Read Ebook: Pictures of German Life in the XVth XVIth and XVIIth Centuries Vol. II. by Freytag Gustav Malcolm Mrs Georgina Translator

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In such a camp it was that the wild soldiery dwelt in unbridled licence, insupportable to the neighbourhood even in a friendly country. The provinces, cities, and villages were obliged to supply wood, straw, fodder, and provisions, the waggons rolled along every road, and droves of fat cattle were collected. The neighbouring villages quickly disappeared; as all the wood-work and thatching was torn away by the soldiers and employed in building their huts, only the shattered clay walls remained. The soldiers and their boys roved about the neighbourhood, plundering and stealing, and the cantineers drove about with their carts. In the camp the soldiers congregated in front of their huts; meanwhile the women cooked, washed, mended the clothes and squabbled together; there was constant tumult and uproar and bloody crimes, fighting with bare weapons, and combats between the different services or nations. Every morning the crier and the trumpet called to prayer, even among the Imperialists; early on the Sunday the regimental chaplain performed service in the camp, then the soldiers and their households seated themselves devoutly on the ground, and it was forbidden for any one during service to loiter and drink in the canteens. It is known how much Gustavus Adolphus inculcated pious habits and prayers; after his arrival in Pomerania he caused prayers to be read twice a day in his camp, but even in his army, it was necessary in the articles of war to admonish the chaplains against drunkenness.

The military signals of the camp were, for the infantry the beat of the drum, for the cavalry the trumpet: the drum was very large, the drummer often a half-grown boy, sometimes the fool of the company. In the beginning of the war, the German army had in many cases a uniform beat. Every command from the General to the camp, had to be proclaimed by a herald riding through it with a trumpeter. On such occasions the herald wore over his dress a "tabard" of coloured silk, embroidered before and behind with the arms of the sovereign. This proclamation, which announced to the camp in the evening the work of the following day, was very destructive to secret and rapid operations; it was also very injurious to discipline, for it announced to the loiterers and robbers of the camp, the night when they might steal out for booty.

When times were prosperous, a battle won, a rich city plundered, or an opulent district laid under contribution, everything was plentiful, food and drink cheap; and it once happened, in the last year of the war, that in the Bavarian camp a cow was bought for a pipe of tobacco. The Croats of the Imperial army in Pomerania, in the winter of 1630 and 1631, had their girdles overlaid with gold, and whole plates of gold and silver on the breast. Paul Stockmann, a pastor at L?tzen, relates, that in the Imperial army, before the battle of L?tzen, one horseman had his horse decorated with a quantity of golden stars, and another with three hundred silver moons; and the soldiers' women wore the most beautiful church dresses and mass vestments, and that some Stradiots rode in plundered priests' dresses, to the great mirth of their comrades. In these times also carousers drank to one another in costly wine from the chalices, and caused long chains to be made of the plundered gold, from which, according to the old knightly custom, they severed links to pay for a carousal. But the longer the war lasted the more rare were these golden times. The devastation of the country revenged itself fearfully on the army itself; the pale spectre of hunger, the forerunner of pestilence, glided through the lines of the camp, and raised its bony hand against every straw hut. Then supplies from the surrounding districts ceased, the price of provisions was raised so as to be almost unattainable; a loaf of bread, for example, in the Swedish army in 1640, at Gotha, cost a ducat. Hollow-eyed pale faces, sick and dying men, were to be seen in every row of huts; the vicinity of the camp was pestilential from the decaying bodies of dead animals. All around was a wilderness of uncultivated fields, blackened with the ruins of villages, and the camp itself a dismal city of death.

A broad stream of superstition had flowed through the souls of the people from ancient times up to the present day, and the soldier's life of the Thirty years' war revived an abundance of peculiar superstitions, of which a portion continues even now; it is worth while to dwell a little upon these characteristic phenomena.

The belief that it is possible to make the body proof by magic against the weapons of the enemy, and on the other hand to make your own arms fatal to them, is older than the historical life of the German people. In the earliest times, however, something gloomy was attached to this art; it might easily become pregnant with fatality, even to its votaries. The invulnerability was not unconditional, and succumbed to the stronger counter-magic of the offensive weapon: Achilles had a heel which was not invulnerable; no weapon could wound the Norse god Baldur, but the waving of a branch of misletoe by a blind man killed him; Siegfried had a weak spot between the shoulders, the same which the soldiers of the Thirty years' war considered also as vulnerable. Among the numerous Norse traditions are many accounts of charmed weapons: the sword, the noblest weapon of heroes, was considered as a living being, also as a slaying serpent or a destroying fire; when it was shattered, it was spoken of by the Norse poets as dying. It was unnecessary to charm swords forged by dwarfs, as there was a destroying magic concealed in them; thus the sword of Hagens, the father of Hilda, was death to any man when it was drawn from the sheath, magic Runic character being scratched on the hilt and blade of it.

When the Italians and Spaniards entered the Netherlands in 1568, they carried along with them, with little success, whole packets and books full of magic formulas of conjurations and charms. The French found talismans and magic cards fastened round the necks of the prisoners and the dead, of the Brandenburg troops who had been led by Burgrave Fabian von Dohna, in 1587, as auxiliaries to the Huguenots. When the Jesuit George Scheerer preached at the Court Chapel at Vienna in 1594, before the Archduke Matthias and his Generals, he found it necessary to exhort them earnestly against the use of superstitious charms for cuts, stabs, shots, and burns.

Even in the first year of the Thirty years' war, the art of rendering invulnerable was eagerly discussed. A good account of it can be found in 'The true narrative of the siege and capture by storm of the city of Pilsen in Bohemia, 1619.' The passage according to our dialect is as follows:

Numerous were the means employed by men to make themselves and others invulnerable. Even this superstition was governed tyrannically by fashion. Of very ancient date are the charmed shirts, and the Victory and St. George's shirts; they were prepared in different ways for the Landsknechte. On Christmas night, according to ancient tradition, certain virgins used to spin linen thread in the name of the devil, weave and stitch it; on the breast two heads were embroidered, the one on the right side with a beard, and the left like that of king Beelzebub, with a crown, dark reminiscences of the holy heads of Donar and Wuotan. According to later custom the charmed shirt must be spun by maidens under the age of seven; it was to be sewed with particular cross stitches, laid secretly on the altar till three masses had been read over it. On the day of battle such a charmed shirt was worn under the dress, and if the wearer received a wound, it was owing to other thread having been mixed with that which was charmed.

Superstition gladly availed itself of the miraculous power of the Christian Church, even when in opposition to law. The gospel of St. John was written elaborately on thin paper and placed secretly under the altar cover in a Roman Catholic church, and left there till the priest had thrice read the mass over it; then it was placed in a quill or the shell of a hazel nut, and the opening was cemented with Spanish lac or wax, or this capsule was framed in gold or silver and hung round the neck. Others received the host at the Lord's supper, accompanying it with a silent invocation to the devil; taking the wafer out of their mouths again, they separated the skin from the flesh in some part of the body, placed the wafer there, and let the wound heal over it. The most reckless gave themselves up entirely to the devil; such people could not only make other men invulnerable, but even eatables, such as butter, cheese, and fruit, so that the sharpest knife could not penetrate them.

There was a change of form and name in the written parchments also which contained charms.

Not only the common soldiers, but many great commanders also had the repute of being invulnerable: not Pappenheim, indeed, who was wounded in almost every action, but Holk, who was supposed at last to have been carried away to hell by the devil in person; Tilly, for whom, after the battle of Breitenfeld, the affrighted surgeon found he had only bruises to dress; Wallenstein and his kinsman Terzka; even the sword of Gustavus Adolphus was considered to be enchanted. Ahaz Willenger also, leader after the death of Fardinger, of the revolted Austrian peasants, was rendered so hard that a cannon-ball at seven paces rebounded from his skin without penetrating it; he was at last killed by an officer of Pappenheim. All the Princes of the house of Savoy were considered invulnerable, even, after the Thirty years' war. Field-Marshal Schauenburg tried it with Prince Thomas when he besieged him in an Italian fortress; the bullets of the best marksmen missed their aim. No one knew whether the members of that noble house had especial grace, because they were of the race of the royal prophet David, or whether the art of rendering themselves invulnerable was hereditary.

There was a peculiar and also very old kind of magic, which spell-bound the enemy by mystic sentences, which were recited in moments of danger. The adept could fix whole troops of horsemen and infantry: in the same way, by other sentences, they could dissolve the spell. There was still another kind of sorcery; horsemen were made to appear on the field of battle, that is to say, when support was required in imminent danger, deceptive appearance was produced, as if soldiers were approaching in the distance. Both these conjurations are relics of the heathen occult sciences, the echoes of which may still be discovered in manifold tales and traditions, even up to the present day.

The gloomy provost was the man in the regiment who was held in the most awe; he was naturally considered as pre-eminently an adept. In 1618, it was supposed that the executioner of Pilsen could, with the help of an assistant, fire daily three fatal balls against the camp of Mansfeld; after the capture of the city, he was hanged on a special gallows. The provost of the Hatzfeld army of 1636 was still more versed in sorcery: he was killed by the Swedes with an axe, because he was magically hardened. It was very much in the interest of these authorities to keep up amongst the revengeful soldiery the belief in their invulnerability.

We may add to these delusions, the endeavours of individuals to read from the course of the stars the events and issue of the war, and their own fate. Prognostics accumulated, the terrors of the approaching year were unweariedly prophesied from constellations, shooting-stars, comets, and other atmospheric phenomena; the casting of horoscopes was general. Some individuals also possessed second sight, they foresaw to whom the approaching future would be fatal. When in 1636 the Imperial Saxon army was lying before Magdeburg, there was an invalid mathematician in the camp who foretold to his friends that the 26th of June would be fatal to him. He was lying in a closed tent when a lieutenant rode up, and unloosening the tent cords, forced himself in and begged the sick man to draw his nativity. After refusing a long time, the invalid prophesied to him that he would be hanged that very hour. The lieutenant, very indignant that any one should dare to say such a thing to a cavalier, drew his sword and killed the sick man. There immediately arose a great tumult, the murderer then threw himself upon his horse and tried to escape; it happened however, accidentally, that the Elector of Saxony was riding through the camp with General Hatzfeld and a great retinue. The Elector exclaimed, that there would be bad discipline in the Imperial camp if the life of a sick man in bed could not be secured from murderers. The lieutenant was hanged.

But the soldier had not only to win the favour of the Fates, but still more the approbation of his comrades. Whoever carefully examines this period, without ceasing to view with horror the numerous and refined atrocities which were practised, will at the same time perceive that this scene of barbarity was occasionally brightened by milder virtues, and sometimes healthy integrity comes to light. A peculiar code of soldier's honour was soon formed, which preserved a kind of morality, though a lax one. We have but few records of the good humour which arose from consciousness of having the mastery over citizen and peasant. But the proverbial modes of speech often bear sufficiently the impress of the same disposition which is idealized in Schiller's "Reiterlied." "The sharp sabre is my field, and booty making is my plough." "The earth is my bed, heaven my canopy, my cloak is my house, and wine my eternal life." "As soon as a soldier is born, three peasants are selected for him; the first provides for him, the second finds him a beautiful wife, and the third goes to hell for him."

We have reason to suppose that sensuality was in general unbridled and shameless; the old German vice, drunkenness, prevailed as much amongst the officers as soldiers. The smoking and chewing tobacco, or as it was then called, "tobacco drinking"--"eating and snuffing," spread rapidly through all the armies, and the guard-room was a disagreeable abode for those who did not smoke. This custom, which at the beginning of the war was introduced into the army by the Dutch and English auxiliaries, was at the end of it so common, that a pipe was to be found in every peasant's house, and nine out of ten of the day labourers and apprentices smoked during their work.

The daily quarrels gave rise amongst the common soldiers also to the cartel, or duels regulated by many points of honour. Duels were strictly forbidden; Gustavus Adolphus punished them with death even among the higher officers; but no law could suppress them. The duellists fought alone, or with two or three seconds, or an umpire was selected: before the combat the seconds vowed to one another and gave their hands upon it, not to help the combatants, either before, in, or after the encounter, nor to revenge them; the duellists shook hands and exchanged forgiveness beforehand, in case of the death of either. They fought on horseback or on foot, with carbines, pistols, or swords; in the fight, a throw in wrestling or unhorsing was sufficient; stabbing was considered un-German, above all a thrust in the back was of doubtful propriety.

As it was so usual to change parties, a corporation feeling was formed amongst the soldiers which also embraced the enemy. The armies had a tolerably accurate knowledge of each other, and not only the character of the upper officers, but of old soldiers was known; any day an old comrade might be seen in the enemy's ranks, or installed as a tent companion to a former adversary. Indeed, quarter was often proffered: but any one who fought against the customs of war, or was suspected of using devilish acts, was to be killed even if he sued for pardon. Cartels were concluded between the courteous conquerors and the vanquished, the conquerors promised to protect, and the prisoners not to escape; the weapons, scarfs, and plumes were taken away from the vanquished; all that he concealed in his clothes belonged to the conqueror, but he who got Dutch quarter, kept what was enclosed in his girdle; a courteous prisoner himself presented what he had in his pockets. If a desperate man did not stand by his conditions of quarter, he was killed, if he did not rapidly escape. During the transport they were coupled by the arm, and the string taken from their hose, so that they were obliged to hold their small-clothes with the hand that was free. The prisoners could be ransomed, and this ransom was fixed by tariff in each army. Towards the conclusion of the war, when soldiers became scarce, the common prisoners were summarily placed in the regiments without giving them a choice. Such soldiers were naturally not to be depended on; they gladly took the first opportunity to desert to their former colours, where they had left their women, children, booty, and arrears of pay. Distinguished prisoners were sometimes bought from the common soldiers by the colonels of their regiments; they were treated with great consideration in the enemy's quarters, and almost every one found there either an acquaintance or a relative.

Booty was the uncertain gain for which the soldier staked his life, and the hope of it kept him steadfast in the most desperate situations. The pay was moderate, the payment insecure; plunder promised them wine, play, a smart mistress, a gold-laced dress with a plume of feathers, one or two horses, and the prospect of greater importance in the company and of advancement. Vanity, love of pleasure, and ambition, developed this longing to a dangerous extent in the army.

The most undisciplined, abandoned the route of the army, and lived as highwaymen, footpads, and poachers. Vain were the endeavours of the sovereigns, at the end of the war, to annihilate the great robber bands; they lasted, to a certain extent, up to the beginning of the present century.

Thus did the army misbehave amongst the people, dishonouring every bed, robbing every house, devastating every field, till they were themselves involved in the general ruin. And the destruction of these thirty years increased progressively. It was the years from 1635 to 1641 which annihilated the last powers of the nation; from that period to the peace, a death-like lassitude pervaded the country; it communicated itself to the armies, and one can easily understand that the bitter misery of the soldiers called for some consideration for the citizens and peasants. The remaining population were once more reduced to despair, as they had to pay the cost, maintenance, and peace subsidies for the standing army. And the army dispersed itself amongst the population.

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.--THE VILLAGES AND THEIR PASTORS.

Oft have the soldier's sword And jeering Croat horde, With usage rude and fierce, Threaten'd my heart to pierce. Yet I drew unhurt my breath, No mishap could bring me death.

In water, 'gainst my will, Plunged deep, I far'd but ill; Closed in a wat'ry grave, God deign'd my life to save; Wond'rous 'tis I was not drown'd; Brought to land all safe and sound.

Into my mouth once or more, As 'twere a tub, they did pour A mess of liquid dung; Four churls, cords round me strung; Yet I drew unhurt my breath, No mishap could bring me death.

One of an exile band, There in Thuringia's land At Notleben, I dwelt, Till I God's blessing felt, And to Heubach's parsonage pass'd Where kind Heaven sent peace at last.

God's servant, here have I The church kept orderly, Have preach'd the word therein, The bad expell'd, of sin Absolv'd the penitent heart, And labour'd truth to impart.

Whoever could portray the desolation of the German people, would be able to explain to us the striking peculiarities of the modern German character; the remarkable mixture of fresh youth and hoary wisdom, aspiring enthusiasm, and vacillating caution; but above all, why we, among all the nations of Europe, still strive in vain after much which our neighbours, not more noble by nature, not more strongly organized, not more highly gifted, have long secured to themselves.

The following documents will only furnish an unimportant contribution to such an explanation. Individual examples will render the ruin of the village and city communities comprehensible, and what counteracting power there was, together with the destroying power which supported the remaining vitality, and prevented the final annihilation of the nation.

From these we shall see thoroughly the condition of one particular province, which suffered severely from the miseries of war, but not more than most other parts of Germany, not indeed so much as the Margravate of Brandenburg and many territories of Lower Saxony and Suabia. It is the Thuringian and Franconian side of the "Waldgebirge," which formed, in the middle of Germany, the boundary between the north and south; more especially the present Dukedoms of Gotha and Meiningen. The following details are taken from the church documents and parish records, and many, from the voluminous church and school stories which were published by clerical collectors in the former century.

Germany was supposed to be a rich country in the year 1618. Even the peasants had acquired during the long peace a certain degree of opulence. The number of villages in Franconia and Thuringia was somewhat greater than now; they were not entirely without defences, and were often surrounded by broad ditches and palisades, or clay and stone walls; it was forbidden to form entrances in them, but at the end of the main streets were gates which were closed at night The churchyard was usually defended by particularly strong walls, and more than once it was used as the citadel and last refuge of the inhabitants. There were night and day patroles through the villages and fields. The houses were indeed ill formed and only of wood and clay, often crowded together in narrow village streets, but they were not deficient in comfort and household furniture. The villages were surrounded by orchards, and many fountains poured their clear waters into stone basins. Small poultry fluttered about the dung-heaps in the enclosed courtyards, immense troops of geese fed in the stubble fields, teams of horses stood in the stables, far more numerous than now, probably of a larger and stronger stamp; they were rustic descendants of the old knightly chargers, the pride and joy of their owners; and besides these were the "Kleppers," the small and ancient race of the country. The large parish herds of sheep and cattle grazed on the stony heights and on the rich grass marshes. The wool fetched a high price, and in many places much value was attached to a fine breed; the German cloths were famed, and these were the best articles of export. This national wool, the result of a thousand years of cultivation, was entirely lost to Germany during the war. The district round the village was divided into three fields, which were much subdivided, and each division carefully stoned off. The fields were highly cultivated, and fine grained white wheat was sown in the winter fields. Woad was still zealously cultivated with great advantage in the north of the Rennstiegs. Although even before the war the foreign indigo competed with the indigenous dye, the yearly gain from the woad in Thuringia could be computed at three tons of gold; this was principally in the territory of Erfurt and the Dukedom of Gotha; besides this, anise and saffron produced much money; the cultivation of the teazel also was formerly indigenous, and the wild turnips, and the rape seed were sowed in the fellows. Flax was carefully prepared by steeping it in water, and the coloured flowers of the poppies, and the waving panicle of the millet, raised themselves in the corn-fields. But on the declivities of warmer situations in Thuringia and Franconia there were everywhere vineyards, and this old cultivation, which has now almost disappeared in those countries, must in favourable years have produced a very drinkable wine, as now on the lower range of the Waldgebirge; for the wine of particular years is noted in the chronicles as most excellent. Hops also were assiduously cultivated and made good beer. Everywhere they grew fodder, and spurry and horse-beans. The meadows, highly prized, and generally fenced in, were more carefully handled than two hundred years later; the mole-heaps were scattered, and the introduction and maintenance of drains and watercourses was general. Erfurt was already the centre of the great seed traffic, of garden cultivation, also of flowers and fine orchards. On the whole, when we compare one time with the other, the agriculture of 1618 was not inferior to that of 1818. It must be confessed in other respects also, our century has but restored what was lost in 1618.

The burdens which the peasants had to bear both in service and taxes, were not small, and greatest of all on the properties of the nobles; but there were many free villages in that country, and the government of the rulers was less strict than in Southern Franconia or in Hesse. Many ecclesiastical properties had been broken up; many domains, and not a few of the nobles' estates, were farmed by tenants; leases were a favourite method of raising the rent of the ground. All this was for the advantage of the peasant. The damage done by game indeed occasioned great suffering, and there still continued much of the old bond-service on the property of the impoverished nobles. But the greater part of the country people were pronounced by lawyers, newly educated in the Roman law, to be possessors of their property; it was the greatest blessing bestowed by Roman law on the Germans in the sixteenth century. It is an error to suppose that the bureaucratic rule is a production of modern days; it already prevailed in those times, and the villages had often to pay the small travelling expenses of the ducal messenger who brought them their letters. It was already decided by superintending officials how many fire buckets every one was to procure, and how many doves were to be kept; they saw to the clearing of the fruit trees from caterpillars, the cleansing of the ditches, and the annual planting of young trees. The parish accounts had for nearly a hundred years been kept in an orderly manner, and inspected by the government of the country, as also the district certificates and registers of birth. There was also a good deal of commercial intercourse. A large commercial road passed through Thuringia, in a line almost parallel with the mountains, from the Elbe to the Rhine and Maine; and from the descent of the mountains near to the Werra, lay the military road which united the north of Germany with the south. The traffic on these unconstructed roads demanded numerous relays of horses, and brought to the villages gain, and news from the distant world, and many opportunities of spending money.

After the Reformation there were schools, at least in all the villages where there was a church; the teachers were often divines, and sometimes there were schoolmistresses for the girls. Small sums were paid for the schooling, and a portion of the inhabitants of the village were initiated into the secrets of reading and writing. The difference between the countryman and the citizen was then still greater than now. The "stupid peasant" was the favourite object of ridicule in the rooms of the artisans, who attributed to him, as characteristic qualities, roughness, simplicity, disingenuous cunning, drunkenness, and love of fighting. But however retired his life then was, and poor in varied impressions, we should do him great injustice if we considered him essentially weaker or less worthy than he is now; on the contrary, his independence was not less, and was frequently better established. His ignorance of foreign states was undoubtedly greater, for there were as yet no regular gazettes or local papers for him, and he himself generally did not wander farther than to the nearest town, where he sold his products, or occasionally over the mountain when he had to drive cows; or if a Thuringian, to go to the woad market at Erfurt, if a Franconian, perhaps to Bamberg with his hops. Also in dress, language, and songs, he was not fashionable like the citizens; he preferred using old strong words, which they considered coarse; he swore and cursed after the ancient style, and his ceremonial of greeting was different from theirs, though not less precise. But his life was not on that account deficient in spirit, morals, or even in poetry. The German popular songs were still vigorous, and the countryman was the most zealous preserver of them; the peasant's feasts, his domestic life, his lawsuits, his purchases and sales, were rich in old picturesque customs and proverbs. The genuine German pleasure also in beautiful specimens of handicraft, in clean and artistic heir-looms, was then shared alike by the countryman and citizen. His household gear was superior to what it is now. Ornamental spinning-wheels, which still pass for a new invention, neatly carved tables, carved chairs and cupboards, have in some instances been preserved to our times, with the earthenware apostle jugs, and similar drinking-vessels, which may be bought by art collectors. Great were the treasures of the countrywomen in beds, linen, clothes, chains, medals, and other ornaments, and not less worthy of note were the numerous sausages and hams in the chimneys. A great deal of ready money lay concealed in the corners of chests, or carefully buried in pots or other vessels, for the collection of bright coins was an old pleasure to the peasantry; there had been peace as long as they could remember, and woad and hops brought a high price. The peasant had abundance, and was without many wants; he bought lace in the city for his clothes, and silver ornaments for his wife and daughters, spices for his sour wine, and whatever metal utensils and implements were necessary for his farm and kitchen. All the woollen and linen clothes were wove and made up by the women of the house, or the neighbour in the village.

At last began--in Thuringia not till after 1623--the passage, of foreign troops through his country, and the great sufferings of the war fell upon him; foreign soldiers of strange appearance, reckless from blood and battle, marched into his village, occupied his house and bed, ill treated him and his, demanded provisions and other contributions besides gifts, and broke, destroyed, or plundered whatever came before their eyes. Thus it went on after 1626, worse and worse every year, troop followed upon troop, more than one army settled itself round him in winter quarters, the requisitions and vexations appeared endless. The yeoman saw with dismay that the foreign soldier had the power of tracing--which he ascribed to sorcery--the treasures which he had concealed deep in the earth; but if he had been too sly for them, his fate was still worse, for he himself was seized, and by torments which it would be painful to describe, compelled to make known the place where his treasure was concealed. On the fate of his wife and daughter we must remain silent; the most horrible was so common, that an exception, was extraordinary. Other sufferings also followed; his daughters, maid-servant, and his little children were not only maltreated, but were in imminent danger of being carried off by persuasion or force, for every army was followed by the coarse, worthless baggage-train of women and children. But the yeoman's homestead was devastated in still other ways; his farming-man had perhaps borne for some years the blows of the foreign soldiers, at last he himself was exposed to them; the team was dragged from the plough, the cattle were fetched from the meadow, and the tillage of the fields thus often rendered impossible. Yet pitiful and helpless as was his position in the beginning of the war, up to the death of Gustavus Adolphus, its horrors were comparatively bearable; for there was as yet a certain system even in plundering and destruction, some degree of discipline kept together the regular armies, and an occasional year passed without any great passage of troops. It is possible for us to discover at this time how many exactions were made on particular parishes, for there were already country authorities who sat in their offices, and after the passage of troops through a parish, demanded the usual liquidation of their loans, the amount of which was indeed seldom returned to them. Whoever will glance over the liquidations in the parish archives, will find the names of ill-famed commanders, whom he may know from history or Schiller's Wallenstein, in very near connection with the history of a Thuringian village.

The effect produced by such a life of insecurity and torment on the souls of the country people, was very sad. Fear, trembling, and dread pervaded and enervated all hearts: their minds had always been full of superstition, now everything was sought for, with impulsive credulity, which could be significant of the attacks of supernatural powers. The most horrible countenances were seen in the heavens, the signs of fearful wickedness were discovered in numerous abortions, ghosts appeared, mysterious sounds were heard on earth and in the heavens. In Ummerstadt for example, in the dukedom of Hildburghausen, white crosses illuminated the heavens when the enemy entered; when they forced their way into the court of chancery, a spirit clothed in white met them and motioned them back, and no one could advance; after their departure, a violent breathing and sighing was heard for eight days in the choir of the church which had been burnt. At Gumpershausen a maid-servant made a great sensation through the whole country; she rejoiced in the visits of a little angel, who appeared, sometimes in a blue, sometimes in a red shirt sitting on the bed or by the table, cried out "Woe," warned against cursing and blasphemy, and predicted horrible bloodshed if men would not give up their vices, their pride, and their stiff blue ruffs,--then a new fashion. When we look at the zealous protocols which were drawn up by the ecclesiastics concerning the half-witted maiden, we find that the only circumstance which was matter of surprise to them, was that the angel did not visit themselves instead of a simple maiden.

Not only terror, but a spirit of defiance and wild despair possessed all souls. A moral recklessness prevailed fearfully among the country people. Wives abandoned their husbands, children their parents; the customs, vices, and maladies of the passing armies left lasting traces, even when the pillagers had quitted the desolated and half-ruined villages. The brandy drinking, which had been introduced among the people since the Peasant war, became a general vice; respect for the property of others disappeared. In the beginning of the war the neighbouring villages were disposed to help one another; if the soldiers had driven away the cattle from one village, and disposed of them again at their next night-quarters, the buyers often returned their new purchase to the former proprietors at the purchase price. This was done in Franconia, by both Catholic and Protestant communities, out of pure kindness. Gradually, however, the country people began to rob and plunder like the soldiers; armed bands combined together, passed the frontiers into other villages, and carried off whatever they needed. They waylaid the stragglers of the regiments in dense woods or mountain passes, and often after a severe struggle took a bloody revenge on the vanquished; indeed, they far surpassed the skill of the soldiers in the contrivance of barbarities; and there were wooded hills, in whose shades the most horrible crimes were now committed by those who had formerly frequented them as peaceful wood-cutters and stone-breakers, singing their simple songs. There arose gradually a terrible hatred betwixt the soldiery and peasantry, which lasted till the end of the war, and caused more than anything else the ruin of the villages of Germany. There were feuds also between the provinces and individual towns; that which is related here was only a harmless one of that gloomy time.

The villages did all in their power to defend themselves from the rapacity of the soldiers. As long as they had money, they endeavoured to buy off the officers who were sent forward to seek for quarters, and many rogues took advantage of their fears, and appearing under the disguise of quartermasters, levied heavy contributions on the deluded villagers. Watchmen were placed on the church towers and elevations of the plain, who gave signals if troops were visible in the distance. Then the countryman brought whatever he could save, and the women and children their movable chattels, hasting to some distant place of concealment. These hiding-places were selected with great sagacity; by a little additional labour they were made still more inaccessible, and for weeks, indeed months, the fugitives passed their anxious existence there. On the dark moor, midst ditches, rushes and elders, in the deep shade of woody glens, in old clay-pits, and amid the ruins of decaying walls, did they seek their last refuge. The countryman in many places still shows with emotion such spots. There is a large vault with an iron door in an old tower at Aspach, whither the Aspachers fled whenever small bands of soldiers approached the village; for a more distant refuge they had a field of many acres, overgrown with thick hornbeam, and there they planted thorns which from the fertility of the soil grew into large trees and became like a thick wall. Within this barricade, which could only be attained by creeping on the belly, the villagers often concealed themselves. After the war the thorns were rooted up, and the land changed into hop, and afterwards cabbage grounds. But a portion of this land is still called the "Schutzdorn," "thorn-defence." When the soldiers had withdrawn, the fugitives returned and repaired with their scanty means what had been laid waste. Often, indeed, they found only a smoking pile.

All however who fled did not return. The more wealthy sought a refuge for themselves and their property in the cities, where martial discipline was a little more rigorous, and the danger less. Many also fled into another country, and if they were threatened by enemies there, again into another; and most of them assuredly had not less misery to suffer there. Those who remained in the country did not all return to their own fields. The wild life in hiding-places and woods, the rough pleasure in deeds of violence and pillage, turned the boldest of them into robbers; provided with rusty weapons, which they had perhaps taken from some dead marauder, they carried on a lawless life under the mountain pines, as companions of wolves and crows, as poachers and highwaymen.

Thus did the population of the plains decrease with frightful rapidity. Even in the time of the King of Sweden many villages were entirely abandoned, the beasts of the woods roamed about among the blackened rafters, and perhaps the tattered figure of some old beldame or cripple might be seen. From that time ruin increased to such an extent, that nothing like it can be found in modern history. To the destructive demons of the sword were added others, not less fearful and still more voracious. The land was little cultivated and the harvest was bad. An unheard-of rise in prices ensued, famine followed, and in the years 1635 and 1636 a pestilence attacked the enfeebled population, more terrible than had raged for more than a century in Germany. It spread its pall slowly over the whole of Germany, over the soldier as well as over the peasant, armies were dissipated under its parching breath, many places lost half their inhabitants, and in some villages in Franconia and Thuringia there remained only a few individuals. The little strength which had remained in one corner of the land was now broken. The war raged on still twelve long years after this time of horror, but it had become weaker, the armies were smaller, the operations without plan or stability, from the want of provisions and animals, but where the fury of war still blazed, it devoured mercilessly what remained of life. The people reached the lowest depths of misfortune; a dull apathetic brooding became general. Of the country people of this last period there is little to be told; they vegetated, reckless and hopeless, but few accounts of them are to be found in village records, parish books, and small chronicles. They had forgotten in the villages the art of writing, nay even their crying grievances. Where an army had carried devastation and famine raged, men and dogs ate of the same corpse, and children were caught and slaughtered. A time had now come when those who had held out during twenty years of suffering, laid violent hands on themselves; we read this in the accounts of ambassadors, who for years worked in vain for peace.

It may be asked how, after such sufferings and utter ruin, the survivors could still form a German nation, who at the conclusion of peace could again cultivate the country, pay taxes, and after vegetating in poverty for a century, again engender energy, enthusiasm, and a new life in art and science. It is certainly probable that the country people would have entirely scattered themselves in roving bands, and that the cities would never have been in a condition to produce a new national life, if three powerful causes had not contributed to preserve the German countryman from being altogether lost,--his love of his paternal acres; the endeavours of the magistracy; and above all, the zeal of those who had the care of his soul, the village pastors. The love of the peasant for his own field, which works inimically against the most benevolent agrarian laws, is even now a strong feeling, but in the seventeenth century was still more powerful. For the peasant knew very little of the world beyond his own village, and it was difficult for him to pass the boundaries which separated him from other vocations, or from establishing himself on the property of other lords. He ever returned with tenacity from his hiding-place to his devastated farm, and endeavoured to collect together the trampled corn, or to sow the few seeds he had been able to preserve. When his last beast had been stolen, he harnessed himself to the plough. He took care not to give his house a habitable appearance; he accustomed himself to dwell amidst dirt and ruins, and concealed the flickering fire of his hearth from the gaze of marauders, who might perhaps be seeking in the night for some warm resting-place. He hid his scanty meal in a place which would disgust even a reckless enemy, in ditches and coffins, and under skulls. Thus he lived under the powerful pressure of habit, however little hope there might be that his labour would prove advantageous to him. If a landed proprietor stood valiantly by his village, even in times of comparative tranquillity, he accompanied his beasts to the fields, armed to the teeth, ready to fight against any robbers who might pounce down on him.

It was no less the interest of the landed proprietor and his officials, than of the peasant himself, to preserve the villages. The smaller the number of tax-payers became, the higher was the tax on the few who remained. The rulers, from the cities in which they resided occupied themselves during the whole war through their officials, bailiffs, and receivers, with the fate of the villages, nay even of individuals. The keeping of the parish records was only interrupted during the most troubled time, and was always recommenced. Certificates, reports, memorials, and rescripts passed hither and thither amidst all the misery. Petitions for remission of rents and liquidation of costs were incessantly demanded, and many a poor schoolmaster obediently gave his service as parish writer whilst the snow floated into his schoolroom through the shattered windows, the parish chests lay broken in the streets, and the parishioners, whose accounts he was writing, went armed into the woods with dark illegal projects, which were never reported to the government. Useless as this system of writing in many cases was, it formed numerous links which bound individuals more closely to their states; and in the pauses of the war, and at the conclusion of it, was of the greatest importance, for it had preserved the mechanism of the administration.

It was however to the country clergy and their holy office that the maintenance of the German people is chiefly owing. Their influence was undoubtedly not less in the Catholic than in the Protestant provinces, though there remain few accounts of it; for the Catholic village pastors were then as averse to writing as the evangelical were fond of it. But the Protestant pastors had a far greater share in the mental cultivation of their time. The Reformers had made the German learned education essentially theological, and the village clergy were, in the estimation of the noble proprietors and peasantry, the representatives of this intelligence. They were generally well skilled in the ancient languages, and expert in writing Latin and elegiac verses. They were powerful disputants, and much experienced in dogmatic controversy, stubborn and positive, and full of zealous indignation against the followers of Schwenkfeld, Theophrast, Rosenkreuz, and Weigelia, and their teaching was more full of hatred to heretics than love towards their fellow-creatures. Their influence on the consciences of the laity had made them arrogant and imperious, and the most gifted among them were more occupied with politics than was good for their characters. If an order may be considered responsible for the imperfection of the mental cultivation of the period, which it has not formed, but only represents, the Lutheran ecclesiastics were deeply and fatally guilty of the devastation of mind, the unpractical weakness, and the dry wearisome formalism which frequently appeared in German life. The ecclesiastics, as an order, were neither accommodating nor especially estimable, and even their morality was narrow-minded and harsh. But all these errors they atoned for in times of poverty, calamity, and persecution, more especially the poor village pastors. They were exposed to the greatest dangers, hated in general by the Imperial soldiers, and obliged by their office to bring themselves under the observation of the enemy; and the rough usage which they, their wives, and daughters had to suffer, fatally injured their consideration in their own parish. They were maintained by the contributions of their parishioners, and were not accustomed, and ill fitted to obtain their daily food by bodily labour; they were the greatest sufferers from any decrease in the wealth, morality, or population of their villages. One must bear witness that a very great number of them endured all these dangers as true servants of Christ. Most of them adhered to their parishes almost to the very last man. Their churches were plundered and burnt, chalice and crucifix stolen, the altar desecrated with disgusting ordures, and the bells torn from the towers and carried away. Then they held divine service in a barn, or an open field, or in the cover of a green wood. When the parishioners had almost perished, so that the voice of the singer was heard no more, and the penitential hymns were no longer intoned by the chanter, they still called the remains of their congregation together at the hour of prayer. They were vigorous and zealous both in giving comfort and in exercising discipline; for the greater the misery of their parishioners, the more reason they had to be dissatisfied with them. Frequently they were the first to suffer from the demoralization of the villagers: theft and insolent wantonness were willingly practised against those whose indignant looks and solemn admonitions had heretofore overawed them. Hence their fate is particularly characteristic of that iron time, and we happily possess numerous records concerning them, frequently in church documents, in which they bemoaned their sufferings, when no one would listen to them. From such records of Thuringian and Franconian village pastors, only a few examples will here be given.

Magister Michael Ludwig was pastor at Sonnenfeld, about 1633; there he preached to his parishioners in the wood under the canopy of heaven; they were called together by the sound of the trumpet, instead of the bell, and it was necessary to place an armed watch whilst he preached; thus he continued for eight years, till his parishioners entirely disappeared. A Swedish officer then appointed him preacher to his regiment; he was afterwards made president of the army consistory at Torstenson, and superintendent at Wismar. Georg Faber preached at Gellershausen, read prayers daily to three or four hearers, always at the risk of his life: he rose every morning at three o'clock and learned his sermon entirely by heart; besides that, he wrote learned treatises upon the books of the Bible.

In the neighbouring towns of the interior, the clergy had as much to undergo. For example, the rector at Eisfeld, about 1635, was Johann Otto, a young man who had just married; he had in the worst times kept the whole school during eight years, with only one teacher, and provided the choir also gratis. The smallness of his income may be seen from the notes which the excellent man has written in his Euclid: "2 days thrashing in autumn, 1 day working in the wood in 1646. 2 days thrashing in January, 1647. 5 days thrashing in February, 1647. 4 marriage letters written. Item, 1/2 day binding oats, and one day reaping," and so on. He persevered, and administered his office honourably for forty-two years. His successor, the great Latin scholar, Johann Schmidt, teacher of the celebrated Cellarius, had become a soldier, and when on guard at the Royal Castle was reading a Greek poet; this was perceived by his officer with astonishment, and was mentioned by him to Ernest the Good, who made him a teacher.

The superintendent at the same place, Andreas Pochmann, was, when an orphan, carried off with two little brothers by the Croats. He escaped with his brothers in the night. Later, when a Latin scholar, he was again taken prisoner by the soldiers, was made an officer's servant, and then a musketeer. But he continued to study in the garrison, and found among his comrades students from Paris and London, with whom he kept up his Latin. Once, when a soldier, he was lying sick by the watch fire, under his sleeve was the powder pouch, with a pound and a half of powder, the flames reached the sleeve and burnt half of it; the powder pouch was unconsumed. When he awoke he found himself alone, the camp was abandoned, and he had not a penny of money. Then he found two thalers in the ashes. With this he struck across to Gotha; on the way, he turned off to Langensalza, to a lonely small house near the walls: an old woman received the wearied man, and laid him on a bed. It was the plague nurse, and the bed was a plague bed, for the malady was then raging in the city; he remained unhurt. His life, like that of most of his cotemporaries, was full of wonderful escapes, sudden changes, and unexpected succour, of deadly perils, penury, and frequent changes of place. These times must be accurately observed, in order to understand how, just at a period when millions were brought to ruin and destruction, there was fostered in the survivors a deep belief in that Divine Providence, which, in a wonderful way, encompassed the lives of men.

From almost every village church one can obtain reminiscences of the sufferings, self-devotion, and perseverance of their pastors. It must be said, that only the strongest minds came out unscathed in such times. The endless insecurity, the want of support, the lawless proceedings of the soldiers and of their own parishioners, made many of them petty in their ideas, cringing and beggarly. We will give one example among many. Johanne Elfflein, pastor at Simau after 1632, was so poor that he was obliged to work as a day labourer, to cut wood in the forest, to dig and to sow; twice he received either alms from the poor-box at Coburg, or what was placed there at the baptism of children. At last the consistory at Coburg sold one of the chalices of the church to procure bread for him. He considered it an especial piece of good fortune, when he had once to perform the funeral of a distinguished noble, for then he got a good old rix-dollar, and a quarter of corn. When shortly afterwards he confidentially complained to a neighbour of his want of food, and the latter replied with desperate resolution, he knew well what he should do in such a case, then, firm in faith, Magister Elfflein said, "My God will provide means that I shall not die of hunger; He will cause a rich nobleman to die, that I may obtain money, and a quarter of corn." He considered it was ordained by Providence, when soon after, this melancholy event actually occurred. His situation was so pitiable, that even the rapacious soldiers, when they sent their lads in the neighbourhood after booty, emphatically ordered them to leave the pastor at Simau unmolested, as the poor simpleton had nothing for himself. At last he got another parish.

Among the most instructive of the biographical accounts of Protestant pastors, is that of the Franconian pastor, Martin B?tzinger. We see with horror, both the village life in the time of the war, and the demoralization of the inhabitants, distinctly portrayed in his narrative. B?tzinger was not a man of great character, and the lamentable lot he had to bear did not strengthen it; indeed, we can hardly deny him the predicate of a right miserable devil. Nevertheless he possessed two qualities which render him estimable to us, an indestructible energy with which there was not the slightest frivolity united; and that determined German contentment which takes the brightest view of the most desolate situations. He was a poet. His German verses are thoroughly pitiful, as may be seen by the specimen heading this chapter, but they served him as elegant begging letters by which, in the worst times, he endeavoured to procure sympathy. He celebrated all the officials and receivers of the parish of Heldburg in an epic poem, as also the melancholy condition of Coburg, where he tarried for a certain time as a fugitive.

"For five years there was rest in the land till 1632, except that several Imperial corps, consisting of two, three, or more regiments, passed to and fro, who often took up their quarters in the township of Heldburg, and exhausted it. I wanted for nothing at Poppenhausen. I could wish that I was now as well off as I was before the war. As, however, the fury of war at last arrived, the neighbouring bishops began to reform vigorously; sent Jesuits and monks with diplomas into the country, and examined the ecclesiastical benefices and monasteries. The princes had their militia here and there, who now and then pilfered in the neighbouring Papal states, and stirred up the hornets there. Every intelligent person could discover that things would become worse. The noblemen also fled with their pastors, bailiffs, and all belonging to them, to our little towns and villages, hoping for greater security there than in their own places.

"In 1631, at Michaelmas, King Gustavus came from Sweden suddenly through the wood, just as if he had wings. He took K?nigshofen and many other places, and went on very flourishingly. Our nobles enlisted people for the king, who were as bad as the enemy in pilfering and robbing. They more especially took from the neighbouring Catholics their cows, horses, pigs, and sheep; then was there a great sale; a ducat for one cow, and a thaler for a pig. The Papists often came hither and saw how and who bought their cattle, and frequently redeemed them themselves. They were however so often taken, that they wearied of redeeming them, and it went ill with the poor neighbouring Papists. We all at Poppenhausen preserved for those in the neighbourhood, their bits of property in churches and houses, as far as we could. But when in the year 1632, the tables were turned, and the three Generals, the Friedlander, Tilly, and the Bavarian prince, took possession of Coburg and the country, the neighbouring Papists helped to rob and burn, and we found no faith or safety with them.

"When on the eve of Michaelmas, all the guns were heard from Coburg, as a signal that the enemy was approaching, and every one took care of himself, I went with all those whom I had lodged for some weeks, to Heldburg, where I had previously sent my wife and child. The town was on its guard, but did not imagine what evil would betide it; the burgomaster and some of the councillors ran away, my father-in-law of blessed memory, having the charge of the powder, lead, and linstocks, which he served out to the guard as need required, was obliged to remain in the town. I had a great desire to leave the town with my wife and children, but he would not let me go, and still less his daughter, and bade us remain at home; he had a tolerable purse of thalers with which he intended to make off in case of disaster. But before midday on the feast of St. Michael, fourteen horsemen presented themselves; they were supposed to be Duke Bernhard's people, but it was very far from the case. These they were obliged to admit without thanks for it. They were soon followed by some infantry, who from the beginning searched about everywhere, and knocked down and shot whoever resisted them. In the middle of the market, one of these fourteen struck my father-in-law with a pistol on the head, so that he fell down like an ox. The horseman dismounted, and searched his hosen, and our citizens who were at the Town Hall saw that the thief drew out from thence a large mass of money. When the stupefaction from the blow had passed away, my father-in-law stood up: he was made to go to the Star Inn, where they found somewhat to eat, but nothing to drink; then he said he would go home and bring some drink. Now as they thought he might escape them, they took the platters and food with them, and accompanied him to his house. It was not long before one of them demanded money; and when he excused himself, the scoundrel stabbed him with his own bread-knife in the presence of his wife and mine, so that he sank to the ground. 'God help us!' screamed out my wife and child. I, who was hid in the bath-house, in the straw over the stable, sprang down and ventured amongst them. The wonder was that they did not catch me in the parson's cap. I took my father-in-law, who was reeling about like a drunken man, into the bath-room, that he might be bandaged. I was obliged to look on whilst they took off from your mother her shoes and clothes, and laid hold of you, my son Michael, in their arms; hereupon they quitted the house and the street. I went from the little court of the bath-house to my father-in-law's room; I carried over there pillows and mattresses, whereon we laid him. I had to venture still further. I went into the cellar, wherein his brother, Herr George B?hm, pastor at Lindenau, had placed in three large butts, two tons of good wine. I wished to fetch a refreshing drink for my father-in-law, but the vent peg was so carefully and firmly driven into the butt that although I pulled out the spigot nothing would flow. I was obliged to stay a long time, at great risk, before I could get a spoonful. I had hardly gone over there, before a scoundrel went into the bath-house, threw the invalid off the bed, and searched everywhere. I had crept under the sweating bench, where indeed I got a good sweating, for the day before had been the bath day.

"Meanwhile they discovered a peasant who had hidden himself in some bushes. It was the rich Kaspar of Gellershausen, so they all rode off to him, and only one remained with me, who was by birth a Swede, and had been made prisoner. This one said to me, 'Priest, priest, run, run, otherwise you must die.' He was a good Swede: I placed confidence in his counsel, and begged of him to feign to ride after me, as if he would fetch me back. Thus it happened that I escaped the Croats. But the rich Kaspar met a miserable death at that place; for as he would not come forth from thence, they hewed off his legs, as I saw, at the knees. Therefore he was obliged to lie in that place, where after their withdrawal he was found. But I ran through a great oak wood for almost an hour, and could see no thick bushes wherein to conceal myself, and fell at last into a pool of water out of which an oak root had grown, and I was so tired of running that I could go no further, and my heart beat so that I knew not whether it was the horses' hoofs that I heard, or my heart.

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