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OF THE 6
Zaz

Moa ta

BETH LE.H.E.M.
Sunday School.

Wisdom is better than rubies.—PRrov. viii 11
Apply thy heart unto instruction, and thine
" ears unto the words of knowledge.—PRov.

xxiii, 12. \
Do not injure this book.
Read slowly ; think seriously.

Return regularly,
With the corners of the leaves not turned

PHILADELPHIA ;
PERKINPINE & HIGGINS,
Sunday School Book Store,
830 Arch Street.



































lee “PHILADELPUTA: tes
ure ‘BOARD: OF maemo |











ae +
Andreas Aeimberger;
OR, THE
MINER OF BERCHTESGADEN.
Krom the German of Adolph Stern.

TRANSLATED BY

MRS. B. MALLON.



: PHILADELPHIA:
LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
42 NORTH NINTH STREET.

1875.



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.



Wo eee
=: J. FAGAN & SON,
be STEREOTYPERS, PHILAD’A. n€



CAXTON PRESS OF SHERMAN & CO.





CHAP. PAGE

I. THE BROTHERS : 3 a z s - 9
II. THE AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP . 25
III. BERCHTESGADEN . 5 3 : 7 . 68
IV. WINNIFRED . 0 C 2 é é : gI
V. THE ATTACK . 5 ‘ 9 a . 109
VI, THE Howzsturz . : c 5 : == 127
THE SALZBURGERS ; S ‘ : . 152

vii











ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

CHAPTER I.

THE BROTHERS.

N the early morning of a July day, when
I far up at the chalet the day’s work had
already begun, the broad valley of the Un-
terstein mountains lay in the deepest stillness.
A dense fog hung about the base of the
mountain ; but a rosy light, which announced
the rising of the sun, lay upon its tall crest,
and the snow was seen glittering upon the
peaks of the distant Alpine chain. A little
brook, with its foaming green waters, rushed
through the valley. A few birds flew hither

and thither in the twilight, while from the
: 9



Io ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

hunters’ cottages on one side of the path,
which wound around the foot of the moun-
tain and led out into the country towards
Salzache, was heard the loud barking of dogs.
They had been aroused by the noise of foot-
steps and human voices, and gave the alarm
at sounds so unusual at that hour. The early
travellers walked so quickly and vigorously
forward that the cottages soon lay behind
them hidden in the fog. They evidently
supposed themselves to be the first upon the
road, for as they ascended the heights they
heard with astonishment a harsh voice call-
ing to them. They stopped, looked quickly
about them, and saw in the middle of the
road, a figure whose short “ greeting ” sound-
ed as harsh and bold as the first call. Their
surprise soon passed away, and they began
to wave their hats, and one of the foremost
of them said:

“Tt is your brother Seppi, Andreas.”



THE BROTHERS. II

The tall, powerful form stood looking down
upon them with an expression of unconcealed
contempt. The whole figure, the well devel-
oped limbs, and the heavy brown beard which
fell over his breast, gave evidence of his great
strength. The open jacket which he wore
was soiled, and was of the coarsest material ;
but from his hat waved the characteristic
ornaments of both hunter and boatman —a
chamois’ beard and tall cock’s-feather. His
sharp eyes glanced over the crowd, passing
quickly from one to another, as though seek-
ing for a special one of their number. Sev-
eral hands were stretched out to him, but he
drew back, and said angrily:

“ What are you doing here so early? Are
you on your way to Salzburg? Do you wish
to stand again at the gates of the castle beg-
ging the Archbishop to allow you to pray
and read your Bible? You need not twist
your hats between your hands; I have guessed

it.”



ae

12 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

“Brother Joseph,” cried one of the men
whom the giant had evidently not seen,
“have you lain in wait for us here merely
to offer us insult?” With these words he
stepped forward, and stood before the hun-
ter. Joseph shielded his eyes with his hands
as though he doubted their evidence.

“You, Andreas! By St. Christopher, I
was looking for you, but I did not see you.
What are you doing here in peasant’s dress ?
Where is your miner’s coat?”

“JT shall have little farther need for it,”
said Andreas, reaching out his hand to his
brother. Andreas was a large man, but less
powerful than Joseph. His features showed
strength and determination, but he would
have been called weak by the side of the
fierce, boid Seppi. At least he might have
seemed so at this moment, when, looking
kindly at his brother, he said:

“Tf you have really come down from the



THE BROTHERS. 13

chalet to give us a friendly greeting, then will
I bid you doubly welcome.”

“Let me know first what you intend to
do, and then I will answer you,” continued
Seppi. The expression of his face showed
that he was more angry than pleased at his
brother’s greeting ; and taking no notice of
the others, he seized Andreas by his arm and
drew him aside over the broken rocks, in
order to speak with him alone. The men
shook their heads as they looked after him,
and showed that they were ready to resent
the bold act of Seppi; but at a sign from
their leader they remained quiet. They
waited in silence on the road till the brothers
were lost from sight, and only the sound of
their voices could be heard.

Then one of the oldest of the group, a
white-bearded peasant of about seventy years,
said:

“Andreas feels the deepest sorrow that

2



I4 ANDREAS: HEIMBERGER.

Joseph will remain behind when we leave
the country. I believe he would give all he
possesses if only Seppi would go with us;
but from their meeting just now, I can hardly
expect it.”

“ Andreas must leave brothers and sisters
behind for the faith’s sake,” said a young
man with a peculiarly melancholy counte-
nance and deep sunken eyes. “There will be
trouble enough of that kind throughout the
country in a few weeks, and our leader must
bear his share.”

“ He has borne it ail along,” cried the old
man. “ Seppi never stays at home, and when
he does come, he does not behave like one
who has no need of his brother’s help.”

“T should think,” replied the young man,
“that he had done excellently without him
for many years; for this is evidently their
first meeting for a long time.”

“Just so,” said the old man, angrily;



THE BROTHERS. 15

“but what do you know of Heimberger’s
children? . And as you know nothing, you
have no occasion to complain. We have
not forgotten about it. When Heimberger
died, the brothers placed a hunter from Saal-
felden at the farm. He was the richest and
handsomest fellow in the country, and he had
a sister Nanni, for whose welfare it would
have been better had God made her less
beautiful. It was about the time when we
first began to read our Bibles, and listen to
Luther’s teaching. Then Andreas did not
work at the salt-mines, nor had Joseph be-
come a boatman. Nanni fell in the way of
the proud Count von Gumprez, the Arch-
bishop’s Mareschal, and one day she dis-
appeared from the farm. The Mareschal
had carried her to the castle, and the broth-
ers in vain sent one priest after another to
bring her back. The Count took care that

she should see no one, and Andreas, who



16 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

wished to confront him, was chased by dogs
from the castle. Joseph would then have
been satisfied, but Andreas gave him no rest;
and they went, one day, to demand justice
from the Archbishop. No one knows to
this hour what happened; Andreas seemed
petrified into silence, but Joseph raved so
fearfully that the servants fled from the farm.

“ Andreas began from that time to labor
in the salt-works, where he was soon made
chief miner. Joseph spent all his money in
dissipation. He became first a hunter, and
then a boatman; but he was restless, and
did not remain long in one place. The broth-
ers were not often seen together; but old
blind Ursel, who lived on the farm with Jorg
her husband, said that at night, when she
could not sleep, she would hear Joseph come
there, and after awhile steal secretly away.
She thought that he wished to get something

from his brother; but sincé Andreas has be-



THE BROTHERS. 17

come one of us, there grows not a hair on
his head that he would not willingly devote
to our cause. From that hour Joseph has
been sullen, and almost fierce in his enmity
towards his brother. He never cared much
for saints or monks, but he has never forgiven
Andreas for becoming a Lutheran. Andreas
has always behaved like a brother to him;
and when the reckless man wanted clothing
or money or a new rifle, Andreas would
always give it to him. But they are never
seen together now. Months pass, sometimes,
without their meeting; and then it has been
as to-day — apart from every one else and
angry words pass between them. But Joseph
was always a wild, reckless fellow. They
call him the best of shots and the safest of
boatmen. No one follows the chamois
through dangerous passes like Joseph, and
no one can guide a boat so skilfully as he

through a storm on the lake. At.the chalet
sg B





18 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

he is lord among the men and maidens, and
yet it seems as though he must come to some
bad end; for though he is brave and bold,
and a favorite with all, yet he is never happy.” ”

During the old man’s recital, the two
brothers had remained standing behind the
gigantic rocks which hid them from sight.
Andreas, freeing his arm from his brother’s
tight grasp, said:

“Well, Joseph, what is it? That you have
not come down from the chalet merely to
give me greeting, I kriow already. Why
have you stopped me and my companions
here? What do you wish?”

“TI wish to hear from your own lips
whether you are going with the Lutherans
from the country,” answered Joseph, gloom-
ily. “There is a rumor through the valley
that you intend doing so. I hope the gos-
sips who have spread the tale have heard

falsely ”



THE BROTHERS. 19

“No; they heard correctly,” said Andreas:
“we are tired of the persecutions which we
have suffered for the faith’s sake. The king
of Prussia has offered us a safe asylum, and
we wish to leave the country.”

“You are tired of persecutions!” cried
Joseph, with uncontrollable excitement in
voice and gesture; “and do you know noth-
ing better than to exile yourselves like
sneaking cowards? Besides, you forget
your oath; you forget what we endured be-
fore the castle of the Archbishop of Salzburg.
Has the recollection of Nannerl passed from
your mind? Do you never think of her?”

“Nanni! Peace to her memory! I al-
ways think of her in my prayers. She re-
mained of her own accord in the hands of
the Mareschal; she comforted herself in his
smiles, and she died in his arms. God forgive
her!”

“And the Mareschal too, if it can be,”



20 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,.

said Joseph; “but you know that it is not
of them, but of the Archbishop, that I wish
to speak. I have never forgotten the hour
when we stood before him, at your wish, for
Nanni’s sake. If you can wipe out the in-
sult which he flung in your face, I yet can
feel the marks of his spurs. Andreas, do
you not remember above everything that he
treated us worse than dogs, because we dared
to interrupt for a moment the pleasure of his
hunt? I see his red, angry face; I see the
whip which he brandished over you; I feel
the golden spur which he plunged into my
shoulder as I knelt before him. Bear in
mind that I feel it now, and I have felt it .
every hour since then. I have not forgotten
how we stood beside the castle fountain, and
with clasped hands swore revenge Zo the
death upon the Archbishop. You were to go
to the right, and I to the left, and we were

not to meet except over the dead: body of



THE BROTHERS. 25

Anton Firmian. What has become of your
oath — what of your revenge?”

“ God absolves us from thoughtless oaths,”
said Andreas, gazing sorrowfully upon his
excited brother. ‘“‘ When we swore revenge
against the Archbishop; when I went into
the mines in order to get help and sympathy
in our cause ; when you sought it among the .
boatmen at the lake, we had nothing in our
hearts but the memory of our insult. - But
now that ten years have passed, and our
minds are filled with other things, of what
use is our bloody oath?”

“Your mind is full of other things, not
mine; you have become a vow-breaker with
your Luther and your Bible foolery.”

“And meanwhile you have squandered
your inheritance in foolish pleasure. Was
that a part of the oath?” said Andreas.

Joseph looked almost with hatred upon

his brother, and said angrily: “Many a mes-



22 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

senger indulges in a good drink; yet he
never forgets his way, and accomplishes his
object at last. I had hopes of you until to-
day. I had hoped that even your folly
might help our cause. You are tired of the
oppressions and wrongs which the Arch-
bishop has heaped upon you; you leave the
country, and all that you possess, and all
that is dear to you. Why do you not, in-
stead, grasp your rifle, and lead your brave
companions from the mines to the Arch-
bishop’s castle?”

“And thus avenge our wrongs in your
own way! I cannot play with the lives of
my brethren,” said Andreas. “If you have
nothing else to say to me, let me go my way;
I can talk of this no longer.”

“Go! I do not keep you,” cried Joseph,
whose eyes flashed, and whose powerful
form towered threateningly above his brother.

“Tf you will not keep your vow, then Iam



THE BROTHERS. 23

freed from mine. I want notking better
than to meet the Archbishop alone; and one
may still trust in a good rifle, if his brother
does break his word and desert him.”

Andreas stepped nearer in alarm. He
looked into his brother’s face, and said ear-
nestly: “Are you longing for judgment and
eternal fire?” ;

“Tam longing for nothing but revenge,”
cried Joseph. “I heard once of an: animal
that carries within its body a sufficient sup-
ply of water for a long journey through
desert wastes. I think that the blood of
Anton Firmian would be sufficient refresh-
ment for me through an eternity of fire!”

“Joseph! Brother Seppi! Have you be-
come a furious madman? Yet, stay, stay;
let us talk further about it,” cried Andreas.
For, as Joseph uttered his last wild words,
he had swung himself with giant strength
up the cliff, and begun to climb the heights,



24 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Andreas’ call was unheeded, save by his
companions on the roadside, who were ‘be--
ginning to tire of the long delay. Through
the slowly rising fog they saw Joseph hast-
ening upward with wild leaps, and they
now came forward to gather again about
their leader. At sight of them Andreas en-
deavored to conceal the deep distress into
which he had been thrown by his brother’s
frantic words, and he came forward to join
his companions. No one uttered a word in
regard to what had just taken place, but the
aged peasant directed questioning looks to-
wards the grave, earnest face which gave little
answer inreturn. All had for a moment for-
gotten the object of their expedition, and were
reminded of it only by the quick beating of
their hearts as they entered the broad valley
of the Salzache, and saw the towers of the
fortress of Hohensalzburg glittering in the

light of the rising sun.





CHAPTER II.

THE AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP.

T was high noon. Noiseless, yet anxious
[ preparations were going on in the
kitchens and breakfast-hall of castle Salzburg.
At the end of a long suite of high-arched,
magnificently furnished apartments was the
Archbishop’s anteroom, on one side of which
- lay the little hall, now filled with a crowd of
servants of various degrees: Hungarian foot-
soldiers, lackeys, several young pages, who
took care to keep themselves apart from the
rest, and the Archbishop's body-guard, which
had just been relieved from duty. A number
of attendants were anxiously listening near
the folding-doors of the anteroom, crowding

against one another in their eagerness to be
3 25



26 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

in readiness when the Archbishop should
enter. Silver dishes and vessels of every
description were passed noiselessly from
hand to hand as they were brought to the
door of the saloon, and at one side the
master of ceremonies was busily engaged in
arranging the duffe¢. All gave evidence that
the hour of the princely breakfast had ar-
rived,

It was delightfully cool in the little room.
The bright-colored mosaic floor had been
sprinkled with perfumed water. Buta single
sunbeam streamed through the light curtain
before the window, and quivered upon the
silver and crystal of the table. It played
over the wine, and irritated the Archbishop’s
blackamoor who was arranging the chairs,
With his eyes half shut he did not see that
the folding-doors had been thrown open,
and had not time to spring back to his place
until the Archbishop, followed by his numer-



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 27 °

ous guests, was near enough to give him a
glance of severe reproof. The company
placed themselves, with subdued whispers
and loud rustling of garments, on each side
of the Archbishop, who to-day, as almost
always, in sporting costume, looked more
like a grim huntsman than an ecclesiastical

prince. At the left of his Grace sat his
Chancellor; and at his right a young girl of
about twenty years. Opposite her sat Count
Resina, an Italian cavalier, who had waited
upon the Archbishop only yesterday for the
first time, and had already been summoned
to breakfast with him.

The young girl seemed wonderfully beau-
tiful to all those grave, earnest men, as well
as to Count Resina. She sat with a smile
upon her lips, fresh and blooming, the only -
one of that courtly throng who smiled and
chatted at ease. Sparkling vivacity shone

in every feature. She threw the most inde-



- 28 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,.

scribably coquettish glances towards the
Count; and a changing smile played about
her beautiful mouth as she met the glances
even of those priestly men. She wore the
rich costume of the time, but her brown
curls scorned the help of the white powder
that lay upon them, no less than did her
slender form the riding-coat, or even the
heavy court dress.

The Archbishop showed little interest in
what was going on around him. His eyes
rested on the crystal goblet that stood before
him, and now and then he threw merely a
gloomy side-glance towards the Chancellor,
who returned it with a look equally dismal.
But the young girl did not become weary of
bestowing her smiles either upon the sullen
prince or his counsellor. She whispered
from time to time words in a language which
the Archbishop alone seemed to understand.

The oftener she repeated this, the more



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 29

cheerful became his countenance. He re-
plied to her in the same language, and at
last turned with a look of undisguised pleas-
ure towards the bewitching face beside him.
Conversation now became general among
the guests; the servants ventured to step
more heavily; and more than one of those
priestly men, after a deep sigh of relief,
raised more frequently their glasses to their
lips.

Count Resina, who had been watching the
Archbishop and the young girl with close
attention, turned now to his neighbor, the
Canon of St. John’s, and giving him to un-.
derstand by a sign that he referred to the
lady, said:

“What name, your Reverence?”

“Winnifred O’Hara,” replied the Canon,
quickly.

“Ts she Irish, and a niece of his Grace?”

said the Count, placing a peculiar emphasis
3%



30 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

upon the word niece; to which the well-
trained Canon merely nodded. He looked
cautiously about him, and continued aloud:

“Wer mother, Mary O’Hara, lived many
years at one of the Archbishop’s castles
before she became one of the household
here. She was even more beautiful than
her child; but all the gifts which a mother
can impart have descended on the daughter.
There is nothing that this frivolous girl can-
not obtain from the Archbishop; but he has
never been able yet to find a fitting husband
for her.”

The eyes of the Count rested with new
interest upon the graceful form and lovely
face before him. Winnifred vouchsafed him
no attention; she was wholly occupied with
the Archbishop, to whom she would speak
in her native tongue every time he turned
from the Chancellor. Occasionally she

would look towards the window. The sun,



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 31

as he climbed the heavens, had become
oppressive even in the cool saloon; outside,
it must have been very hot and sultry. The
Chancellor followed the girl’s looks with
growing uneasiness. He knew what was
passing in her mind, and he sought in vain
to draw the attention of the Archbishop to
himself.

Anton Firmian, who knew well enough
how to be stern, who seemed to live solely
for the sake of power, and who never would
have been suspected, by one who knew
nothing of his inner life, of yielding to the
influence of happy emotions, now gave him-
self up wholly to the smiles of his daughter.
The Chancellor foresaw what would happen
as soon as the meal was over.

Winnifred looked more frequently towards
the window; and at last she said, coaxingly,
to the Archbishop:

“Grant me a favor, your Grace; the peas-



32 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

ants, who ask an interview, must be suffering
out there in the glowing sun; the sultry air
is oppressive to me, even here. Think what
I should feel if I were obliged to stand with-
out, waiting for admission.”

The Archbishop’s face instantly clouded
over. The Chancellor, and those who were
sitting near, awaited breathlessly his answer.
He replied, in a tone of reproof:

You really give me no peace, Winnifred.
If you only knew how much trouble the
rascals have already given me —”

“Refuse their petition, my prince,” said
Winnifred; “but do not keep them standing
longer in the scorching sun: I suffer with
them.” :

“You intercede for bold, rebellious here-
tics,” interrupted the Chancellor.

The words were ill-timed, for the blood
rushed to Winnifred’s face, and she cried

with warmth:



‘AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP, 33

“Of that I know nothing — understand
nothing; I only ask that they be not allowed
to suffer; and if there is not time to hear
them, at least let them have a tent, some
fruit, and a glass of cool wine.”

Count Resina, although he hardly knew
of what they spoke, nodded an approval, in
which he was encouraged by the Canon,
who looked with a smile towards the stern
Archbishop. The latter rose at this moment
from his chair, and gave the signal for the
breaking up of the assembly. As he was
about to offer his arm to Winnifred, he
changed his mind, and beckoning to the
Count, who approached with a deep rever-
ence, he said, turning to the young girl:

“Because you wish it, Winnifred, I will
hear these people. If trouble comes from it,
I shall be revenged upon you. Count Resi-
na, conduct the fraulem to her room. Grell,

come with me.”
Cc



34 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

The last words were spoken to the Chan-
cellor; but the Prince did not fail to catch
the grateful smile of Winnifred. The Chan-
cellor whispered to a priest who stood by
him:

“ There will be a storm in the house, for I
am sure that the Archbishop will allow the
Lutherans to leave the country. It will cer-
tainly be visited upon us; for no one is more
certain to escape than Winnifred.” 2

The priest nodded in reply, and the Chan-
cellor followed to his reception-room the
Archbishop, who first gave a command in a
low tone of voice to the chief of his body-
guard,

Winnifred freed her hand from the arm
- of the Count. The look of scornful displeas-
ure which she cast upon his meagre form and
sharp features could not have caused the ex-
pression of conceited pride which rested upon

his face as he led her with formal ceremony



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 35

through the broad corridor to her own
apartment. A page threw open the door,
an attendant hastened towards her, and in
the rear of the little anteroom was seen in
waiting the form of Winnifred’s maid of
honor. Count Resina, having been dismissed
with a cool bow, stood for a moment irreso-
lute between the pillars of the corridor, before
descending the steps.

Within her room, Winnifred, careless of
the presence of pages and attendants, rushed
towards her companion, and throwing herself
upon her neck in a passionate outburst of
tears, allowed herself to be led thus by
the frightened woman from the room. Then
she sunk down upon the rich Turkey carpet
which covered the floor, and hid her face in
the lap of her friend.

“T can bear my unhappiness no longer,
Felicitas,” she sobbed; “again I have had

to lavish my smiles on all sides in order to



36 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

provide a shelter for the poor peasants who
are languishing outside in the hot sun. And
again there has come a man to the court who
has hardly heard of me before he looks upon
me as a certain prize.”

“Winnifred, dear Winnifred, you constant-
ly forget yourself. One to hear you would
suppose you were wretched. Are you not
the darling, the idol of your uncle? Have
you not perfect freedom, and every wish ful-
filled, even when it were better that you
should be denied ?”

“My uncle!” repeated the young girl,
bitterly. “He is my father, Felicitas, though
you are afraid to call him so, —and may God
forgive him! He allows me to live here in
idleness and luxury, only that I may chase
away the wrinkles from his forehead. That
which J alone prize, my freedom, I must give
up, in order that I need no longer bear my

mother’s name. Because my father cannot



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 37

give me his I am offered to every adventurer!
I tell to you, Felicitas, that the yellow Count
already knows how easily I am to be had if
so be that his own lineage and coat of arms
be not too unsullied.”

Winnifred wept still more passionately.
Felicitas looked upon her in perfect helpless-
ness, and then said:

“What in the name of the saints are you
thinking of? What is it you wish?”

“What do I wish?” cried Winnifred,
springing up with a look half defiant, half
sorrowful flashing from her brown eyes: “I
scarcely know myself. To flee from the
whole household, if I could only find one who
has courage enough to take me to my own
country. But there is not a man here, or
anywhere, who would do it. They all fawn
and flatter, in order to secure the favor of
the Archbishop. Perhaps I might find the
way alone to my green island. Where the

4



33 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Shannon empties into the sea stands the
cottage of my grandparents. On the grass
which is refreshed by its waters, my mother
played. There I would be; not here, where
you despise, though you flatter me!”

“And your uncle,” said Felicitas, impa-
tiently.

She had evidently touched the right chord,
for Winnifred remained silent a moment.
Then she smiled, and said:

“He would miss me; he loves me; but
Count Resina and all the rest of them may
keep at a distance; J am not ashamed to be
called Winnifred O’Hara! Come now, Feli-
citas, we must go and see the peasants who
are to be admitted to the Prince.”

Felicitas drew the capricious girl with her
through the anteroom out upon the corri-
dor. Here they walked up and down as if
for pleasure, keeping sharp watch, however,

upon the great steps of the castle.



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 39

Meanwhile the sun streamed down upon
the broad court-yard in front of the castle.
The magnificent fountain, which stood oppo-
site the principal entrance, flashed in the
light, and the brown, marble horse which
rose from the centre was bathed in its gold-
en flood. The peasants from Berchtesga-
den stood leaning over the edge of the foun-
tain in order to catch a breath of cool air.
Those men, with their hard, weather-beaten

faces and gaunt, bony forms, were not stran-
gers to care and fatigue; but it was easy to see,
as they leaned over the basin to drink or to
bathe their foreheads in its waters, that they
were greatly exhausted. They raised their
eyes from time to time to the high-arched
castle-door, within which, between two long
rows of soldiers, stood a gigantic Switzer,
with a silver-tipped staffin his hand. Then
they looked towards their leader, and waited

on in silence.



40 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER., |

Andreas shaded his eyes as well as he
could with his hat, and said:

“My eyes are accustomed to darkness; I
am almost blinded by this mid-day glare.
The Chancellor punishes us more severely
than if he had sent us away unheard.”

The men nodded acquiescence; and one
of them said:

“If the Archbishop knew that we had
promised the messenger of the Prussian
king to wait three days for a hearing, we
would be sure to be kept until the going
down of the sun on the third day.”

“Our troubles will soon have an end,”
replied Andreas; ‘we can wait no longer.
We must leave the country or there will
be trouble, upon which I do not care to
think.”

These last words were answered only by
gloomy but determined glances. Several of
the peasants appeared to think that anything



et.

AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 4I

would be more welcome than waiting there
at the fountain.

At this moment the Switzer motioned to
them with his staff. They looked up at him
in surprise; but as he repeated the cal! with
a gesture of command, they arranged them-
selves quietly with Andreas at their head,
and proceeded up to the gate of the castle.

In reply to a brief question from Andreas,

‘the Switzer said, supesciliously :

“Certainly, his Grace will admit you; he
hopes that you are sufficiently humbled by
this time. Be sure to show yourselves per-
fectly submissive when you come before
him.”

Andreas gave the fellow such a look of
contempt that he stepped aside. The other
peasants cared neither for his insolence, nor
for the presence of the numerous attendants
who now began to gather upon every land-
ing-place of the broad steps. They passed

4*



42 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

on with the same firm, heavy tread with
which they were accustomed to climb their
mountain-paths. A lackey led the way to
the Archbishop’s reception-room. Abusive
words were heard on every side, and some
of the servants crossed theinselves furtively
at sight of the bold heretics; but the peasants
passed on like men who were accustomed
to long-suffering and patient endurance.

They did not look up till their leader
stopped suddenly in the middle of the room,
and the lackey stepped back with a respectful
exclamation of surprise. They saw standing
before Andreas two ladies, who, by the mag-
nificence of their dress, evidently belonged
to the household. It was the younger of
these ladies who spoke to Andreas, and who
calied such a flush to his face. She spoke
to him as the representative of his compan-
ions, kindly, but in marked haste.

“The Archbishop will hear you, my men;



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 43

be wise, and allow his goodness time to
awaken; you will gain nothing by defiance
— much, perhaps, by patience, and by con-
fidence in the justice of your cause.”

Andreas was about to answer, but, sud-
denly courtesying, the lovely apparition dis-
appeared, drawing her more dignified com-
panion after her. The servant, who, with
the peasants, had seen in speechless aston-
ishment what had taken place, conducted
them hastily, but more respectfully, to the
anteroom of the Prince. Here the captain
of the body-guard instructed them to await
the summons of the Archbishop, and, turn-
ing to the window, left them to their own
observations.

Meanwhile the Chancellor had passed a
weary half hour in the reception-room of the
Archbishop. The latter had, with the assist-
ance of his valet, laid aside his hunting-

costume, and now sat in all the magnificence



44 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

of his cardinal’s dress in the purple velvet
arm-chair which stood in the centre of the
room.

The Chancellor laid before him one paper
after another, which he dashed angrily aside,
and said:

“The only result of your long negotia-
tion with Regensburg is that our hands are
completely tied. So soon as the obdurate
rebels appear before me and ask to leave
the country, I have only to give my con-
sent, and allow the Lutherans to seek ref-
uge in the arms of the heretical Prussian
king.”

“The imperial diet has declared that all
who remain in the land will be compelled to
return to the bosom of the holy mother
Church,” replied the Chancellor.

“All who remain in the land! One will
be easily able to count them,” said the Arch-
bishop, bitterly. ‘Or do you wish to com-



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 45

pel them to remain, Grell?” he continued,
turning suddenly towards his Chancellor.
“T will hear now what they have to say.
Since you have not been able to spare me
this annoyance, I will learn from my disloyal
subjects how far my power extends over
them.”

The Chancellor boldly waited a moment
after these words before he opened the door
that led into the anteroom. The peasants
were standing in a row, with Andreas, whom
they had chosen for their speaker, a step or
two in advance. They immediately obeyed
the motion of the Chancellor’s hand, and
came forward into the presence of the Prince.
Most of them touched their hats respectfully ;
’ but Andreas alone stood without trembling
before the gloomy potentate. His thrice
repeated reverence was as deep and respect-
ful as that of his companions; but he alone

shrank not from the threatening look of the



46 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

Archbishop, who allowed several moments
to pass in painful silence,

“You have begged a hearing of me,” he
said, at last; “and although you have not
given me cause to expect much good of you,
yet I will not deny you an interview with
your master. What is your petition?”

“Gracious Prince,” said Andreas, in a
clear, ringing voice, “we have been sent here
by the evangelical church in Pinzgau. Let-
ters which have been circulating through
the valley give us to understand that an asy-
lum is awaiting us in the country of the
Prussian king. We can settle far away in
the north, and there we shall be allowed to
pray according to our consciences. You
know how our hearts cling to our father-
land; you know how faithful we have always
been; how cheerfully we have paid our
tithes ; but we cannot give up the pure word,

and the pure teaching; and so we stand be-



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP, 47

fore you for the last time, and ask, in the
name of thousands of our brethren, whether
we may stay on the acres of our fathers, or
whether we must wander far from them, be-
cause we hold to Christ’s teaching, as the
Scriptures and Luther, the man of God, set
them forth.”

While Andreas spoke his form had re-
mained proudly erect, his pale cheeks, which
had lost all their color by his labor in the
mines, and through the constant reading of his
Bible through the long winter nights, glowed
with emotion, and his eyes met fearlessly the
angry glances of the Prince.

The Archbishop rose suddenly from his
chair, and said in a loud, commanding voice:

“Take your cursed feet to the north, and
may Satan direct you on your way; but thou
who speakest so boldly here, what hast thou
to ask of me? Art thou not Andreas Heim-
berger, chief miner in the salt-works of the



48 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Abbot of Berchtesgaden? Dost thou excite
rebellion among my subjects, and yet darest
appear in my presence, miserable wretch?”

Andreas started, and more than one of his
companions trembled visibly under this
angry outburst of the Archbishop; but, con-
scious of innocence, he turned towards the
Prince, and said the more earnestly :

“Gracious Prince, if you do not know that
Iam one of your loyal subjects, your Chan-
cellor knows it. I have long lived at Pinz-
gau; and if any one of your people may
speak to you of his own affairs, then I too
have the right.”

The Archbishop turned quickly towards
the Chancellor, who stood behind his chair,
and who answered the questioning look with
a nod of affirmation. The Archbishop sank
back among the cushions with a frown, and
motioned to the Chancellor to conclude the

negotiations with the peasants. The Chan-



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 49

cellor saw by their firm, decided bearing,
that the Lutherans were well aware of the
trouble and sorrow which would attend their
course,

“I have only to say to you,” said the
Chancellor, sternly and with decision, “that
there can be no more forbearance with you.
Either accept the offer of the Prussian king,
and go immediately to the north, or return
to the mother Church; and may the holy
Virgin enlighten your minds to choose this
latter course! How many in your valley
wish to leave?”

“With wives and children there must be
five thousand in Pinzgau,” said Andreas. “A
thousand more wish to join us from Berch-
tesgaden.”

“You refer to your companions from the
salt-works,” interrupted the Chancellor. |
“Does his Highness, the Abbot, know what

you wish to do?”
5 D



50 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

“He has given us his consent, and has
kindly allowed us to take our goods with us
from the country; we ask the same of our
gracious Prince and master. Remember in
mercy that the summer is short and the road
long.”

The Archbishop now spoke, and with all
the severity of which he was capable.

“T care for your souls, and not for your
wives and children. Take with you what
you will; go where you wish; but remember
that every step you take towards the north
brings you nearer hell-fire and eternal de-
struction! Be it as you wish; and now, out
of my sight!”

After these angry and wicked words, he
turned his back upon the peasants, and walk-
ing to the window took no notice of their
reverential parting salutation; nor did he
look around until the last of them had left
the room. The men thronged hastily through -



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 51

the corridor and down the steps of the cas-
tle, glad to feel thmt the worst was over.
Andreas remained behind for a moment,
thinking in quiet gravity over the experience
of the last hour. In future years painful re-
collections of this room returned frequently
to his mind.

An oppressive stillness reigned in the recep-
tion-room after the departure of the deputa-
tion. The Archbishop remained standing at
the window, leaving his Chancellor in anx-
ious expectation. At last he turned, and,
seeing the distress of his minister, said, with
as much gentleness as he could command at
the moment:

“Do not take it too much to heart, Grell;
you are not to blame; but these heretical
rebellions are dangerous. They lead to fire-
brand and poison, and the men who engage
in them are always firmly united. But strain

. your wits, and advise me what is to be done.”



52 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

“ After the imperial edict, and after the
letters of the Prussian king, and the nego-
tiations of the commissioners who have been
sent, and of whom the people surely must
have heard,” replied the Chancellor, “one
cannot expect the Holy Church and the
country to retain many of them. Forbid
the sale of their goods.”

“I wish to hold loyal subjects, and not
goods; obedient, faithful subjects,” cried the
Archbishop. “Said you not that we have a
right to compel those who remain to return
to the bosom of the Church? Then must
we take care that many remain—very many;
and more than they themselves dream of to-
night?”

The Archbishop spoke these last words
with an expression of mingled mystery and
determination. The Chancellor looked at
him inquiringly; but the. Archbishop gave

him to understand that the matter must



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 53

rest for the present, adding at the same
time:

“Tet the Mareschal know that 1 wish to
speak with him before night. Alone I can
accomplish little. The Abbot and Canons
of Berchtesgaden must help me.”

The Chancellor seemed to be expecting
further commands. The Prince had not dis-
missed him; and a struggle appeared to be
going on in his mind between a wish to
speak, and a wish to remain silent. He
walked restlessly to and from the window,
and at last said:

“Tell me, Grell, do these heretical rebels
know that I bear an old grudge against this
Andreas Heimberger? Have they sent him
to me on that account, or merely because his
tongue is smoother and bolder than the
others’ ?”

The Chancellor looked at the Archbishop

with an expression of incredulous surprise;
Ge



54 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

but the face of the prelate showed only too
plainly that he had spoken the simple truth.
His lips quivered with an expression of bitter
hatred, which the mere recollection of An-
dreas aroused.

The Chancellor replied, after a moment’s
prudent delay:

“My gracious master lowers himself in
hating such a man as this miner. Does the
fellow deserve the honor?”

“T do not know that the honor will be of
much service to him,” said the Archbishop,
still more thoughtfully. “You know, Grell,
we hate nothing so much as to be reminded
of an old fault. I once forgot my princely
duty towards this man. It was at the time
Mary O’Hara died, and I drove every one in
wild anger from my presence. I remember
as though it had happened to-day, that I
repelled the fellow and his brother, who had

come ta me with some sort of petition or



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 55

complaint. I wished to forget my sorrow
for the lost one in a hunt through the forests,
and I made them feel my rage. Now I often
say to myself, ‘Who knows whether the man
would have become a heretic and a rebel if
I had listened to him that day?’ Keep
Heimberger in sight, Grell; did you not see
that he had sense and courage enough for
them all? Verily he shall cause no more
disturbance. Go now and call the Mare-
schal.”

The Chancellor collected his papers, and
with a low bow left the room. As he closed
the door, he muttered:

“We hate nothing so much as to be re-
minded of an old fault, and at the same time
we like nothing better —two very different
growths from the same root. But I would
not be in Andreas Heimberger’s shoes, after
all I have seen and heard to-day,

At that same moment two female forms



56 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

glided from the room which joined that of
the Archbishop. Winnifred and her com-
panion with difficulty avoided a meeting with
the Chancellor. Winnifred was glowing with
excitement, but Felicitas looked timidly
about her, and drew a deep breath of relief
as the officer disappeared from sight.

“No, Winnifred ; I shall take no part again
in such an adventure. I have already too
far forgotten my duty towards you, and I feel
the greatest anxiety,” said Felicitas.

* Adventure,” said Winnifred, with a cheer-
ful laugh; “you call it an adventure to listen
to the interview between the Prince and the
peasants; we have neither of us yet ever had
a real adventure— you cannot even dream
of one,as Ido. But you must say, Felicitas,
that the peasant leader, in spite of his coarse
dress, looked braver and more manly than
our cavalier. Did you not notice how

proudly he carried his head, and awakened



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 57

the admiration of even the captain of the
Swiss guards?”

“He was humble enough in the presence
of his Grace,” said Felicitas.

“No, no; indeed no,” said Winnifred;
“he behaved like a man, as they all should;
and much more like one of Tasso’s Crusaders
than this Count Resina who boasts of his
relationship to Tancred. I wish I could see
him meet in single combat this peasant
knight, who never even heard of Tancred!”

Felicitas listened to these words with
growing displeasure. The Mareschal, who
was hastening along the corridor to the
Archbishop, came to her assistance in so far
as that the sight of him caused Winnifred
to retreat hastily to her room.

In the course of the next morning the
inmates of the castle were thrown into an
unusual state of excitement and confusion by

a series of orders issued by the Mareschal.



58 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,.

From room to room the news spread that
the Archbishop, with a part of his household,
was about to visit Castle Berchtesgaden,
and remain there several days. It was
whispered among the lackeys in the castle,
and by the liveried grooms and coachmen
of the stables, over their morning potations,
that Count Walstein, the first gentleman of
the chambers, had been sent to notify the
Abbot of the approach of his numerous and
distinguished guests, and that the Chancellor
had accompanied him. But what excited the
greatest surprise was the fact that, beside
the usual attendants on state occasions, the
immense hunting-train, with ali the hunters
and suite, was ordered to be in readiness.
Throughout the whole castle no one was
more delighted at the unexpected expedition
than Winnifred. She heard from the mouth
of the Archbishop himself that she was to

make preparations for a pleasure trip. of



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 59

several days. She begged to be allowed to
make the journey on her favorite horse
Condé, and the consent was half coaxed,
half demanded. The young girl was wise
enough to know that, but for the unlimited
kindness of the Archbishop, this little wish
would not have been a sufficient pretext for
seeking his presence. The forehead of the
Prince was clouded with care, and it was
with difficulty that he was able to show
Winnifred a smiling face. She left him
alone with his Chancellor, only stopping at
the door to hear his last words.

“No questions, to-day; you will be told
what you have to do—no more, no less. I
wish to arrange affairs myself; so you can
spare any further words.”

Winnifred sped quickly away, and went to
seek Felicitas. She called to her in great
glee:

“We are going to Berchtesgaden ; Condé



60 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

is to be saddled. We shall see the glorious
mountains, the green lake — my lake, again,
Felicitas. We may be so happy —and we
will, even if we have to endure the company
of Count Resina!”

An hour passed in hurried preparatiorts.
Before the castle stood a line of wagons and
carriages emblazoned with gold, and deco-
rated with various coats of arms. Among
the richly caparisoned saddle-horses, Winni-
fred’s slender brown pony was receiving
special attention. The servants, who had
mounted to their places on the wagons, and
the outriders who had already drawn bridle,
awaited the signal for starting. In the rear
was the great train, which the old hunting-
master was supervising in the midst of the
tumult of admiring crowds which had poured
out from the city. ‘At last, the Archbishop,
closely followed by Winnifred and her com-

panion, stepped from the castle-door. Be-



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 61

fore entering the carriage of state, he saw
how Winnifred had sprung into her saddle,
and was sitting in evident enjoyment of the
homage that was paid her, partly from re-
spect, and partly with a view to gain the
favor of the Prince. He saw with displeasure
that Count Resina, whom he had expected
to ride by Winnifred’s side, was sitting at
ease in one of the carriages. He beckoned
to the Chancellor to take his seat beside
him, gave the signal for starting, and the
glittering train dashed over the paved court,
‘through the outer portals, and around the
base of Hohensalzburg, which, with threat-
ening eyes, watched over the cathedral city.

The broad valley of Salzache lay in the
light of a lovely July day. The outlines of
the mountain were almost indistinguishable
in the dazzling glare of the blue heavens.
The Archbishop threw scarcely a passing

glance over the country, and urged the
6



62 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

utmost speed. Winnifred rode by the side
of his carriage; but the angry Prince was
engaged in such gloomy and earnest con-
versation with his Chancellor that he hardly
noticed her, The dry, white sand flew in
clouds over carriages and horsemen, and
covered the coat of arms and gold embroid-
ery on the rich cushions. The sweat poured
down from the horses, which were driven so
rapidly that Winnifred was obliged to urge
her spirited animal into a hard gallop. She
sought constantly to draw the attention of
the Archbishop to herself, and even jested
with the Chancellor when ‘he looked from
the carriage. But the Archbishop seemed
fully occupied with affairs of state. He threw
piercing glances at every peasant who stood
gazing with wondering admiration at the
princely train. Winnifred suspected the
cause of his bitterness ; and as there stood by

the roadside a group of peasants in an atti-



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 63

tude of respectful salutation, she drew the
Archbishop’s attention to them, saying :

“The people are surely true to you; they
give you loyal greeting.”

But the Archbishop had no ear to-day for
the caressing voice of his child, and a mo-
ment later he said with displeasure:

“Yonder, before the image of the Holy
Virgin, they pulled their hats down over
their eyes. Their hearts are rebellious,
though their hands still give the accustomed
greeting.”

The train now drew near the Untersburg
heights, whose tops shimmered in the mid-
day sun, and whose precipitous sides towered
grim and threatening above the cavalcade.
The road now led up the mountain, and the
drivers were obliged to check their frantic
speed. Winnifred took this opportunity to
draw nearer to the Archbishop.

“Does your Grace know that there is a



64 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

beautiful legend connected with this moun-
tain? It is said that the mighty Charles V.
sleeps within its depths, lonely and un-
wedded. When he again comes forth to the
light, the first maiden who greets him will
be his bride. Keep a little behind me, Fe-
licitas; if the emperor were now to awake I
would wish to be first at the rocky portal.”

“Let the emperor rest quietly, Winnifred,”
said the Archbishop. “In his day our star
began to pale. He first struggled against
that foolish doctrine with which I now con-
tend in vain. Shall he see how little pro-
gress we have made in two hundred years?
Let him dream on in the mountain recesses!
There is more meaning in these fairy tales
than some think.”

Winnifred had never seen the Prince so
ungracious. Half disturbed, but too full of
the enjoyment of the ride to be greatly de-

presssd, she turned her horse aside, and went



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 65

to join Felicitas. As she drew near, she said
with a smile:

“T am unable to throw any light upon
state affairs; I already suspect that we shall
not have much pleasure this time at Berch-
tesgaden. But we will go to the lake, and
climb up the mountains to the chalet, and
chase the chamois. We will do our best to
enjoy ourselves, Felicitas!”

They had now reached that part of their
route where the road lay close to the moun-
tain side, and was hemmed in on the left
by a woody acclivity. The immense train,
with the Archbishop and Winnifred at the
head, completely filled the narrow pass. At
this moment there came down the little foot-
path above the road a number of miners from
the salt-works. They moved in their dark
clothes like shadows past the rocks which
were bathed in a flood of golden light. The

path at one spot lay so close to the road up
6* E



66 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

which the slowly moving train advanced,
that every form and feature of the miners
could be distinctly seen.

Winnifred, whose sight was clearer than
the others, suddenly called out:

“See, Felicitas, the miner! the proud
knight! Only see how stately he moves!
The sun forms a golden crown about his
head. Do you think that the descendants
of the Crusaders would be afraid of him?”

With these words she threw a glance back-
ward to the carriage where the Count sat
utterly prostrated by the fatigues of the
journey. Then she flew lightly on, still
looking up towards the little footpath.

The Archbishop raised his eyes at the
same moment. His face was paler, and his
gaze more intense than before. . His lips
twitched, and he ground his teeth together,
in order that no indiscreet expression of

anger should escape him; but the Chancellor,



AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP, 67

who knew his master well, saw that the
thoughtless conduct of Winnifred had wound-
ed him deeply; and, from the half-intelligible
sounds which came from the lips of the
Archbishop, he learned that those men who
walked so boldly past, and without bestow-
ing a single glance upon the imposing train,

had been condemned to death.







CHAPTER III.

BERCHTESGADEN.

HE noise of the ceaseless passing to
aL. and fro of his numerous guests filled
the palace of the Lord Abbot of Berchtes-
gaden. The Archbishop, who in past days
had been engaged in many a bitter strife
with the Abbot, now seemed eager to secure
his friendship. All the resources of the
court and the country had been called into
requisition, in order that the Prince of Salz-
burg should be entertained in his usual mag-
nificence, and the Abbot had become weary
in endeavoring to provide new kinds of rec-
reation and diversion for the numerous
cavaliers who were in attendance.

Tt was a feast-day. As an unusual occur-
68



BERCHTESGADEN. 69

rence, the Abbot was to celebrate high mass
in the cathedral, and all the inmates of the
castle, and all the inhabitants of the neigh-
boring country towns and valleys were
gathered within its walls. Every variety of
costume could be seen, from the rich court-
dress to the miner’s coarse jacket. There
were few miners present, however; though.
outside the cathedral they could be seen in
great numbers, making their way towards
the salt-mines, through whose rocky entrance
they passed in groups.

Below, in the dark halls and passages,
there reigned the most perfect stillness.
Solitary lamps glimmered at long intervals
from each other, and were at last lost sight
of in the cavernous depths. It could not
have been the ordinary day’s work which
had gathered those hundreds of men within
the gloomy passages with their gigantic

arches of salt; for the implements of labor



790 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

were lying untouched in their places. One
accustomed to the place might see by the
pale light of the torches that they were not
miners alone who were assembled there. In
the middle of the hall, leaning against an
immense block of salt, stood a group of men
apart from the rest. Among them was An-
dreas, and a stranger who, by the peculiarity
of his costume, could be readily distinguished
from the others. He seemed impatient of
the tumult of voices around him, and above
which now rang out the clear, loud voice of
their chief.

“Bring your differences to an end now,
my men,” he cried. “ Have your feet become
weary, and your hearts timid, even before we
have entered upon our exile? Why will you
wait for a better day, when the best is already
past? Our last words have been spoken to
the Archbishop and Abbot; we have been

promised a free departure, and we have noth



BERCHTESGADEN. 7t

ing more to hope. Our fields and homes
are now in the hands of strangers. What
can it profit us to see a harvest ripen which
we dare not reap? Is it manly to shrink
from seeking that new home where the bells
will call us openly to church, and the word
of God will be openly preached tous. Agree,
then, upon the day and hour. Why have
you not held to the time that we appointed
when I returned with the brethren from
Salzburg? You say that it is for the sake
of the Archbishop. What has the visit of
the master of Salzburg to our master to do
with our journey? I warn you, brethren and
companions, not to let the days pass in use-
less delay. Our journey will be long, and
our bodies will be exhausted many a time
before we reach the end. Do not allow
yourselves to falter, now when the first steps
are tobe taken. Our newruler has gracious-

ly sent us this gentleman, who will show us



72 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

the way, and upon whom we may depend in
every emergency. Decide now once for all
upon the day on which you will take up
your march. If the brethren from Pinzgau
will meet us on the old Pilgrim Road at
Hirschbihl, we can all unite and take the
road to Bavaria, and thus avoid most of the
Salzburg district which you so much dread.
But come to a decision, and then forward —
in God’s name!”

The crowd had for the most part listened
attentively and with murmurs of approval to
the words of Andreas. The Commissioner
of the Prussian king stood in an attitude of
earnest attention, and watched the expres-
sion of their faces as their eyes rested upon
him, and upon Andreas, their chosen leader.
There were some few slight discussions, but
at last there arose the cry, every moment
becoming louder and more united:

“We will start on Saturday. Andreas may



BERCHTESGADEN. 73

decide upon our route, and form and conduct
the train. On Saturday! On Saturday!”
Suddenly, in the midst of the tumult occa-
sioned by the final decision, in the midst of
the loud cries of joy with which many ex-
pressed their satisfaction, there was heard
above them a harsh and sneering laugh. In
the darkness of the subterranean halls, and
in the perfect stillness which reigned, some
of the more timid ones might have been ex-
cuséd for trembling with the conviction that
it was an outburst of Satanic triumph which
they heard; but the more courageous rushed
to the ladder in order to see what was meant
by the hideous laughter, which could as well
have been called a roar. Before they had
ascended many steps they were dashed back-
wards upon the ground. A light gleamed
above them. The prostrate men felt the
weight of a heavy body, and in the next

moment Joseph Heimberger stood in the
7



x

SS ‘all sides‘by the questions:

74 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

midst of that frightened, railing, threatening,
crowd. His hoarse laugh did not cease, al-
though Andreas endeavored to quiet him by
pointing out the presence of the stranger.

The giant after sundry scornful glances over

. the assémbly again burst forth into a peal of

wdiscordant laughter which was interrupted on

“Why have you come. here, Joseph?
Why do you laugh so? Why do you make
sport of us? Speak, if you can.”

Once more Joseph indulged in his diabol-
ical laughter:

“Shall I not laugh when I see something
which I have never seen before? I have had
many experiences; I have lived many years
among these mountains; but until to-day I
have never heard of game being driven by
rifles into the hands of hunters!”

As unintelligible as were Joseph’s words,

most of the men at once suspected that they



BERCHTESGADEN. 75

hinted at danger; even Andreas looked
gravely at his brother, and said, anxiously:

“What do you mean, Seppi? What do
you know of hunts and hunters? Why do
you call us game?”

“Speak, Joseph, speak; let us hear,” cried
more than fifty voices. Joseph looked with
unconcealed scorn upon the groups about
him, which, lighted up by the pale glimmer
of the lamps, presented a wonderful picture
of wild confusion; but he remained silent a
moment as though considering whether he
should speak. At last he said:

“ There is not much to say except that you
are fools, as I have already told you. You
think you are mighty wise to bury yourselves
in the bowels of the earth to hold your con-
sultations, while up yonder the priests know
all you do and say. The Archbishop and
Abbot sit together congratulating themselves
that you fixe chosen the very best day for



76 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

your journey, and that no other way is open
to you but that past Hirschbihl, where the
road is very steep with fearful precipices on
each side, That road the princely gentlemen
deem a fitting one for a hunt, and it would
be a happy chance if the hunting train were
to meet you just at that spot where the road
makes a sudden bend. Imagine yourselves
with wives and children, wagons and baggage,
tired, dusty, heavily laden, climbing up the
mountain, when, ‘Huzza! huzza!’ the prince-
ly hunters on horseback suddenly burst upon
you, driving a troop of chamois through
your ranks. Rifles are discharged on all
sides ——What is this which interrupts his
Highness’ sport? You crowd together; one
of your number is stretched upon the ground
by a bullet, another is dashed over the
precipice, a leader is taken for a chamois and
shot, in the wild confusion. You flee down

the road; the train is broken up, and you and



BERCHTESGADEN, a7

yours thank God and the saints, when you
find yourselves once more in the valley.
You would rather dwell as tenants in your own
old homes than again come in the way of a
princely hunt; and if the Archbishop ever
gives you back one acre of your land, then
curse Luther and bless Anton Firmian!”

Joseph, who had watched the growing
excitement of the assembly, dropped the
sneering tone which he had used at first,
and spoke earnestly, and with a rough elo-
quence all his own. At the close of his
words the cry arose, “It shall never hap-
pen; no, never! We have rifles —we have
weapons.”

A look: of wild joy, that did not escape
the notice of his brother, gleamed in the face ~
of the boatman. Many of the men crowded
to the ladder, in order to leave the hall.
Their hands were clenched ; their eyes

flashed ; and they seemed wrought up to the
7 *%



78 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

commission of any act of folly. In the hall
was a tumult of threatening, questioning
voices, with now and then a demand for the
postponing of the journey.

Andreas’ voice was now heard in a tone
of impressive warning:

“Let there be peace and quiet here, my
men; do not allow yourselves to be the tool
of your enemies. We stand here united;
and united, we will do whatever may be
necessary. Where have you learned, Joseph,
that the Archbishop and the Abbot have
broken their princely word, and intend to
destroy our train?”

“Where else than at the castle?” said
Joseph. “You all know that for years I
have been in the service of the Abbot, super-
intending the work in the forests by the
lake. The Abbot wishes to show special
honor to the Salzburger, and he sent for me

to receive his commands. They wish to go



BERCHTESGADEN. 79

to the lake and witness the Holzsturz,* as it
dashes down over the rocks. In going and
coming to receive instructions, I hear many
things which concern you — you Bible fools!
Hunters’ eyes and ears are sharp, and I
watch and listen. In this way I have
learned what is plotting up there against
you. And now, get the start of them, and
do not wait for the chamois.”

The tumult threatened to break out afresh,
and Joseph looked with unconcealed joy
into the faces of the angry men.

But Andreas again cried:

“Tf this indeed be so; if the Archbishop
and the Abbot have broken their solemn

* Woodslide. Trees are cut weeks beforehand, and are
piled up in immense masses on the side of the mountain,
supported by other huge trunks. At the time of the Holz-
turz, a woodman is stationed with his axe near each pile
of wood, and at a given signal, the supports being cut away,
the enormous mass slides down the mountain, over the cliff,
and plunges into the lake.



80 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

promise, then must we, if the worst threatens,
make a free way for ourselves. This is.all
we can hope for; but this we must insist
upon. Commit no imprudence, and use
your weapons only in case of need; we shall
go, as has been agreed, on Saturday. The
brethren from Pinzgau will start in the early
morning, and we shall meet those from
Berchtesgaden about mid-day. Reding and
I will go from here to Pinzgau, and you will
send two leaders to the valley and the
mines. Show yourselves to be men who
know how to hold to that which they have
decided is for the best, and trust in Almighty
God, whose call we obey, and whose pro-
tecting arm will never fail us!”

The stranger, who had noticed with dis-
pleasure the outburst of the excited men
now saw that the voice of Andreas was suf-
ficient to restore them to reason. He now

felt it proper to break his long silence:



BERCHTESGADEN. 81

* You will have no need to carry weapons,
If the Archbishop and Abbot do not know
that a narrow road, full of sudden turnings,
is no place for a hunt, then they will learn it
to-day. The road, on which the new sub-
jects of the Prussian king are to travel, is as
safe as the path which leads to the church.
Therefore, put all folly aside, and make your
preparations in peace.”

The cry, “On Saturday! on Saturday!”
again rung through the cavern; but they
seemed to rely more upon Andreas than
upon the Commissioner, and many hands
closed tightly, as though they did not iatend
to relinquish their hold upon their rifles, as
the stranger had advised.

It was in vain that Joseph again raised his
mocking laugh. The brethren were in haste
to depart, and they grasped each other’s
hands in token of their unalterable decision.

Quickly and quietly now the men passed
F



82 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

from the mines. Only a few lamps were still
burning; and those who were less accustomed
to the place than Andreas and his compan-
ions groped their way out with difficulty.
Joseph followed directly behind Andreas,
cursing and muttering angrily. Those who
were near him heard him growl, “ Whoever
is willing to descend daily into such a grave
as this, ought to have a threefold love for
the mountain, and never leave it.’ But no
one took any notice of the furious man who
went stumbling in his haste against the walls
of salt, and who at last uttered a shout of
joy as through the distant entrance the light
of day shone like a little blue flame.

Joseph alone greeted his exit from the
mines with an exclamation of delight; the
other men passed quickly and gravely out,
once more extended to each other their
hands, and then took their several paths

homeward.



BERCHTESGADEN. 83

Andreas, his brother, and the stranger
alone remained behind at the mountain.
The Commissioner seemed to wait Joseph’s
departure ; but as the boatman did not leave
his brother’s side, he said at last, pointing to
the castle:

“TI gotothe Archbishop. I consider what
your brother has heard a false rumor, in re-
gard to the hunt; but I have instructions
from my king not to yield in the least par-
ticular. If the Prince and his people really
have been dreaming of a hunt, and the break-
ing up of your train, then I shall know how
to awaken them. Get your train quietly in
readiness, and allow no imprudence from
your people.”

With these words the Commissioner gave
a stiff military salute, and took the road to-
wards the castle. He had not gone a hun-
dred steps before Joseph said with a sneer to
his brother:



84 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

“Jt seems that strict orders are also the
rule in that new country which you seek.”

“No less than strict justice,” replied An-
dreas. “I shall thank God when the new
country is gained. Here every hour brings
danger; and you, Joseph, not only try to
hasten it, but seem to delight in its anticipa-
“tion. You give us no rest; and if the men
had just now been guided by you, they would
have rushed in blind fury to the castle, and
there met a bloody death.”

“Or ke would have met it,” cried Joseph,
wildly; “that was what I hoped for, and
what would have been a cordial to me; for
I thought that now your patience would be
exhausted. But you will allow yourself to
be ruined, and hunted by dogs, rather than
raise a finger against your precious Arch-
bishop!”

“Vour scorn moves me not,” said Andreas;

“T have the affairs of the brethren to consider,



BERCHTESGADEN. 85

not my own. The man who would be suc-
cessful in any undertaking must keep his
eyes constantly fixed upon his object. I
intend to lead the brethren to the north; I
will stake my life on that, but on nothing
else.”

“ You intend it, and the priest-princes intend
you shall not; we shall see how it comes
out. You depend upon the stranger yonder.
Do you know Anton Firmian no better than
to suppose that he will tremble at a few words
from the Prussian ?”

“I do not depend upon him, Joseph; I
depend upon God —and then chiefly upon
ourselves. Weare not children, to be prom-
ised a thing one day and denied it the next.
A free departure has been promised us on
their high and holy oath,—that we must
have, — that we shall compel, if they try to

prevent us. They must learn that we know
8



86 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

how to assert our rights, and, if need be, to
die for them!”

“« The affairs of the brethren,’ always ‘the
affairs of the brethren,” burst forth Joseph.
“But you never think of your brother and
your solemn oath, and you flee from the sight
of the Archbishop, against whom you have
sworn revenge. I swore to you, and I will
swear it yet a hundred times, that I will never
abandon my purpose. For years the thought
of it has been food when I was-hungry; and
the anticipation of that day when we should
have our final reckoning with Anton Firmian
has warmed me more than the coats and
vests which you have given me.”

“ Joseph, Joseph, hear me before you rush
away.. The affairs of the brethren are mine
—are yours. God is my witness that I
joined them solely for the sake of the true
faith, and not for revenge; but He has

brought ¢ha¢ about also. Do you not think



BERCHTESGADEN, 87

that it will touch the proud Prince when I
lead from the country thousands of his sub-
jects over whom he now holds absolute
sway? And yet he hopes, in his enmity and
wrath, that we shall perish in want and
- wretchedness; but I see a better fate in store
for us. I see villages rising from the moors;
I see rich fields covered with waving har-
vests ; I see sunshine and showers descending
upon our homes. Think you not, when the
news of our success reaches the ears of the
Archbishop, — and may God grant us the

smallest portion of this peaceful triumph, —

'. that I shall then have my full, my perfect

revenge?”

Andreas’ eyes flashed, and, as he had sur-
prised his brother into silence, he hoped that
he had convinced him. Earnestly he con-
tinued :

“Come with us, Joseph; come with us,

What can you want here in a country where



88 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

your mad enmity and an imprudent act may
at any moment be your destruction. You
hate the Prince of Salzburg; go with us, and
share our revenge. Give up the empty oath
with which you cry for blood, and help me
to requite the Archbishop as he deserves!”

Joseph shook his head so decidedly that
Andreas ceased. He pointed down to the
valleys and up to the mountains. The snow
on the summits, the grim, rocky steeps, and
the verdant forests, all glowed in the golden
sunlight. His eyes glanced fondly over
the mountains, and rested fondly upon the
green slopes above which the Watzman
towered, with its white twin peaks almost
lost in the clouds.

“Yonder are the chalets, Andreas; and
behind the mountains lies the lake. Shall I
exchange these for the black, dreary moor?
Shall I hunt for roots in the pine forests, and

learn to dig in the sand, my wonderfully wise



BERCHTESGADEN. 89

brother? I have heard enough of the
country for which you wish to exchange
this. No fresh fountains gush forth there!
No mountains raise their proud heads! No
‘huzza’ is ever heard! Shall I leave the lake
and the chalet, the forests and the mountain
torrents? Shall I go and read the Bible
with you, and have no need to fast on Friday,
because of the daily starvation? Carry there
the mountains which raise their high heads
so proud and free; otherwise leave me here.”

“Man,” said Andreas, with some heat;
“here the mountains uplift their heads; but
there men raise their free heads to the skies!”

““Free!’ You wish to be free?” said
Joseph, scornfully. “I have always been,
and always shall be free. In order to pray
as I wish, 1 have no need to flee from the
mountains. I have, besides, many things to
do; perhaps I will one day seek you, if you

have not already died of fever in the Prussian
8*



90 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

moors. You may as easily separate my soul
from my body as remove the hatred of that
proud Prince from my blood. You call my
vow for revenge an empty oath; but, my
wise brother, you shall soon learn that mine
has been fulfilled, long before yours even
takes root in the sand of your adopted
country.”

While he yet spoke, Joseph turned and
began boldly to climb up the heights, from
which he looked down repeating once or
twice his last words. But Andreas did not
this time call him back. He looked sorrow-
fully after his brother, and said earnestly to
himself: z

“More can I not do or say; farewell, and
may God bless you! I cannot listen to you
nor to myself. I must bring the affairs of

the brethren to a happy conclusion.”

®





CHAPTER IV.

WINNIFRED.

HE eventful Saturday morning had
[L come. The heights of Berchtesgaden
had begun to brighten in the light of the
rising sun, though the forests and ravines still
lay in the deepest shadow. The air was
cool, and the dew-laden grass, and the drip-
ping twigs of the hawthorn hedges gave
promise of a fresh, bright summer day.
There was unusual activity in the castle at
this early hour. All the doors leading out
upon the large court-yard stood wide open;
excited lackeys flew up and down the steps,
while groups of the Archbishop’s huntsmen
lounged lazily in the hall, enjoying their
morning potations. ._The horses were being

gI



92 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

groomed at the stalls, and many of them
were already saddled. Long lines of state
carriages belonging to the Archbishop and
Abbot filled the outer court. There was a
sudden silence in the midst of all the con-
fusion, and the general attention was directed
to one spot. In the covered passage-way
that led to the castle stood Winnifred, with
her maid of honor, and a couple of pages.
The girl gave a smiling greeting to the ser-
vants, who gathered at a respectful distance
about the passage-way, in order to witness
the daily spectacle of Winnifred’s departure
for a morning gallop on her pet Condé. She
playfully rallied Felicitas who allowed her-
self to be assisted, not ungracefully, to her
saddle, by the stall-master, but whose face
showed so much disinclination for the early
expedition that even the pages looked
amused.

For the last few days Winnifred had taken



WINNIFRED, 93

a ride every morning through the green
valleys to the lake, and other attractive spots
in the surrounding country. One or another
of the court cavaliers had always accom-
panied her, but there was no notice taken
of the fact that to-day she was without an
escort. -Winnifred was too unlike any one
who had ever before been at the castle, her
whole manner and appearance were too in-
dependent and original, for those light-
minded attendants to pay special attention
to any such irregularity.

At the moment when Winnifred gave
Condé a light blow with her riding-whip,
the face of the Archbishop appeared at the
window of one of the state chambers. Some
of the servants returned immediately to their
occupations, others greeted the prelate with
a respectful salutation. Winnifred looked
up to’ the window and waved her hand

gracefully, not venturing to violate, by her



4. ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

voice, the respect due so great a digni-
tary.

The Archbishop had scarcely caught sight
of Winnifred when he sent his valet in haste
to say to her that the great festival at the
lake was to begin at noon, and to ask whether
she would not prefer to postpone her ride to
another day. Winnifred smiled again, and
gave the servant an answer which the Prince
might already have expected to receive; then,
with a sign to Felicitas, she rode away
through the court-yard,

The Archbishop stepped angrily back
from the window, rung the silver bell which
stood on the little shelf in front of the pier-
glass, and ordered that Count Resina, Cap-
tain von Quitzow, and his old master of the
hunt should be sent to him — the Count first,
and that immediately, for there was need of
haste.

_A moment later, and the Count was an-



WINNIFRED. 95

nounced. The face of the Archbishop showed
much displeasure as he replied quickly to
the request of the Count for his Highness’
commands:

“You are slow, Sir Count, and not over-
attentive. The lady of your heart rides forth
into the wilderness alone, and you do not
offer her a knightly attendance. You cannot
have a more favorable opportunity ; but you
yourself must make some effort.. All that I
can do is to fulfil the promise I have made
you, You must seize the fitting moment.”

“My horse is saddled. I shall hasten to
overtake the fraulein. I am distressed that
I have merited so severe a reproof,” said the
Count, as, with a low bow, he begged to be
dismissed.

“Make good use of the time; the morning
belongs to you; in the afternoon the won-
derful festival will take place, for which the
Abbot promises so much. Let me see you



96 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

with the fraulein at the shore of the lake;
- and make the day to me, if possible, a day
of rejoicing,” said the Archbishop, as he dis-
missed the Count. In a few moments, the
sound of his horse’s hoofs on the paved
court below showed that the Count had kept
his word, and had started forth in search of
Winnifred.

A look of bitter contempt rested upon the
face of the Archbishop. “To such a man
must I intrust my darling child?” he said,
in a tone of self-reproach. “And yet I may
thank Heaven that he considers her dowry
a sufficient inducement to give her his name.
Sin is followed by shame, and the reckless
girl was in the mood to add to my sin her
own irremediable disgrace. Irish blood
flows in her veins, and she drew her love of
adventure from her mother’s breast. It
grieves me to cast my pearl before swine;
but it must be, my child! It must be! A



WINNIFRED. 97

better I could not find, and you might have
sought a much worse!”

After these passionate words the Arch-
bishop struggled for a moment to regain his
composure, and soon his face wore the icy
calmness, the keen, watchful earnestness
which usually characterized it. He remem-
bered that he had other affairs to attend to,
and indicated, by a second stroke of the bell,
that the Prussian Commissioner was to be
admitted. :

Captain Curt von Quitzow, whom King
Frederick William had sent to the assistance
of the Lutherans, now stepped with evident —
anxiety into the room. He had found it
necessary the evening before to send a letter
to the Prince of Salzburg, inquiring whether
the road from Pinzgau past NHirschbiuhl,
which the exiles expected to take on Satur-
day, was perfectly safe. The answer had

satisfied him; but his suspicions were again
9 G



98 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

aroused by the unusual excitement in the
castle on the following morning. His anxiety
was, however, allayed when the Archbishop,
after his first greeting, said:

“Now, Captain, are you satisfied? Your
protégés may go whenever and wherever
they please; and we have given our assem-
bled household to understand that all who
circulate reports of the breaking up of the
train will be severely punished. Soon the
festival will begin at the lake. There are to
be. spectacles which you will never witness
in Prussia—the Holzsturz, for instance, which
' I have never witnessed myself but once be-
fore, and our worthy host has invited you to
be present. You will not fail?”

“Tf I can join my charge at Ramsau,”
said the Captain, doubtingly.

“That you can easily do. The lake is but
a short distance from Ramsau,” answered

the Archbishop. The Captain gave a formal


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OF THE 6
Zaz

Moa ta

BETH LE.H.E.M.
Sunday School.

Wisdom is better than rubies.—PRrov. viii 11
Apply thy heart unto instruction, and thine
" ears unto the words of knowledge.—PRov.

xxiii, 12. \
Do not injure this book.
Read slowly ; think seriously.

Return regularly,
With the corners of the leaves not turned

PHILADELPHIA ;
PERKINPINE & HIGGINS,
Sunday School Book Store,
830 Arch Street.























lee “PHILADELPUTA: tes
ure ‘BOARD: OF maemo |








ae +
Andreas Aeimberger;
OR, THE
MINER OF BERCHTESGADEN.
Krom the German of Adolph Stern.

TRANSLATED BY

MRS. B. MALLON.



: PHILADELPHIA:
LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
42 NORTH NINTH STREET.

1875.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by
LUTHERAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.



Wo eee
=: J. FAGAN & SON,
be STEREOTYPERS, PHILAD’A. n€



CAXTON PRESS OF SHERMAN & CO.


CHAP. PAGE

I. THE BROTHERS : 3 a z s - 9
II. THE AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP . 25
III. BERCHTESGADEN . 5 3 : 7 . 68
IV. WINNIFRED . 0 C 2 é é : gI
V. THE ATTACK . 5 ‘ 9 a . 109
VI, THE Howzsturz . : c 5 : == 127
THE SALZBURGERS ; S ‘ : . 152

vii





ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

CHAPTER I.

THE BROTHERS.

N the early morning of a July day, when
I far up at the chalet the day’s work had
already begun, the broad valley of the Un-
terstein mountains lay in the deepest stillness.
A dense fog hung about the base of the
mountain ; but a rosy light, which announced
the rising of the sun, lay upon its tall crest,
and the snow was seen glittering upon the
peaks of the distant Alpine chain. A little
brook, with its foaming green waters, rushed
through the valley. A few birds flew hither

and thither in the twilight, while from the
: 9
Io ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

hunters’ cottages on one side of the path,
which wound around the foot of the moun-
tain and led out into the country towards
Salzache, was heard the loud barking of dogs.
They had been aroused by the noise of foot-
steps and human voices, and gave the alarm
at sounds so unusual at that hour. The early
travellers walked so quickly and vigorously
forward that the cottages soon lay behind
them hidden in the fog. They evidently
supposed themselves to be the first upon the
road, for as they ascended the heights they
heard with astonishment a harsh voice call-
ing to them. They stopped, looked quickly
about them, and saw in the middle of the
road, a figure whose short “ greeting ” sound-
ed as harsh and bold as the first call. Their
surprise soon passed away, and they began
to wave their hats, and one of the foremost
of them said:

“Tt is your brother Seppi, Andreas.”
THE BROTHERS. II

The tall, powerful form stood looking down
upon them with an expression of unconcealed
contempt. The whole figure, the well devel-
oped limbs, and the heavy brown beard which
fell over his breast, gave evidence of his great
strength. The open jacket which he wore
was soiled, and was of the coarsest material ;
but from his hat waved the characteristic
ornaments of both hunter and boatman —a
chamois’ beard and tall cock’s-feather. His
sharp eyes glanced over the crowd, passing
quickly from one to another, as though seek-
ing for a special one of their number. Sev-
eral hands were stretched out to him, but he
drew back, and said angrily:

“ What are you doing here so early? Are
you on your way to Salzburg? Do you wish
to stand again at the gates of the castle beg-
ging the Archbishop to allow you to pray
and read your Bible? You need not twist
your hats between your hands; I have guessed

it.”
ae

12 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

“Brother Joseph,” cried one of the men
whom the giant had evidently not seen,
“have you lain in wait for us here merely
to offer us insult?” With these words he
stepped forward, and stood before the hun-
ter. Joseph shielded his eyes with his hands
as though he doubted their evidence.

“You, Andreas! By St. Christopher, I
was looking for you, but I did not see you.
What are you doing here in peasant’s dress ?
Where is your miner’s coat?”

“JT shall have little farther need for it,”
said Andreas, reaching out his hand to his
brother. Andreas was a large man, but less
powerful than Joseph. His features showed
strength and determination, but he would
have been called weak by the side of the
fierce, boid Seppi. At least he might have
seemed so at this moment, when, looking
kindly at his brother, he said:

“Tf you have really come down from the
THE BROTHERS. 13

chalet to give us a friendly greeting, then will
I bid you doubly welcome.”

“Let me know first what you intend to
do, and then I will answer you,” continued
Seppi. The expression of his face showed
that he was more angry than pleased at his
brother’s greeting ; and taking no notice of
the others, he seized Andreas by his arm and
drew him aside over the broken rocks, in
order to speak with him alone. The men
shook their heads as they looked after him,
and showed that they were ready to resent
the bold act of Seppi; but at a sign from
their leader they remained quiet. They
waited in silence on the road till the brothers
were lost from sight, and only the sound of
their voices could be heard.

Then one of the oldest of the group, a
white-bearded peasant of about seventy years,
said:

“Andreas feels the deepest sorrow that

2
I4 ANDREAS: HEIMBERGER.

Joseph will remain behind when we leave
the country. I believe he would give all he
possesses if only Seppi would go with us;
but from their meeting just now, I can hardly
expect it.”

“ Andreas must leave brothers and sisters
behind for the faith’s sake,” said a young
man with a peculiarly melancholy counte-
nance and deep sunken eyes. “There will be
trouble enough of that kind throughout the
country in a few weeks, and our leader must
bear his share.”

“ He has borne it ail along,” cried the old
man. “ Seppi never stays at home, and when
he does come, he does not behave like one
who has no need of his brother’s help.”

“T should think,” replied the young man,
“that he had done excellently without him
for many years; for this is evidently their
first meeting for a long time.”

“Just so,” said the old man, angrily;
THE BROTHERS. 15

“but what do you know of Heimberger’s
children? . And as you know nothing, you
have no occasion to complain. We have
not forgotten about it. When Heimberger
died, the brothers placed a hunter from Saal-
felden at the farm. He was the richest and
handsomest fellow in the country, and he had
a sister Nanni, for whose welfare it would
have been better had God made her less
beautiful. It was about the time when we
first began to read our Bibles, and listen to
Luther’s teaching. Then Andreas did not
work at the salt-mines, nor had Joseph be-
come a boatman. Nanni fell in the way of
the proud Count von Gumprez, the Arch-
bishop’s Mareschal, and one day she dis-
appeared from the farm. The Mareschal
had carried her to the castle, and the broth-
ers in vain sent one priest after another to
bring her back. The Count took care that

she should see no one, and Andreas, who
16 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

wished to confront him, was chased by dogs
from the castle. Joseph would then have
been satisfied, but Andreas gave him no rest;
and they went, one day, to demand justice
from the Archbishop. No one knows to
this hour what happened; Andreas seemed
petrified into silence, but Joseph raved so
fearfully that the servants fled from the farm.

“ Andreas began from that time to labor
in the salt-works, where he was soon made
chief miner. Joseph spent all his money in
dissipation. He became first a hunter, and
then a boatman; but he was restless, and
did not remain long in one place. The broth-
ers were not often seen together; but old
blind Ursel, who lived on the farm with Jorg
her husband, said that at night, when she
could not sleep, she would hear Joseph come
there, and after awhile steal secretly away.
She thought that he wished to get something

from his brother; but sincé Andreas has be-
THE BROTHERS. 17

come one of us, there grows not a hair on
his head that he would not willingly devote
to our cause. From that hour Joseph has
been sullen, and almost fierce in his enmity
towards his brother. He never cared much
for saints or monks, but he has never forgiven
Andreas for becoming a Lutheran. Andreas
has always behaved like a brother to him;
and when the reckless man wanted clothing
or money or a new rifle, Andreas would
always give it to him. But they are never
seen together now. Months pass, sometimes,
without their meeting; and then it has been
as to-day — apart from every one else and
angry words pass between them. But Joseph
was always a wild, reckless fellow. They
call him the best of shots and the safest of
boatmen. No one follows the chamois
through dangerous passes like Joseph, and
no one can guide a boat so skilfully as he

through a storm on the lake. At.the chalet
sg B


18 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

he is lord among the men and maidens, and
yet it seems as though he must come to some
bad end; for though he is brave and bold,
and a favorite with all, yet he is never happy.” ”

During the old man’s recital, the two
brothers had remained standing behind the
gigantic rocks which hid them from sight.
Andreas, freeing his arm from his brother’s
tight grasp, said:

“Well, Joseph, what is it? That you have
not come down from the chalet merely to
give me greeting, I kriow already. Why
have you stopped me and my companions
here? What do you wish?”

“TI wish to hear from your own lips
whether you are going with the Lutherans
from the country,” answered Joseph, gloom-
ily. “There is a rumor through the valley
that you intend doing so. I hope the gos-
sips who have spread the tale have heard

falsely ”
THE BROTHERS. 19

“No; they heard correctly,” said Andreas:
“we are tired of the persecutions which we
have suffered for the faith’s sake. The king
of Prussia has offered us a safe asylum, and
we wish to leave the country.”

“You are tired of persecutions!” cried
Joseph, with uncontrollable excitement in
voice and gesture; “and do you know noth-
ing better than to exile yourselves like
sneaking cowards? Besides, you forget
your oath; you forget what we endured be-
fore the castle of the Archbishop of Salzburg.
Has the recollection of Nannerl passed from
your mind? Do you never think of her?”

“Nanni! Peace to her memory! I al-
ways think of her in my prayers. She re-
mained of her own accord in the hands of
the Mareschal; she comforted herself in his
smiles, and she died in his arms. God forgive
her!”

“And the Mareschal too, if it can be,”
20 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,.

said Joseph; “but you know that it is not
of them, but of the Archbishop, that I wish
to speak. I have never forgotten the hour
when we stood before him, at your wish, for
Nanni’s sake. If you can wipe out the in-
sult which he flung in your face, I yet can
feel the marks of his spurs. Andreas, do
you not remember above everything that he
treated us worse than dogs, because we dared
to interrupt for a moment the pleasure of his
hunt? I see his red, angry face; I see the
whip which he brandished over you; I feel
the golden spur which he plunged into my
shoulder as I knelt before him. Bear in
mind that I feel it now, and I have felt it .
every hour since then. I have not forgotten
how we stood beside the castle fountain, and
with clasped hands swore revenge Zo the
death upon the Archbishop. You were to go
to the right, and I to the left, and we were

not to meet except over the dead: body of
THE BROTHERS. 25

Anton Firmian. What has become of your
oath — what of your revenge?”

“ God absolves us from thoughtless oaths,”
said Andreas, gazing sorrowfully upon his
excited brother. ‘“‘ When we swore revenge
against the Archbishop; when I went into
the mines in order to get help and sympathy
in our cause ; when you sought it among the .
boatmen at the lake, we had nothing in our
hearts but the memory of our insult. - But
now that ten years have passed, and our
minds are filled with other things, of what
use is our bloody oath?”

“Your mind is full of other things, not
mine; you have become a vow-breaker with
your Luther and your Bible foolery.”

“And meanwhile you have squandered
your inheritance in foolish pleasure. Was
that a part of the oath?” said Andreas.

Joseph looked almost with hatred upon

his brother, and said angrily: “Many a mes-
22 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

senger indulges in a good drink; yet he
never forgets his way, and accomplishes his
object at last. I had hopes of you until to-
day. I had hoped that even your folly
might help our cause. You are tired of the
oppressions and wrongs which the Arch-
bishop has heaped upon you; you leave the
country, and all that you possess, and all
that is dear to you. Why do you not, in-
stead, grasp your rifle, and lead your brave
companions from the mines to the Arch-
bishop’s castle?”

“And thus avenge our wrongs in your
own way! I cannot play with the lives of
my brethren,” said Andreas. “If you have
nothing else to say to me, let me go my way;
I can talk of this no longer.”

“Go! I do not keep you,” cried Joseph,
whose eyes flashed, and whose powerful
form towered threateningly above his brother.

“Tf you will not keep your vow, then Iam
THE BROTHERS. 23

freed from mine. I want notking better
than to meet the Archbishop alone; and one
may still trust in a good rifle, if his brother
does break his word and desert him.”

Andreas stepped nearer in alarm. He
looked into his brother’s face, and said ear-
nestly: “Are you longing for judgment and
eternal fire?” ;

“Tam longing for nothing but revenge,”
cried Joseph. “I heard once of an: animal
that carries within its body a sufficient sup-
ply of water for a long journey through
desert wastes. I think that the blood of
Anton Firmian would be sufficient refresh-
ment for me through an eternity of fire!”

“Joseph! Brother Seppi! Have you be-
come a furious madman? Yet, stay, stay;
let us talk further about it,” cried Andreas.
For, as Joseph uttered his last wild words,
he had swung himself with giant strength
up the cliff, and begun to climb the heights,
24 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Andreas’ call was unheeded, save by his
companions on the roadside, who were ‘be--
ginning to tire of the long delay. Through
the slowly rising fog they saw Joseph hast-
ening upward with wild leaps, and they
now came forward to gather again about
their leader. At sight of them Andreas en-
deavored to conceal the deep distress into
which he had been thrown by his brother’s
frantic words, and he came forward to join
his companions. No one uttered a word in
regard to what had just taken place, but the
aged peasant directed questioning looks to-
wards the grave, earnest face which gave little
answer inreturn. All had for a moment for-
gotten the object of their expedition, and were
reminded of it only by the quick beating of
their hearts as they entered the broad valley
of the Salzache, and saw the towers of the
fortress of Hohensalzburg glittering in the

light of the rising sun.


CHAPTER II.

THE AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP.

T was high noon. Noiseless, yet anxious
[ preparations were going on in the
kitchens and breakfast-hall of castle Salzburg.
At the end of a long suite of high-arched,
magnificently furnished apartments was the
Archbishop’s anteroom, on one side of which
- lay the little hall, now filled with a crowd of
servants of various degrees: Hungarian foot-
soldiers, lackeys, several young pages, who
took care to keep themselves apart from the
rest, and the Archbishop's body-guard, which
had just been relieved from duty. A number
of attendants were anxiously listening near
the folding-doors of the anteroom, crowding

against one another in their eagerness to be
3 25
26 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

in readiness when the Archbishop should
enter. Silver dishes and vessels of every
description were passed noiselessly from
hand to hand as they were brought to the
door of the saloon, and at one side the
master of ceremonies was busily engaged in
arranging the duffe¢. All gave evidence that
the hour of the princely breakfast had ar-
rived,

It was delightfully cool in the little room.
The bright-colored mosaic floor had been
sprinkled with perfumed water. Buta single
sunbeam streamed through the light curtain
before the window, and quivered upon the
silver and crystal of the table. It played
over the wine, and irritated the Archbishop’s
blackamoor who was arranging the chairs,
With his eyes half shut he did not see that
the folding-doors had been thrown open,
and had not time to spring back to his place
until the Archbishop, followed by his numer-
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 27 °

ous guests, was near enough to give him a
glance of severe reproof. The company
placed themselves, with subdued whispers
and loud rustling of garments, on each side
of the Archbishop, who to-day, as almost
always, in sporting costume, looked more
like a grim huntsman than an ecclesiastical

prince. At the left of his Grace sat his
Chancellor; and at his right a young girl of
about twenty years. Opposite her sat Count
Resina, an Italian cavalier, who had waited
upon the Archbishop only yesterday for the
first time, and had already been summoned
to breakfast with him.

The young girl seemed wonderfully beau-
tiful to all those grave, earnest men, as well
as to Count Resina. She sat with a smile
upon her lips, fresh and blooming, the only -
one of that courtly throng who smiled and
chatted at ease. Sparkling vivacity shone

in every feature. She threw the most inde-
- 28 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,.

scribably coquettish glances towards the
Count; and a changing smile played about
her beautiful mouth as she met the glances
even of those priestly men. She wore the
rich costume of the time, but her brown
curls scorned the help of the white powder
that lay upon them, no less than did her
slender form the riding-coat, or even the
heavy court dress.

The Archbishop showed little interest in
what was going on around him. His eyes
rested on the crystal goblet that stood before
him, and now and then he threw merely a
gloomy side-glance towards the Chancellor,
who returned it with a look equally dismal.
But the young girl did not become weary of
bestowing her smiles either upon the sullen
prince or his counsellor. She whispered
from time to time words in a language which
the Archbishop alone seemed to understand.

The oftener she repeated this, the more
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 29

cheerful became his countenance. He re-
plied to her in the same language, and at
last turned with a look of undisguised pleas-
ure towards the bewitching face beside him.
Conversation now became general among
the guests; the servants ventured to step
more heavily; and more than one of those
priestly men, after a deep sigh of relief,
raised more frequently their glasses to their
lips.

Count Resina, who had been watching the
Archbishop and the young girl with close
attention, turned now to his neighbor, the
Canon of St. John’s, and giving him to un-.
derstand by a sign that he referred to the
lady, said:

“What name, your Reverence?”

“Winnifred O’Hara,” replied the Canon,
quickly.

“Ts she Irish, and a niece of his Grace?”

said the Count, placing a peculiar emphasis
3%
30 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

upon the word niece; to which the well-
trained Canon merely nodded. He looked
cautiously about him, and continued aloud:

“Wer mother, Mary O’Hara, lived many
years at one of the Archbishop’s castles
before she became one of the household
here. She was even more beautiful than
her child; but all the gifts which a mother
can impart have descended on the daughter.
There is nothing that this frivolous girl can-
not obtain from the Archbishop; but he has
never been able yet to find a fitting husband
for her.”

The eyes of the Count rested with new
interest upon the graceful form and lovely
face before him. Winnifred vouchsafed him
no attention; she was wholly occupied with
the Archbishop, to whom she would speak
in her native tongue every time he turned
from the Chancellor. Occasionally she

would look towards the window. The sun,
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 31

as he climbed the heavens, had become
oppressive even in the cool saloon; outside,
it must have been very hot and sultry. The
Chancellor followed the girl’s looks with
growing uneasiness. He knew what was
passing in her mind, and he sought in vain
to draw the attention of the Archbishop to
himself.

Anton Firmian, who knew well enough
how to be stern, who seemed to live solely
for the sake of power, and who never would
have been suspected, by one who knew
nothing of his inner life, of yielding to the
influence of happy emotions, now gave him-
self up wholly to the smiles of his daughter.
The Chancellor foresaw what would happen
as soon as the meal was over.

Winnifred looked more frequently towards
the window; and at last she said, coaxingly,
to the Archbishop:

“Grant me a favor, your Grace; the peas-
32 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

ants, who ask an interview, must be suffering
out there in the glowing sun; the sultry air
is oppressive to me, even here. Think what
I should feel if I were obliged to stand with-
out, waiting for admission.”

The Archbishop’s face instantly clouded
over. The Chancellor, and those who were
sitting near, awaited breathlessly his answer.
He replied, in a tone of reproof:

You really give me no peace, Winnifred.
If you only knew how much trouble the
rascals have already given me —”

“Refuse their petition, my prince,” said
Winnifred; “but do not keep them standing
longer in the scorching sun: I suffer with
them.” :

“You intercede for bold, rebellious here-
tics,” interrupted the Chancellor.

The words were ill-timed, for the blood
rushed to Winnifred’s face, and she cried

with warmth:
‘AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP, 33

“Of that I know nothing — understand
nothing; I only ask that they be not allowed
to suffer; and if there is not time to hear
them, at least let them have a tent, some
fruit, and a glass of cool wine.”

Count Resina, although he hardly knew
of what they spoke, nodded an approval, in
which he was encouraged by the Canon,
who looked with a smile towards the stern
Archbishop. The latter rose at this moment
from his chair, and gave the signal for the
breaking up of the assembly. As he was
about to offer his arm to Winnifred, he
changed his mind, and beckoning to the
Count, who approached with a deep rever-
ence, he said, turning to the young girl:

“Because you wish it, Winnifred, I will
hear these people. If trouble comes from it,
I shall be revenged upon you. Count Resi-
na, conduct the fraulem to her room. Grell,

come with me.”
Cc
34 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

The last words were spoken to the Chan-
cellor; but the Prince did not fail to catch
the grateful smile of Winnifred. The Chan-
cellor whispered to a priest who stood by
him:

“ There will be a storm in the house, for I
am sure that the Archbishop will allow the
Lutherans to leave the country. It will cer-
tainly be visited upon us; for no one is more
certain to escape than Winnifred.” 2

The priest nodded in reply, and the Chan-
cellor followed to his reception-room the
Archbishop, who first gave a command in a
low tone of voice to the chief of his body-
guard,

Winnifred freed her hand from the arm
- of the Count. The look of scornful displeas-
ure which she cast upon his meagre form and
sharp features could not have caused the ex-
pression of conceited pride which rested upon

his face as he led her with formal ceremony
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 35

through the broad corridor to her own
apartment. A page threw open the door,
an attendant hastened towards her, and in
the rear of the little anteroom was seen in
waiting the form of Winnifred’s maid of
honor. Count Resina, having been dismissed
with a cool bow, stood for a moment irreso-
lute between the pillars of the corridor, before
descending the steps.

Within her room, Winnifred, careless of
the presence of pages and attendants, rushed
towards her companion, and throwing herself
upon her neck in a passionate outburst of
tears, allowed herself to be led thus by
the frightened woman from the room. Then
she sunk down upon the rich Turkey carpet
which covered the floor, and hid her face in
the lap of her friend.

“T can bear my unhappiness no longer,
Felicitas,” she sobbed; “again I have had

to lavish my smiles on all sides in order to
36 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

provide a shelter for the poor peasants who
are languishing outside in the hot sun. And
again there has come a man to the court who
has hardly heard of me before he looks upon
me as a certain prize.”

“Winnifred, dear Winnifred, you constant-
ly forget yourself. One to hear you would
suppose you were wretched. Are you not
the darling, the idol of your uncle? Have
you not perfect freedom, and every wish ful-
filled, even when it were better that you
should be denied ?”

“My uncle!” repeated the young girl,
bitterly. “He is my father, Felicitas, though
you are afraid to call him so, —and may God
forgive him! He allows me to live here in
idleness and luxury, only that I may chase
away the wrinkles from his forehead. That
which J alone prize, my freedom, I must give
up, in order that I need no longer bear my

mother’s name. Because my father cannot
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 37

give me his I am offered to every adventurer!
I tell to you, Felicitas, that the yellow Count
already knows how easily I am to be had if
so be that his own lineage and coat of arms
be not too unsullied.”

Winnifred wept still more passionately.
Felicitas looked upon her in perfect helpless-
ness, and then said:

“What in the name of the saints are you
thinking of? What is it you wish?”

“What do I wish?” cried Winnifred,
springing up with a look half defiant, half
sorrowful flashing from her brown eyes: “I
scarcely know myself. To flee from the
whole household, if I could only find one who
has courage enough to take me to my own
country. But there is not a man here, or
anywhere, who would do it. They all fawn
and flatter, in order to secure the favor of
the Archbishop. Perhaps I might find the
way alone to my green island. Where the

4
33 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Shannon empties into the sea stands the
cottage of my grandparents. On the grass
which is refreshed by its waters, my mother
played. There I would be; not here, where
you despise, though you flatter me!”

“And your uncle,” said Felicitas, impa-
tiently.

She had evidently touched the right chord,
for Winnifred remained silent a moment.
Then she smiled, and said:

“He would miss me; he loves me; but
Count Resina and all the rest of them may
keep at a distance; J am not ashamed to be
called Winnifred O’Hara! Come now, Feli-
citas, we must go and see the peasants who
are to be admitted to the Prince.”

Felicitas drew the capricious girl with her
through the anteroom out upon the corri-
dor. Here they walked up and down as if
for pleasure, keeping sharp watch, however,

upon the great steps of the castle.
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 39

Meanwhile the sun streamed down upon
the broad court-yard in front of the castle.
The magnificent fountain, which stood oppo-
site the principal entrance, flashed in the
light, and the brown, marble horse which
rose from the centre was bathed in its gold-
en flood. The peasants from Berchtesga-
den stood leaning over the edge of the foun-
tain in order to catch a breath of cool air.
Those men, with their hard, weather-beaten

faces and gaunt, bony forms, were not stran-
gers to care and fatigue; but it was easy to see,
as they leaned over the basin to drink or to
bathe their foreheads in its waters, that they
were greatly exhausted. They raised their
eyes from time to time to the high-arched
castle-door, within which, between two long
rows of soldiers, stood a gigantic Switzer,
with a silver-tipped staffin his hand. Then
they looked towards their leader, and waited

on in silence.
40 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER., |

Andreas shaded his eyes as well as he
could with his hat, and said:

“My eyes are accustomed to darkness; I
am almost blinded by this mid-day glare.
The Chancellor punishes us more severely
than if he had sent us away unheard.”

The men nodded acquiescence; and one
of them said:

“If the Archbishop knew that we had
promised the messenger of the Prussian
king to wait three days for a hearing, we
would be sure to be kept until the going
down of the sun on the third day.”

“Our troubles will soon have an end,”
replied Andreas; ‘we can wait no longer.
We must leave the country or there will
be trouble, upon which I do not care to
think.”

These last words were answered only by
gloomy but determined glances. Several of
the peasants appeared to think that anything
et.

AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 4I

would be more welcome than waiting there
at the fountain.

At this moment the Switzer motioned to
them with his staff. They looked up at him
in surprise; but as he repeated the cal! with
a gesture of command, they arranged them-
selves quietly with Andreas at their head,
and proceeded up to the gate of the castle.

In reply to a brief question from Andreas,

‘the Switzer said, supesciliously :

“Certainly, his Grace will admit you; he
hopes that you are sufficiently humbled by
this time. Be sure to show yourselves per-
fectly submissive when you come before
him.”

Andreas gave the fellow such a look of
contempt that he stepped aside. The other
peasants cared neither for his insolence, nor
for the presence of the numerous attendants
who now began to gather upon every land-
ing-place of the broad steps. They passed

4*
42 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

on with the same firm, heavy tread with
which they were accustomed to climb their
mountain-paths. A lackey led the way to
the Archbishop’s reception-room. Abusive
words were heard on every side, and some
of the servants crossed theinselves furtively
at sight of the bold heretics; but the peasants
passed on like men who were accustomed
to long-suffering and patient endurance.

They did not look up till their leader
stopped suddenly in the middle of the room,
and the lackey stepped back with a respectful
exclamation of surprise. They saw standing
before Andreas two ladies, who, by the mag-
nificence of their dress, evidently belonged
to the household. It was the younger of
these ladies who spoke to Andreas, and who
calied such a flush to his face. She spoke
to him as the representative of his compan-
ions, kindly, but in marked haste.

“The Archbishop will hear you, my men;
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 43

be wise, and allow his goodness time to
awaken; you will gain nothing by defiance
— much, perhaps, by patience, and by con-
fidence in the justice of your cause.”

Andreas was about to answer, but, sud-
denly courtesying, the lovely apparition dis-
appeared, drawing her more dignified com-
panion after her. The servant, who, with
the peasants, had seen in speechless aston-
ishment what had taken place, conducted
them hastily, but more respectfully, to the
anteroom of the Prince. Here the captain
of the body-guard instructed them to await
the summons of the Archbishop, and, turn-
ing to the window, left them to their own
observations.

Meanwhile the Chancellor had passed a
weary half hour in the reception-room of the
Archbishop. The latter had, with the assist-
ance of his valet, laid aside his hunting-

costume, and now sat in all the magnificence
44 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

of his cardinal’s dress in the purple velvet
arm-chair which stood in the centre of the
room.

The Chancellor laid before him one paper
after another, which he dashed angrily aside,
and said:

“The only result of your long negotia-
tion with Regensburg is that our hands are
completely tied. So soon as the obdurate
rebels appear before me and ask to leave
the country, I have only to give my con-
sent, and allow the Lutherans to seek ref-
uge in the arms of the heretical Prussian
king.”

“The imperial diet has declared that all
who remain in the land will be compelled to
return to the bosom of the holy mother
Church,” replied the Chancellor.

“All who remain in the land! One will
be easily able to count them,” said the Arch-
bishop, bitterly. ‘Or do you wish to com-
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 45

pel them to remain, Grell?” he continued,
turning suddenly towards his Chancellor.
“T will hear now what they have to say.
Since you have not been able to spare me
this annoyance, I will learn from my disloyal
subjects how far my power extends over
them.”

The Chancellor boldly waited a moment
after these words before he opened the door
that led into the anteroom. The peasants
were standing in a row, with Andreas, whom
they had chosen for their speaker, a step or
two in advance. They immediately obeyed
the motion of the Chancellor’s hand, and
came forward into the presence of the Prince.
Most of them touched their hats respectfully ;
’ but Andreas alone stood without trembling
before the gloomy potentate. His thrice
repeated reverence was as deep and respect-
ful as that of his companions; but he alone

shrank not from the threatening look of the
46 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

Archbishop, who allowed several moments
to pass in painful silence,

“You have begged a hearing of me,” he
said, at last; “and although you have not
given me cause to expect much good of you,
yet I will not deny you an interview with
your master. What is your petition?”

“Gracious Prince,” said Andreas, in a
clear, ringing voice, “we have been sent here
by the evangelical church in Pinzgau. Let-
ters which have been circulating through
the valley give us to understand that an asy-
lum is awaiting us in the country of the
Prussian king. We can settle far away in
the north, and there we shall be allowed to
pray according to our consciences. You
know how our hearts cling to our father-
land; you know how faithful we have always
been; how cheerfully we have paid our
tithes ; but we cannot give up the pure word,

and the pure teaching; and so we stand be-
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP, 47

fore you for the last time, and ask, in the
name of thousands of our brethren, whether
we may stay on the acres of our fathers, or
whether we must wander far from them, be-
cause we hold to Christ’s teaching, as the
Scriptures and Luther, the man of God, set
them forth.”

While Andreas spoke his form had re-
mained proudly erect, his pale cheeks, which
had lost all their color by his labor in the
mines, and through the constant reading of his
Bible through the long winter nights, glowed
with emotion, and his eyes met fearlessly the
angry glances of the Prince.

The Archbishop rose suddenly from his
chair, and said in a loud, commanding voice:

“Take your cursed feet to the north, and
may Satan direct you on your way; but thou
who speakest so boldly here, what hast thou
to ask of me? Art thou not Andreas Heim-
berger, chief miner in the salt-works of the
48 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Abbot of Berchtesgaden? Dost thou excite
rebellion among my subjects, and yet darest
appear in my presence, miserable wretch?”

Andreas started, and more than one of his
companions trembled visibly under this
angry outburst of the Archbishop; but, con-
scious of innocence, he turned towards the
Prince, and said the more earnestly :

“Gracious Prince, if you do not know that
Iam one of your loyal subjects, your Chan-
cellor knows it. I have long lived at Pinz-
gau; and if any one of your people may
speak to you of his own affairs, then I too
have the right.”

The Archbishop turned quickly towards
the Chancellor, who stood behind his chair,
and who answered the questioning look with
a nod of affirmation. The Archbishop sank
back among the cushions with a frown, and
motioned to the Chancellor to conclude the

negotiations with the peasants. The Chan-
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 49

cellor saw by their firm, decided bearing,
that the Lutherans were well aware of the
trouble and sorrow which would attend their
course,

“I have only to say to you,” said the
Chancellor, sternly and with decision, “that
there can be no more forbearance with you.
Either accept the offer of the Prussian king,
and go immediately to the north, or return
to the mother Church; and may the holy
Virgin enlighten your minds to choose this
latter course! How many in your valley
wish to leave?”

“With wives and children there must be
five thousand in Pinzgau,” said Andreas. “A
thousand more wish to join us from Berch-
tesgaden.”

“You refer to your companions from the
salt-works,” interrupted the Chancellor. |
“Does his Highness, the Abbot, know what

you wish to do?”
5 D
50 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

“He has given us his consent, and has
kindly allowed us to take our goods with us
from the country; we ask the same of our
gracious Prince and master. Remember in
mercy that the summer is short and the road
long.”

The Archbishop now spoke, and with all
the severity of which he was capable.

“T care for your souls, and not for your
wives and children. Take with you what
you will; go where you wish; but remember
that every step you take towards the north
brings you nearer hell-fire and eternal de-
struction! Be it as you wish; and now, out
of my sight!”

After these angry and wicked words, he
turned his back upon the peasants, and walk-
ing to the window took no notice of their
reverential parting salutation; nor did he
look around until the last of them had left
the room. The men thronged hastily through -
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 51

the corridor and down the steps of the cas-
tle, glad to feel thmt the worst was over.
Andreas remained behind for a moment,
thinking in quiet gravity over the experience
of the last hour. In future years painful re-
collections of this room returned frequently
to his mind.

An oppressive stillness reigned in the recep-
tion-room after the departure of the deputa-
tion. The Archbishop remained standing at
the window, leaving his Chancellor in anx-
ious expectation. At last he turned, and,
seeing the distress of his minister, said, with
as much gentleness as he could command at
the moment:

“Do not take it too much to heart, Grell;
you are not to blame; but these heretical
rebellions are dangerous. They lead to fire-
brand and poison, and the men who engage
in them are always firmly united. But strain

. your wits, and advise me what is to be done.”
52 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

“ After the imperial edict, and after the
letters of the Prussian king, and the nego-
tiations of the commissioners who have been
sent, and of whom the people surely must
have heard,” replied the Chancellor, “one
cannot expect the Holy Church and the
country to retain many of them. Forbid
the sale of their goods.”

“I wish to hold loyal subjects, and not
goods; obedient, faithful subjects,” cried the
Archbishop. “Said you not that we have a
right to compel those who remain to return
to the bosom of the Church? Then must
we take care that many remain—very many;
and more than they themselves dream of to-
night?”

The Archbishop spoke these last words
with an expression of mingled mystery and
determination. The Chancellor looked at
him inquiringly; but the. Archbishop gave

him to understand that the matter must
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 53

rest for the present, adding at the same
time:

“Tet the Mareschal know that 1 wish to
speak with him before night. Alone I can
accomplish little. The Abbot and Canons
of Berchtesgaden must help me.”

The Chancellor seemed to be expecting
further commands. The Prince had not dis-
missed him; and a struggle appeared to be
going on in his mind between a wish to
speak, and a wish to remain silent. He
walked restlessly to and from the window,
and at last said:

“Tell me, Grell, do these heretical rebels
know that I bear an old grudge against this
Andreas Heimberger? Have they sent him
to me on that account, or merely because his
tongue is smoother and bolder than the
others’ ?”

The Chancellor looked at the Archbishop

with an expression of incredulous surprise;
Ge
54 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

but the face of the prelate showed only too
plainly that he had spoken the simple truth.
His lips quivered with an expression of bitter
hatred, which the mere recollection of An-
dreas aroused.

The Chancellor replied, after a moment’s
prudent delay:

“My gracious master lowers himself in
hating such a man as this miner. Does the
fellow deserve the honor?”

“T do not know that the honor will be of
much service to him,” said the Archbishop,
still more thoughtfully. “You know, Grell,
we hate nothing so much as to be reminded
of an old fault. I once forgot my princely
duty towards this man. It was at the time
Mary O’Hara died, and I drove every one in
wild anger from my presence. I remember
as though it had happened to-day, that I
repelled the fellow and his brother, who had

come ta me with some sort of petition or
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 55

complaint. I wished to forget my sorrow
for the lost one in a hunt through the forests,
and I made them feel my rage. Now I often
say to myself, ‘Who knows whether the man
would have become a heretic and a rebel if
I had listened to him that day?’ Keep
Heimberger in sight, Grell; did you not see
that he had sense and courage enough for
them all? Verily he shall cause no more
disturbance. Go now and call the Mare-
schal.”

The Chancellor collected his papers, and
with a low bow left the room. As he closed
the door, he muttered:

“We hate nothing so much as to be re-
minded of an old fault, and at the same time
we like nothing better —two very different
growths from the same root. But I would
not be in Andreas Heimberger’s shoes, after
all I have seen and heard to-day,

At that same moment two female forms
56 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

glided from the room which joined that of
the Archbishop. Winnifred and her com-
panion with difficulty avoided a meeting with
the Chancellor. Winnifred was glowing with
excitement, but Felicitas looked timidly
about her, and drew a deep breath of relief
as the officer disappeared from sight.

“No, Winnifred ; I shall take no part again
in such an adventure. I have already too
far forgotten my duty towards you, and I feel
the greatest anxiety,” said Felicitas.

* Adventure,” said Winnifred, with a cheer-
ful laugh; “you call it an adventure to listen
to the interview between the Prince and the
peasants; we have neither of us yet ever had
a real adventure— you cannot even dream
of one,as Ido. But you must say, Felicitas,
that the peasant leader, in spite of his coarse
dress, looked braver and more manly than
our cavalier. Did you not notice how

proudly he carried his head, and awakened
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 57

the admiration of even the captain of the
Swiss guards?”

“He was humble enough in the presence
of his Grace,” said Felicitas.

“No, no; indeed no,” said Winnifred;
“he behaved like a man, as they all should;
and much more like one of Tasso’s Crusaders
than this Count Resina who boasts of his
relationship to Tancred. I wish I could see
him meet in single combat this peasant
knight, who never even heard of Tancred!”

Felicitas listened to these words with
growing displeasure. The Mareschal, who
was hastening along the corridor to the
Archbishop, came to her assistance in so far
as that the sight of him caused Winnifred
to retreat hastily to her room.

In the course of the next morning the
inmates of the castle were thrown into an
unusual state of excitement and confusion by

a series of orders issued by the Mareschal.
58 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,.

From room to room the news spread that
the Archbishop, with a part of his household,
was about to visit Castle Berchtesgaden,
and remain there several days. It was
whispered among the lackeys in the castle,
and by the liveried grooms and coachmen
of the stables, over their morning potations,
that Count Walstein, the first gentleman of
the chambers, had been sent to notify the
Abbot of the approach of his numerous and
distinguished guests, and that the Chancellor
had accompanied him. But what excited the
greatest surprise was the fact that, beside
the usual attendants on state occasions, the
immense hunting-train, with ali the hunters
and suite, was ordered to be in readiness.
Throughout the whole castle no one was
more delighted at the unexpected expedition
than Winnifred. She heard from the mouth
of the Archbishop himself that she was to

make preparations for a pleasure trip. of
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 59

several days. She begged to be allowed to
make the journey on her favorite horse
Condé, and the consent was half coaxed,
half demanded. The young girl was wise
enough to know that, but for the unlimited
kindness of the Archbishop, this little wish
would not have been a sufficient pretext for
seeking his presence. The forehead of the
Prince was clouded with care, and it was
with difficulty that he was able to show
Winnifred a smiling face. She left him
alone with his Chancellor, only stopping at
the door to hear his last words.

“No questions, to-day; you will be told
what you have to do—no more, no less. I
wish to arrange affairs myself; so you can
spare any further words.”

Winnifred sped quickly away, and went to
seek Felicitas. She called to her in great
glee:

“We are going to Berchtesgaden ; Condé
60 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

is to be saddled. We shall see the glorious
mountains, the green lake — my lake, again,
Felicitas. We may be so happy —and we
will, even if we have to endure the company
of Count Resina!”

An hour passed in hurried preparatiorts.
Before the castle stood a line of wagons and
carriages emblazoned with gold, and deco-
rated with various coats of arms. Among
the richly caparisoned saddle-horses, Winni-
fred’s slender brown pony was receiving
special attention. The servants, who had
mounted to their places on the wagons, and
the outriders who had already drawn bridle,
awaited the signal for starting. In the rear
was the great train, which the old hunting-
master was supervising in the midst of the
tumult of admiring crowds which had poured
out from the city. ‘At last, the Archbishop,
closely followed by Winnifred and her com-

panion, stepped from the castle-door. Be-
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 61

fore entering the carriage of state, he saw
how Winnifred had sprung into her saddle,
and was sitting in evident enjoyment of the
homage that was paid her, partly from re-
spect, and partly with a view to gain the
favor of the Prince. He saw with displeasure
that Count Resina, whom he had expected
to ride by Winnifred’s side, was sitting at
ease in one of the carriages. He beckoned
to the Chancellor to take his seat beside
him, gave the signal for starting, and the
glittering train dashed over the paved court,
‘through the outer portals, and around the
base of Hohensalzburg, which, with threat-
ening eyes, watched over the cathedral city.

The broad valley of Salzache lay in the
light of a lovely July day. The outlines of
the mountain were almost indistinguishable
in the dazzling glare of the blue heavens.
The Archbishop threw scarcely a passing

glance over the country, and urged the
6
62 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

utmost speed. Winnifred rode by the side
of his carriage; but the angry Prince was
engaged in such gloomy and earnest con-
versation with his Chancellor that he hardly
noticed her, The dry, white sand flew in
clouds over carriages and horsemen, and
covered the coat of arms and gold embroid-
ery on the rich cushions. The sweat poured
down from the horses, which were driven so
rapidly that Winnifred was obliged to urge
her spirited animal into a hard gallop. She
sought constantly to draw the attention of
the Archbishop to herself, and even jested
with the Chancellor when ‘he looked from
the carriage. But the Archbishop seemed
fully occupied with affairs of state. He threw
piercing glances at every peasant who stood
gazing with wondering admiration at the
princely train. Winnifred suspected the
cause of his bitterness ; and as there stood by

the roadside a group of peasants in an atti-
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 63

tude of respectful salutation, she drew the
Archbishop’s attention to them, saying :

“The people are surely true to you; they
give you loyal greeting.”

But the Archbishop had no ear to-day for
the caressing voice of his child, and a mo-
ment later he said with displeasure:

“Yonder, before the image of the Holy
Virgin, they pulled their hats down over
their eyes. Their hearts are rebellious,
though their hands still give the accustomed
greeting.”

The train now drew near the Untersburg
heights, whose tops shimmered in the mid-
day sun, and whose precipitous sides towered
grim and threatening above the cavalcade.
The road now led up the mountain, and the
drivers were obliged to check their frantic
speed. Winnifred took this opportunity to
draw nearer to the Archbishop.

“Does your Grace know that there is a
64 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

beautiful legend connected with this moun-
tain? It is said that the mighty Charles V.
sleeps within its depths, lonely and un-
wedded. When he again comes forth to the
light, the first maiden who greets him will
be his bride. Keep a little behind me, Fe-
licitas; if the emperor were now to awake I
would wish to be first at the rocky portal.”

“Let the emperor rest quietly, Winnifred,”
said the Archbishop. “In his day our star
began to pale. He first struggled against
that foolish doctrine with which I now con-
tend in vain. Shall he see how little pro-
gress we have made in two hundred years?
Let him dream on in the mountain recesses!
There is more meaning in these fairy tales
than some think.”

Winnifred had never seen the Prince so
ungracious. Half disturbed, but too full of
the enjoyment of the ride to be greatly de-

presssd, she turned her horse aside, and went
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP. 65

to join Felicitas. As she drew near, she said
with a smile:

“T am unable to throw any light upon
state affairs; I already suspect that we shall
not have much pleasure this time at Berch-
tesgaden. But we will go to the lake, and
climb up the mountains to the chalet, and
chase the chamois. We will do our best to
enjoy ourselves, Felicitas!”

They had now reached that part of their
route where the road lay close to the moun-
tain side, and was hemmed in on the left
by a woody acclivity. The immense train,
with the Archbishop and Winnifred at the
head, completely filled the narrow pass. At
this moment there came down the little foot-
path above the road a number of miners from
the salt-works. They moved in their dark
clothes like shadows past the rocks which
were bathed in a flood of golden light. The

path at one spot lay so close to the road up
6* E
66 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

which the slowly moving train advanced,
that every form and feature of the miners
could be distinctly seen.

Winnifred, whose sight was clearer than
the others, suddenly called out:

“See, Felicitas, the miner! the proud
knight! Only see how stately he moves!
The sun forms a golden crown about his
head. Do you think that the descendants
of the Crusaders would be afraid of him?”

With these words she threw a glance back-
ward to the carriage where the Count sat
utterly prostrated by the fatigues of the
journey. Then she flew lightly on, still
looking up towards the little footpath.

The Archbishop raised his eyes at the
same moment. His face was paler, and his
gaze more intense than before. . His lips
twitched, and he ground his teeth together,
in order that no indiscreet expression of

anger should escape him; but the Chancellor,
AUDIENCE WITH THE ARCHBISHOP, 67

who knew his master well, saw that the
thoughtless conduct of Winnifred had wound-
ed him deeply; and, from the half-intelligible
sounds which came from the lips of the
Archbishop, he learned that those men who
walked so boldly past, and without bestow-
ing a single glance upon the imposing train,

had been condemned to death.




CHAPTER III.

BERCHTESGADEN.

HE noise of the ceaseless passing to
aL. and fro of his numerous guests filled
the palace of the Lord Abbot of Berchtes-
gaden. The Archbishop, who in past days
had been engaged in many a bitter strife
with the Abbot, now seemed eager to secure
his friendship. All the resources of the
court and the country had been called into
requisition, in order that the Prince of Salz-
burg should be entertained in his usual mag-
nificence, and the Abbot had become weary
in endeavoring to provide new kinds of rec-
reation and diversion for the numerous
cavaliers who were in attendance.

Tt was a feast-day. As an unusual occur-
68
BERCHTESGADEN. 69

rence, the Abbot was to celebrate high mass
in the cathedral, and all the inmates of the
castle, and all the inhabitants of the neigh-
boring country towns and valleys were
gathered within its walls. Every variety of
costume could be seen, from the rich court-
dress to the miner’s coarse jacket. There
were few miners present, however; though.
outside the cathedral they could be seen in
great numbers, making their way towards
the salt-mines, through whose rocky entrance
they passed in groups.

Below, in the dark halls and passages,
there reigned the most perfect stillness.
Solitary lamps glimmered at long intervals
from each other, and were at last lost sight
of in the cavernous depths. It could not
have been the ordinary day’s work which
had gathered those hundreds of men within
the gloomy passages with their gigantic

arches of salt; for the implements of labor
790 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

were lying untouched in their places. One
accustomed to the place might see by the
pale light of the torches that they were not
miners alone who were assembled there. In
the middle of the hall, leaning against an
immense block of salt, stood a group of men
apart from the rest. Among them was An-
dreas, and a stranger who, by the peculiarity
of his costume, could be readily distinguished
from the others. He seemed impatient of
the tumult of voices around him, and above
which now rang out the clear, loud voice of
their chief.

“Bring your differences to an end now,
my men,” he cried. “ Have your feet become
weary, and your hearts timid, even before we
have entered upon our exile? Why will you
wait for a better day, when the best is already
past? Our last words have been spoken to
the Archbishop and Abbot; we have been

promised a free departure, and we have noth
BERCHTESGADEN. 7t

ing more to hope. Our fields and homes
are now in the hands of strangers. What
can it profit us to see a harvest ripen which
we dare not reap? Is it manly to shrink
from seeking that new home where the bells
will call us openly to church, and the word
of God will be openly preached tous. Agree,
then, upon the day and hour. Why have
you not held to the time that we appointed
when I returned with the brethren from
Salzburg? You say that it is for the sake
of the Archbishop. What has the visit of
the master of Salzburg to our master to do
with our journey? I warn you, brethren and
companions, not to let the days pass in use-
less delay. Our journey will be long, and
our bodies will be exhausted many a time
before we reach the end. Do not allow
yourselves to falter, now when the first steps
are tobe taken. Our newruler has gracious-

ly sent us this gentleman, who will show us
72 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

the way, and upon whom we may depend in
every emergency. Decide now once for all
upon the day on which you will take up
your march. If the brethren from Pinzgau
will meet us on the old Pilgrim Road at
Hirschbihl, we can all unite and take the
road to Bavaria, and thus avoid most of the
Salzburg district which you so much dread.
But come to a decision, and then forward —
in God’s name!”

The crowd had for the most part listened
attentively and with murmurs of approval to
the words of Andreas. The Commissioner
of the Prussian king stood in an attitude of
earnest attention, and watched the expres-
sion of their faces as their eyes rested upon
him, and upon Andreas, their chosen leader.
There were some few slight discussions, but
at last there arose the cry, every moment
becoming louder and more united:

“We will start on Saturday. Andreas may
BERCHTESGADEN. 73

decide upon our route, and form and conduct
the train. On Saturday! On Saturday!”
Suddenly, in the midst of the tumult occa-
sioned by the final decision, in the midst of
the loud cries of joy with which many ex-
pressed their satisfaction, there was heard
above them a harsh and sneering laugh. In
the darkness of the subterranean halls, and
in the perfect stillness which reigned, some
of the more timid ones might have been ex-
cuséd for trembling with the conviction that
it was an outburst of Satanic triumph which
they heard; but the more courageous rushed
to the ladder in order to see what was meant
by the hideous laughter, which could as well
have been called a roar. Before they had
ascended many steps they were dashed back-
wards upon the ground. A light gleamed
above them. The prostrate men felt the
weight of a heavy body, and in the next

moment Joseph Heimberger stood in the
7
x

SS ‘all sides‘by the questions:

74 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

midst of that frightened, railing, threatening,
crowd. His hoarse laugh did not cease, al-
though Andreas endeavored to quiet him by
pointing out the presence of the stranger.

The giant after sundry scornful glances over

. the assémbly again burst forth into a peal of

wdiscordant laughter which was interrupted on

“Why have you come. here, Joseph?
Why do you laugh so? Why do you make
sport of us? Speak, if you can.”

Once more Joseph indulged in his diabol-
ical laughter:

“Shall I not laugh when I see something
which I have never seen before? I have had
many experiences; I have lived many years
among these mountains; but until to-day I
have never heard of game being driven by
rifles into the hands of hunters!”

As unintelligible as were Joseph’s words,

most of the men at once suspected that they
BERCHTESGADEN. 75

hinted at danger; even Andreas looked
gravely at his brother, and said, anxiously:

“What do you mean, Seppi? What do
you know of hunts and hunters? Why do
you call us game?”

“Speak, Joseph, speak; let us hear,” cried
more than fifty voices. Joseph looked with
unconcealed scorn upon the groups about
him, which, lighted up by the pale glimmer
of the lamps, presented a wonderful picture
of wild confusion; but he remained silent a
moment as though considering whether he
should speak. At last he said:

“ There is not much to say except that you
are fools, as I have already told you. You
think you are mighty wise to bury yourselves
in the bowels of the earth to hold your con-
sultations, while up yonder the priests know
all you do and say. The Archbishop and
Abbot sit together congratulating themselves
that you fixe chosen the very best day for
76 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

your journey, and that no other way is open
to you but that past Hirschbihl, where the
road is very steep with fearful precipices on
each side, That road the princely gentlemen
deem a fitting one for a hunt, and it would
be a happy chance if the hunting train were
to meet you just at that spot where the road
makes a sudden bend. Imagine yourselves
with wives and children, wagons and baggage,
tired, dusty, heavily laden, climbing up the
mountain, when, ‘Huzza! huzza!’ the prince-
ly hunters on horseback suddenly burst upon
you, driving a troop of chamois through
your ranks. Rifles are discharged on all
sides ——What is this which interrupts his
Highness’ sport? You crowd together; one
of your number is stretched upon the ground
by a bullet, another is dashed over the
precipice, a leader is taken for a chamois and
shot, in the wild confusion. You flee down

the road; the train is broken up, and you and
BERCHTESGADEN, a7

yours thank God and the saints, when you
find yourselves once more in the valley.
You would rather dwell as tenants in your own
old homes than again come in the way of a
princely hunt; and if the Archbishop ever
gives you back one acre of your land, then
curse Luther and bless Anton Firmian!”

Joseph, who had watched the growing
excitement of the assembly, dropped the
sneering tone which he had used at first,
and spoke earnestly, and with a rough elo-
quence all his own. At the close of his
words the cry arose, “It shall never hap-
pen; no, never! We have rifles —we have
weapons.”

A look: of wild joy, that did not escape
the notice of his brother, gleamed in the face ~
of the boatman. Many of the men crowded
to the ladder, in order to leave the hall.
Their hands were clenched ; their eyes

flashed ; and they seemed wrought up to the
7 *%
78 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

commission of any act of folly. In the hall
was a tumult of threatening, questioning
voices, with now and then a demand for the
postponing of the journey.

Andreas’ voice was now heard in a tone
of impressive warning:

“Let there be peace and quiet here, my
men; do not allow yourselves to be the tool
of your enemies. We stand here united;
and united, we will do whatever may be
necessary. Where have you learned, Joseph,
that the Archbishop and the Abbot have
broken their princely word, and intend to
destroy our train?”

“Where else than at the castle?” said
Joseph. “You all know that for years I
have been in the service of the Abbot, super-
intending the work in the forests by the
lake. The Abbot wishes to show special
honor to the Salzburger, and he sent for me

to receive his commands. They wish to go
BERCHTESGADEN. 79

to the lake and witness the Holzsturz,* as it
dashes down over the rocks. In going and
coming to receive instructions, I hear many
things which concern you — you Bible fools!
Hunters’ eyes and ears are sharp, and I
watch and listen. In this way I have
learned what is plotting up there against
you. And now, get the start of them, and
do not wait for the chamois.”

The tumult threatened to break out afresh,
and Joseph looked with unconcealed joy
into the faces of the angry men.

But Andreas again cried:

“Tf this indeed be so; if the Archbishop
and the Abbot have broken their solemn

* Woodslide. Trees are cut weeks beforehand, and are
piled up in immense masses on the side of the mountain,
supported by other huge trunks. At the time of the Holz-
turz, a woodman is stationed with his axe near each pile
of wood, and at a given signal, the supports being cut away,
the enormous mass slides down the mountain, over the cliff,
and plunges into the lake.
80 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

promise, then must we, if the worst threatens,
make a free way for ourselves. This is.all
we can hope for; but this we must insist
upon. Commit no imprudence, and use
your weapons only in case of need; we shall
go, as has been agreed, on Saturday. The
brethren from Pinzgau will start in the early
morning, and we shall meet those from
Berchtesgaden about mid-day. Reding and
I will go from here to Pinzgau, and you will
send two leaders to the valley and the
mines. Show yourselves to be men who
know how to hold to that which they have
decided is for the best, and trust in Almighty
God, whose call we obey, and whose pro-
tecting arm will never fail us!”

The stranger, who had noticed with dis-
pleasure the outburst of the excited men
now saw that the voice of Andreas was suf-
ficient to restore them to reason. He now

felt it proper to break his long silence:
BERCHTESGADEN. 81

* You will have no need to carry weapons,
If the Archbishop and Abbot do not know
that a narrow road, full of sudden turnings,
is no place for a hunt, then they will learn it
to-day. The road, on which the new sub-
jects of the Prussian king are to travel, is as
safe as the path which leads to the church.
Therefore, put all folly aside, and make your
preparations in peace.”

The cry, “On Saturday! on Saturday!”
again rung through the cavern; but they
seemed to rely more upon Andreas than
upon the Commissioner, and many hands
closed tightly, as though they did not iatend
to relinquish their hold upon their rifles, as
the stranger had advised.

It was in vain that Joseph again raised his
mocking laugh. The brethren were in haste
to depart, and they grasped each other’s
hands in token of their unalterable decision.

Quickly and quietly now the men passed
F
82 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

from the mines. Only a few lamps were still
burning; and those who were less accustomed
to the place than Andreas and his compan-
ions groped their way out with difficulty.
Joseph followed directly behind Andreas,
cursing and muttering angrily. Those who
were near him heard him growl, “ Whoever
is willing to descend daily into such a grave
as this, ought to have a threefold love for
the mountain, and never leave it.’ But no
one took any notice of the furious man who
went stumbling in his haste against the walls
of salt, and who at last uttered a shout of
joy as through the distant entrance the light
of day shone like a little blue flame.

Joseph alone greeted his exit from the
mines with an exclamation of delight; the
other men passed quickly and gravely out,
once more extended to each other their
hands, and then took their several paths

homeward.
BERCHTESGADEN. 83

Andreas, his brother, and the stranger
alone remained behind at the mountain.
The Commissioner seemed to wait Joseph’s
departure ; but as the boatman did not leave
his brother’s side, he said at last, pointing to
the castle:

“TI gotothe Archbishop. I consider what
your brother has heard a false rumor, in re-
gard to the hunt; but I have instructions
from my king not to yield in the least par-
ticular. If the Prince and his people really
have been dreaming of a hunt, and the break-
ing up of your train, then I shall know how
to awaken them. Get your train quietly in
readiness, and allow no imprudence from
your people.”

With these words the Commissioner gave
a stiff military salute, and took the road to-
wards the castle. He had not gone a hun-
dred steps before Joseph said with a sneer to
his brother:
84 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

“Jt seems that strict orders are also the
rule in that new country which you seek.”

“No less than strict justice,” replied An-
dreas. “I shall thank God when the new
country is gained. Here every hour brings
danger; and you, Joseph, not only try to
hasten it, but seem to delight in its anticipa-
“tion. You give us no rest; and if the men
had just now been guided by you, they would
have rushed in blind fury to the castle, and
there met a bloody death.”

“Or ke would have met it,” cried Joseph,
wildly; “that was what I hoped for, and
what would have been a cordial to me; for
I thought that now your patience would be
exhausted. But you will allow yourself to
be ruined, and hunted by dogs, rather than
raise a finger against your precious Arch-
bishop!”

“Vour scorn moves me not,” said Andreas;

“T have the affairs of the brethren to consider,
BERCHTESGADEN. 85

not my own. The man who would be suc-
cessful in any undertaking must keep his
eyes constantly fixed upon his object. I
intend to lead the brethren to the north; I
will stake my life on that, but on nothing
else.”

“ You intend it, and the priest-princes intend
you shall not; we shall see how it comes
out. You depend upon the stranger yonder.
Do you know Anton Firmian no better than
to suppose that he will tremble at a few words
from the Prussian ?”

“I do not depend upon him, Joseph; I
depend upon God —and then chiefly upon
ourselves. Weare not children, to be prom-
ised a thing one day and denied it the next.
A free departure has been promised us on
their high and holy oath,—that we must
have, — that we shall compel, if they try to

prevent us. They must learn that we know
8
86 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

how to assert our rights, and, if need be, to
die for them!”

“« The affairs of the brethren,’ always ‘the
affairs of the brethren,” burst forth Joseph.
“But you never think of your brother and
your solemn oath, and you flee from the sight
of the Archbishop, against whom you have
sworn revenge. I swore to you, and I will
swear it yet a hundred times, that I will never
abandon my purpose. For years the thought
of it has been food when I was-hungry; and
the anticipation of that day when we should
have our final reckoning with Anton Firmian
has warmed me more than the coats and
vests which you have given me.”

“ Joseph, Joseph, hear me before you rush
away.. The affairs of the brethren are mine
—are yours. God is my witness that I
joined them solely for the sake of the true
faith, and not for revenge; but He has

brought ¢ha¢ about also. Do you not think
BERCHTESGADEN, 87

that it will touch the proud Prince when I
lead from the country thousands of his sub-
jects over whom he now holds absolute
sway? And yet he hopes, in his enmity and
wrath, that we shall perish in want and
- wretchedness; but I see a better fate in store
for us. I see villages rising from the moors;
I see rich fields covered with waving har-
vests ; I see sunshine and showers descending
upon our homes. Think you not, when the
news of our success reaches the ears of the
Archbishop, — and may God grant us the

smallest portion of this peaceful triumph, —

'. that I shall then have my full, my perfect

revenge?”

Andreas’ eyes flashed, and, as he had sur-
prised his brother into silence, he hoped that
he had convinced him. Earnestly he con-
tinued :

“Come with us, Joseph; come with us,

What can you want here in a country where
88 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

your mad enmity and an imprudent act may
at any moment be your destruction. You
hate the Prince of Salzburg; go with us, and
share our revenge. Give up the empty oath
with which you cry for blood, and help me
to requite the Archbishop as he deserves!”

Joseph shook his head so decidedly that
Andreas ceased. He pointed down to the
valleys and up to the mountains. The snow
on the summits, the grim, rocky steeps, and
the verdant forests, all glowed in the golden
sunlight. His eyes glanced fondly over
the mountains, and rested fondly upon the
green slopes above which the Watzman
towered, with its white twin peaks almost
lost in the clouds.

“Yonder are the chalets, Andreas; and
behind the mountains lies the lake. Shall I
exchange these for the black, dreary moor?
Shall I hunt for roots in the pine forests, and

learn to dig in the sand, my wonderfully wise
BERCHTESGADEN. 89

brother? I have heard enough of the
country for which you wish to exchange
this. No fresh fountains gush forth there!
No mountains raise their proud heads! No
‘huzza’ is ever heard! Shall I leave the lake
and the chalet, the forests and the mountain
torrents? Shall I go and read the Bible
with you, and have no need to fast on Friday,
because of the daily starvation? Carry there
the mountains which raise their high heads
so proud and free; otherwise leave me here.”

“Man,” said Andreas, with some heat;
“here the mountains uplift their heads; but
there men raise their free heads to the skies!”

““Free!’ You wish to be free?” said
Joseph, scornfully. “I have always been,
and always shall be free. In order to pray
as I wish, 1 have no need to flee from the
mountains. I have, besides, many things to
do; perhaps I will one day seek you, if you

have not already died of fever in the Prussian
8*
90 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

moors. You may as easily separate my soul
from my body as remove the hatred of that
proud Prince from my blood. You call my
vow for revenge an empty oath; but, my
wise brother, you shall soon learn that mine
has been fulfilled, long before yours even
takes root in the sand of your adopted
country.”

While he yet spoke, Joseph turned and
began boldly to climb up the heights, from
which he looked down repeating once or
twice his last words. But Andreas did not
this time call him back. He looked sorrow-
fully after his brother, and said earnestly to
himself: z

“More can I not do or say; farewell, and
may God bless you! I cannot listen to you
nor to myself. I must bring the affairs of

the brethren to a happy conclusion.”

®


CHAPTER IV.

WINNIFRED.

HE eventful Saturday morning had
[L come. The heights of Berchtesgaden
had begun to brighten in the light of the
rising sun, though the forests and ravines still
lay in the deepest shadow. The air was
cool, and the dew-laden grass, and the drip-
ping twigs of the hawthorn hedges gave
promise of a fresh, bright summer day.
There was unusual activity in the castle at
this early hour. All the doors leading out
upon the large court-yard stood wide open;
excited lackeys flew up and down the steps,
while groups of the Archbishop’s huntsmen
lounged lazily in the hall, enjoying their
morning potations. ._The horses were being

gI
92 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

groomed at the stalls, and many of them
were already saddled. Long lines of state
carriages belonging to the Archbishop and
Abbot filled the outer court. There was a
sudden silence in the midst of all the con-
fusion, and the general attention was directed
to one spot. In the covered passage-way
that led to the castle stood Winnifred, with
her maid of honor, and a couple of pages.
The girl gave a smiling greeting to the ser-
vants, who gathered at a respectful distance
about the passage-way, in order to witness
the daily spectacle of Winnifred’s departure
for a morning gallop on her pet Condé. She
playfully rallied Felicitas who allowed her-
self to be assisted, not ungracefully, to her
saddle, by the stall-master, but whose face
showed so much disinclination for the early
expedition that even the pages looked
amused.

For the last few days Winnifred had taken
WINNIFRED, 93

a ride every morning through the green
valleys to the lake, and other attractive spots
in the surrounding country. One or another
of the court cavaliers had always accom-
panied her, but there was no notice taken
of the fact that to-day she was without an
escort. -Winnifred was too unlike any one
who had ever before been at the castle, her
whole manner and appearance were too in-
dependent and original, for those light-
minded attendants to pay special attention
to any such irregularity.

At the moment when Winnifred gave
Condé a light blow with her riding-whip,
the face of the Archbishop appeared at the
window of one of the state chambers. Some
of the servants returned immediately to their
occupations, others greeted the prelate with
a respectful salutation. Winnifred looked
up to’ the window and waved her hand

gracefully, not venturing to violate, by her
4. ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

voice, the respect due so great a digni-
tary.

The Archbishop had scarcely caught sight
of Winnifred when he sent his valet in haste
to say to her that the great festival at the
lake was to begin at noon, and to ask whether
she would not prefer to postpone her ride to
another day. Winnifred smiled again, and
gave the servant an answer which the Prince
might already have expected to receive; then,
with a sign to Felicitas, she rode away
through the court-yard,

The Archbishop stepped angrily back
from the window, rung the silver bell which
stood on the little shelf in front of the pier-
glass, and ordered that Count Resina, Cap-
tain von Quitzow, and his old master of the
hunt should be sent to him — the Count first,
and that immediately, for there was need of
haste.

_A moment later, and the Count was an-
WINNIFRED. 95

nounced. The face of the Archbishop showed
much displeasure as he replied quickly to
the request of the Count for his Highness’
commands:

“You are slow, Sir Count, and not over-
attentive. The lady of your heart rides forth
into the wilderness alone, and you do not
offer her a knightly attendance. You cannot
have a more favorable opportunity ; but you
yourself must make some effort.. All that I
can do is to fulfil the promise I have made
you, You must seize the fitting moment.”

“My horse is saddled. I shall hasten to
overtake the fraulein. I am distressed that
I have merited so severe a reproof,” said the
Count, as, with a low bow, he begged to be
dismissed.

“Make good use of the time; the morning
belongs to you; in the afternoon the won-
derful festival will take place, for which the
Abbot promises so much. Let me see you
96 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

with the fraulein at the shore of the lake;
- and make the day to me, if possible, a day
of rejoicing,” said the Archbishop, as he dis-
missed the Count. In a few moments, the
sound of his horse’s hoofs on the paved
court below showed that the Count had kept
his word, and had started forth in search of
Winnifred.

A look of bitter contempt rested upon the
face of the Archbishop. “To such a man
must I intrust my darling child?” he said,
in a tone of self-reproach. “And yet I may
thank Heaven that he considers her dowry
a sufficient inducement to give her his name.
Sin is followed by shame, and the reckless
girl was in the mood to add to my sin her
own irremediable disgrace. Irish blood
flows in her veins, and she drew her love of
adventure from her mother’s breast. It
grieves me to cast my pearl before swine;
but it must be, my child! It must be! A
WINNIFRED. 97

better I could not find, and you might have
sought a much worse!”

After these passionate words the Arch-
bishop struggled for a moment to regain his
composure, and soon his face wore the icy
calmness, the keen, watchful earnestness
which usually characterized it. He remem-
bered that he had other affairs to attend to,
and indicated, by a second stroke of the bell,
that the Prussian Commissioner was to be
admitted. :

Captain Curt von Quitzow, whom King
Frederick William had sent to the assistance
of the Lutherans, now stepped with evident —
anxiety into the room. He had found it
necessary the evening before to send a letter
to the Prince of Salzburg, inquiring whether
the road from Pinzgau past NHirschbiuhl,
which the exiles expected to take on Satur-
day, was perfectly safe. The answer had

satisfied him; but his suspicions were again
9 G
98 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

aroused by the unusual excitement in the
castle on the following morning. His anxiety
was, however, allayed when the Archbishop,
after his first greeting, said:

“Now, Captain, are you satisfied? Your
protégés may go whenever and wherever
they please; and we have given our assem-
bled household to understand that all who
circulate reports of the breaking up of the
train will be severely punished. Soon the
festival will begin at the lake. There are to
be. spectacles which you will never witness
in Prussia—the Holzsturz, for instance, which
' I have never witnessed myself but once be-
fore, and our worthy host has invited you to
be present. You will not fail?”

“Tf I can join my charge at Ramsau,”
said the Captain, doubtingly.

“That you can easily do. The lake is but
a short distance from Ramsau,” answered

the Archbishop. The Captain gave a formal
WINNIFRED. 99

bow of assent, and the Archbishop dismissed
him with a gracious word and smile.

The smile remained as the door closed
behind the Captain; but it was now dark
and scornful. The bell sounded for the in-
terview with the master of the hunt, and
there entered the room an old, white-bearded
man of about sixty years, with a harsh and
cunning expression of countenance. He
stood before the Prince with a certain con-
fident bearing, which could be observed in
no other one of his servants. The Arch-
bishop reached out his hand, which the old
man kissed respectfully ; then both remained
facing each other for some moments in
silence. Each knew what was passing in
the mind of the other, and each seemed un-
willing to speak the first word.

“‘ Jabach, old fellow,” said the Archbishop,
at last, “these are serious times, and I have

to speak to jou of serious things. Few have
100 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

I trusted like you. And now you can show
that you have deserved my confidence beyond
all others. You know what we had decided
upon in order to keep the heretics in the
land, and in order to punish the insolent
boldness of their leader and instigator.”

“We had arranged it well, gracious mas-
ter,” said the hunter. “There was to be a
grand hunt, yonder, between the ravines,
and there were to be two troops of chamois
driven into the neighborhood, — why can it
not be?”

“Tt cannot be. Emperor and kingdom
protect the rebels, and I cannot raise my
armed hand against emperor and kingdom.
This insolent Prussian whom they have sent
to me watches the Abbot and myself like
criminals, and we cannot hunt. We must
make a festival to-day at the lake while An-
dreas Heimberger leads his Lutherans to .

Ramsau. When all seemed lost, I remem.
WINNIFRED. Iol

bered that I had a faithful servant who would
not be afraid to meet the fellows with twenty
or thirty brave huntsmen, Thirty men on
horseback with you at their head, Jabach,
dashing through their ranks, would be suffi-
cient to frighten them and drive them home-
ward. But really, old fellow, I have no need
to explain myself to you. You must be ready
to suffer my apparent displeasure; and if
it comes to the worst, to be dismissed from
my service. A princely pension and a quiet,
prosperous old age at one of my castles in
the Tyrol will be your reward.”

The old hunter bowed low before his mas-
ter.

“Our horses are saddled, your Grace ; our
rifles are loaded. Boys have been stationed
as spies along the road. Go quietly to the
festival, and be sure that I will earn the re-
ward — as surely as that I have served you

faithfully for thirty years.”
9 *
102 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

“One thing more, Jabach, and remember
it in the confusion. If the leader — if, above
all others, the insolent heretic, Andreas
Heimberger is shot, do not be disturbed; the
Abbot is responsible for blood shed upon
his own ground. He hates the fellow, and
will not grieve for him.”

The face of the Archbishop remained im-
movable as he uttered these fateful words,
and only the changing color in his cheek
showed his emotion. The hunter looked
steadfastly at his master, and, as he saw his
quiet firmness, and perceived that in his last
words lay the most important part of his in-
structions, he nodded significantly, and said:

“Have no care, my gracious master; I
will kill the leader, and before night you
shall receive the news. Give me for the day
your gracious benediction.”

The Archbishop hesitated for an instant,

but the old man stood in such an humble
WINNIFRED. 103

attitude before him that he saw the request
had been made in earnest. If there was ever
amoment in which the Archbishop had
shrunk from the commission of any deed, it
was now as he blessed the murderer.

The hunting-master bowed and left the
room in order, quietly and unobserved, to
assemble his men and forbid them to attend
the festival. But the Archbishop thought
of his child, and could not repress a fearful
foreboding when he called to mind the events
of the last few days and thought of the possi-
bilities of the future.

While in the castle the Archbishop was
meditating upon his plans, and following in
imagination the graceful figure of his daugh-
ter as she rode through the green valleys,
Count Resina, who knew nothing of German,
was trying in vain by inquiries to find trace
of Winnifred whom he had lost sight of-a

short distance from the castle-gate.
104 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Winnifred had not gone far in the company
of Felicitas and her pages. As she sprung
through the gate she said suddenly, and with
a look of wild excitement, which her com-
panion had frequently noticed of late:

“Whip up your gray, Felicitas; we must
hasten. The hoursare precious. The after-
noon will be unendurabie at the festival, and
at last — hasten! hasten, my dear !—at last
the yellow Count concludes that his attend-
ance is necessary. Perhaps we shall meet a
Prince in disguise who will deliver us from
this miserable Resina.”

“A collier, or a mountaineer would serve
you as well,” said Felicitas, with warmth.
The ill-treatment of the Count, whom she
considered a most excellent and worthy
cavalier, and her uneasiness at Winnifred’s
capricious preference for one whom, in the
opinion of Felicitas, she ought never to have

ncticed, could alone have called from her
WINNIFRED. 105

such an unusually hasty expression, The
next moment she regretted her words; for
Winnifred, with a sudden jerk of her bridle,
turned her horse aside, and disappeared
quickly between the slopes of a woody ravine.
In vain Felicitas and the pages called after
their mistress. The sound of Condé’s
hoofs could now no longer be heard, and at
a fork of the road they hastened to the right,
thus missing the track of Winnifred who had
chosen the other path.

Winnifred continued her way over moss-
grown rocks, along the narrow bank of a
mountain stream which appeared to come
from Kingslake. She gave a deep sigh of
pleasure and relief as she found herself sud-
denly in the shady solitude. She believed
herself to be alone; but her loud cry of de-
light as she saw a new reach of forest
extending up to the grim, rugged heights,

and down to the flowing brook, attracted a
106 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

human form to the overhanging cliffs
above her.

Joseph Heimberger, who was pursuing his
solitary way, bent over the ledge and saw in
the ravine below the beautiful girl making
her way carelessly along the path. She ap-
peared to be in deep thought, and gave only
an occasional glance from side to side, never
to the cliffs above her.

No sooner had Joseph caught sight of
Winnifred, than his ill-favored face was dis-
torted by a malicious grin, and he watched
her course with a sharp and eager gaze.

“She is coming up the heights,’ he mut-
tered to himself “I believe, by St. Chris-
topher, that she wishes to see the Holzsturz
from above here. She is coming straight up
the path where never man or woman, and
scarcely a hunter ever led his horse before!
She comes in my way! I have sworn ven-
geance upon the Archbishop, and she is his
WINNIFRED. 107

idol. Must I shed Azs blood only? Could
I not to-day show the whining Andreas, who
despises me and has no faith in me, that I
can keep my word better than he, and more
quickly accomplish my object?”

Cautiously bending and creeping among
the bushes, Joseph began to climb up the
cliff. The expression of his face became
constantly more sinister and determined,
and, as though to urge himself on, he mut-
tered:

“No, no; it must be done to-day. We are
to have the Holzsturz, and many a time before
has an image of a woman been carried along
with it to the lake. Must it be a mere image
that is dashed down among the logs?
Gently, gently, my little horse; Iam keeping
you in sight!” ,

Winnifred continued her way some hun-
dred steps through the ravine. At the mo-

mentwhen she urged Condé into a gentle trot,
108 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Joseph sprang through the bushes and over
the broken rocks to the ground, determining,
on the strength of a sudden impulse, to
follow Winnifred. She stopped to listen as
she heard the noise, but as, in a moment, all
was still again, she urged on her horse
among trees, brooks, and rocks, unconscious
that every step of Condé, every movement
of her hand was watched by the lowering,
evil eyes of the boatman who, the farther
she penetrated the deep solitude, was the

more firmly resolved upon a deed of violence.

Rf


CHAPTER V.

THE ATTACK.

HERE the road leads from Pinzgau
WU to Ramsau, and winds towards the
valley through dense forests, and steep, rocky
walls on one side, and a ravine through
which rushes a mountain torrent on the
other, rise the slender peaks of the Muhl-
sturz. Not far distant from this, toilsome
paths lead through mountain gorges and
thick shrubbery, overshelving rocks, and
steep cliffs, to Schénan and Kingslake. In
the neighborhood of these paths Jabach had
gathered his hunters. Here they waited
many hours, as quietly as possible, bridle in
hand, and foot almost in stirrup. A herd

of chamois, which had been driven up the
10 109
IIo ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

mountain, and confined in one of the gorges,
sought impatiently to break through and
gain the road that led up the heights. When
they should be set free and driven before fifty
horsemen who were discharging their rifles on
all sides through the train of the Lutherans,
it was plain to be seen that the latter must
give way. In case of necessity the master of
the hunt had posted two of his followers in
the upper wood, with instructions to allow
the exiles to retreat to the valley, but not to
permit the leaders, and especially Andreas
Heimberger, to escape their rifles.

The herd-boys whom Jabach had stationed
along the road, had long ago returned, bring-
ing the news that the train had passed the
Hirschbihl, and was approaching the fatal
tortuous path. Jabach could with difficulty
restrain the impatience of his band. He was
perfectly calm, and felt as only a successful

general might feel on the eve of certain vic-
THE ATTACK Ili

tory. He knew that the exiles were ap-
proaching their fate unsuspicious of danger,
that the festival at the lake had already be-
gun, and that but few of the Protestant in-
habitants of the valley knew of his intention.

The hour of noon had arrived. The air
was hot and sultry. The sun poured his
fierce rays in a thousand golden beams from
the cloudless sky, parching the dusty road,
and sparkling in the waters of the mountain
torrents. The white peaks of the Mihlsturz
shimmered in the blue light of the heavens ;
the oppressive heat penetrated even into the -
wood, from behind which rose an immense
cloud of dust. After passing the forest the
train must completely fill the road; and not
many moments could pass before they would
reach the fatal spot.

But those thousands of men, as they
climbed ‘the steep road, were thinking of

other things than of the ambuscade that was
112 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

lying in wait for them. It was a sorrowful
procession, from which was directed again
and again lingering looks towards their
beautiful Father-land. There were hundreds
of women and children who, completely ex-
hausted by the heat of the glaring sun,
looked longingly towards the time for rest.
There were carts, wagons, and beasts of
burden laden with the remains of their house-
hold goods, besides the thousands of bundles
borne by the already way-worn travellers.
Not in wild confusion, not in promiscuous
_mingling of men, horses and wagons, not
scattered along the road, separated here by
wide distances, and there gathered into con-
fused masses, but in perfect order, and like a
little army the train moved on. At its head
was a body of riflemen, and on each side of
the road was a line of armed men. The
train was divided into several smaller divi-

sions, each headed by a small band of rifle-
THE ATTACK. 113

men, who furnished a sufficient protection
for the old men, the women and children.
The wagons brought up the rear, preserving
the strictest order, and they in their turn
were divided into groups at regular intervals,
each provided with its own guard.

Green twigs in their hats characterized the
leaders, and at the head, as commander-in-
chief, walked Andreas Heimberger. As he
ranged the train, issued orders, and removed
obstacles, encouraging the men, comforting
the women, and caressing the children ; has-
tening up and down the train, his look com-
prehending all, his cheerful voice heard over
all, no one could have doubted that it was
he alone who maintained such perfect order
among those thousands of exiles.

Near him walked, without weapons of any
kind, the old white-bearded peasant of Pinz-
gau, who for many years had been called the

“preacher,” and to whose words, at their
10* H
114 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

nightly assembly in the mines, Andreas and
many others had so often. listened with re-
spectful attention. But to-day Andreas heard
him with a feeling of opposition, which was
plainly written in his face.

The old man said, passionately, and so
loud that all who stood near could hear him:

“You do wrong, my son, to trust our cause
to the protection of swords and horsemen.
The arm of God is stronger than that of the
Archbishop whom you so much fear. And
has not the leader, whom our new master
has sent to guide us, advised us not to bring
weapons?”

“And where is our new leader?” said
Andreas, with warmth. “He has not been
seen in the valley for two days... He cannot
protect us even though we should not be
able to protect ourselves, The help of the
Lord is not promised to the weak and cow-

ardly ; and, besides, I see no swords and
THE ATTACK, 115

horsemen: only armed men, who carry their
rifles in their hands to show that they are
their own protectors, and not chamois, or
any other kind of wild-game.” ;

The young men nodded approval at these
words; but as the old man remained in
silent displeasure, Andreas hastened again
through the ranks, giving the leaders a few
cheering words of advice and encourage-
ment.

At this moment there was suddenly heard
near them the notes of a hunting-horn, fol-
lowed by the sound of wild huzzas and the
discharge of rifles. A fearful cry of horror
arose from thousands of voices. The train
for a moment appeared about to be thrown
into confusion. The women fled down the
ravines and to the rear of the wagons. The
leaders, with loud commands and vehement
gestures, endeavored to put a stop to the re-

treat; but this seemed almost impossible so
116 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

long as that fierce tumult was going on in
front of them.

Andreas had not cast even a glance behind
him. Higher up the road he saw the dust
rising in immense clouds from the ground,
and heard the sound of the advancing hunt.
With a single eagle glance, and before the
frantic animals, driven forward by the hunt-
ers, could burst upon them, Andreas had his
men in readiness. Those at the right sprang
- upon the rocks above; those at the left
posted themselves on the edge of the ravine.
Their guns rattled as they brought them into
position, and a crashing fire stretched the
advancing chamois upon the ground, a few
only breaking through the ranks. On
through the smoke, and over the quivering
bodies, dashed the hunting-master, with his
band, against the ranks of riflemen, who,
with Andreas at their head, now stretched

like a wall across the road. More than a
THE ATTACK. 117

hundred rifles were pointed towards them.
The astounded hunters reined in their horses,
who reared and plunged at the sight of the
threatening guns. Cursing and shouting,
Jabach, who, on his immense black hunter,
heard the cries of alarm and distress behind
the masses that opposed him, tore his pistol
from his belt, and dashed upon Andreas,
' who, quick as lightning, brought down the
butt of his heavy rifle with a crashing blow
upon the uplifted arm. Wild with rage and
pain, Jabach raised himself in his stirrups to
rally his men to another attack. He saw
that, stunned and bewildered, and for the
most part disarmed, they exhibited an un-
precedented cowardice. The ranks of rifle-
men on each side of the road had again
sprung back to their places, and closely sur-
rounded the troop of hunters, whom Andreas
ordered, in thundering tones, to lay down

their arms. Overpowered and confounded,
118 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

most of them obeyed. No sooner had the.
rifles and pistols fallen to the ground than
strong hands seized the bridles of their
horses, and the hunting-party was ordered to
dismount. But Jabach struck wildly about
him, and wounded more than one of his
assailants with his hunting-spear before he
was finally dragged from his horse, and
still, cursing and threatening them with the
wrath of heaven and the Archbishop, lay
powerless on the ground.

Now, for the first time, the men who had
repelled this treacherous attack looked about
them. In the rear, the shrieks of distress
and horror had given place to cries of joy
as the victorious ranks opened and allowed
the exiles to see the captured hunters and
their fettered leader. Andreas leaped upon
one of the blocks of stone which stood
by the roadside, and cried to his compan-

ions:
THE ATTACK. lig

“The Archbishop has not broken his
princely word; neither has the Abbot. These
men are robbers who disgrace the name and
honor of their masters. The Prince will
thank us for having overthrown them.”

With these words Andreas hoped to banish
every fear from their minds; for the cry of
rejoicing had hardly died away before an
expression of disquiet had returned to hun-

dreds of faces. The wild threats which the
. hunting-master continued to utter, and the
forebodings of a new and more fearful dan-
. ger combined to call forth unmanly exhibi-
tions of fear and cowardice. The words of
“Andreas, therefore, were a welcome, and not
less necessary source of comfort and reas-
surance.

At the advice of the elders and leaders,
they all sat down to rest. Many of those
who were in the rear of the train pressed

forward with eager curiosity to look upon
120 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

the captured hunters, and in no less awe
upon their own leaders who had dared to
oppose men bearing the livery and coat of
arms of their Prince; and men who had at
first bravely borne their weapons would now
gladly have cast them far aside. But a num-
ber of the younger men showed sufficient
spirit and boldness to set to work and pre-
pare from the animals that had been slain a
supply of food for themselves and others.

Andreas assembled his leaders among the
bushes on one side of the road. They came
with clouded foreheads and anxious faces,
and Andreas saw with growing impatience
that they had been seized with a cowardly
fear of the Archbishop and of the result of
their successful resistance. Their first ques-
tion was whether the hunting-master had
made the attack on his own responsi-
bility.

With stern gravity, Andreas replied:
THE ATTACK. 121

“ And if he had been carrying out the in-
structions of ten Archbishops, what differ-
ence would it have made to you? Will you
see your wives and children shot down and
trampled upon? Is it your wish to be driven
back to the valley, and to beg bread and a
shelter from those who dwell in the homes
of your own inheritance? Why do you sink
your eyes to the ground? I almost believe
that the Archbishop has ordered this treach-
erous attack against us; he dares no longer
to act openly. He fears openly to break his
word; perhaps he fears the Prussian. Let
us take advantage of this, and let us act
quickly. One or two of us must go to him,
and demand his princely protection against
these presumptuous men who have fallen
upon us. He cannot, he dare not openly
defend the outrage; but we must not show
by delay and timidity that we consider our

resistance unjustifiable.”
Ir
122 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

The leaders were astounded. One alone,
Melchior, from Geisbihl, sympathized with
Andreas, who urged them earnestly, but in
vain, to go to the Archbishop. There had
come a feeling of faint-heartedness over
those brave men, once so strong in the
faith, as though they were expecting at
every moment that the Archbishop, with a
hundred horsemen, would dash up the ra-
vine; and they were convinced that such an
errand would prove to them a sentence of
death.

“If you are so sure in the matter,” said
they to Andreas, * go you to the Archbishop,
and speak for us. We should certainly be-
tray our fears. The Prussian Commissioner
has bestowed upon you the most favors, and
the greatest power. You have begun the
day, bring it now to a happy termination.”

“ And what of the brethren who are en-

camped here, and those who are expecting
THE ATTACK. = 123

us at Ramsau?” said Andreas, struggling
with his excitement.

“We will await your return,’ answered
Jacob Ried, “and we will send a messenger
to Ramsau; but go you to the Archbishop,
and obtain for us a safe-conduct. You have
more confidence than’ we, and may the Al-
mighty be with you!”

“He will be!” burst forth Andreas. “I
will undertake alone the interview which

‘you so much dread. It is time you were out
of the country. You have sworn to risk
death for the sake of the faith and the true
word, and yet you tremMle at the frown of
the Archbishop! Because you will that I
make you blush with shame, then I must
commend the brethren to God and your pro-
tection. I go to the Salzburger!”

Andreas quickly laid his rifle upon the
mossy ground, seized the first alpenstock that

stood near, and began to make his way
124 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

through the toilsome path that led to the
lake. They watched him with looks of sym-
pathy. Several of them rose slowly from the
ground in order to accompany him, but over-
come by their fear of the Archbishop they
sunk back to their resting-places. Before
the exiles or the captured hunters learned
that Andreas had decided to appear once
more before the Archbishop, he had already
traversed the thickest part of the woody
ravine through which led the almost track-
less path.

But here in the dark, green shade into
which the golden rays of light scarcely pene-
trated, the courage of the brave, strong, res-
olute man almost gave way. The suppressed
emotions of his heart found expression in
bitter words, and he cried to himself:

“They send me to the Archbishop — the
one of all others he has most reason to hate,

the one who to-day has most reason to fear
THE ATTACK, 125

him! They will never learn to rely upon
themselves, and will at last betray the ardent
hopes which I have reposed in them. God
in heaven knows that my heart beats warm
for the brethren, but I ought never to have
trusted my cause to them.

“Joseph, who in his selfishness thinks only
of himself, and never of others, deserves my
contempt; but, God forgive me! I almost
wish I had followed his counsel, And if
ever temptation should assail me again from
the eyes of the Prince's child, as it did lately
at the castle, I-should perhaps take another
road than this.” :

His tones, however, became ‘gentler and
less bitter with these last words; and as the
thought of his revenge, and the recollection
of the lovely, graceful girl continued to recur
to him, he sought to banish both from his
mind, Struggling successfully with the bitter
feelings of his heart, he dashed quickly and

11*
126 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

resolutely through the thicket, and climbed
upward and onward in the service of his
brethren. At this moment a twofold sound
reached his ear. He stopped and listened in
alarm, for he had plainly heard the cry of a
woman in distress. It must have come from
above, where the steep, rocky path leads
_ beyond the forests to the lake. As he stood
listening, trembling with eagerness and ex-
citement, the sound of music was borne past
him on the wind. He remained deaf to its
attractive strains, and planting his alpen-
stock firmly among the rocks, he climbed
higher and higher with increasing speed, for-
getful of his own path, for again and again,
repeated in a hundred echoes among the

cliffs, came that plaintive cry for help.




CHAPTER VI.

THE HOLZSTURZ.

HE strains of music which Andreas
a had heard came from the opposite
shore of Kingslake, and attended the festive
train on its way from Castle Berchtesgaden
to the place where they were to embark.
The richly ornamented boats still lay at the
shore, although it was past noon, the hour
appointed for the festival. The glittering
train with its carriages, horses, and number-
less servants moved restlessly up and down
in the vicinity of the boat-house. There were
whispered rumors that the festival would not
take place, and those who ventured near the
window could hear the Archbishop’s voice

if loud, angry tones.
: 127
128 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

On arriving at the lake the Prince had de-
scended from his carriage, and, in company
with the Abbot, had entered the boat-house,
expecting to find Winnifred already there.
He had heard in the hall of the castle that
she had not returned from her morning ride;
and after giving Count Resina a look of fierce
contempt, he turned in unconcealed anxiety
to Felicitas, who, in answer to his eager ques-
tions, related to him how Winnifred had
separated herself from them on the road.
Ordinarily, and with little reason, the Arch-
bishop was accustomed to give way to violent
demonstrations of anger; but remembering
the presence of the Abbot, he controlled
himself, and begged that they might await
for awhile the return of his niece. The
Abbot smiled an assent; the granting of a
request from such a source was a matter of
course. The Archbishop could neither

master nor conceal his excitement. Again
THE HOLZSTURZ. 12g

and again he turned to Felicitas with ques-
tions, and ceased only when she suggested —
that perhaps it had been Winnifred’s inten-
tion to separate herself from her companions
in order to avoid attending the festival.

The Archbishop saw the reasonableness
of this explanation, and yielded at last to the
courteous suggestion of the Abbot that they
should embark. He ordered one of the
cavaliers to remain behind in order to attend
Winnifred in case she should arrive at the
boat-house during their absence, and dis-
patched another to the castle, with instruc-
tions that Winnifred should no longer absent
herself from ,the festival As he stepped
from the boat-house, his presence was greeted
by the whole assembly, from the sneering
Canons to the secretly cursing servants, with
a glad sigh of relief. The fleet of light skiffs,
decked with flowers, ribbons, and flags, was

arranged along the shore ready for starting,
I
130 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

and the crowds of invited guests soon filled
every boat.

The Abbot’s boat, with its purple canopy
richly ornamented, and adorned with pen-
nants, lay in readiness for the princely guest
and his immediate attendants. Now, as at
the castle, pealing strains of music announced
their setting forth, for which, after a look of
inquiry at the Archbishop, the Abbot had
given the signal. The thirty oars of the
royal barge fell at the same moment into the
water, and scores of others drove the little
skiffs quickly forward past Christlinger Island
and the rocky walls of the Falkenstein.

The surface of the lake lay smooth and
shining before the little fleet. Huzzas from
hundreds of voices at once rose to the tops
of the majestic, snow-crowned sentinels along
the shore; and the re-echoing notes of the
hunters’ horns awoke a feeling of almost

frantic delight in every breast,
THE HOLZSTURZ. 131

The Archbishop walked restlessly up and
down under the awning. His fears for Win-
nifred had scarcely been allayed through the
recollection of past festivals in which she had
refused to take a part, when the notes of the
horns awoke in his mind a still more gloomy
train of ideas. He thought of his master of
the hunt, who by this time must have en-
countered the exiles, and of Andreas, who
was perhaps already stretched bleeding on
the dusty road, never again to appear before
him or Winnifred. But amid these wild
changing pictures there came constantly-re-
curring fears for the safety of his child. He
was angry with her, yet in the midst of his
anger he felt that she was his idol, and, next
to his rank and power, was dearer to him
than all else beside. What if her reckless-
ness had led her into danger! What if she
were in need of help now, while all around

him were heard cries and acclamations of

joy!
132 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

The Prince still struggled powerfully with
his fears; and now, as the boats were sud-
denly turned from their course, renewed
shouts announced that they had reached the
end of their journey. On this side of Bar-
tholomew, opposite the northern shore which,
overtopped by the glistening peaks of the
Watzman, rose steep and rugged from the
lake, the little fleet arranged itself in a half
circle around the princely boat.

With delighted and eager curiosity those
hundreds of guests looked upward towards
the rocky heights. On the numerous ledges,
close to the very edge of the cliffs, were piled
immense masses of logs, which it had taken
many weeks to cut. These were supported
by enormous trunks of trees skilfully dis-~
posed, and in the midst of them sharp eyes
could detect the forms of the woodmen who,
with their shining axes in their hands,-

awaited the long-expected signal. Many-
THE HOLZSTURZ. 13

colored flags fluttered from several of the
huge piles, in order to attract attention to
the spot.

In this moment of pleasurable excitement,
no one thought of looking over the broad
surface of the lake which lay behind them.
No one noticed the little skiff that glided
with arrow-like swiftness over the water,
making its way towards the royal barge.
Even the Archbishop, whose glance had
hitherto been constantly directed backward
towards the castle, now looked upward to the
heights from which the Holzsturz was about
to descend.

There was a pause of intense stillness,
when two trumpet-blasts gave the long-
wished for signal. Above was heard the
ringing of the axes. The supports of the
gigantic burden gave way with a loud crash;
the dark mass began to glide downward,
and then descended with marvellous rapidity,

12
134 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

and with thundering and long-continued re-
verberations into the lake. Not unlike an
enormous serpent, its body broken in pieces
upon the rocks, plunging into the waves,
scattering a million sparkling drops around,
the Holzsturz glided down the precipice and
dashed into the lake.

Wild huzzas from the boatmen, and the
country people who had come from Berch-
tesgaden to witness the spectacle, rose on
high, mingling with the cries of delight from
the noble guests.

In the midst of the clamor was heard a
shrill cry of horror from the Prince’s barge.
Reaching far forward, his hand pointing up-
ward, and his eyes almost starting from their
sockets, stood the Archbishop; and those
who followed his gaze saw in that same
instant on the dark, downward-rushing mass
the motionless form of a woman.

The cry was re-echoed by hundreds of
THE H)LZSTURZ. 135

voices, for they were assured that under the
veil and light dress they recognized the form
of Winnifred. Before the cry ceased the
dark mass had tumbled down the cliff and
over the precipice into the lake. The veil
floated for a moment on the surface of the
water, and then disappeared, buried under
the still rushing, crashing mass.

It was a horrible, a paralyzing and bewil-
dering moment. As the Molgsture continued
its uninterrupted course, the festival broke
up in confusion. A few of the skiffs endeav-
ored to approach the scene of danger; others
gathered about the stately boat, on board of
which the Archbishop, forgetful of all around,
called in heart-rending tones upon his daugh-
ter. His servants crowded around him with
expressions of grief, endeavoring in discon-
nected words to explain the occurrence. The
Archbishop stood bending over the side of
the boat, trying by signs to puta stop to the
136 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

Holzsturz; at the same time he raised his
purse, glittering with gold, which he promised
to the boatman who would venture among
the wildly-dashing timber.

While all around expressions of grief and
horror fell from every lip, there was suddenly
heard a shout of mockery. An instant after
there arose from both sides of the little fleet
loud and prolonged cries of joy; and while
some were endeavoring to understand what
the words were which Joseph Heimberger
called to them from his boat near the distant
shore, others turned to greet, at the same
instant, with wild outbursts of delight, the
little skiff that was seen rapidly approaching.
The Archbishop, who, forgetting in his agony
his habitual reserve, had uttered mysterious
words “ofcrime and murder,” was surrounded
by the Chancellor, Count Resina, and the
Canons of Berchtesgaden. Their voices also

were heard in the universal shout of joy, for
THE IOLZSTURZ. 137

in the skiff, supported by the arm of the
cavalier whom the Archbishop had left at
the boat-house, sat Winnifred; and however
impossible it may have been for them to ex-
plain so wonderful a sight, yet they were
relieved from the burden of horror that had
oppressed them.

As the Abbot at this moment turned to-
wards the solitary boatman, the words reached
him across the water, “It was an image
with the veil and dress of the fraulein
that was dashed into the lake,” followed by
derisive peals of laughter. At the same in-
stant as the Abbot saw Winnifred with her
dress torn off and her head uncovered, a
suspicion of the true explanation of what had
taken place flashed through his mind. The
Archbishop, beginning to revive somewhat
from his stupor, recognized in the approach-
ing skiff his hated subject, Andreas Heim-
berger. Still shuddering with horror, and

12*
133 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

driven almost wild by the goading of a
guilty conscience, Winnifred appeared to him
but as a spectre; and, covering his face with

“

his hands, the words “ murder for murder”
were wrung with a groan from his bloodless
lips. Nor did he recover from this new ter-
ror till the little skiff had reached the boat,
and Winnifred was lifted half-fainting upon
the deck and conducted into his presence.
Then he sprung up, with an expression of-wild
joy lighting up his haggard face; and with
the words, “ My child! my precious child!”
he caught Winnifred to his breast and held
her in a long and silent embrace.

A smile of ill-concealed contempt on the
faces of those who stood near recalled him
to himself He stepped back, flashed an
angry glance over the assembly, beckoned
to Felicitas to approach, and in an instant
was again the stern Prince and potentate.

He turned to Andreas, who stood with re-
THE HOLZSTURZ,. 139

spectful but grave and resolute demeanor in
the centre of the throng, and in a stern and
angry voice, at which. the others started in
alarm, he said:

“Why come you here to me, insolent
heretic? What do you know of the outrage
which has been put upon this lady, and
through which the festival here has been
broken up? Seize the wretch,” he cried, to
the servants standing near; while the over-
mastering rage which he felt at the conscious-
ness that the hated man stood yet alive before
him was written in vivid lines upon his face.

“But before the servants could obey the order,

before Andreas could make more than a
warning movement with his hand, Winnifred
sprung with flashing eyes between him and
the men, and cried, turning to the Arch-
bishop:

“My gracious Lord, you condemn unjust-

ly this man, who, nobler than a hundred
149 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

nobles, has saved my life to-day. Lost in
the ravine into which my horse had carried
me, I was attacked by a furious madman who,
mocking my weakness, dragged me from my
saddle and carried me to yonder heights. I
read my fate in his wildly-rolling eyes and
fierce looks. With half-intelligible words, he
threatened to dash me over the cliffs; and
the piercing cries I uttered in my terrible
need reached the ear and heart of this
brave man. He flew up the mountain and,
in danger to his own life, struggled with
the frantic man, who was his own brother.
He could not prevent my dress from being
torn away, but he saved me from death.
He brought me here, and deserves the
richest reward, my Lord, but not your dis-
pleasure.”

Winnifred’s tones, with which the first
words had been so loud and passionate, sunk

lower, and at the words “he brought me
THE HOLZSTURZ. I4!I

here,” she threw a half-reproachful, half-
angry glance at the undisturbed miner.

Andreas was about to speak, but was pre-
vented by the Archbishop, who said with
cold severity : :

“Fraulein, it shall be my duty to reward
this man as he deserves ; but it would be well
for you to allow your lover, Count Resina,
to conduct you to the awning, where you can
seek some refreshment.”

As she heard these words, Winnifred be-
came paler than ever. She cast a contempt-
uous glance upon the Count, who seemed
more discomposed than delighted at the
sudden fulfilment of his wish. She placed
her hand in his arm, and, turning to Felicitas
who stood near, said bitterly, and with em-
phasis:
“T have gained a husband, this day, and
lost a father. I am sure that Count Resina

will take me to my green island, to the home
142 : ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

of my mother ; for in this country I can never
more breathe freely.”

Meanwhile Andreas stood in an attitude
of quiet expectation. His face was graver
than ever. The experfences of the last few
hours had left unmistakable traces behind;
but he stood unmoved by the angry glances
which fell from the eyes of the Archbishop.
When at last the Archbishop by a sign
indicated that he had permission to speak,
he said, calmly:

“Gracious Prince and master, I expect no
reward for saving the lady’s life. In tearing
her from the hands of my brother, who was
driven wild by your cruel injustice, I was
only fulfilling my duty. For this I can praise
the Lord that He has led me through dan-
gerous paths. I came here, not to ask a re-
ward, nor even thanks. I stand before you
for the last time, in the name of my brethren,

Your festival has been no more viclently in-
* PHE HOLZSTURZ. 143
terrupted by a frantic jest, than has our peace-
ful departure by unjustifiable insolence ac-
companied by violence. Your princely word
has been violated; we have been attacked
on the road by your huntsmen; and we have
resisted and overcome, in peril of our lives,
those presumptuous men who have brought
shame upon your name. I stand before you
and demand that you punish them according
to your promise; and I-also ask that you
and the Prince Abbot will protect us from
such treacherous assaults as we were sub-
jected to a few hours ago.”

' The face of the Archbishop became purple
with suppressed rage. He would willingly
have seized the hated man and cast him
with open violence into the lake, but he was
forced to control his anger.

At this moment the Prussian Commis-
sioner stepped from the surrounding group

to the side of Andreas, and said:
144 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

“Through your princely word alone was
I so far persuaded to neglect my duty as to
take part in your festival. I feel the weight
of the reproof which I merit for so doing;
and I hope, gracious Prince, that you will
spare me the grave censure of my king, and
yourself a quarrel with the Crown of
Prussia.”

While the Commissioner was speaking,
the Archbishop marked the terrified face of
his accomplice, the Abbot; and seeing the
wisdom of avoiding a fruitless strife, he an-
‘swered with proud dignity, ‘To the excite-
ment of the moment alone will I attribute
the improper words which you, Herr Com-
missioner, and this fellow here have dared to
use. That my huntsmen chose by accident
the road which the emigrants had taken .ex-
plains itself; and if my master of the hunt
has been guilty of presumption, then will I,

his Prince and master, know how to punish
THE HOLZSTURZ. 145

him. The men who in open revolt have
dared to resist my servants I shall forgive,
because heaven had ordained that their mad-
ness should be the means of saving the life °
of my niece. I thank this man on that ac-
count. If he wishes money, or a pension,
let him speak. My Chancellor will accom-
pany you in order to release my huntsmen,
and to assure you a safe passage to the
borders of Bavaria. But if this man, or any
one of his companions ever dare to set foot
again in this country, I shall not forget that
he has forfeited his head by the open deed
of violence done this day.”

The Archbishop stepped back, and, by a
sign to his Chancellor, indicated that he was
to accompany Andreas and the Commis-
sioner.

it was with difficulty that Count Resina
and Felicitas prevented Winnifred from

rushing to the spot from which the pair
13 K
146 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

were descending into the skiff; but they
could not prevent her from following with
longing, wistful eyes the boat which was
already in motion.

Andreas stood at the rudder, guiding the
little vessel. His grave, noble face was
lighted up by the rays of the setting sun
as he bent his head in a respectful part-
ing salute to the Prince and the Prince’s
daughter. The Archbishop turned away
with his soul filled with bitterness, and Fe-
licitas removed Winnifred almost by force
from the side of the barge, saying, angrily:

“Winnifred, Winnifred, these gentlemen,
as well as the Count Resina, must think that
you regard that man with too much warmth
. of feeling.”

“They may think as they please,” cried
the self-willed girl; “they are welcome to
hear, as well as you, Felicitas, that I would

follow him over the world if he were not
THE HOLZSTURZ. 147

ashamed of me. When he saved me from
that furious madman; when hunted like a
wild beast by the Archbishop, he saved the
Archbishop’s child, I felt grateful to you all,
for then I hoped, for one short moment, I
might with him find that home which I have
never found with you. I wished never to
see you again. I besought him to fly with
me; but he has no thought for himself — only
for his brethren. He reminded me of that
father whom I lost at the moment when I
again stood before him. Even though the
worst had happened, I would gladly have re-
mained dead to you all.”

The Archbishop and Count Resina ap-
proached as Felicitas turned away in horror.
They spoke earnestly to Winnifred, who re-
turned only short, rude answers in reply;
and, in spite of the stern looks of the Arch-
bishop, her eyes still followed the little skiff

which bore Andreas away over the clear,
148 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,.

shining waters of the lake till it was lost

from sight.

It was the evening of the same day. The
mountain-tops were lighted up by thé golden-
red rays of the setting sun. A westerly wind
blew over the green pasture-lands around the
chalet, and chased the richly variegated clouds
above the jagged, rocky cliffs. Along one
of the most unfrequented mountain-paths
strode Joseph Heimberger. His face, wild
and defiant as usual, was lighted up by a
sinister smile, and his contemptuous laugh
re-echoed along the mountain gorges.

“T have not killed him,” he said; “but he
_ will remember my jest as long as he lives,
I must remain concealed until I obtain the
Abbot’s pardon. Andreas, pious soul, little
dreams what a protector I have in his High-
ness so long as I use my influence in his
behalf with ——. It is better for me that
THE HOLZSTURZ. 149

he rescued the girl; for if I had thrown her
over the cliff, I should have been compelled
to leave the country. The veil and dress
were more than enough for the parson-
Prince. I have had my revenge; Andreas
will never have his, St. Christopher knows,
even though he be so fortunate as to escape
with his miserable life.”

As he uttered these words, Joseph had
reached a broad, projecting ledge of rock
which commanded a view of the two roads
that lay beneath. Close at his feet passed
the horses and carriages of the guests, who
were now returning from the festival, Ata
distance from the rest, and entirely unat-
tended, rolled the state carriage of the Arch-
bishop, within which sat the Prince, Count .
Resina, and the unhappy Winnifred. Each
plainly endeavored to avoid meeting the
looks of the others. Winnifred’s eyes were
filled with tears; those of the Archbishop

13*
150. ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

flashed with wrath and excitement. Joseph,
from his post of observation, noticed that the
gaze of the proud potentate was persistently
turned away from the mountains. He saw
the reason of this a moment later, as he
looked in the direction of the road which led
over the mountain to Ramsau; for there,
with firm tread and well-ordered ranks, came
the train of the exiled Lutherans, with An-
dreas at their head. Joseph thought that,
even at that distance, he could see the bright
smile of happiness which lighted up his
brother’s face; and as he again looked
downwards, and saw that, in spite of the
angry looks of the Prince, the eyes of the
weeping girl still followed the form of An-
dreas with a wistful gaze, he muttered to
himself:

“T do really believe the revenge of my
pious brother is greater than mine: he has

wounded the Prince more deeply than I. I
THE HOLZSTURZ. I51r

am glad that I shall not be obliged to hear
it from his own lips.”

He looked again in: silence towards the
wanderers. The last of the train was just
disappearing behind the dense forest, through
whose verdant shades penetrated the rays of
the setting sun; and far away in the distance,
repeated among the cliffs and ravines in a
hundred mighty echoes, rose in grand vol-

ume the lofty strains of their battle-hymn,—

fo feste Herg iat unser fot




THE SALZBURGERS.

N pursuance of our plan of giving historical

I sketches explanatory of our stories, we have
compiled the following mainly from Menzel’s His-
tory of Germany, and Strobel’s History of the Salz-
burgers. We trust our short sketch will impress the
reader with a due estimate of the privileges we enjoy in
our free country, and of the debt we owe to our Pro-
testant ancestors who left all to follow their Saviour.
Deep amid the mountains of Salzburg dwelt a
pious community, which, since the time of the first
Reformation, had secretly studied the German Bible,
and, unaided by a priesthood, obeyed the precepts
of a pure and holy religion. The gradual extension
of this community at length betrayed its existence to
the priests, and, in 1685, the first cruel persecution
commenced in the Tefferekerthal, and, on the failure
of the most revolting measures for the conversion of
the wretched peasants to Popery, they were expelled
their homes and sent to wander over the wide world,
deprived even of a parent's joy, their children being

152
THE SALZBURGERS. 153

torn from them in order to be educated by the Jesuits.

“In the ensuing year, a number of mountaineers with
their preacher, Joseph Schaidberger, were also com-
pelled to quit their native country.

The secret church, however, far from being an-
nihilated by these measures, rapidly increased her
number of proselytes. The purity and beauty of a
religion free from the false dogmas of a grasping
hierarchy offered irresistible attractions to the hardy
and free-spirited mountaineers; the persecution, the
license permitted at the ecclesiastical court of their
spiritual sovereign, the utter depravity pervading the
whole of the upper classes, the church, and the army,
filled them with the deepest disgust and caused them
to cling with still greater tenacity to their secret per-
suasion. Divine service was performed during the
silent night in the depths of the forest or in the hid-
den recesses of the mountains. They buried their
Bibles in the forest, and, at first, refused to confide
the place of their concealment to their wives and
daughters. By practising the external ceremonies
of the Catholic Church, they remained, notwithstand-
ing their numbers, long undiscovered. A trifling in-
cident at length disclosed the whole. One of their
number, shocked at the profanation of the Saviour’s
name by the use of the Catholic salutation, ‘ Praised
_ be Jesus Christ,” by drunkards and gamesters, re-
fused to reply to it, and, being imitated by the rest
154 ANDREAS HEIMBERGSER.

of his persuasion, a discovery took place. The
brutal Archbishop, Leopold Antony von Firmian,
condemned the first who refused to return this salu-
tation to be cruelly beaten, to be bound up awry with
dislocated limbs, to be exposed during the depth of
winter to hunger and cold, in order to compel them
to recant. They remained firm. .The miserable
peasants imagined in their simplicity that the Diet
would exert itself in their favor! They still harbored
a hope that the interests of the great German nation,
of which they formed a part, might be represented
in the Diet! But their deputation found that in Rat-
isbon affairs dragged slowly on, and that whilst the
lawyers scribbled, the Bishop acted. The Protestant
deputies, who had taken up the cause of the Salz-
burg peasantry, allowed themselves to be led astray
by the sophistry, evasions, and impudent assertions
of the Baron von Zillerberg, Firmian’s subtle agent
at Ratisbon. The deputation was, on its return,
thrown into prison, and the persecution was carried
on with unrelenting cruelty. Physical torture prov-
ing ineffectual, the Archbishop tried the effect of
enormous fines. This measure proved equally futile.
Enraged at his ill success, he at length sent a com-
mission to find out the numbers of the heretics, and,
on being informed that they amounted to twenty
thousand, observed, ‘‘It does not matter; I will clear
the country of the heretics although it may hereafter
THE SALZBURGERS. 155

produce but thorns and thistles.”” They were now
irremediably lost. However, putting their trust in
God, they formed a great confederacy at Schwarzach,
August the 5th, 1731, and swore to lay down their
lives rather than deny their faith. Each man, on
taking this oath, stuck his finger into a salt-cellar,
whence the confederacy received the appellation of
the Salzbund of God, possibly a play upon the name
of their country or upon the biblical saying, ‘ Ye are
the salt of the earth,” or, what is still more probable,
in allusion to the mysteries taught by Theophrastus
Paracelsus, who had died at Salzburg and had re-
cognized a divine primordial faculty in salt. The
smith, Stullebner of Hltittau, was the most remark-
able among their leaders. He preached so eloquently
that the whole of his congregation generally hurried
to embrace him at the conclusion of his discourse.
A parody upon his sermons has been published by
the Jesuits. The peasants were also encouraged by
their poet, Loinpacher, one of whose songs has been
preserved by Vierthaler.

The confederacy, in point of fact, possesscd suffi-
cient strength, especially in the mountains, to defend
itself against the Archbishop and his myrmidons ; but
the Catholics cunningly represented these peasants
as political rebels, in order to deprive them of the
protection of the Protestant princes ; and it was prin-
cipally on this account, if not from an enthusiastic ©
156 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

notion of religious humility, that they formed the de-
termination not to oppose violence to violence, to
the great discomfiture of the Archbishop and of Rall,
who had already promulgated a report of their being
in open rebellion. The Emperor, Charles VI., mean-
while, alarmed lest the contagion might spread
among his own subjects in the mountains, lent a
willing ear to the tale which furnished him with a
ready pretext for taking the severest measures. The
deputation, sent by the Salzburg peasantry to beg for
his interference, was, by his orders, imprisoned at
Linz; a decree, commanding the unconditional sub-
mission of the Salzburg rebels, was published, and
six thousand men were sent into the mountains in
order to enforce obedience. The soldiers, incited by
their officers and by the priests, fell upon the peas-
antry like hounds upon the timid deer. They were
dragged from their homes, cruelly beaten, together
with their wives and children, and plundered. For
upwards of a month, during September and October,
A.D. 1731, these crimes were countenanced by the
Archbishop, who tortured the heads of the com-
munes in prison, whilst the villagers fell a prey to
the license of the soldiery. The peasantry, never-
theless, still continued steadfast in their faith, and
the King of Prussia threatening to treat his Catholic
subjects as Firmian treated his Protestant ones, RAll
became alarmed lest the wretched peasants might in
THE SALZBURGERS. 157

the end find a protector, (the Emperor also being
compelled, on account of the Pragmatic Sanction, to
keep on good terms with the Protestant princes,) and
came to the determination of expelling every Protes-
tant from the country, as, at the same time, the most
convenient method of contenting the Pope, of extir-
pating heresy in the mountains, and of pacifying the
King of Prussia, to whom the colonization of the wide
uncultivated tracts in his territories was an object of
nosmall importance. Recourse was, however, again
had to every devisable method for the conversion of
the peasantry, in order to guard, if possible, against-
the entire depopulation of the country by emigration.
The most scandalous measures were resorted to, but
in vain. The sentence of banishment was passed,
and, although the laws of the empire assured free
egress to all those emigrating on account of religion
together with the whole of their property, they were
totally disregarded by the Archbishop and the impe-
rial troops, and the peasantry were hunted down in
every direction. Those at work in the fields were
seized and carried to the frontier, without being al-
lowed to return home even for the purpose of fetch-
ing their coats. Men were in this manner separated
from their wives, parents from their children. They
were collected in troops and exposed to the gibes of
the priests, the soldiers, and the Catholic inhabitants,
who gathered around them as they were hurried
14
158 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER,

along. Besides being thus compelled to abandon
their homes, they were deprived by the commis-
sioners of any sums of money they happened to pos-
sess, and were merely granted a meagre and insuffi-
cient allowance for the expenses of the journey.
These cruelties were, however, unfelt when com-
pared with the deprivation of their children. Up-
wards of a thousand children were torn from their
parents. Some of the peasants, broken-hearted at
this calamity, forgot their oath, and begged to be al-
lowed to remain in order to avoid separation from
their children; they were mercilessly beaten, driven
out of the country, sometimes obliged to stand help-
lessly by whilst their unhappy children were tortured
and ill-treated. Complaints were unavailing. “We
obey the Emperor’s command,” was the sole reply.
Frederick William I., the noble-hearted King of
Prussia, was the only German prince who exerted
himself in their favor, and even threatened the
Archbishop with reprisals; but he was too distant;
the inhuman separation of the children from their
parents, a barbarity worthy of cannibals and of the
savages of the wild, not of a civilized nation, so
deeply revolted the Prussian monarch that he des-
patched commissioners to Salzburg in the hope of
saving some of the children by this exertion of his
authority, but in vain. Some of the boys, more
courageous than the rest, afterwards succeeded in
THE SALZBURGERS. 159

escaping from the hands of the Jesuits, and in
begging their way to the new settlements on the
Baltic.

The expelled peasantry were, ere long, followed
by crowds of voluntary emigrants, more particularly
from Berchtesgaden. They were mocked and ill-
treated during their passage through the Catholic
countries, but found a friendly reception in Wiirtem-
berg, Nuremberg, and Hesse. A part of them went
to Holland and North America, but the greater
number, amounting to sixteen thousand three hun-
dred souls, went into Prussia, and settled in the
dwelling-places assigned to them by the King on the
Niemen near to Tilsit, where their descendants still
flourish.

In March, 1734, a company of some eighty Salz-
burgers landed at Charleston, S. C., after a long and
perilous voyage from Europe. Thence they pro-
ceeded into the State of Georgia, and settled, accord-
ing to arrangement, about twenty-five miles from
Savannah. This successful emigration was fol-
lowed by others. The subsequent history of the
Salzburgers is highly interesting and instructive, but
does not come within the limits of our sketch. It
may not, however, be out of place to state that dur-
ing the war of American Independence an over-
whelming majority of this earnest people espoused
the cause of the colonies. We quote their own
160 ANDREAS HEIMBERGER.

words. ‘‘ We have experienced the evils of tyranny
in our own land; for the sake of liberty we have
left home, lands, houses, estates, and have taken
refuge in the wilds of Georgia. Shall we now sub-
mit again to bondage? No, never.” No uncer-
tain sound in these trumpet notes! None clearer
were heard from any part of the land! The
descendants of this pious people have settled in
many parts of Georgia, and-have also spread through
a number of the States of our Union, and are uni-
formly distinguished for their unobtrusive piety, for
their obedience to the laws of the land, and for the
pure influence they exert in their communities.

We feel that we are doing a good work in reviving
the memory of the Salzburgers by this humble tribute
to their worth.



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