined to join, and as I was left alone with her upon the carpet, "Now," thought I, "there can be no better time to decide my fate;" for she had pressed my hand frequently, both in the dance and since I had lain reclining beside her.

"Beautiful Sidonia!" I said, "you know not how you have wounded my heart. I can neither eat nor sleep since I beheld you, and those five little kisses which you gave me burn through my frame like arrows."

To which she answered, laughing, "It was your pastime, youth. It was your own wish to take those little kisses."

"Ah, yes!" I said, "it was my will; but give me more now and make me well."

"What!" she exclaimed, "you desire more kisses? Then will your pain become greater, if, as you say, with every kiss an arrow enters your heart, so at last they would cause your death."

"Ah, yes!" I answered, "unless you take pity on me, and promise to become my wife, they will indeed cause my death." As I said this, she sprang up, tore her hand away from me, and cried with mocking laughter, "What does the knave mean? Ha! ha! the poor, miserable varlet!"

I remained some moments stupefied with rage, then sprung to my feet without another word, left the hall, took my steed from the stable, and turned my back on the castle for ever. You may imagine how her ingrat.i.tude added to the bitterness of my feelings, when I considered that it was to me she owed her life. She afterwards offered herself to me for a wife, but she was then dishonoured, and I spat out at her in disgust. I never beheld her again till she was carried past my door to the scaffold.

All this the old man related with many sighs; but his after-meeting with her shall be related more _in extenso_ in its proper place. I shall now set down what further he communicated about the wedding-feast.

You may imagine, he said, that I was curious to know all that happened after I left the castle, and my friend, Bogislaff von Suckow of Pegelow, told me as follows.

After my departure, the young lords grew still more free and daring in their manner to Sidonia, so that when not dancing she had sufficient exercise in keeping them off with her hands and feet, until my friend Bogislaff attracted her whole attention by telling her that he had just returned from Wolgast, where the ducal widow was much comforted by the presence of her son, Prince Ernest Ludovick, whom she had not seen since he went to the university. He was the handsomest youth in all Pomerania, and played the lute so divinely that at court he was compared to the G.o.d Apollo.

Sidonia upon this fell into deep thought. In the meanwhile, it was evident that his Highness old Duke Barnim was greatly struck by her beauty, and wished to get near her upon the carpet; for his Grace was well known to be a great follower of the s.e.x, and many stories are whispered about a harem of young girls he kept at St.

Mary's--but these things are allowable in persons of his rank.

However, Fabia.n.u.s Timaeus, who sat by him, wished to prevent him approaching Sidonia, and made signs, and nudged him with his elbow; and finally they put their heads together and had a long argument.

At last the Prince started up, and stepping to Otto, asked him, Would he not dance? "Yes," he replied, "if your Grace will dance likewise." "Good," said the Prince, "that can be soon arranged,"

and therewith he solicited Sidonia's hand. At this Fabia.n.u.s was so scandalised that he left the hall, and appeared no more until supper. After the dance, his Highness advanced to Otto, who was reseated on his throne, and said, "Why, Otto, you have a beautiful daughter in Sidonia. She must come to my court, and when she appears amongst the other ladies, I swear she will make a better fortune than by staying shut up here in your old castle."

On which Otto replied, sarcastically smiling, "Ay, my gracious Prince, she would be a dainty morsel for your Highness, no doubt; but there is no lack of n.o.ble visitors at my castle, I am proud to say." Jacob Kleist, the Chancellor, was now so humbled at the Duke's behaviour that he, too, left the hall and followed Fabia.n.u.s. Even the Duke changed colour; but before he had time to speak, Sidonia sprang forward, and having heard the whole conversation, entreated her father to accept the Duke's offer, and allow her either to visit the court at Wolgast or at Old Stettin.

What was she to do here? When the wedding-feast was over, no one would come to the castle but huntsmen and such like.

So Otto at last consented that she might visit Wolgast, but on no account the court at Stettin.

Then the young Sidonia began to coax and caress the old Duke, stroking his long beard, which reached to his girdle, with her little white hands, and prayed that he would place her with the princely Lady of Wolgast, for she longed to go there. People said that it was such a beautiful place, and the sea was not far off, which she had never been at in all her life. And so the Duke was pleased with her caresses, and promised that he would request his dear cousin, the ducal widow of Wolgast, to receive her as one of her maids of honour. Sidonia then further entreated that there might be no delay, and he answered that he would send a note to his cousin from the Diet at Treptow, by the Grand Chamberlain of Wolgast, Ulrich von Schwerin, and that she would not have to wait long. But she must go by Old Stettin, and stop at his palace for a while, and then he would bring her on himself to Wolgast, if he had time to spare.

While Sidonia clapped her hands and danced about for joy, Otto looked grave, and said, "But, gracious Lord, the nearest way to Wolgast is by Cammin. Sidonia must make a circuit if she goes by Old Stettin."

The conversation was now interrupted by the lacqueys, who came to announce that dinner was served.

Otto requested the Duke to take a place beside him at table, and treated him with somewhat more distinction than he had done in the morning; but a hot dispute soon arose, and this was the cause. As Otto drank deep in the wine-cup, he grew more reckless and daring, and began to display his heretical doctrines as openly as he had hitherto exhibited his pomp and magnificence, so that every one might learn that pride and unG.o.dliness are twin brothers. May G.o.d keep us from both!

And one of the guests having said, in confirmation of some fact, "The Lord Jesus knows I speak the truth!" the G.o.dless knight laughed scornfully, exclaiming, "The Lord Jesus knows as little about the matter as my old grandfather, lying there in his vault, of our wedding-feast to-day."

There was a dead silence instantly, and the Prince, who had just lifted up some of the bear's paw to his lips, with mustard sauce and pastry all round it, dropped it again upon his plate, and opened his eyes as wide as they could go; then, hastily wiping his mouth with the salvet, exclaimed in low German, "What the devil, Otto! art thou a freethinker?" who replied, "A true n.o.bleman may, in all things, be a freethinker, and neither do all that a prince commands nor believe all that a pope teaches." To which the Duke answered, "What concerns me I pardon, for I do not believe that you will ever forget your duty to your Prince. The times are gone by when a n.o.ble would openly offer violence to his sovereign; but for what concerns the honour of our Lord Christ, I must leave you in the hands of Fabia.n.u.s to receive proper chastis.e.m.e.nt."

Now Fabia.n.u.s, seeing that all eyes were fixed on him, grew red and cleared his throat, and set himself in a position to argue the point with Lord Otto, beginning--"So you believe that Christ the Lord remained in the grave, and is not living and reigning for all eternity?"

_Ille_.--"Yes; that is my opinion."

_Hic_.--"What do you believe, then? or do you believe in anything?"

_Ille_.--"Yes; I believe firmly in an all-powerful and omniscient G.o.d."

_Hic_.--"How do you know He exists?"

_Ille_.--"Because my reason tells me so."

_Hic_.--"Your reason does not tell you so, good sir. It merely tells you that something supermundane exists, but cannot tell you whether it be one G.o.d or two G.o.ds, or a hundred G.o.ds, or of what nature are these G.o.ds--whether spirits, or stars, or trees, or animals, or, in fine, any object you can name, for paganism has imagined a Deity in everything, which proves what I a.s.sert. You only believe in _one_ G.o.d, because you sucked in the doctrine with your mother's milk." [Footnote: The history of all philosophy shows that this is psychologically true. Even Lucian satirises the philosophers of his age who see G.o.d or G.o.ds in numbers, dogs, geese, trees, and other things. But monotheistic Christianity has preserved us for nearly 2000 years from these aberrations of philosophy. However, as the authority of Christianity declined, the pagan tendency again became visible; until at length, in the Hegelian school, we have fallen back helplessly into the same pantheism which we left 2000 years ago.

In short, what Kant a.s.serts is perfectly true: that the existence of G.o.d cannot be proved from reason. For the highest objects of all cognition--G.o.d, Freedom, and Immortality--can as little be evolved from the new philosophy as beauty from the disgusting process of decomposition. And yet more impossible is it to imagine that this feeble Hegelian pantheism should ever become the crown and summit of all human thought, and final resting-place for all human minds. Reason, whether from an indwelling instinct, or from an innate causality-law, may a.s.sert that something supermundane exists, but can know nothing more and nothing further. So we see the absurdity of chattering in our journals and periodicals of the progress of reason. The advance has been only _formal_, not _essential_. The formal advance has been in printing, railroads, and such like, in which direction we may easily suppose progression will yet further continue. But there has been no essential advance whatever. We know as little now of our own being, of the being of G.o.d, or even of that of the smallest infusoria, as in the days of Thales and Anaximander. In short, when life begins, begins also our feebleness; "Therefore," says Paul, "we walk by faith, not by sight." Yet these would-be philosophers of our day will only walk by sight, not by faith, although they cannot see into anything--not even into themselves.]

_Ille_.--"How did it happen, then, that Abraham arrived at the knowledge of the _one_ G.o.d, and called on the name of the Lord?"

_Hic_.--"Do you compare yourself with Abraham? Have you ever studied Hebrew?"

_Ille_.--"A little. In my youth I read through the book of Genesis."

_Hic_.--"Good! then you know that the Hebrew word for _name_ is _Shem_?"

_Ille_.-"Yes; I know that."

_Hic_.--"Then you know that from the time of Enos the _name_ [Footnote: In order to understand the argument, the reader must remember that the _name_ here is taken in the sense of the Greek logos, and is considered as referring especially to Christ.] was preached (Genesis iv. 26), showing that the pure doctrine was known from the beginning. This doctrine was darkened and obscured by wise people like you, so that it was almost lost at the time of Abraham, who again preached the _name_ of the Lord to unbelievers."

_Ille_.--"What did this primitive doctrine contain?"