Front Cover
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 The Brother
 The Audience with the Archbish...
 The Attack
 The Holzsturz
 The Salzburgers
 Back Cover

Group Title: Fatherland series
Title: Andreas Heimberger, or, The miner of Berchtesgaden
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00028182/00001
 Material Information
Title: Andreas Heimberger, or, The miner of Berchtesgaden from the German of Adolph Stern ; translated by Mrs. B. Mallon
Series Title: Fatherland series
Alternate Title: Miner of Berchtesgaden
Physical Description: 160 p., 1 leaf of plates : ill. (some col.) ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Stern, Adolf, 1835-1907
Lutheran Board of Publication ( Publisher )
J. Fagan & Son ( Stereotyper )
Caxton Press (Philadelphia, Pa.) ( Printer )
Sherman & Co. (Philadelphia, Pa.) ( Printer )
Publisher: Lutheran Board of Publication
Place of Publication: Philadelphia
Manufacturer: J. Fagan & Son, Stereotypers ; Caxton Press ; Sherman & Co.
Publication Date: 1875
Copyright Date: 1883
Subject: Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Brothers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Miners -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Clergy -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1875
Genre: novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Pennsylvania -- Philadelphia
General Note: Added title page printed in colors.
General Note: Illustrations engraved by Faber.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00028182
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: notis - ALH8319
oclc - 60786741
alephbibnum - 002237826

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front cover 1
        Front cover 2
        Front cover 3
        Front cover 4
        Page 3
    Half Title
        Page 4
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    The Brother
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    The Audience with the Archbishop
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
    The Attack
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
    The Holzsturz
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
    The Salzburgers
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
    Back Cover
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
Full Text


---F THEi



Sunday School ...............

W Iad.unm b.t t, r than rubles.-PRov. villa 11
Apply thy heart unto instruction, and thine
"ears unto the words of knowledge.-1'Rov.
xxsii. 12.
17.. r..-r I iju r... this book.
Read slowly; think seriously.
Return regdlarlh,
With the ,:,,rnrs .1 the Icaves not turned
jSunlay ,no.l H.lk 3 re.
,s A [ rch itrep.,

The Baldwin ibrary
SIU -dty
m I

s e p% ;; 8 h

8h m e tTs m j e e,

FF~~--~ _


-- V-

7ZIr -,

Sih fatlhrland eri ers.

L "

' .l' .

Arom lte arman.



18 3.
-z .: - --: .... .... . .___

!ndres ||imbnerget;



trom te irmal of olpil f S t.



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.














N the early morning of a July day, when
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


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:
"It is your brother Seppi, Andreas."


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


"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? "
"I 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, bold Seppi. At least he might have
seemed so at this moment, when, looking
kindly at his brother, he said :
If you have really come down. from the


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,
"Andreas feels the deepest sorrow that


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 all along," cried the old
man. Seppi never stays at home, and when
he does conie, he does not behave like one
who has no need of his brother's help."
"I 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;


"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


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 J6rg
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 since Andreas has be-


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


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 know already. Why
have you stopped me and my companions
here? What do you wish ?"
"I 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 "


"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
"And the Mareschal too, if it can be,"


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 to 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


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-


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.
"If you will not keep your vow, then I am


freed from mine. I want nothing 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?"
I am 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.


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 in return. 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.



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


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 buffet. All gave evidence that
the hour of the princely breakfast had ar-
It was delightfully cool in the little room.
The bright-colored mosaic floor had been
sprinkled with perfumed water. But a 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-


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-


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


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
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,
"Is she Irish, and a niece of his Grace ?"
said the Count, placing a peculiar emphasis


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


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
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-


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
"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:


"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 fraulein to her room. Grell,
come with me."


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
"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."
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-
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


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.
"I can bear my unhappiness no longer,
Felicitas," she sobbed; "again I have had
to lavish my smiles on all sides in order to


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 I alone prize, my freedom, I must give
up, in order that I need no longer bear my
mother's name. Because my father cannot


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, ifI 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


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-
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; I 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.


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 staff in his hand. Then
they looked towards their leader, and waited
on in silence.


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

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 call 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, superciliously:
"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
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


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 themselves 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
called 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;


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
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


of his cardinal's dress in the purple velvet
arm-chair which stood in the centre of the
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
"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-


pel them to remain, Grell ?" he continued,
turning suddenly towards his Chancellor.
"I 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
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


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-


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


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
I am 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-


cellor saw by their firm, decided bearing,
that the Lutherans were well aware of the
trouble and sorrow which would attend their
"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-
"You refer to your companions from the
salt-works," interrupted the Chancellor.
"Does his Highness, the Abbot, know what
you wish to d ? "
5 D


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


the corridor and down the steps of the cas-
tle, glad to feel tlst 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."


"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


rest for the present, adding at the same
Let 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;


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?"
"I 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 to me with some sort of petition or


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-
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


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 I do. 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


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.


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 all 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


several days. She begged to be allowed to
make the journey on her favorite horse
Cond6, 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
"We are going to Berchtesgaden; Cond6


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 preparatiorfs.
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-


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


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-


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
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


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


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


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,


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.


T HE noise of the ceaseless passing to
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.
It was a feast-day. As an unusual occur-


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


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


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 to us. 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 to be taken. Our new ruler has gracious-
ly sent us this gentleman, who will show us


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
Hirschbiihl, 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


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-
cused 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


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 assembly again burst forth into a peal of
,discordant laughter which was interrupted on
all sides by the questions:
"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


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 have chosen the very best day for



your journey, and that no other way is open
to you but that past Hirschbilhl, 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


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
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


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


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:
"If 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 IHolz-
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.


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:


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 intend
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


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


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:
I go to the 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:


"It 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 le 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 !"
Your scorn moves me not," said Andreas;
"I have the affairs of the brethren to consider,


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
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. We are 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


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 that about also. Do you not think


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-
Come with us, Joseph; come with us.
What can you want here in a country where


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


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, I 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


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
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
"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."

,, .- T .. CT. ,, - ,


T HE eventful Saturday morning had
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


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 Conde. 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
For the last few days Winnifred had taken


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
Cond6 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


voice, the respect due so great a digni-
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
A moment later, and the Count was an-


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


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
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 moQd 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


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
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 Hirschbiihl,
which the exiles expected to take on Satur-
day, was perfectly safe. The answer had
satisfied him; but his suspicions were again
9 G


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
proteg6s 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?"
"If 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

University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs