Chapter XXII: Section II (16)

"Dear, dear! good gentlemen!" cried Master Martin, looking quite out of temper, "why should you persist in talking about a matter which has not even begun to enter my thoughts? My daughter Rosa is only just eighteen; she is too young to be thinking of a husband; and how matters may come to pass hereafter, I leave wholly in God's hands. But thus much is certain that neither a noble nor any other man shall have my daughter's hand, save and except that cooper who proves himself, to my satisfaction, to be the most utterly perfect master of his craft--always supposing that my daughter loves him; for I am not going to constrain my darling daughter to anything whatever in the world, least of all to a marriage that does not please her."

Spangenberg and Paumgartner looked each other in the face, much astonished at this remarkable statement of the Master's. Presently, after clearing his throat a good deal, Spangenberg began:

"Then your daughter is not to marry out of her own class, is she?"

"God forbid that she should," answered Martin.

"But," continued Spangenberg, "suppose some doughty young Master belonging to some other craft--say, a goldsmith, or perhaps a talented young painter--were to come wooing your daughter, and pleased her very specially, much more than any of her other wooers, how were it then?"

Master Martin answered, drawing himself up, and throwing back his head:

"'Show me,' I should say, 'show me, my good young sir, the two-fudder cask that you have built as your masterpiece.' And if he couldn't do that I should open the door politely, and beg him, as civilly as I could, to try his luck elsewhere."

Spangenberg resumed:

"Suppose the young fellow said, 'I cannot show you a small-scale piece of work such as you speak of; but come with me to the market-place, and look at that stately building, reaching its pinnacles proudly up to the skies. That is my masterpiece.'"

"Ah, my good sir!" Martin interrupted impatiently; "what is the good of your taking all this trouble to alter my determination. My son-in-law shall belong to my own craft, and to no other; for I look upon my craft as being the most glorious that exists on earth. Do you suppose that all that is necessary to make a cask hold together is to fit the hoops on to the staves? Ah! ha! The glory and the beauty of our craft is that it presupposes a knowledge of the preservation and the nursing of that most precious of heaven's gifts--the noble wine, that so it may ripen, and penetrate us with its strength and sweetness, a glowing spirit of life. Then there is the build of the cask itself. If the build is to be successful, we have to measure and calculate all the curves, and the other dimensions, with rule and compass with the utmost accuracy. Geometers and arithmeticians we must be, that we may compute the proportions and the capacities of our casks. Ah, good sir, I can tell you my very heart laughs within my body when I see a fair, well-proportioned cask laid on to the end-stool, the staves all beautifully finished off with the riving knife and the broad-axe, and the men set to with the mallets, and 'clipp, clapp' ring; the strokes of the driver. Ha! ha! that is merry music. There stands then the work, perfect; and well may I look round me with a dash of pride when I take my marking-iron and mark it with my own trade-mark on the head of the cask--my own mark, known and respected by all genuine vineyard-masters in the land. You spoke of architects, dear sir. Very good; a grand, stately house is a fine work beyond doubt. But if I were an architect, and passed by one of my works, and saw some dirty-minded creature, some good-for-nothing, despicable wretch who had happened to become the owner of that house, looking down at me from one of the balconies, I should feel a shame at the bottom of my heart; I should long to dash that work of mine to pieces from sheer annoyance and disgust. Nothing of that sort can ever happen to me, for in my works dwells ever the very purest thing on earth--the noble wine. God's blessing on my craft!"

"Your encomium," said Spangenberg, "was admirable, and heartily felt on your part. It is to your honour that you hold your craft in high esteem. But please be patient with me if I do not leave you in peace even now. Suppose one of the nobility did actually come and ask you for your daughter. Sometimes, when a matter really comes very close to one, much in it begins to assume a different appearance to what one thought."

"Ah," cried Martin a little warmly, "what could I say, except with a polite bow, 'Honoured sir, if you were but a clever cooper; but, being as you are----'"

"Listen further," said Spangenberg. "If some fine morning a handsome noble were to come on a splendid charger, with a brilliant following all in grand clothes, and rein up at your door and ask for Rosa for his helpmate?"

"Hey! hey!" cried Master Martin more impetuously than before; "I should run as fast as I could and bolt and bar the door. Then I should cry and shout, 'Ride on your road, your lordship. Roses such as mine do not bloom for you. I dare say my cellar and my cash-box please you well, and you think you may have the girl into the bargain. Ride on your road.'"

Old Spangenberg rose up, his face red as fire. He leaned both hands on the table and looked down before him. "Well," he began, after a short silence, "this is my last question, Master Martin. If the young noble at your door were my own son, if I myself were at your door with him, would you bar the door? Would you think we had come only for the sake of your cellar and your cash-box?"

"Most certainly not," answered Master Martin. "My honoured and dear sir, I should open the door politely to you; everything in my house should be at your and your son's command. But as regards Rosa, I should say, 'Had it pleased Heaven that your noble son had been a clever cooper, no one on earth would have been more welcome to me as a son-in-law than himself. As it is, however----' But why should you plague me with all those extraordinary questions, honoured sir? Our delightful conversation has come to an end, and our glasses are standing full. Let us leave the questions of the son-in-law and Rosa's marriage on one side. I drink your son's good health. People say he is a fine handsome gentleman."

Master Martin took up his goblet, and Paumgartner followed his example, saying "A truce to captious conversation; here's to your son's health."

Spangenberg touched glasses with them, and then said, with a forced laugh, "You saw, of course, that I was only speaking in jest. My son, who has only to ask and have amongst the best and noblest in the land, were a raving lunatic to come here begging for your daughter."

"Ah, my dear sir," answered Martin, "even were it jest I could answer it in no other manner, without loss of my proper self-respect. For you must confess, yourselves, that you are aware that I am justified in holding myself to be the best cooper in all the country-side; that all that can be known as to wine, I know it; that I hold faithfully by the wine-laws framed in the days of our departed Emperor Maximilian; that, as a pious man, I hate and despise all godlessness; that I never burn beyond an ounce of sulphur in a two-fudder cask, which is needful for the preservation thereof. All this, dear and honoured sirs, you can sufficiently trace the savour of, in my wine here."

Spangenberg, resuming his seat, strove to assume a happier expression of countenance again, and Paumgartner led the conversation to other topics. But as the strings of an instrument, when once they have gone out of tune, stretch and warp more and more, and the master cannot evoke from it the well sounding chords which he could produce before, nothing that those old fellows tried to say would harmonise any longer. Spangenberg called his servants and went away depressed and out of temper from Martin's house, which he had come to in such a jovial mood.

THE OLD GRANDMOTHER'S PROPHECY.

Master Martin was somewhat concerned at his old friend and patron's having gone away annoyed. He said to Paumgartner, who had finished his last goblet and was leaving too:

"I really cannot make out what the old gentleman was driving at with all those odd questions; and why should he be so vexed when he went away?"

"Dear Master Martin," answered Paumgartner, "you are a fine, grand, noble, upright fellow, and you are right to set a value on what, by the help of God, you have brought to such a prosperous issue and carried on so well, and what has been a source of wealth and fortune to you at the same time. Still, this should not lead you to ostentation and pride, which are contrary to all Christian feeling. In the first place, it was hardly right in you to set yourself above all the other masters at the meeting to-day as you did. Very likely you do know more of your craft than all the rest of them put together; but to go and cast this straight in their teeth could only give rise to anger and annoyance. And then your conduct of this evening; you surely could not have been so blind as not to see that what Spangenberg was driving at was to find out how far your headstrong pride would really carry you. It could not but have hurt the worthy gentleman sorely to hear you attribute any young noble's wooing of your daughter to mere greed for your money. And it would have all been well enough if you had got back into the right road when he began to talk about his own son. If you had said, 'Ah, my good and honoured sir, if you were to come with your son to ask for my daughter (an honour on which, certainly, I could never have reckoned), I should waver in the firmness of my determination.' If you had said that, what would have been the consequence, but that old Spangenberg, quite forgetting his previous wrongs, would have smiled, and got back into the fine temper he was in before."

"Scold me well," said Master Martin; "I deserve it, I know. But when the old gentleman spoke such non sense, I really could not bring myself to give him any other answer."

"Then," Paumgartner continued, "this silly notion of yours that you won't give your daughter to anybody but a cooper. Was ever such nonsense heard of? You say your daughter's destiny shall be left in God's hands, and yet you go and wrest it out of God's hands yourself, by deciding that you will choose your son-in-law out of one limited circle. This may be the very destruction of both her and you. Leave off such unchristian, childish folly, Master Martin. Commit the matter to the Almighty. He will place the right decision in your daughter's pious heart."

"Ah, my dear sir," said Master Martin quite dejectedly, "I see now, for the first time, how wrong I was not to make a clean breast of the whole business at once. You, of course, suppose that it is merely my high opinion of the cooper's craft which makes me resolve never to give Rosa to anybody but a master cooper. But that is by no means the case; there is another reason. I can't let you go away until I have told you all this. You shall not pass a single night, even, with a bad opinion of me in your mind. Sit down again; I beg it as a favour. See, here is still another bottle of my oldest wine; Spangenberg was too much offended to taste it. Sit, and stay but a few minutes longer."

Paumgartner was surprised at Master Martin's friendly insistance, which was not in his usual nature. It seemed as if something lay heavy on his mind which he felt eager to be clear of. When Paumgartner had resumed his seat, and taken some of the wine, Master Martin commenced as follows:

"You are aware, dear sir, that my beloved wife died soon after Rosa's birth from the effects of a difficult confinement. My own grandmother was still alive at a great age (if one can call it being 'alive,' to be stone deaf, quite blind, scarcely able to speak, paralysed in every limb, and completely bedridden). My Rosa had been baptized, and the nurse was sitting with her in the room where the old grandmother lay. I was so sorrowful, and (when I looked at the child) so wonderfully happy, and yet so sad--I was so deeply touched that I found it impossible to do any work, and I was standing, sunk in my thoughts, beside my grandmother's bed, envying her, and thinking how well for her it was that she had done with earthly pain. And as I was so looking into her pale face, all at once she began to smile in the strangest way; her wrinkled features seemed to smooth out, her pale cheeks took on a colour; she sat up in her bed and stretched her powerless arms as she had not been able to do for a long time, and, as if suddenly inspired by some miraculous power, she called out distinctly, in a soft, sweet voice, 'Rosa! darling Rosa!' The nurse gave her the child. She took it and dandled it in her arms. But now, my dear sir, picture my amazement, nay, my terror, when the old lady began, in a strong, clear voice, a song, in the lofty, joyful 'manner' of Herr Hans Berchler,[5] host at the sign of the Spirit, in Strasbourg, to the following effect:--

"'Little maiden, with cheeks of roses,
Rosa, hear The decree.
Never yield thee to dread or doubting,
Set God fast in thy heart.
Let not vain longings deride thee.
He prepares thee a brightsome dwelling,
Streams, of sweet savour, flowing therein,
Beauteous angels, singing full sweetly.
Pious of soul,
List to the truest of wooing,
Loveliest promise of love.
A House, resplendent and gleaming,
He whom thy heart goeth forth to
Shall to thy dwelling bring.
Needless to ask of thy father.
This is thy destined lord.
For this House, into thy dwelling
Bringeth good fortune and bliss.
Keep thine eyes open, then, maiden;
Watchful thine ears for the true word to come.
God's truest blessing be on thee,
Walking thy flowery way.'"

"And when the old grandmother had sung this song, she put the child gently and carefully down on the bedcover, and laying her withered, trembling hands upon its forehead, whispered words which were wholly unintelligible, though the inspired and sublime expression of her face showed that she was praying. Then she sunk back with her head on the pillow, and as the nurse lifted the child she gave a deep sigh--she was gone."

"A wonderful story," said Paumgartner. "Still I don't see how this prophetic song of the old grandmother has any connection with your obstinate determination to give Rosa to nobody but a master cooper."

"What can be clearer," said Master Martin, "than that the old lady, specially enlightened by the Lord during the last moments of her life, declared in prophecy how matters are to go with Rosa, if she is to be happy and fortunate? The wooer who is to bring wealth, luck and happiness into her dwelling with a beautiful House; who can that be but a clever cooper, who shall finish his masterpiece, the beautiful House of his building, in my workshop? In what other house do streams of sweet savour flow up and down but in a wine-cask? And when the wine is working it rustles, and hums, and plashes; and that is the singing of the angels as they float on the tiny ripples. Ay, ay! no other bridegroom did the old grandmother mean but the master cooper. To that I pin my faith."

"Good Master Martin," said Paumgartner, "you interpret the old lady's words after your own manner; but I cannot altogether agree with your interpretation, and I still maintain that you ought to leave the whole matter in the hands of God, and in your daughter's heart: for the true meaning and the proper deciding of it most certainly lie hidden there."

"And I, as far as I am concerned," said Master Martin, "stick to my own opinion, that my son-in-law shall be none but a clever cooper. This I hold to, for once and for all."

Paumgartner was beginning almost to lose his temper over Martin's obstinacy. But he controlled himself, and rose from his chair, saying:

"It is getting late, Master Martin; I think we have had as much wine and as much conversation as are good for us."

And, as they were making for the door, there appeared a young woman with five boys, of whom the eldest might have been scarcely eight, and the youngest scarcely half a year old. The woman was weeping and sobbing. Rosa hastened to meet them, crying, "Ah! Heavens! Valentine must be dead. Here are his wife and children." "What? Valentine dead?" cried Master Martin, much shocked, "Oh, what a misfortune! What a misfortune! My dear sir, Valentine was the best of all my workmen; a hardworking, good, honest fellow. A short time ago he hurt himself dangerously with an adze, during the building of a big cask. His wound got worse and worse; he fell into a violent fever, and now he has had to die in the prime of his years." Master Martin went up to the disconsolate woman, who was bathed in tears, lamenting that she must perish in misery and distress.

"What think you of _me_?" asked Master Martin. "Your husband came by his death in my service, and do you suppose I am going to abandon you in your need? God forbid! You all belong to my house henceforth. To-morrow, or when you choose, we will bury your husband, poor fellow, and then you and your boys go to my farm before the Lady-gate, where my great workshop is, and be there with my men. You can look after the housekeeping; I will bring up those fine young boys of yours as though they were my own. More than that, your old father shall come and live here too. He was a grand journeyman cooper while he had strength in his arms for the work. If he can't wield the mallet now-a-days, or the notching-tool, or the hooping-iron, or take his stroke at the grooving-bench, why he can manage to turn out hoops with the rounding-knife. Whether or not, into my house he comes with the rest of you."

Had not Master Martin held the woman up, she would have fallen at his feet overwhelmed with emotion. The elder boys hung upon his doublet, and the two youngest, whom Rosa had taken in her arms, held out their little hands to him, as if they understood what he said.

Quoth old Paumgartner, smiling, with tears in his eyes, "One can't be vexed with you, Master Martin," and he betook himself to his dwelling.

HOW THE TWO YOUNG JOURNEYMEN, FRIEDRICH AND
REINHOLD, MADE EACH OTHER'S ACQUAINTANCE.

The evening was falling as a young journeyman, very handsome and distinguished-looking, Friedrich by name, was lying on a little grassy hillock, shaded by leafy trees. The sun had set, and rosy flames were shooting up from the deep abyss of the western sky. The famous town of Nuernberg could be distinctly seen in the distance, broadening out in the valley, its proud towers stretching up into the evening red, which darted bright rays, streaming on to their summits. The young mechanic had his arm propped upon his bundle, or travelling knapsack, and was gazing down into the valley with longing eyes. He plucked a flower or two from the grass, and cast them into the air towards the sunset sky; then once more he gazed mournfully before him, and the hot tears came to his eyes. At length he lifted his head, stretched out his arms, as if he were embracing some beloved form, and sang the following song, in a rich, tuneful voice:

"Again, again I see thee, my own beloved home,
My faithful heart has never lost
The faintest trace of thee.
Rise on my sight, oh roseate sheen;
Fain would I see nought else but roses.
Love's own blossoms, glow on my heart,
Gladden my bosom, cheer my soul.
Ah, swelling heart, and must thou break?
Beat firm through pain and sweetest joy.
And thou, thou golden evening sky,
Be thou to me a faithful herald;
Bear down to her my sighs and tears
And tell her, should I die, my heart
Dissolved in love unchanging."

When Friedrich had finished this song, he took some wax from his bundle, warmed it in his breast, and began to model a beautiful rose, with its hundreds of delicate petals, in the most skilful and artistic manner. As he worked at it, he kept singing detached phrases of his song; and, thus absorbed, he did not notice a handsome lad who had been standing behind him for a considerable time, eagerly watching him as he worked.

"My friend," said this young fellow, "that is an exquisite piece of work you are doing."

Friedrich looked round, startled. But when he saw the stranger's kindly dark eyes, he felt as if he had known him long. So he answered, with a smile, "Ah, my dear sir, how can you care to look at this trifle, which serves to pass a little of my time on my journey?"

The stranger answered, "If you call that flower, so accurately studied and copied from nature, and so tenderly executed, a 'trifle,' a plaything, you must be a remarkably finished and accomplished artist in that line. You delight me in a double sense. First, your song, which you sung so charmingly (in the tender 'Letter-Mode' of Martin Haescher), went quite to my heart; and now I have to admire your masterly skill in modelling. Whither are you bound to-day?"

"The goal of my journey," answered Friedrich, "lies there before our eyes. I am bound for my home there, the renowned town of Nuernberg. As the sun is far beneath the horizon, I shall pass the night down in the village there; but I shall push on as early as I can in the morning, and be in Nuernberg by noon."

"Ah, how well that falls in," cried the lad; "I am bound for Nuernberg too. I shall pass the night along with you in the village, and we can go on together in the morning. So let us talk together a little."

The lad, whose name was Reinhold, threw himself down on the grass beside Friedrich, and went on as follows:

"If I do not mistake, you are a splendid metal-worker. I see that by your style of moulding. You work in gold and silver, do you not?"

Friedrich looked sadly down, and began, quite dejectedly:

"Ah, my dear sir, you take me for something much higher and better than I really am. I must tell you candidly that I learnt the craft of a cooper, and I wish to go and work with a well-known master of that craft in Nuernberg. You will despise me that I do not model and cast glorious images, figures, groups, and only shape hoops for casks and barrels."

"This is delightful," cried Reinhold, laughing aloud. "The idea of _my_ despising you for being a cooper, when I am nothing else myself!"

Friedrich looked at him fixedly; he did not know what to think. Reinhold's dress was like anything rather than that of a journeyman cooper on his travels. The doublet of fine black cloth trimmed with velvet, the delicate lace cravat, short sword, barret cap, with long drooping feather, seemed more appropriate to a well-to-do merchant; and yet there was a certain wonderful something in the face and whole bearing of the lad which excluded the idea of a merchant. Reinhold saw Friedrich's doubts; he opened his knapsack, and brought out his cooper's leather apron and case of tools, crying, "Look _there_, friend; have you any doubt now as to my being your comrade? I dare say my clothes may strike you a little; but I come from Strassburg, where the coopers dress like gentry. Certainly, like yourself, I once had ideas of something different; but now I think the cooper's craft the finest in the world, and I have based many of my fairest life-hopes on it. Is not this _your_ case, too, comrade? But it almost seems to me as if some dark cloud-shadow had come over the happiness of your life, preventing you from looking around you with any gladness. Your song was all love-longing and sorrow; but there were tones in it which seemed to come shining out of my own breast, and I feel as though I knew everything which is imprisoned within you. That is all the more reason why you should tell me all about it. As we are going to be intimate friends and companions in Nuernberg, confide in me." Reinhold put an arm about Friedrich, and looked him kindly in the eyes.

"The more I look at you, you charming fellow," Friedrich said, "the more I am drawn to you. I distinctly hear a wondrous voice within me echoing a monition of my soul, which tells me you are my true friend. So I _must_ tell you everything. Not that a poor fellow such as I has anything really important to confide to you, but merely because the breast of a true friend has room for a man's sorrows; and, from the first moment of our acquaintance, I felt that you are the truest friend I possess. I am a cooper now, and I may say I know my craft well. But all my devotion was given to another--perhaps a better--art. From my childhood my desire was to be a silversmith, a great Master in the art of modelling and working in silver, such as Peter Fischer, or the Italian, Benvenuto Cellini. I worked at this with fervent zeal, under Master Johannes Holzschuer, the famous silversmith in my native town, who, although he did not himself cast images of the kind I refer to, had it in his power to give me instruction in that direction and province. Into Herr Holzschuer's house came, not seldom, Herr Tobias Martin, the master cooper, with his daughter, the beautiful charming Rosa. I fell in love with her, without quite being aware of it myself. I left home, and went to Augsburg, to learn image-casting properly, and it was not till then that the love-flames blazed up in my heart. I saw and heard only Rosa. I loathed every effort, every endeavour that did not lead to _her_; so I started off upon the only path which _did_ lead to her. Master Martin will give his daughter to no man save the cooper who, in his house, shall make the most perfect masterpiece which a cooper can produce, and whom at the same time his daughter shall look upon favourably into the bargain. I cast my own art on one side, I learned the cooper's craft, and I am going to Nuernberg to work in Master Martin's workshop. That is my object and intention. But now that my home lies before me, and Rosa's image glows vividly before my eyes, I could swoon for hesitation, anxiety, dread. I see _now_ the folly of my undertaking clearly. Can I tell whether Rosa loves me, or ever will love me?"

Reinhold had listened with even closer attention. He now rested his head on his arm, and, placing his hand over his eyes, asked, in a hollow, gloomy voice:

"Has Rosa ever given you any sign that she cares for you?"

"Ah," said Friedrich, "when I left Nuernberg, Rosa was more a child than a girl. She certainly did not dislike me. She used to smile charmingly on me when I never wearied of gathering flowers and making wreaths in Herr Holzschuer's garden. But----"

"Well, there is some hope in that case," Reinhold cried out suddenly, so violently, and in such an unpleasant, yelling tone, that Friedrich felt almost frightened. Reinhold started to his feet, the sword at his side rattled, and as he stood drawn up to his full height, the evening shadows fell on his pale face, and distorted his gentle features in such an ill-favoured sort that Friedrich cried, in real anxiety:

"What has come to you so suddenly?"

As he spoke he stepped backward, touching Reinhold's bundle with his foot. A sound of strings rang forth of it, and Reinhold cried, angrily:

"Don't smash my lute, you villain!"

He took the instrument from his bundle and struck its strings stormily, as if he would tear them in pieces. But soon his touch upon them grew soft and tuneful.

"Let us go on down to the village, brother! I have here a fine remedy against the Evil Spirits which stand in our way, and are in opposition principally to _me_."

"Why should Evil Spirits stand in our way, dear brother?" asked Friedrich. "But oh! your playing is beautiful, Please to go on with it."

The gold stars had come forth in the dark azure of the heavens; the night-wind was breathing in soft whispers over the perfumed meadows; the streams were murmuring louder; the dark trees of the forest were rustling all round in the distance. Reinhold and Friedrich went down into the valley, playing and singing; and clear and bright, as on shining pinions, their songs of Love and Longing floated on the breeze.

When they reached their night-quarters, Reinhold threw his lute and his knapsack down, and pressed Friedrich stormily to his heart. Friedrich felt burning tears upon his cheek; they came from Reinhold's eyes.

HOW THE TWO YOUNG JOURNEYMEN, REINHOLD AND FRIEDRICH,
WERE RECEIVED INTO MASTER MARTIN'S HOUSE.

When Friedrich awoke the next morning, he missed his new friend, who had thrown himself down by his side on the straw bed; and as he saw neither the lute nor the bundle, he thought Reinhold, for reasons to him unknown, had left him and taken another road. When he went out, however, he saw Reinhold with his lute under his arm, and his knapsack, bat dressed quite differently to what he had been the day before. He had taken the feather from his cap, was not wearing his sword, and had on a homely citizen's doublet, of sober hue, instead of the velvet slashed one he had previously.

"_Now_, brother," he cried, with a kindly smile, "I am sure you see that I really am your comrade and fellow-journeyman. However, I must say you slept wonderfully well for a man in love. Look how high the sun is. Let's be off at once."

Friedrich was silent and thoughtful; he scarcely answered Reinhold, or paid any attention to his jests, for he darted about hither and thither in the highest spirits, shouting aloud, and throwing his cap into the air; but even he became quieter as they approached the town, quieter and quieter.

"I cannot go any further, I am so anxious, so uncertain, so filled with delicious unrest," said Friedrich, throwing himself down as one exhausted, when they had all but arrived at the gates of Nuernberg. Reinhold sat down beside him, and after a time said:--

"Last night I must have seemed to you to be a very strange creature, good brother, but when you told me of your love, and were so disconsolate, all manner of absurd nonsense came into my head, making me feel confused. I think I should have gone crazy at last, had not your singing and my lute driven the evil spirits away. This morning, when the first rays of the sun awoke me, all my sense of enjoyment in life had come back to me. I went out, and as I strolled up and down amongst the trees, all manner of glorious thoughts came into my mind; the way in which I had met you--how my whole heart had so turned to you. I remembered a pretty tale of a matter which happened some time ago in Italy when I chanced to be there. I should like to tell it to you, as it shows very vividly what true friendship can accomplish. It so happened that a certain noble prince, a zealous friend and protector of the Arts, offered a valuable prize for a picture, the subject of which, very interesting, and not over-difficult to treat, was duly announced. Two young painters, who were united in bonds of the closest friendship, determined to compete for this prize. They were in the habit of working together; they told each other their respective ideas on the subject, showed each other their sketches for it, and talked much together as to the difficulties to be overcome. The elder of the two, who had more experience than the other in drawing and grouping, had soon grasped the idea of his picture, had sketched it, and was helping the younger with all his power; for the latter was so discouraged at the very threshold of his sketch for the picture, that he would have given up all idea of going on had not the elder unceasingly encouraged him, and given him advice and suggestions. Now when they began to paint their pictures, the younger, who was quite a master of colour, was able to give the elder many suggestions, which he skilfully adopted and availed himself of; thus, the elder had never coloured a picture so well, and the younger had never drawn one so well. When the pictures were finished, the masters embraced each other, each of them inwardly delighted with the work of the other, and each convinced that the well-earned prize belonged of right to the other. The younger, however, was the gainer of the prize; upon which he cried out, thoroughly ashamed: 'Why should I have it? What is my merit compared to my friend's? I could not have accomplished anything worthy of praise but for his help.' But the elder said: 'And did you not help me with valuable counsel and advice? No doubt my picture is by no means bad; but you have got the prize, as was proper. To strive towards the same goal, bravely and openly, that is real friendship. Then the laurel which the victor gains honours the vanquished too. I like you all the more for your having laboured so doughtily, and brought me, too, honour and renown by your victory.' Now, Friedrich, that painter was right, was he not? Would it not rather truly and intimately unite than separate true friends to strive for the same prize, honestly, openly, genuinely, to the utmost of their power? Can petty envy or hatred find place in noble minds?"

"Never!" answered Friedrich; "assuredly never! We are now loving brethren; very likely we shall both ere long set to work to turn out the great Nuernberg 'masterpiece'--the two-fudder cask, without firing--each on his own account. But heaven forfend that I should be able to trace in myself the faintest tinge of envy, if yours, dear brother Reinhold, should be a better one than mine."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Reinhold. "What does your 'masterpiece' signify? You will soon make _that_, I have no doubt, to the admiration of all competent coopers; and let me tell you that, as far as concerns the measurements, the proportions, curves, etc., you have found in me your man; moreover, you can trust me as to the choice of the timber, staves of red oak, felled in the winter, free from worm-holes, red or white stripes, or blaze-marks--that is what we will seek out. You can trust my eye; I will give you the best possible advice about everything, and my own 'masterpiece' will be none the worse for that."

"But, heaven help us," cried Friedrich, "why should we talk about 'masterpieces,' and which of us is going to succeed there? Is that what we are going to contend for? The real 'masterpiece' is winning Rosa; how are we to set about that? My head reels at it."

"Well, brother," cried Reinhold, still laughing; "really we were not saying anything about Rosa at that moment; you are a dreamer. Come along, let us get to the town, at all events."

Friedrich rose, and walked along, perplexed in mind. As they were washing and brushing themselves in the inn, Reinhold said:

"For my part, I don't know in the least what master I am going to work with. I don't know a creature in the place, so I was thinking that perhaps you would take me with you to Master Martin's, dear brother; perhaps he would give me work."

"You take a weight from my heart," answered Friedrich; "for if you are with me I shall find it easier to overcome my anxiety and my uneasiness."

So they set out together stoutly for the house of the renowned cooper, Master Martin.

It happened to be the very Sunday on which Master Martin was giving his great official dinner in honour of his appointment, and it was exactly dinner-time. Thus, when Reinhold and Friedrich crossed Master Martin's threshold, they became aware of a ringing of wine-glasses, and the confused buzz of a merry dinner-company.

"Ah!" said Friedrich, despondingly; "I fear we have come at an unfortunate time."

"I think just the contrary," said Reinhold; "for Master Martin will be in a fine temper, after all that good cheer, and disposed to grant our requests."

And presently Master Martin--to whom they had caused their coming to be announced--came out to them, in festal attire, and with no small amount of rubicundity of nose and cheeks. As soon as he saw Friedrich, he cried out, "Aha, Friedrich, good lad, thou art home again! That is well; and thou hast betaken thyself to the noble cooper-craft, too! No doubt Herr Holzschuer makes terrible faces when thy name is mentioned, and says a really great artist is spoilt in thee, and that thou couldst very likely have cast all sorts of little niminy-piminy figures, like those in St. Sebald's--that, and trellis-work, such as there is in Fugger's house in Augsburg. Stupid stuff and nonsense; thou hast done the proper thing in turning to what is right; many thousand welcomes to thee." With which Master Martin took him by the shoulders and embraced him, according to his wont when highly pleased. Friedrich completely revived at Master Martin's kind reception of him. All his bashfulness abandoned him: he not only laid his own desires before Master Martin, fully and unhesitatingly, but begged him to take Reinhold into his service too.

"Well," said Master Martin, "you could not possibly have come at a better time; there is heaps of work, and I'm greatly in need of men. You are both heartily welcome. Take off your bundles and come in; dinner is nearly done, but there is room at the table, and Rosa will take every care of you." And Master Martin went in with the two journeymen.

The worthy and honourable masters were all seated there, Herr Paumgartner in the place of honour. Their faces were all aglow; dessert was just served, and a noble wine was pearling in the great drinking-glasses. Matters had arrived at a point when each of the masters was talking, very loud, about something different from all the others, yet they all thought they quite followed and understood; and now one, and now another, laughed loud, without quite knowing why or wherefore. But when Master Martin, with Friedrich and Reinhold in either hand, announced that those two fine young journeymen, with good certificates, the sort of fellows after his own heart, had come offering to work for him, all grew silent, and everybody looked at the handsome lads with a pleasant satisfaction. Reinhold glanced round him with his clear eyes, almost proudly; but Friedrich cast his down, and toyed with his barret-cap. Master Martin gave the two lads places at the bottom of the table. But they were the most glorious places of all, for presently Rosa came and sat down beside them, carefully helping and serving them with exquisite dishes and delicious wines. All this made a delightful picture to behold. The beautiful Rosa, the handsome lads, the bearded masters, one could not but think of some shining morning cloudlet rising up alone on a dark background of sky; or, perhaps, of pretty spring flowers, raising their heads from melancholy, colourless grass. Friedrich could hardly breathe for rapture and delight; only by stealth did he now and then glance at her who was filling all his soul. He stared down at his plate; how was it possible for him to swallow a morsel? Reinhold, on the other hand, never moved his eyes (from which sparkling lightnings flashed) from the girl. He began to talk of his far travels in such a marvellous style, that she had never heard anything like it before. All that he spoke of seemed to rise before her eyes in thousands of ever-changing images; she was all eye, all ear. She did not know where she was, or what was happening to her when Reinhold, in the fire of his discourse, grasped her hand and pressed it to his heart. "Friedrich," he cried, "why are you sitting mum and sad? Have you lost your tongue? Come, let's clink our glasses to the health of this young lady, who is taking such care of us here." Friedrich took, with trembling hand, the tall goblet which Reinhold had filled to the brim, and which, as Reinhold did not draw breath, he had to empty to the last drop. "Here's to our brave master!" Reinhold cried again, filling the glasses; and once more Friedrich had to empty his bumper. Then the fire-spirit of the wine permeated him, and set his halting blood a-moving, till it coursed, seething and dancing, through all his veins. "What a blissful feeling," he whispered, as the glowing scarlet mantled in his cheeks; "I cannot express how delightful; never did I feel so happy in all my life before."

Rosa--to whom those words might, perhaps, convey another sense smiled on him with marvellous sweetness, and he, befreed from all his bashfulness, said: "Dear Rosa, I suppose you don't remember me at all, do you?"

"Now, Friedrich," answered Rosa, with downcast eyes; "how could it be possible that I should forget you so soon? At old Herr Holzschuer's I was only a child, certainly, but you did not think it beneath you to play with me; and you always talked of such charming things. And that beautiful little basket of silver wire which you gave me one Christmas, I still have, and shall always prize it as a precious keepsake." Tears stood in the lad's eyes, in the intoxication of his happiness. He tried to speak; but only the words, "Ah, Rosa! Dear Rosa!" came out of his heart like a deep sigh. Rosa went on to say: "I have always wished most heartily that I might see you again, but that you should take to the cooper's craft, I never could have imagined. Ah! when I think of the beautiful things you used to make at Herr Holzschuer's, it is really a shame that you do not keep to your own art."

"Ah, Rosa," said Friedrich, "it was all for your sake that I was faithless to my own beloved art." Scarcely were the words spoken than he would fain have sunk into the ground with shame and alarm. The most unintentional of avowals had come from his lips. Rosa, as if she saw it all, turned her face away from him. He strove in vain for words. However, Herr Paumgartner rapped on the table loudly with a knife, and announced to the company that Herr Vollrad, a worthy master-singer, would favour them with a song. So Herr Vollrad stood up, cleared his throat, and sung such a beautiful song in Hans Vogelsang's "golden tone," that all hearts throbbed for joy, and even Friedrich recovered from his serious embarrassment. After Herr Vollrad had sung other beautiful songs, in various other "tones" or "manners,"--such as the "sweet" tone, the "crooked horn" manner, the "flowery paradise" manner, the "fresh orange" manner, etc.,--he said that, should there be any at the table who knew anything of the gracious craft of the master-singers, he should now be so good as to sing a song. At this Reinhold rose, and said that, if he might be permitted to accompany himself on the lute, after the Italian manner, he too would be happy to sing a song, keeping, however, in it wholly to the German "modes." No one saying anything to the contrary, he got out his lute, and after preluding a little in the loveliest way, went on with the following song:--

"Where is the little fount,
Where springs the flavourous wine?
Deep in the ground.
There found,
All men may see with joy its golden glory shine.
Who found it, thought it out,
With doughty might and thews,
With craft and careful skill?
Who but the cooper!
None but he can build
The precious fount and source."

(With a little more to the same effect.) This song pleased everyone beyond measure, but none so much as Master Martin, whose eyes beamed with joy and delight. Without attending to Herr Vollrad--who spake more than was necessary concerning that "manner" of "Herr Mueller's" which the journeyman had "hit off by no means badly"--Master Martin rose, and, lifting his glass on high, cried: "Come here--thou--proper cooper and fine master-singer--come here! with me--with thy master--shalt thou empty this glass!"

Reinhold had to do as he was told. As he came back to his seat he whispered to the thoughtful Friedrich, "_You_ must sing now, what you snug last night."

"You are mad," Friedrich cried, in anger. But Reinhold spoke out to the company, in a loud voice, saying:--

"Honourable gentlemen and masters, my dear brother Friedrich here knows much more beautiful songs and has a far finer voice than I. But the dust of the journey has got into his throat, so that he will sing to you in all 'manners' on another occasion."

Then they all begun praising and applauding Friedrich as if he had actually sung, and some of the masters even thought his voice was finer than Reinhold's. Herr Vollrad (after another glass) thought, and said, that Friedrich caught the beautiful German "modes" even better than Reinhold, who had just a little too much of the Italian school about him. But Master Martin threw his head back, smote his breast with his fist till it resounded again, and cried--

"Those are _my_ men--mine, I say! Master Tobias Martin, the Cooper of Nuernberg's men."

And all the masters nodded their heads, and said, as they savoured the last drops out of their tall drinking-glasses--

"Aye, aye, it is so! All right! Master Martin's, the Cooper of Nuernberg's fine, clever men."

At last they all went home to bed; and Master Martin gave each of his new journeymen a nice bright chamber in his house.

HOW A THIRD JOURNEYMAN CAME TO MASTER MARTIN'S
AND WHAT HAPPENED THEREUPON.

After Friedrich and Reinhold had worked with Master Martin for a week or two, he observed that, as regarded measurements, rule and compass work, calculations, and correctness of eye, Reinhold was probably without a rival. But it was otherwise as concerned work at the bench with the adze or the mallet. At those Reinhold soon wearied, and the work would not progress, let him exert himself as he would. Friedrich, on the other hand, hammered and planed away sturdily, and did not get very tired of it. What they both had in common, however, was a refinement of manner, to which there joined themselves, chiefly at Reinhold's instigation, much innocent merriment and witty fun. Moreover (especially when Rosa was by) they did not spare their throats, but sang many a beautiful song, often together, when their voices went delightfully. And when Friedrich, turning his eyes to Rosa, would tend towards falling into a melancholy and sentimental strain, Reinhold would immediately strike in with a comic ditty of his own devising, which began--

"The vat is not the zither--the zither not the vat,"

so that old Martin had often to drop the tool which he had in his hand raised in act to strike, and hold his sides for inward laughter. On the whole both the journeymen, but especially Reinhold, stood high in Master Martin's favour; and one might almost fancy that Rosa too sometimes found a pretext for lingering oftener and longer in the workshop than perhaps she otherwise would have done.

One day Master Martin went thoughtfully to his workshop outside the town gate, where work was carried on in the summer-time. Friedrich and Reinhold were just beginning a small cask. Master Martin placed himself before them with folded arms, and said:--

"I really cannot tell you, you two dear lads, how thoroughly I am satisfied with you. But I find myself in a considerable predicament. People write to me from the Rhine country that as regards crop this present year is going to be more blessed than any that has gone before it. A certain wise man has said that this comet which has appeared in the sky so fertilises the earth with its wonderful rays, that it will give forth all the heat which genders the noble metals out of its deepest depths, which will so stream and exhale up into the thirsting vines, that they will yield crops upon crops brimful of the liquid fire which has heated them. It seems there has not been such a lucky 'constellation' for well on to three hundred years. Very good; hence will spring great abundance of work. And, moreover, the Bishop of Bamberg has written to order a large vat. We shall not be able to finish it, so that I shall have to be looking out for another journeyman hand--a good one. All the same, I don't want to bring the first comer out of the street amongst us. And yet what's to be done? I see no choice. If you happen to know of a good hand anywhere whom you would have no objection to work with, say the word, and I'll send and get him though it should cost me no small sum."

Scarce had Master Martin said this, when a young man of tall, powerful figure cried in at the door, in a loud voice, "I say, is this Master Martin's?"

"Yea," said Master Martin, stepping up to the young man, "verily it is; but there's no occasion to shout in that murdering sort of style. That is not the way to come at people."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the young man. "I see you are Master Martin yourself. You answer exactly to the description of him given to me--the fat corporation, the imposing double chin, the flashing eyes, and the red nose. My best respects to you, Master Martin."

"Well, sir," said Master Martin, greatly irritated, "and what may your business with Master Martin be?"

"I am a journeyman cooper," the young man answered, "and all I want is to know if you can give me a job of work here."

Master Martin took a step or two backward in sheer amazement at the notion that, just when he had made up his mind to look out for another hand, one should appear and offer himself; and he scanned the young man closely from head to foot. The latter met his gaze with which flashed. Now, as Master Martin observed the broad chest, athletic build, and powerful hands of the young man, he thought to himself, "This is just the stout, strong-built sort of fellow that I want." And he asked him for his certificates.

"I have not got them with me," the young man said, "but I will soon get them. In the meantime, I give you my word that I will do your work faithfully and honourably. That must suffice for the time." And therewith, without waiting for Master Martin's leave, he strode into the workshop, threw down his barret and his bundle, tied on his apron, and said, "Now then, Master Martin, tell me what to set about."

Master Martin, puzzled by this cool manner of setting about matters, had to take thought with himself for a moment. "Well," he said, "my lad, to show us that you are a trained cooper, set to with the notcher upon that cask there at the end stool."