







                       _The Story of Nuremberg_

                         _All rights reserved_

                      _First Edition, April 1899_
                   _Second Edition, September 1900_
                    _Third Edition, November 1901_

[Illustration: _Portrait of Albert Durer by himself, from the painting
at Munich._]




                       _The Story of_ Nuremberg

                 _by Cecil Headlam with Illustrations

                          by Miss H. M. James

                          and with Woodcuts_

                            [Illustration]

                     _London:_ _J. M. Dent & Co._

               _Aldine House, 29 and 30 Bedford Street_

                       _Covent Garden W.C._ 1901


    "Quaint old town of toil and traffic,
     Quaint old town of art and song."--LONGFELLOW.

    "Wenn einer Deutschland kennen
    Und Deutschland lieben soll,
    Wird man ihm Nürnberg nennen,
    Der edlen Künste voll.
    Dich, nimmer noch veraltet
    Du treue, fleiss'ge Stadt,
    Wo Dürer's Kraft gewaltet,
    Und Sachs gesungen hat."
    --MAX VON SCHENKENDORF.


    "Nihil magnificentius, nihil ornatius tota Europa reperias."
           --ÆNEAS SILVIUS.


                                  _To

                            Maurice Hewlett

                             in friendship

                                  and

                            in admiration_




PREFACE


I am painfully aware of the defects of this little book, and still more
painfully unaware of its errors. The best excuse for the mistakes that
have surely crept in is the vast scope and variety of my subject--the
story of the old mediæval town which was for long the centre of German
industry and thought. But, for a guide-book, accuracy is above all
things desirable, and I shall therefore be deeply grateful to the
courtesy of any of my readers, who, having discovered any error or
omission, will kindly point it out to me.

The sources from which I have drawn are far too numerous to acknowledge
in detail. But in the matter of topography and architecture a more
express note of indebtedness is due to the devoted labours of R. von
Rettberg, A. von Essenwein, and Ernst Mummenhoff. Above all, I must pay
my tribute of gratitude and acknowledgment to the enthusiastic erudition
of Dr Emil Reicke,[1] whose mighty volume, _Geschichte der Reichsstadt
Nürnberg_, is a mine of information from which I have freely quarried.
Lastly, to those old chroniclers at whom I have sometimes laughed, but
whose quaint phrases and legends may have saved these pages from too
serious a dulness, I now hasten to make amends and to assure them that I
am very conscious of my own inferiority as a storyteller.

The object of this book will have been in great part achieved if it
succeeds in reviving the memories and quickening the affections of old
lovers of Nuremberg; if it awakens a desire in those who have not yet
known and loved her, to visit the old "White City," and join the band of
her worshippers.




CONTENTS



                                                                    PAGE

_The Origin of Nuremberg_                                              1

CHAPTER II

_The Development of Nuremberg_                                        35

CHAPTER III

_Nuremberg and the Reformation_                                       55

CHAPTER IV

_Nuremberg and the Thirty Years War_                                  93

CHAPTER V

_The Castle and the Walls_                                           114

CHAPTER VI

_The Council and the Council-House. Nuremberg Tortures_              150

CHAPTER VII

_Albert Durer and the Arts and Crafts of Nuremberg_                  171

CHAPTER VIII

_Hans Sachs and the Meistersingers_                                  215

CHAPTER IX

_The Churches of Nuremberg_                                          225

CHAPTER X

_Old Houses, Bridges and Wells_                                      267

CHAPTER XI

_German Museum_                                                      275

CHAPTER XII

_Arms of Nuremberg_                                                  289

CHAPTER XIII

_Hotels, Itinerary, etc._                                            294




ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                                    PAGE

Frontispiece. _Portrait of Albert Durer,
 from the Painting by himself at Munich_

_The Heathen Tower_                                                    4

_Luginsland, Kaiserstallung, and Five-Cornered Tower_                  6

_Nürnberger Zeidler (Beefarmer) armed with crossbow_                   9

_Nassauer Haus_                                                       22

_The Pegnitz_                                                         27

_Oriel Window of the Parsonage_                                       42

_Beautiful Well_                                                      57

_Frauen Thor_                                                         63

_Rothenburg_                                                          79

_Pellerhof_                                                           90

_The Castle from the Hallerthorbrücke_                               117

_Sinwel or Vestner Thurm_                                            122

_The Walls and Ditch_                                                139

_The Walls (Interior)_                                               144

_The Rathaus. Old Window_                                            155

_Henkersteg (Hangman's Tower)_                                       165

_Albert Durer's House_                                               173

_Albert Durer as a boy. From a drawing by himself
 at the age of thirteen_                                             179

_St. Anthony, from the engraving by Albert Durer.
 Background of Nuremberg Scenery_                                    189

_Sakramentshäuslein. Adam Krafft_                                    203

_Nuremberg Spruchsprecher or State Poet_                             223

_Brautthüre, St. Sebalduskirche_                                     232

_St. Lorenzkirche. From the river_                                   241

_Hauptthor, St. Lorenzkirche_                                        244

_St. Lorenzkirche. North side_                                       246

_St. Lorenzkirche. Interior_                                         251

_West Door, Frauenkirche_                                            255

_House on the Pegnitz_                                               268

_Fleischbrücke_                                                      271

_The Nuremberg Madonna_                                              279

_The Seals of Nuremberg_                                             291

_All the illustrations with the exception of the frontispiece, "St.
Anthony" and "Albert Durer as a boy" have been drawn by Miss James, or
cut in wood from the beautiful photographs by Captain Gladstone, R.N.,
to whose generosity the publishers are indebted for permission to
reproduce the pictures in this volume._




                        The Story of Nuremberg




CHAPTER I

_Origin and Growth_

    "In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-lands
     Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremberg the ancient
        stands."--LONGFELLOW.


Year by year, many a traveller on his way to Bayreuth, many a seeker
after health at German baths, many an artist and lover of the old world,
finds his way to Nuremberg. It is impossible to suppose that such any
one is ever disappointed. For in spite of all changes, and in spite of
the disfigurements of modern industry, Nuremberg is and will remain a
mediæval city, a city of history and legend, a city of the soul. She is
like Venice in this, as in not a little of her history, that she
exercises an indefinable fascination over our hearts no less than over
our intellects. The subtle flavour of mediæval towns may be likened to
that of those rare old ports which are said to taste of the grave; a
flavour indefinable, exquisite. Rothenburg has it: and it is with
Rothenburg, that little gem of mediævalism, that Nuremberg is likely to
be compared in the mind of the modern wanderer in Franconia. But though
Rothenburg may surpass her greater neighbour in the perfect harmony and
in the picturesqueness of her red-tiled houses and well-preserved
fortifications, in interest at any rate she must yield to the heroine
of this story. For, apart from the beauty which Nuremberg owes to the
wonderful grouping of her red roofs and ancient castle, her coronet of
antique towers, her Gothic churches and Renaissance buildings or brown
riverside houses dipping into the mud-coloured Pegnitz, she rejoices in
treasures of art and architecture and in the possession of a splendid
history such as Rothenburg cannot boast. To those who know something of
her story Nuremberg brings the subtle charm of association. Whilst
appealing to our memories by the grandeur of her historic past, and to
our imaginations by the work and tradition of her mighty dead, she
appeals also to our senses with the rare magic of her _personal_ beauty,
if one may so call it. In that triple appeal lies the fascination of
Nuremberg. For this reason one may hope to add to the enjoyment of those
who may spend or have spent a few days in the "quaint old town of toil
and traffic, quaint old town of art and song," by recounting the tale of
her treasures, and by telling, however imperfectly, something of the
story of her rise and fall, and of the artists whom she cradled. _Many
shall go to and fro and their knowledge shall be increased._ Is not that
the justification of a guide-book?

       *       *       *       *       *

The facts as to the origin of Nuremberg are lost in the dim shadows of
tradition. When the little town sprang up amid the forests and swamps
which still marked the course of the Pegnitz, we know as little as we
know the origin of the name Nürnberg. It is true that the Chronicles of
later days are only too ready to furnish us with information; but the
information is not always reliable. The Chronicles, like our own
peerage, are apt to contain too vivid efforts of imaginative fiction.
The Chroniclers, unharassed by facts or documents, with minds "not by
geography prejudiced, or warped by history," cannot unfortunately
always be believed. It is, for instance, quite possible that Attila,
King of the Huns, passed and plundered Nuremberg, as they tell us. But
there is no proof, no record of that visitation. Again, the inevitable
legend of a visit from Charlemagne occurs. He, you may be sure, was lost
in the woods whilst hunting near Nuremberg, and passed all night alone,
unhurt by the wild beasts. As a token of gratitude for God's manifest
favour he caused a chapel to be built on the spot. The chapel stands to
this day--a twelfth-century building--but no matter! for did not Otho
I., as our Chroniclers tell us, attend mass in St. Sebald's Church in
970, though St. Sebald's Church cannot have been built till a century
later?

The origin of the very name of Nuremberg is hidden in clouds of
obscurity. In the earliest documents we find it spelt with the usual
variations of early manuscripts--Nourenberg, Nuorimperc, Niurenberg,
Nuremberc, etc. The origin of the place, we repeat, is equally obscure.
Many attempts have been made to find history in the light of the
derivations of the name. But when philology turns historian it is apt to
play strange tricks. Nur ein Berg (only a castle), or Nero's Castle, or
Norix Tower--what matter which is the right derivation, so long as we
can base a possible theory on it? The Norixberg theory will serve to
illustrate the incredible quantity of misplaced ingenuity which both of
old times and in the present has been wasted in trying to explain the
inexplicable. The Heidenthurm--the Heathen Tower of the Castle--is so
called from some carvings on the exterior which were once regarded as
idols. Wolckan maintains that it was an ancient temple of Diana. For
those carvings, he says, represent the figures of dogs and of two male
figures with clubs, who must be Hercules and his son _Noricus_. Hence
Norixberg. After which it seems prosaic to have to assert that the
"figures of dogs" are really lions, and the male figures are Saints or
Kings of Israel, and certainly not heathen images. There is in point of
fact no trace of Roman colonisation here.

[Illustration: THE HEATHEN TOWER]

Other ingenious historians, not content with imaginary details of
heathen temples and sanctuaries, hint darkly of an ancient God--Nuoro
by name--who, they say, was worshipped here and gave his name to the
locality, but "of whom nothing else is known." Some chroniclers drag in
the name of Drusus Nero (Neronesberg) and refine upon the point,
debating whether we ought not rather to attribute this camp to Tiberius
Claudius Nero; and others, again, suggest that _Noriker_, driven out by
the Huns, settled in this favourable retreat in the heart of Germany,
and laid the foundations of Nuremberg's greatness. All we can say is
that these things were or were not: but they have no history. After all,
why should they have any? But those who prefer precision to truth shall
not go empty away.

     "The Imperial fortress of Nuremberg began to be built fourteen
     years before the birth of Christ, the 9th of April, on a Tuesday,
     at 8 o'clock in the morning; but the town only twenty-six years
     after Christ, on the 3rd of April, on a Tuesday, at 8.57 A.M."

Thus spake the Astrologer Andreas Goldmeyer, in his "Earthly Jerusalem."
And yet, as Sir Philip Sidney sings, some "dusty wits can scorn
Astrology!"

Be that as it may, the history of our town begins in the year 1050. It
is most probable that the silence regarding the place--it is not
mentioned among the places visited by Conrad II. in this
neighbourhood--points to the fact that the castle did not exist in 1025,
but was built between that year and 1050. That it existed then we know,
for Henry III. dated a document from here in 1050, summoning a council
of Bavarian nobles "in fundo suo Nourinberc." Of the growth of the place
we shall speak more in detail in the chapter on the Castle and the
Walls. Here it will suffice to note that the oldest portion, called in
the fifteenth century Altnürnberg, consisted of the Fünfeckiger
Thurm--the Five-cornered tower--the rooms attached and the Otmarkapelle.
The latter was burnt

[Illustration: LUGINSLAND, KAISERSTALLUNG, AND THE FIVE-CORNERED TOWER]

down in 1420, rebuilt in 1428, and called the Walpurgiskapelle. These
constituted the Burggräfliche Burg--the Burggraf's Castle. The rest of
the castle was built on by Friedrich der Rotbart (Barbarossa), and
called the Kaiserliche Burg. The old Five-cornered tower and the
surrounding ground was the private property of the Burggraf, and he was
appointed by the Emperor as imperial officer of the Kaiserliche Burg.
Whether the Emperors claimed any rights of personal property over
Nuremberg or merely treated it, at first, as imperial property, it is
difficult to determine. The castle at any rate was probably built to
secure whatever rights were claimed, and to serve generally as an
imperial stronghold. An imperial representative, as we have seen, took
up his residence there.[2] Gradually round the castle grew up the
straggling streets of Nuremberg. Settlers built beneath the shadow of
the Burg. The very names of the streets suggest the vicinity of a camp
or fortress. Söldnerstrasse, Schmiedstrasse, and so forth, betray the
military origin of the present busy commercial town. From one cause or
another a mixture of races, of Germanic and non-Germanic, of Slavonic
and Frankish elements, seems to have occurred amongst the inhabitants of
the growing village, producing a special blend which in dialect, in
customs, and in dress was soon noticed by the neighbours as unique, and
stamping the art and development of Nuremberg with that peculiar
character which has never left it.

Various causes combined to promote the growth of the place. The
temporary removal of the Mart from Fürth to Nuremberg under Henry III.
doubtless gave a great impetus to the development of the latter town.
Henry IV., indeed, gave back the rights of Mart, customs and coinage to
Fürth. But it seems probable that these rights were not taken away again
from Nuremberg. The possession of a Mart was, of course, of great
importance to a town in those days, promoting industries and arts and
settled occupations. The Nurembergers were ready to suck out the fullest
advantage from their privilege. That mixture of races, to which we have
referred, resulted in remarkable business energy--energy which soon
found scope in the conduct of the business which the natural position
of Nuremberg on the South and North, the East and Western trade routes,
brought to her. It was not very long before she became the centre of the
vast trade between the Levant and Western Europe, and the chief emporium
for the produce of Italy--the _Handelsmetropole_ in fact of South
Germany.

Nothing in the middle ages was more conducive to the prosperity of a
town than the reputation of having a holy man within its borders, or the
possession of the miracle-working relics of a saint. Just as St.
Elizabeth made Marburg so St. Sebaldus proved a very potent attraction
to Nuremberg. We shall give some account of this saint when we visit the
church that was dedicated to him. Here we need only remark that as early
as 1070 and 1080 we hear of pilgrimages to Nuremberg in honour of her
patron saint.

Another factor in the growth of the place was the frequent visits which
the Emperors began to pay to it. Lying as it did on their way from
Bamberg and Forcheim to Regensburg the Kaisers readily availed
themselves of the security offered by this impregnable fortress, and of
the sport provided in the adjacent forest. For there was good hunting to
be had in the forest which, seventy-two miles in extent, surrounded
Nuremberg. And hunting, next to war, was then in most parts of Europe
the most serious occupation of life. All the forest rights, we may
mention, of woodcutting, hunting, charcoal burning and bee-farming
belonged originally to the Empire. But these were gradually acquired by
the Nuremberg Council (Rat), chiefly by purchase in the fifteenth
century.

In the castle the visitor may notice a list of all the Emperors--some
thirty odd, all told--who have stayed there--a list that should now
include the reigning Emperor. We find that Henry IV. frequently honoured
Nuremberg with his presence. This is that

[Illustration: NÜRNBERGER ZEIDLER (BEE-FARMER) ARMED WITH CROSS-BOW]

Henry IV. whose scene at Canossa with the Pope--Kaiser of the Holy Roman
Empire waiting three days in the snow to kiss the foot of
excommunicative Gregory--has impressed itself on all memories. His last
visit to Nuremberg was a sad one. His son rebelled against him, and the
old king stopped at Nuremberg to collect his forces. In the war between
father and son Nuremberg was loyal, and took the part of Henry IV. It
was no nominal part, for in 1105 she had to stand a siege from the young
Henry. For two months the town was held by the burghers and the castle
by the Præfect Conrad. At the end of that time orders came from the old
Kaiser that the town was to surrender. He had given up the struggle, and
his undutiful son succeeded as Henry V. to the Holy Roman Empire, and
Nuremberg with it. The mention of this siege gives us an indication of
the growth of the town. The fact of the siege and the words of the
chronicler, "The townsmen (oppidani) gave up the town under treaty,"
seem to point to the conclusion that Nuremberg was now no longer a mere
fort (_castrum_), but that walls had sprung up round the busy mart and
the shrine of St. Sebald, and that by this time Nuremberg had risen to
the dignity of a "Stadt" or city state. Presently, indeed, we find her
rejoicing in the title of "_Civitas_." The place, it is clear, was
already of considerable military importance or it would not have been
worth while to invest it. The growing volume of trade is further
illustrated by a charter of Henry V. (1112) giving to the citizens of
Worms _Zollfreiheit_ in various places subject to him, amongst which
Frankfort, Goslar and Nuremberg are named as royal towns (_oppida
regis_).

We may note at this point, however, that the Chroniclers declare that
the town fell into the hands of the enemy, through the treachery of the
Jewish inhabitants and was plundered and burnt. By this destruction they
account for the absence of all earlier records, and are left at liberty
to evolve their theories as to the history of previous days. They add
that when the town was rebuilt (1120) the Jews chose all the best sites
for their houses, and retained them till they were driven out. The first
statement was an easy invention. The second, very probably true in
effect, points to the reason--commercial jealousy--but does not afford
an excuse for the shortsighted and unchristian persecution of the Jews
which disfigures the record of the acts of Nuremberg.

With the death of Henry V., which occurred in 1125, the Frankish or
Salic Imperial line ended. For the Empire, though elective, had always a
tendency to become hereditary and go in lines. If the last Kaiser left a
son not unfit, who so likely as the son to be elected? But now a member
of another family had to be chosen. The German princes elected Count
Lothar von Supplinburg, Duke of Saxony. This departure was not without
influence on the fortunes of Nuremberg. The question arose whether
Nuremberg had belonged to the late Imperial house as private or imperial
property. Did it now belong to the heirs of that house or to the
newly-elected Emperor?

In fact, part of the possessions, which had passed from the Salian
Franks to the heirs, Conrad and Frederick, Dukes of Swabia, of the house
of Hohenstaufen, was now demanded back by Lothar as being imperial
property. Nuremberg was numbered among these possessions and became the
head-quarters of the war which followed between the Kaiser and the two
brothers. In 1127 the town had to stand another siege--this time of ten
weeks' duration--whilst the Hohenstaufen brothers held it against
Lothar. The siege was raised; but three years later the brothers had to
give in. The Burg and town of Nuremberg were then given by the Emperor
to Henry the Proud of Bavaria, a member of the great Wittelsbach family.
He kept them till 1138, when Conrad having been elected King of the
Germans, they went back in the natural course of things to the
Hohenstaufen, who came once more to look upon the flourishing town as
their own private property.

It was to the above-mentioned Kaiser Conrad that the chronicles
attribute the foundation of the monastery of St. Ægidius, on the site of
the chapel, St. Martin's, which Charlemagne was reputed to have built.
To Conrad also, with less show of likelihood, they ascribe the widening
of the city. Widened the city has been more than once, as we can tell by
the remains of walls and towers.[3] But the earliest fragment of these
now extant--the lower part of the White Tower--dates only from the
thirteenth century.

It seems to have been the policy of the Hohenstaufen Kaisers to favour
Nuremberg. They often held their court here. The greatest of them--the
greatest and wisest of the Kaisers since Charlemagne--Frederick I.
Barbarossa, to wit, lived in the castle in 1166. It was he, in all
probability, who built the Kaiserliche Burg, and erected, over the
Margaretenkapelle, the Kaiserkapelle, a grander and more splendid chapel
of marble, which was certainly completed in the twelfth century. Of the
remarkable Double Chapel thus constructed we shall have more to say
later on. Meanwhile we must content ourselves with calling attention to
the very similar Double Chapel at Eger in Bohemia.

It was through Barbarossa that Nuremberg became connected with another
of the great ruling families of the world.

     "It was in those same years," says Carlyle,[4] "that a stout young
     fellow, Conrad by name, far off in the Southern part of Germany set
     out from the old Castle of Hohenzollern (the southern summit of
     that same huge old Hercynian wood, which is still called the
     Schwarzwald or Black Forest though now comparatively bare of trees)
     where he was but a junior and had small outlooks, upon a very great
     errand in the world.... His purpose was to find Barbarossa and seek
     fortune under him. To this Frederick Redbeard--a magnificent,
     magnanimous man, holding the reins of the world, not quite in the
     imaginary sense; scourging anarchy down and urging noble effort up,
     really on a grand scale--Conrad addressed himself; and he did it
     with success; which may be taken as a kind of testimonial to the
     worth of the young man. Details we have absolutely none; but there
     is no doubt that Conrad recommended himself to Kaiser Redbeard, nor
     any that the Kaiser was a judge of men.... One thing further is
     known, significant for his successes: Conrad found favour with 'the
     Heiress of the Vohburg Family,' desirable young heiress, and got
     her to wife. The Vohburg family, now much forgotten everywhere, and
     never heard of in England before, had long been of supreme
     importance, of immense possessions, and opulent in territories,
     and, we need not add, in honours and offices, in those Franconian
     Nürnberg regions; and was now gone to this one girl. I know not
     that she had much inheritance after all: the vast Vohburg
     properties lapsing all to the Kaiser, when the male heirs were out.
     But she had pretensions, tacit claims: in particular the Vohburgs
     had long been habitual or in effect hereditary Burggrafs of
     Nürnberg; and if Conrad had the talent for that office, he now in
     preference to others might have a chance for it. Sure enough, he
     got it; took root in it, he and his; and, in the course of
     centuries, branched up from it, high and wide, over the adjoining
     countries; waxing towards still higher destinies. That is the
     epitome of Conrad's history; history now become very great, but
     then no bigger than its neighbours and very meagrely recorded; of
     which the reflective reader is to make what he can....

     "As to the Office, it was more important than perhaps the reader
     imagines. In a Diet of the Empire (1170) we find Conrad among the
     magnates of the country, denouncing Henry the Lion's high
     procedures and malpractices. Every Burggraf of Nürnberg is in
     virtue of his office 'Prince of the Empire'; if a man happened to
     have talent of his own and solid resources of his own (which are
     always on the growing hand with this family), here is a basis from
     which he may go far enough. Burggraf of Nürnberg: that means again
     Graf (judge, defender, manager, g'reeve) of the Kaiser's Burg or
     Castle,--in a word, Kaiser's Representative and _Alter Ego_,--in
     the old Imperial Free-Town of Nürnberg; with much adjacent very
     complex territory, also, to administer for the Kaiser. A
     flourishing extensive city, this old Nürnberg, with valuable
     adjacent territory, civic and imperial, intricately intermixed;
     full of commercial industries, opulences, not without democratic
     tendencies. Nay, it is almost, in some senses, the _London and
     Middlesex_ of the Germany that then was, if we will consider it!

     "This is a place to give a man chances, and try what stuff is in
     him. The office involves a talent for governing, as well as for
     judging: talent for fighting also, in cases of extremity, and, what
     is still better, a talent for avoiding to fight. None but a man of
     competent superior parts can do that function; I suppose no
     imbecile could have existed many months in it, in the old earnest
     times. Conrad and his succeeding Hohenzollerns proved very capable
     to do it, as would seem; and grew and spread in it, waxing bigger
     and bigger, from their first planting there by Kaiser Barbarossa, a
     successful judge of men."

Nuremberg continued to receive marks of Imperial favour. The importance
to which she had now grown is illustrated by the fact that Frederick
II., son of Barbarossa, held a very brilliant _Reichstag_ here in 1219,
and on this occasion gave to the town her first great Charter.

The first provision of this Charter, by which the town is declared free
of allegiance to anyone but the Emperor, is of special interest, seeing
that it raises the question whether Nuremberg was really the private
property of the Imperial family, or only owed allegiance to the Emperor
as such. Probably Frederick did not intend to alienate Nuremberg from
himself and his heirs as private individuals; but, regarding the empire
as a permanent possession of his family, he intended by this clause to
bind the burghers of Nuremberg more closely to his own personal service
by freeing them from all feudal obligations to others.

A few years later Frederick, in order to carry out his plans with regard
to Italian lands, appointed his ten-year-old son as King of Rome and as
his successor to the German Empire. Then leaving the young King in
Germany under the guardianship of Bishop Engelbert of Cologne, he went
to Italy, and was crowned Emperor by the Pope.

Young Henry held his court in Nuremberg in 1225. In the castle, in
November, a double festival was celebrated--the marriage of the young
King with Margaret, daughter of Duke Leopold of Austria, and of the
brother of the bride, Duke Henry of Austria, with Agnes, a daughter of
the Landgraf Hermann von Thüringen. At this double wedding, as some
chroniclers aver, or at the wedding of Rudolph von Hapsburg (1284), as
is more probable, a terrible catastrophe occurred. For just as the
numerous assembly of nobles and ladies had begun to dance in the hall,
the platform erected for spectators fell in, and about seventy nobles,
knights, and girls were crushed to death.

It was certainly in the middle of this festival that the horrible news
arrived that the Archbishop of Cologne, the young King's adviser, had
been murdered, from motives of revenge, by his nephew, Duke of Isenburg.
"Such deeds were then very frequent," says the Abbot Conrad von
Lichtenau, "because the doers thereof hoped to obtain pardon by a
pilgrimage to the Holy Land."

Three days after his marriage the young King had to sit in judgment on
the culprit at the Kaiserburg. Deeply moved, he asked the noble Gerlach
von Büdingen for his opinion. Ought the murderer to be outlawed, there
and then? Gerlach answered yes, for the crime was patent. Friedrich von
Truhendingen opposed him violently, however, maintaining that the
accused man ought to be first produced, as justice and custom demanded.
Gerlach became enraged. The argument grew hot, and presently, in spite
of the King's presence, the supporters of either opinion seized their
arms and came to blows. A fearful crush occurred on the stairs, which
gave way under the weight of struggling humanity, and some fifty people
were killed upon the spot. But the sentence of outlawry got itself
pronounced, and a decree of excommunication followed from the Church.

This was but one example of the lawlessness of the times. Violence was
not often so swiftly punished. Germany had fallen on evil days, and
worse were in store for her. The absenteeism of her Emperors was
producing its inevitable result.

     One after another, the Emperors "had squandered their talents and
     wasted the best strength of their country in pursuit of a fancy,
     and never learned by the experience of their predecessors to desist
     from the dangerous pursuit. Instead of turning their attention to
     the development of their country, to the curtailment of the powers
     of the nobility, to the establishment of their thrones on enduring
     foundations, they were bewitched with the dream of a Roman-imperial
     world-monarchy, which was impossible to be realised when every
     nation was asserting more and more its characteristic peculiarities
     and arriving at consciousness of national and independent life. The
     Emperors were always divided between distinct callings, as Kings of
     Germany and Emperors of Rome. The Italians hated them; the popes
     undermined their powers, and involved them in countless
     difficulties at home and in Italy, so that they could not establish
     their authority as emperors, and neglected to make good, or were
     impeded in attempting to make good, their position as kings in
     Germany. The bat in the fable was rejected by the birds because he
     was a beast, and by the beasts because he had wings as a bird."[5]

So it came to pass that when the line of Hohenstaufen went miserably out
on the death of the ill-fated Conradin (1268), Germany was already
involved in times of huge anarchy; "was rocking down," as Carlyle puts
it, "towards one saw not what--an anarchic Republic of Princes, perhaps,
and of free barons fast verging towards robbery? Sovereignty of
multiplex princes, with a peerage of intermediate robber barons? Things
are verging that way. Such princes, big and little, each wrenching off
for himself what lay loosest and handiest to him, found it a stirring
game, and not so much amiss."

Towns like Nuremberg, on the other hand, found it very much amiss.
Fortunately many of them were rich and strong, and took the task of
preserving peace and order to some extent into their own hands.

During the period of the Interregnum, as it was called (1254-1273), "die
herrenlose, die schreckliche Zeit" of disturbance and lawlessness, when
the electors--the bishops and princes of the land--could only agree in
giving the crown to foreigners who would leave them alone and unhindered
in their efforts to enlarge their powers and territories by fair or foul
means, some curious transactions took place with regard to Nuremberg.
There exists a document by which, in 1266, Conradin pledged to his
uncle, Duke Ludwig of Bavaria, a number of possessions to raise money in
order to pay back the loan which his former guardian had advanced to
him, and which was used to acquire the town and castle of Nuremberg. The
transaction is obscure. Possibly after the death of Conradin's father,
Conrad IV., Nuremberg was claimed by his executors as private property.
In that case we may hazard the conjecture that the town resisted the
claim, and that an appeal to arms was made. The money referred to may
have been spent in conducting a siege.

This much is known for certain from a contemporary document, that when,
in 1269, Duke Ludwig and his brother Henry, as heirs of Conradin,
divided the Hohenstaufen inheritance between them, they took equal
rights over Nuremberg. That may have been, however, merely a paper
phrase. Imperial and private rights were apt to get confused in the
minds of the Hohenstaufen. Nuremberg, at any rate, continues always to
act as if she were a free town of the Empire. She was acutely conscious
of the dignity of her charter. The great object for which the European
towns, and Nuremberg among them, were all this time struggling was a
charter of incorporation and a qualified privilege of internal
self-government. Emperors and princes might try to get hold of a rich
city like Nuremberg, and treat it as their private property, but, once
she had won her charter, she was determined to remain a Reichstadt, and
to enjoy all the privileges and liberties of a free city.

One interesting and important result this period of lawlessness had. The
towns began to band themselves together in leagues--Der Rheinische
Städtebund, 1254, was the first of these--for the purpose of defence
against the plunder and rapine of the robber-knights, who had formerly
been held in check to some degree by the sword and authority of the
Emperors, but who now swooped down from their fortresses as they pleased
on the merchants travelling from town to town, and robbed them or levied
on them heavy tolls. Nuremberg joined this league: and it is in a
document (1256) welcoming the entrance of Regensburg (Ratisbon) into
the league that we first find mention of the Rat or Council of burghers
joined to the chief magistrate as an institution representative of the
community. Since the Charter of 1219, almost the whole administration of
justice--government, police and finance--had been centred no longer in
the Burggraf, but in the chief magistrate (Schuldheiss) of the town.
But, by the same charter, Nuremberg was now to be taxed as a community.
From the natural necessity and apprehensions of the situation, the
burghers felt the need of a representative body to sit with and to
advise the magistrate, who was, originally at any rate, a King's man and
officer of the Burggraf. So it came to pass that the bench of judges who
assisted the Schuldheiss in his judicial work, a bench composed of the
most powerful and influential citizens, gradually acquired the further
function of an advising and governing body, and finally became
independent of the magistrate. Little by little, by one charter after
another, by gradual and persistent effort, the Rat gained the position
of landlords and _Territoriiherren_. But, as the Council gained power,
the great families began to arrogate to themselves the sole right of
sitting on it. A close aristocracy of wealth grew up more and more
jealous of their fancied rights. Such was the origin of the constitution
of Nuremberg--a constitution which in later times offers a striking
resemblance to that of Venice.

At last the Interregnum came to an end. It was mainly through Burggraf
Frederick III. of Nuremberg that Rudolph von Hapsburg succeeded to the
Empire. For this and other service the Burggraviate was made hereditary
in his family. Under Rudolph the strong and just, who, after the
demoralising period of anarchy, worked wonders in the way of tightening,
whether with gloved hand or mailed fist, the bonds of imperial unity, a
brilliant gathering of princes assembled at Nuremberg for the Reichstag
in 1274. The chronicles are full of stories to illustrate the character
of their modern Solomon on this occasion. The following example will
suffice:--

     A merchant complained that he had given his host a purse of 200
     silver marks to keep, but the host denied having received them. The
     Emperor thereupon summoned the landlord and several citizens. They
     all came, naturally enough, in their best clothes. The landlord, in
     particular, wore a costly cap, which, as he stood before the
     Emperor, he twisted nervously in his hand. Rudolph took it from him
     and, putting it on, exclaimed that it would become even an Emperor.
     Then he went into the next room--apparently forgetting all about
     the cap. The landlord meanwhile was detained. The Emperor sent the
     cap to the landlord's wife, with a request in her husband's name
     that she should give the bearer that sack of money she knew about.
     The ruse succeeded, and whilst the landlord was emphatically
     asserting his innocence to the Emperor, the sack of money was
     produced to confound him. The wretch had to atone for his crime by
     the payment of a heavy fine.

One other record of Kaiser Rudolph's presence at Nuremberg we have. It
is illustrative of the violence of those times. In 1289 a grand
tournament was held in honour of the King. In the course of it Krafft
von Hohenlohe had the misfortune to run his spear through the neck of
Duke Ludwig von Baiern, and the latter died of the wound. In consequence
of this mischance such strife arose between the followers of the Duke
and those of the Kaiser that the Council had to take measures for the
defence of the town. They barred the streets with chains and garrisoned
the Rathaus as well as the towers and walls. Luckily the quarrel was
smoothed over and no further disturbance took place.

[Illustration: NASSAUER HAUS]

A few years later Graf Adolph von Nassau succeeded Rudolph. Once in
1293 and twice in 1294 he held his court in Nuremberg and ratified all
the privileges of the town. To him and to his race legend ascribes a
great share in the building of the Lorenzkirche. "But," says Dr Reicke,
"there is as little ground for this assertion as for the unfounded
belief that the Schlüsselfelderische Stiftungshaus, so called because it
belonged to the institution founded by Hans Karl Schlüsselfelder who
died in 1709, and now known as the Nassauerhaus, was once in the
possession of the Counts of Nassau." This house which stands at the
corner of the Carolinenstrasse was built, according to Essenheim, at the
beginning of the fifteenth century. According to the earliest existing
records it belonged, with the house to the west of it, to a branch of
the Haller family, long since extinct. The figure on the well at the
east end of this house, which represents King Adolph of Nassau, belongs
to the year 1824. To-day the crypt of the house has been turned into a
Weinhaus, and there, in a vaulted cellar wreathed with yew, the
diligent oenophilist will be rewarded by the discovery of some rare
vintages.

The new King Albert held his court at Nuremberg in 1298. His arrival
brought many days of splendour and festivity to the town. For the King
had his wife Elizabeth crowned by the Archbishop Wigbold of Cologne in
St. Sebalduskirche. Six thousand guests assembled on this occasion.
There was no accommodation in the houses for so vast a gathering of
strangers, many of whom, in spite of the wintry weather, had to camp out
under canvas in the streets.

It was about this time that one of the fearful periodical persecutions
of the Jews--persecutions as unchristian as uneconomical--broke out over
all Franconia. It was said that in Rothenburg the Jews had pounded the
Host in a mortar and that blood had flowed from it. On the strength of
this fabulous sacrilege a fanatic, called Rindfleisch, led a "crusade"
against the unfortunate people. In Würtzburg the Jews were burnt and
massacred in crowds and utterly extirpated. Many from the surrounding
country sought refuge in Nuremberg, where they were hospitably received
by their fellow-believers and were at first protected by the Rat.
Rindfleisch and his bands of murderous fanatics were then at a safe
distance. But, as these drew near, the hatred of the Jews, which had
long smouldered among the people, broke out into flame. The Jewish
quarter was then in the centre of the town, a very advantageous
position. Their houses reached from the market where their synagogue
stood, on the site of the present Frauenkirche, to the Zotenberg, the
present Dötschmannsplatz. Rich as a community, though they counted, then
as ever, both the greatest and the least among their number, they were
envied for their possessions and hated as people of a foreign faith.
Nuremberg, like all the neighbouring towns except Regensburg, became
the scene of murder and brutality. A hundred thousand Jews were the
victims of a fearful death. The persecution continued till King Albert,
in spite of the unpopularity of the proceeding, came to Franconia and
put a stop to it, punishing the instigators and laying a heavy fine upon
the towns.

In 1308 Albert was murdered by his nephew, John of Swabia--Parracida.
The story of this murder is introduced, it will be remembered, at the
end of Schiller's _Wilhelm Tell_. After seven months' interval, Henry
VII., Count of Luxembourg, was elected king. He, in the following year,
held his court in Nuremberg, before departing to be crowned Emperor at
Rome, in the midst of battle and strife with the Guelphs. Dating from
Pisa, 1313, Henry granted Nuremberg a very important charter. Here are
some of its provisions:--

     (1) The Imperial magistrate at Nuremberg shall protect the imperial
     or principal roads and have the right of way.

     (2) Once a year the Magistrate shall pledge himself before the
     Council to exercise impartial justice towards rich and poor, to
     judge and to arrange all matters with the counsel of the Schöpfen
     (Bench of judges).

     (3) The Burgomeister and judges are given complete control over the
     markets, trade, and means of preserving order.

     (4) The Burg is not to be separated from the town.

Generally, one may say, this Charter confirms and extends the
self-governing privileges of the town. The magistrate is still an
imperial officer, but his position is in acknowledged dependence on the
Council, into whose hands the regulation of trade and the preservation
of order are entrusted. Moreover, in another provision, the citizens are
clearly protected against trial by outside authorities, and against
arbitrary imprisonment.

Scarcely had he marked his appreciation of Nuremberg in this way, when
Henry was poisoned whilst besieging Siena. On his death, discord broke
out in Germany. We will avoid, as far as possible, stepping on to the
quaking bog of Reich's history. Suffice it to say that one party elected
Frederick, the beautiful son of Albert, and grandson of Rudolph von
Hapsburg. The other and stronger party chose Ludwig von Baiern, of the
Wittelsbach family. Nuremberg stood by Ludwig. A long war ensued, till
the great battle of Mühldorf ended the struggle. Ludwig's victory was in
great part attributable to the timely arrival of the Nuremberg cavalry,
under Burggraf Frederick IV.

     "To us this is the interesting point: At one turn of the battle,
     tenth hour of it now ending, and the tug of war still desperate,
     there arose a cry of joy over all the Austrian ranks: 'Help coming!
     Help!'--and Friedrich noticed a body of horse in Austrian
     cognisance (such the cunning of a certain man), coming in upon his
     rear. Austrians and Friedrich never doubted but it was brother
     Leopold just getting on the ground; and rushed forward doubly
     fierce; and were doubly astonished when it plunged in upon them,
     sharp-edged, as Burggraf Friedrich of Nürnberg,--and quite ruined
     Austrian Friedrich! Austrian Friedrich fought personally like a
     lion at bay; but it availed nothing. Rindsmaul (not lovely of lip,
     _Cowmouth_ so-called) disarmed him: 'I will not surrender except to
     a Prince!'--so Burggraf Friedrich was got to take surrender of him;
     and the fight, and whole controversy with it was completely
     won."--_Carlyle._

It was after this battle that the Kaiser, when eggs were found to be the
only available provision in a country eaten to the bone, distributed
them with the legendary phrase that still lives on the lips of every
German child--

    "Jedem Mann ein Ey
     Dem frommen Schweppermann zwey."

"To every man one egg and to the excellent Schweppermann two."
Schweppermann was one of his generals, and it seems probable that he
was a Nuremberg citizen.

The story of how Ludwig shared his kingdom with his noble prisoner and
united with him in such cordial affection that they ate at the same
table and slept in the same bed, forms one of the best known and most
romantic episodes in German history.

Nuremberg, who had helped Ludwig with money and men, reaped her full
reward. Ludwig showed great affection for her, staying continually
within her walls (1320-1347), residing usually not in the castle, but
with some distinguished citizen. Hence, and because the city stood by
him throughout his quarrel with the Pope, he gave her many charters,
confirming and increasing the rights and privileges of the burghers. He
gave her permission, for instance, to hold a fair fourteen days after
Easter for a month, and to issue her own decrees regarding it. From this
arose the practice of the Easter Fair which still takes place. He
granted her, also, freedom of customs in Munich, thus helping her trade.
She already enjoyed a mutual Zollfreiheit with Berne and Heilbronn. All
this amounts to evidence of the steadily increasing trade of Nuremberg.
Already, in the beginning of the fourteenth century, her trade with
Italy was considerable, in spite of the robber-knights and imperial
requisitions. No paper privileges were, indeed, of much value, however
often renewed, unless supported by power to resist the robber-knights
who, from their castles, descended on the rich caravans of the peaceful
merchants. That trade flourished now as it did, shows that the knights
did not have matters all their own way. If the Emperors did little to
preserve order in the empire, the towns were now fortunately strong
enough and independent enough to protect themselves. When the knights
proved too troublesome, the

[Illustration: THE PEGNITZ]

citizens attacked their fortresses and burned them, and hanged the
robbers from their own towers. There is, for instance, a document extant
(1325) in which Ludwig grants immunity to the citizens of Nuremberg for
having destroyed the castle "Zu dem Turm," which belonged to one Conrad
Schenk von Reicheneck, a robber-knight, and promises the castle shall
never be rebuilt. Nor did the towns despise the advantages of
combination. In 1340 we find Nuremberg entering into a league, for
mutual protection and the maintenance of peace, with the Dukes of
Bavaria, with Würzburg, Rothenburg, etc., and a number of spiritual and
temporal lords.

But if Nuremberg waxed in power and independence under the favour of
Ludwig, the Burggraf also had claims on the King. To him therefore was
given the office of Chief-Magistrate (Schuldheiss) and certain revenues
from the town. This was not at all to the taste of the burghers. They
grew restive under the Burggraf's abuse of justice, and finally managed
to buy back the office from him through the agency of their rich citizen
Conrad Gross, with whom the King often stayed. Conrad Gross was an early
specimen of that fine type of merchant princes who contributed so much
in later days to the glory of Nuremberg. Barter--trade in kind--was now
giving place to trade done with money drawn from the German mines. The
merchant prince began to raise his head. Whereas the trader had hitherto
been despised as a shopkeeper by the free-knights, the merchant, who
could indulge in luxury of dress and household furniture, now began to
look down on the knights as impecunious robbers. The time was at hand
when the Italian Æneas Sylvius could write:--

     "When one comes from Lower Franconia and perceives this glorious
     city, its splendour seems truly magnificent. When one enters it,
     one's original impression is confirmed by the beauty of the streets
     and the fitness of the houses. The churches of St. Sebald and St.
     Laurence are worthy of worship as well as admiration. The Imperial
     castle proudly dominates the town, and the burghers' dwellings seem
     to have been built for princes. In truth, the kings of Scotland
     would gladly be housed so luxuriously as the ordinary citizen of
     Nuremberg."

It was Conrad Gross who, "longing to change his worldly goods for
heavenly ones," founded, in 1333, the "_New Hospital of the Holy
Ghost_." Within the church is the tomb of the founder. Additions were
made to the hospital and church at the end of the fifteenth century.
What is called the south building was erected on two arches over the
water. In the courtyard of the hospital is a little chapel of the Holy
Sepulchre, founded by George Ketzel in 1459. The church itself was
restored in the seventeenth century, from which period dates the stucco
work of the chancel. These things the visitor will see and appraise for
himself. Meantime the following beautiful legend concerning the founder
is worth recording:--

     A man of the family of Heinzen, afterwards called "Great" (Gross),
     fell asleep one day in his garden beneath the shade of a lime tree.
     He dreamed that he found a large treasure there, but had no spade
     with which to dig for it. To mark the place, therefore, he took a
     handful of leaves and laid them on the spot where the treasure was
     buried. When he awoke and walked round the garden, he came to a
     spot where it seemed that someone had purposely scattered lime
     leaves on the ground. Then he remembered his dream, and, since he
     thought the dream had not come to him without some reason, he
     called his men to help him, and vowed that if he found anything he
     would help the poor and sick with it. And indeed he found so great
     a treasure of silver and gold that he became very rich, and founded
     therewith the Hospital of the Holy Ghost.

Ludwig had been a good friend to Nuremberg, and therefore when Karl
IV.,[6] the enemy of Ludwig and friend of the Pope, succeeded him, the
new Kaiser was regarded with some apprehension. Karl, however, was very
gracious to Nuremberg, and gave her new privileges, for he was eager to
secure the loyalty of her citizens. He confirmed the rich burghers in
their offices, and succeeded in winning over the patricians to his side.
But it was at this time that a desire for a more democratic form of
government began to manifest itself throughout the towns of Germany. The
lower classes showed signs of restiveness, and evinced a desire to have
a voice in the counsels of their town. The patrician families had
engrossed all the rights. The proceedings of the Council were secret,
and no account of the money which passed through their hands was
forthcoming. The administration of justice rested entirely with them.
Complaints were loud that the rights of the poor and the artisans did
not receive proper attention. The pride of the hereditary patrician
Councillors had become notorious. The sturdy independent craftsmen began
to murmur against this state of affairs. They felt they were entitled to
a place in the government of the town, which they supported by their
industry and, in war, with their arms. They were ready at last to take
steps to secure that place. When their demands were refused by the
patricians, bloodshed and strife resulted. In Rothenburg, Regensburg,
and Munich the patricians were successful in retaining the Council in
their own hands. And so it was with Nuremberg. But of the details of the
great revolution which broke out there at the beginning of Karl's reign
little is known. The artisans, it seems, were staunch and faithful to
the memory of Ludwig. He had, says one of the chroniclers, won their
adherence by his popular manners and by giving them the right of having
their own drinking clubs. The change of policy on the side of the
Council who embraced the cause of the Luxembourg (Caroline) party
enabled the artisans, who were loyal to the Bavarian (Wittelsbach)
family, to make a bid for a share in the government of their town. The
Council, with promises of redress of grievances, tried to stem the
revolt. But it was too late. In alarm they called in the aid of Karl,
and Karl sent a peace-maker who came and went in vain. Some of the
Council then fled the town. The chroniclers go so far as to say that a
surprise of the Council--a regular coup d'état--was planned for a
particular day, but that the Council was warned in time. Though the
Rathaus was stormed and the gates of the town occupied, "the birds had
flown." They had escaped from the town by all sorts of curious devices.

This story may have sprung from the unchastened imagination of the
chroniclers, but we know as an historical fact that on June 4, 1348, the
rebels opened the gates to soldiers of Ludwig, Markgraf of Brandenburg,
eldest son of the late Emperor. He was excommunicated (for Karl was the
Papal nominee) as his father had been. The city when it received him
shared in his excommunication. The clergy tried to escape from the
tainted city, but the people, having shut the gates, compelled them to
read mass. A copy of a certificate from the Bishop of Clure to the
clergy, testifying that they had only held mass under compulsion, is
still extant.

The rebels, then, were for the moment successful: the old Council was
abolished and a new one chosen, which was composed mainly of artisans,
but did not exclude all the old Councillors. Their chief work of
innovation was to allow the artisans to form Guilds. On the whole the
new Council was not a success. Prosperity is a cynical but convincing
test of a government. Confusion and disorder obtained, and commerce was
affected by the lack of police and the little real power of the Council.
The finances of the town suffered accordingly. The partisans of the old
_régime_ refused to contribute.

It was therefore a good thing for Nuremberg when, in 1349, the
opposition of the Wittelsbach party broke down, and terms were made
which left Karl master of the situation. Nuremberg passed into his
hands, and he proceeded to restore the _status quo ante_ there. A new
Council[7] was elected, and the ringleaders of the conspiracy were
banished with their families.




CHAPTER II

_Development of Nuremberg_

    "Nürnberg's Hand
     Geht durch alle Land."
    --_Old Proverb._


Karl IV. proceeded to confirm the privileges of the town for a cash
consideration. That was the way of mediæval monarchs. We have seen that
the finances of Nuremberg were not at this moment in a very flourishing
condition. There is little doubt that the heavy payment she was called
upon to make to the King was one of the chief causes which led to the
great persecution of the Jews which soon broke out.

The Jews are first mentioned in Nuremberg in 1288. They were then
personally free. They could hold land and live after their own laws.
Medicine was their chief profession; for money-lending--at first without
interest--was originally the business of the monasteries. It was one of
the most unfortunate results of the Crusades that they stirred up
feeling against the Jews. Persecutions began, and a change took place in
the personal position of the Jews. They had now to wear a special dress
and to cut their beards, whilst the Christians luxuriated in beards as
long as they could possibly grow them. When the Christians were no
longer allowed to take interest for money lent, the Jews stepped in,
being under their own laws, as money-lenders. In many places they were
forbidden to follow any other profession than that of usury. By a
charter of the Hohenstaufen another important change was wrought in
their condition. They were made directly subject to the King and Empire
(Königliche Kammerknechte). For this protection they had to pay a tax
direct to the Imperial treasury. Their riches grew in spite of all sorts
of commercial disabilities, and with them grew the value of this tax.
One good result of this was that it interested the King in their favour.
He did not care to see his golden geese slain, and their property
confiscated by the towns. In Nuremberg it was possible for the Jews to
become citizens on the payment of a certain sum of money. In 1338, it
appears from an old Burgher list, there were 212 Jewish citizens. Ten
years later, when the Black Death was devastating Europe, it was said
that the Jews had poisoned the wells and purposely propagated the plague
in order to annihilate the Christians. They were accused of all sorts of
sacrilege and unnatural crimes. A frightful persecution broke out. All
along the Rhine thousands of them were burnt at the stake.

The Austrian poet Helbing echoed the public sentiment, during a later
persecution, when he exclaimed, "There are too many Jews in our country.
It is a shame and a sin to tolerate them. If I were King, if I could lay
my hand on you, Jews, I tell you in truth I would have you all burnt."
And this is the opinion of the humanist, Conrad Celtes, in his praise of
Nuremberg:--

     "Exscindenda protecto gens aut ad Caucasum et ultra Sauromatas
     perpetuo exilio releganda, quæ, per universum orbem in se totiens
     iram numinum concitat, humani generis societatem violans et
     conturbans."

At Nuremberg there were other reasons for the outbreak. In old days the
Jews had been told to build their houses in the modern Dötschmannsplatz.
Their synagogue stood on the site of the present Frauenkirche. Hence
the space between the Rathaus and the Fleischbrücke was all the
market-room the Christians had. The increasing numbers and prosperity of
the Jews, in this, the best site of the town, was very distressing to
observe. So it came to pass that in 1349, on the strength of a document
signed by Karl, in which he undertakes to ask no questions if anything
should happen to the Jews at the hands of the people or the Council, the
Christians pulled down the Jewish houses, and made the two large
market-places, called to-day the Hauptmarkt and the Obstmarkt. Between
these they built, to the glory of God, the beautiful Frauenkirche. As
for the Jews, "_The Jews were burnt on St. Nicholas' Eve_, 1349," is the
laconic report of Ulman Stromer, chronicler.[8] The modern Maxfeld is
supposed to have been the scene of this atrocity. Such is the origin of
those picturesque market-places, where to-day beneath the shadow of St.
Sebald's shrine, St. Mary's church and the stately Rathaus, the
Beautiful Fountain pours its silvery waters, and the peasants sell the
produce of the country, sitting at their stalls beneath huge umbrellas,
or leading the patient oxen which have drawn their carts to the city.

We have mentioned above the grievances of the artisans at this period.
It must not be supposed that they were altogether down-trodden and
miserable. Pecuniarily they must have been comparatively well off. For
from this time, up to the middle of the Thirty Years War, the Nuremberg
workmen flourished in reputation and execution. Their numbers were
large; their work was distinguished for its beauty and durability.
Their metal work in particular was famous; and they maintained its
excellence for a long while, fostered by the system of masters and
apprentices, which in this case led to a real desire to reach or improve
upon a high standard of sound and artistic work. Even to-day you can
hardly walk ten yards in Nuremberg without coming upon some perfect
piece of ironwork, such as the railings round the wells or in front of
the Frauenkirche. In the German Museum[9] there are two rooms full of
locks and hinges, which, if once seen and studied by the modern
manufacturer of inferior wares, should almost certainly make him cease
from his evil ways. Or, if the reader wish for an example of the wide
gulf which separates the good from the indifferent, let him secure a
genuine specimen of those old waterpots (_Butte_), in which women so
picturesquely carry water on their backs from the wells, and compare it
with a modern imitation. These old workmen took a pride in their work.
They were not, however, for that reason contemptuous of a little
relaxation. They had their general holidays. We know Victor Hugo's
description of All Fools' Day in _Notre Dame de Paris_. And here, in
Nuremberg, we find the butchers and cutlers asking and obtaining from
Karl the right to hold a carnival, and to dance in silks and velvets
like the great families. This right was afterwards extended to all the
trades. _Schembartläufer_ the carnival was called. Every year the dance
took place. By degrees the great people began to take part in it. The
good burghers were very fond of dancing, as we shall have further
occasion to notice. In time all sorts of rites and ceremonies grew up
round the celebration of this holiday, which not even the presence of
the enemy or the plague could induce the artisans to omit. Like
Don't-care Hippocleides, they _would_ dance. Masks were worn, spears
and crackers carried, and a special costume designed for each year.
Popular songs and pasquinades were sung and published. Personalities of
course were rife. In 1523, for instance, a man appeared dressed in
"Indulgences." Not a little rough buffoonery of one sort or another
found place. To conclude the proceedings, a so-called "Hell," made of
fireworks, was let off in front of the Rathaus. And so to bed, as Pepys
would have written.

The influence of the Reformers proved fatal to indulgence in this sort
of wild hilarity. The celebration of the carnival was finally forbidden
in 1539, much to the annoyance of the people.

In 1349 Karl issued from Nuremberg the declaration of public peace (he
was always an eager promoter of Landfrieden--public peaces) for
Franconia--to last for two years. In this arrangement Nuremberg was
accorded the same standing as other Imperial cities and received, under
Karl, equal political rights with the princely and other communities. A
board of representatives of each town or district was to sit
periodically at Nuremberg and see to it that the peace was kept. Whilst
the King tried to preserve order in this way, peace leagues were also
common in these times of feuds. So we find Nuremberg joining the league
of the Swabian towns.

It was at Nuremberg that Karl, when he returned from being crowned at
Rome (1356), held a famous Reichstag and issued the Golden Bull,
so-called from the golden seal, or _bulla_, appended to the deed, which
determined the method of electing the emperors and reduced the number of
electors to seven. The place where the first twenty-three articles of
this important law were published is still known as the house "_Zum
Goldenen Schild_," in the Schildgasse. The old custom by which the
newly chosen Kaiser held his first Reichstag at Nuremberg was made law
by the Golden Bull--a law in later times frequently ignored. By the
Golden Bull, also, towns were forbidden to league together, which was a
very burdensome provision secured by the influence of the princes, but,
luckily for the towns, not able to be enforced.

The Golden Bull, acknowledging, as it did, the power and increasing the
territorial rights of the great princes, and rousing the envy of those
who were not made electors, held in it the seeds of the dissolution of
the Empire. It encouraged, in effect, all the petty princes to exceed
their powers and to encroach on the rights of the towns. The Nuremberg
Burggraf was no exception to this rule. From this time forward he is
continually coming into conflict with the town. The quarrel began over
the _Geleitsrecht_, right of convoy and customs. The Emperor in 1357
gave to the Burggraf certain rights of way which enabled him to exact
toll from the merchants on their way to Frankfort. Now this was a direct
infringement of the charter given them a few years before forbidding all
unjust or unusual taxes. They appealed on the strength of this and the
Kaiser revoked the right. But the question crops up again and again. A
little later we find the Kaiser, in recognition of his indebtedness to
the Burggraf for past services, giving him the office of Chief
Magistrate of the town together with large revenues therefrom. The town,
anxious to have the magistracy under its own control, wished to buy it
from the Burggraf. The Kaiser, with a view to sharing the proceeds,
raised the price at which it was to be sold, so that in 1385 the town
had to redeem the magistracy and taxes for the exorbitant sum of 8000
gulden.

Karl, as far as one can make out, tried to hunt with the hounds and run
with the hare, first helping the town and then the Burggraf, partly
because he was indebted to both for their aid, and partly because the
issue of a new charter was a proceeding which brought cash into the
Imperial treasury. For directly or indirectly charters were always paid
for. This accounts to some extent for the mass of contradictory decrees
which survive to perplex the modern historian. Such a little compliment
as the following, for instance, which we find at the end of a charter
dated 1366, had doubtless its origin in a cash transaction:--

     "The Emperor is accustomed to live and to hold his court in his
     Imperial town of Nuremberg, as being the most distinguished and
     best situated town of the Empire here in the land."

The relations between the Burggraf and the town continued to be so
strained that they almost came to blows in 1367 over the building of a
wall. This wall was run up in forty days by the citizens, completely
cutting off the approach from the castle to the town, and thus
protecting the town from all hostile attacks of the Burggraf. The
quarrel thereby occasioned dragged on for ten years before it was
settled by an Imperial decree. Much to the chagrin of the Burggraf, the
Kaiser, in deciding the dispute, unexpectedly favoured the town. We can
hardly be surprised that the Burggraf, still smarting from this
humiliation, was inclined to interpret as an act of aggression the
building by the citizens of the tower "Luginsland" (1377),[10] which,
besides commanding, as its name implied, a wide view of the surrounding
country, would serve also as a watch-tower whence the actions of the
Burggraf might be observed and forestalled. "Man pawet in darümb das man
darauf ins marggrafen purk möcht gesehen," says one chronicler.

Before all this, the future King Wenzel had been born in Nuremberg and
baptised in St. Sebalduskirche. The chronicles say that at the baptism
of the Imperial child--with whose birth Karl was so pleased that he
remitted the Imperial taxes of the town for a year--the font was not
clean, and that, as the baptismal water was being warmed in the
Parsonage, a fire broke out and the whole of the choir adjoining it was
burnt down. Only the beautiful (fourteenth century) oriel window
remained uninjured by the flames.[11] The present parsonage was built by
Pfinzing, the author of the _Theuerdank_, of whom more anon.

[Illustration: ORIEL WINDOW OF THE PARSONAGE]

On the day of the baptism it is recorded that the Emperor displayed to
the people from the gallery over the door of the church the Imperial
insignia and relics which he had brought from Prague to the new
Frauenkirche.

This Wenzel, or Wenceslas, of whom we have spoken, succeeded his father
when he was but seventeen. Half-idiot, half-maniac, addicted to
drunkenness and hunting, he was not the man to restore order in an
Empire which had already fallen into a state of chaos. He was one of the
worst Kaisers and the least victorious on record. He would attend to
nothing in the Reich, "the Prague white beer and girls of various
complexions being much preferable," as he was heard to say. The result
was that his reign was a period of feuds, the golden era of free or
robber knights. Club-law, or Faustrecht, as it was called--the right of
private warfare--was the order of the day. The history of Nuremberg
resolves itself into the police-news of the period, the record of the
sallies and outrages of such knights as Ekkelein von Gailingen, whose
headquarters were at Windsheim, some thirty miles off, and who was the
Götz von Berlichingen of the fourteenth century. The old castles which
the traveller sees from time to time on the banks of the Rhine, or on
the ravines and large brooks which flow into it, were then no
picturesque ruins, rendered interesting by the stories which were told
about their former inhabitants, but constituted the real and apparently
impregnable strongholds of this robber-chivalry.

On the east wall of the castle, near the Five-cornered Tower, they will
show you to this day two hoof-shaped marks, which are said to be the
impressions left there by the hoofs of Ekkelein (or Eppelein) von
Gailingen's gallant steed. For this freebooter, Ekkelein, who had long
been feared, admired, and even credited with magical powers, was at
length captured by the Nuremberg burgher-soldiers and condemned to
death. Shut up in the castle, he pined in the dungeon until the day
arrived on which he was to expiate his crimes with his life. When he
was brought out into the yard for execution, he begged, as a last
request, that he might be allowed to say farewell to his favourite horse
and his servant Jäckel. The beautiful charger, neighing with pleasure,
was brought. Ekkelein put his arm round its neck and embraced it
lovingly.

"If only, before I die, I might once more feel myself on his back!"

So natural and so harmless did the request seem that his wish was
granted. His groom placed the saddle and bridle on the horse, who, when
his master mounted, shook his mane for joy. At first the faithful
creature moved gently and proudly in the circle of the guard, looking
round him and snorting. When Ekkelein patted his powerful, smooth neck,
the muscles of the noble animal grew larger and the veins of his flanks
swelled at the touch of the master's hand. He spurned the ground, raised
his fore-feet and threw himself forward into a thundering gallop.
Lightly and gently the spur of the rider touched his sides: he rushed
furiously round the court. Guards and jailors shrank back before the
stones which his hoofs threw high into the air. But the gate was secure
and escape not to be thought of. Then, whoever is able to read the eyes
of dumb beasts might have seen flaming in those of Ekkelein's charger a
lament like this: "How, my noble master? Shalt thou die here? Shall thy
knightly blood flow ignominiously in this miserable place! Shall I never
again carry thee into the battle, or bear thee through the defiles and
the forests, and never more eat golden oats out of thy brave hand! O my
master, save thyself! Trust in me and my strength and the impossible
shall become possible." The horse raised himself. The knight struck both
spurs into his sides, held breath and, stooping low, embraced with both
arms the neck of the faithful steed, from whose hoofs showered sparks of
fire. Before the burghers could stay them, before the guards could lift
a finger, before breath could be drawn, the desperate spring was made
and man and horse were over the parapet which overhung the moat 100 feet
below. They leaped not--as it appeared to the incredulous eyes that
peeped at them from the top of the battlements--to their destruction;
for, after a huge splash and struggle in the waters of the fosse, horse
and rider rose again to the surface, and, long before the drawbridge
could be let down and his captors could pursue him, Ekkelein was away in
the deep forest, galloping on his brave steed, well on the road to the
impregnable castle of Gailingen. The dent made by the horse's hoofs in
the stones below is there to this day. Can we wonder if the story went
round that it was his Satanic majesty who had presented the bold knight
with this wondrous steed, the better to facilitate the various little
errands with which he had entrusted him?

Fortunately for the burgesses of Nuremberg not every free-knight could
rely on such diabolic means of succour, so that they were able to defend
themselves with energy and success against the noble and aggressive
freebooters. The Council saw to it that the fortifications were
continually strengthened and they did not despise the aid of the
newly-introduced blunderbuss.[12] Indeed, even in the field the
burgesses and their mercenaries showed themselves a match for the
free-knights. So confident was Nuremberg in her own resources that at
first she refused to join the great league of all the Rhenish towns
founded in 1381, but three years later she came in. Though the great
princes of the Empire were very jealous of such leagues, the Kaiser
managed to patch up a union, with himself at the head, between this
league and the princes, and called it the "Heidelberg Union" for the
maintenance of peace. However a year or two later the Dukes of Bavaria,
jealous as ever of the towns, broke loose, and seized the Archbishop
Pilgrim von Salzburg, a friend of the towns, and some Nuremberg
merchants. The Kaiser, instead of taking strong measures at once,
pursued his usual policy of shilly-shally. But in January 1388 a strong
army of the League started from Augsburg, ravaging all Bavaria with fire
and sword. To this army Nuremberg contributed some mounted mercenaries,
and at the same time marched an army of her own--8000 strong, a very
large army for those days--against Hilpoltstein, but without success.
The war resolved itself into a struggle between the interests of the
princes and of the towns. The towns failed to hold together, and paid
the penalty in failure. They had commenced hostilities vigorously, but
Nuremberg set the example of wavering. In a year or so she made peace on
no very favourable terms, consenting to pay heavy indemnities. Still,
the general result of the war, though the towns were not successful, was
not to lower the status of the towns. So far as Nuremberg was concerned
the administration of the war had been carried on by a Committee of the
Rat--the Kriegsrat, which henceforth became permanent. As to the
expenses, they were in part defrayed by a wholesale seizure of Jews and
confiscation of their property. This disgraceful proceeding was done by
the League in general (1385, and again in 1390), and countenanced by the
Kaiser. Here is a characteristic story of that very feckless Kaiser,
which will show how fit he was to govern the German Empire.

Wenzel, the story runs, demanded from the Nuremberg Council the key of
the _Stadtthor_. The Council, though very loth to do so, gave him the
key, on condition that he would grant them a request in return. The
Kaiser consented. When he graciously inquired what it was they demanded,
the Burgomeister asked for the key back again! The Kaiser was so enraged
that he slapped the Burgomeister on the cheek, and rode off in a royal
huff to Rothenburg. In revenge, on St. Margaret's Day, when the
consecration of the _Schlosskapelle_ was celebrated, he allowed his
followers to plunder the booths of the fair held round about the castle.

Wenzel, in fact, let things go their own gait in the Empire. Knights
plundered and traders quarrelled as they would. The Kaiser indulged in
bouts of drinking, in long hunting forays, and in insane fits of rage.
At last the princes began to dispense with his presence. They called a
Reichstag at Frankfort and sent to him demanding a regent. Then Wenzel
roused himself, returned to Nuremberg, and proclaimed a public peace
(1397). A crusade against the turbulent knights in the valley of the
Pegnitz was undertaken and proved successful. Their castles were taken
and Wenzel forbade them to be rebuilt. This was but a momentary outburst
of energy on his part. He soon resumed his old indifference. In 1400 the
discontent of the princes came to a head. Wenzel was deposed: Ruprecht
von der Pfalz was chosen King and, after some cautious hesitation, was
finally accepted by the towns.

In a charter confirming her privileges Ruprecht granted to Nuremberg the
care of the Reichsburg at all times, and made the town independent of
the Burggraf in the time of feud,--excused them, that is, from assisting
him in his little wars. Nuremberg gave Ruprecht active support in the
proceedings against Wenzel; her chief exploit being the capture of
Rothenburg after a siege of five weeks. When Ruprecht died (1410) Jobst
and Sigismund were competitors for the Kaisership, Wenzel too striking
in with claims for reinstatement. _Both_ the former were elected, so
that Germany rejoiced in as many Kaisers as Christianity had Popes.
Happily Jobst died in three months, and Sigismund, chiefly through the
faithful and unwearied diligence of Burggraf Frederick VI. of Nuremberg,
became Kaiser, "an always hoping, never resting, unsuccessful, vain and
empty Kaiser. Specious, speculative, given to eloquence, diplomacy, and
the windy instead of the solid arts: always short of money for one
thing." This last fault affected Nuremberg in more than one way. In the
first place it necessitated the borrowing of heavy loans from her.
Throughout the fourteenth century and onwards the Kaisers asked and
received very large loans (pleasantly so-called) from Nuremberg. Wenzel,
Ruprecht and Sigismund demanded ever larger and increasingly frequent
donations. Sometimes, but not very often, the citizens were rewarded by
the concession of a charter or the ratification of some procedure on
their part. But the price was, of course, out of all proportion to the
value of the thing purchased. As an example of these dealings we may
instance the "loan" exacted by Sigismund in 1430, which amounted to 9000
gulden, besides other requisitions in the same year. One sees, at any
rate, that Nuremberg must have been sufficiently full-blooded to endure
being bled in this manner. But it was this same impecuniosity on the
part of the Kaiser which led him to sell outright, for a total sum of
400,000 gulden, the Electorate of Brandenburg, with its land, titles and
sovereign electorship and all to Burggraf Frederick, who already held it
in pawn. This step was, in its immediate results at least, distinctly
advantageous to Nuremberg. Clever and energetic, the Burggraf set about
suppressing the robber-knights and establishing order.

     Burggraf Frederick on his first coming to Brandenburg found but a
     cool reception as Statthalter. He came as a representative of law
     and rule; and there had been many noble gentlemen of the Turpin
     profession helping themselves by a ruleless life of late. Industry
     was at a low ebb, violence was rife; plunder and disorder
     everywhere; trade wrecked, private feuds abounding; too much the
     habit of baronial gentlemen to live by the saddle, as they termed
     it; that is by highway robbery in modern phrase. At first the
     Burggraf tried gentle methods, but when he found the noble lords
     scoffed at him, calling him a "Nürnberger Tand" (Nuremberg Toy),
     and continued their plunderings and other contumacies, then with
     the aid of his Frankish men-at-arms, neighbouring potentates and
     artillery--one huge gun, a twenty-four pounder, called Lazy Peg
     (_Faule Grete_), is mentioned--he set to work, and in a remarkably
     short period established comparative peace and order.[13]

That was a piece of work highly acceptable, we may be sure, to the
merchants of Nuremberg. Were they not concerned in bringing fish and
wool from the North, to exchange them in Italy and Venice for the silks
and spices of the East?

In 1414 we catch a glimpse of the sombre figure of John Huss, the
reformer, the Bohemian successor of Wiclif, passing through Nuremberg.
The people here seem to have sympathised with his views. He explained
his position to the clergy and council, and they invited him to return
to them if he fared successfully at Kostnitz. But there he met his
martyrdom. His supporters, the down-trodden peasantry of Bohemia,
thereupon rose in a revolt, which Empire for a long while utterly failed
to suppress. Nuremberg had exhibited no great enthusiasm against
heretics. Though, in 1399, she had burnt six women and a man for
heresy, yet she had given Huss a warm welcome. But the devastation
wrought by the Hussite army alienated all sympathy, and on the
suppression of the "heretics," Nuremberg joined in the universal
rejoicings of all steady-going merchants. She had taken occasional part
in the Hussite wars; but chiefly through paying money instead of sending
a proper contingent of men--a fact which illustrates the narrow, selfish
and lazy policy of the town communities where the Empire was concerned.
It was impossible for the Emperor to keep order with insufficient means
of police. For the Emperor got not a foot of German territory with his
Imperial crown. He was merely the feudal head, and as such found it very
hard to get troops or money from the German people. Most of the members
of the Empire--petty princes and Imperial towns alike--were concerned
chiefly not with the ordering of the Empire but with becoming sovereign
in their own territories. There was very little feeling of Imperial
unity. If the Empire did not do its duty by the towns, the towns did
very little for the Empire, beyond supplying money.

The Nurembergers were energetic enough when it came to fortifying their
town on the approach of the victorious Hussites (1430). The grim
heretics advanced ravaging and destroying the country, depopulating the
towns. Night and day, men, women and children worked at the walls,
striving to render the place impregnable. But the danger passed away.
Thanks to the Markgraf Frederick, who bought them off very cheaply, the
Hussites returned, for the time, in peace to their homes.

Sigismund succeeded in being crowned at Rome in 1433, and on this
occasion he knighted Sebald Behaim, of the great Nuremberg family of
that name, and gave to Nuremberg a charter confirming her privileges
and giving her the right to keep the Imperial jewels, insignia, and
sacred relics for ever. These were brought with great pomp and rejoicing
to the Church of the Holy Spirit (_Neuenspital_) and there they were
kept and jealously guarded till 1796. They were shown with much ceremony
once a year to the people. This occasion was a very popular festival
down to the Reformation days. But in 1523 the relics were shown for the
last time.

Frederick the Third we shall only mention for the sake of the
picturesque ceremonial which occurred when he held his first Reichstag
at Nuremberg, at Easter 1442. The Kaiser rode in at the Spittlerthor. In
the middle of the street where he had to pass St. Jakobskirche a table
was spread on which, besides a crucifix, were placed the heads of St.
Sebald and St. Cyprian. The Kaiser dismounted, took the cross from the
Abbot of St. Ægidius and kissed it.

Thereupon one of the holy skulls was placed on the Kaiser's head, whilst
the priests and choristers in surplices and birettas sang responses. The
Kaiser and his retinue and all the priesthood then made a solemn
procession to the Sebalduskirche. Here the Kaiser worshipped on his
knees before the altar. The priest read the special collect over him,
and, taking a handful of flax and tow, lighted it and, as it burnt,
exclaimed in a loud voice, "Most illustrious Kaiser, _sic transit gloria
mundi_." Then the chorus of priests burst out into the strains of the
_Te Deum_, and the Kaiser went his way in the world--a compromising
Emperor who slept through a long reign to the no small detriment of
Germany.

We must not think of the Nurembergers as altogether given up to trade
and merchandise. They were capable of being stirred up into the deepest
religious enthusiasm. I know not what reception they gave to the
Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa, who (1451) came preaching through Germany,
and passed through Nuremberg selling "Indulgences" like a cheap-jack,
lowering his price from time to time to get rid of his stock. But the
monk, Capistranus, a great preacher, who came in the following year,
created so tremendous a sensation by his eloquence and by miracles which
he wrought that the people, we are told, flocked in crowds, laden with
their new-fashioned pointed shoes, their _Schlitten_ (sledges--harmless
enough one would have thought--but they were regarded as extravagant
luxuries), and thousands of dice and cards, and burnt them all in the
market-place.

Next year they were stirred again by the terrible news that the Turks
had taken Constantinople. Eleven hundred burghers seized their arms and
went as Crusaders to help the Hungarians in Belgrade against the infidel
Turk.[14] But they did not do great deeds. Scarce a third of them
returned at Christmastide. The rest had died of hardship or of disease.
This gave the Council a distaste for Crusades. They took to discouraging
the preachers who came to beat up recruits against Hussites or Turks.
The town, it was found, had to support the widows and children of the
dead Crusaders.

The preachings of the firebrand Johannes Capistranus had another evil
result. The Jews since the persecution in 1349 had not been much
molested, though continually squeezed for money by both Kaiser and
Council. But the increase in their numbers, the riches they had
accumulated through usury, and the eloquence of this monk all tended to
rouse religious hatred.

     "The hatred against the Jews is so general in Germany," writes
     Froissart in 1497, "that the calmest people are beside themselves
     when the conversation turns on their usury. I should not be
     surprised if on a sudden a bloody persecution broke out against
     them all over the country. They have already been forcibly expelled
     from many towns."

After many half resolves, the Council determined to ask Maximilian to
drive these "sucking leeches" from the town. Reluctantly he consented.

     "Their numbers have increased too much. Under pretext of loans they
     have given themselves up to a dangerous and detestable traffic of
     usury. Many honourable citizens, deceived by their devices, are so
     deeply in debt that they see their private honour and their very
     means of existence threatened. For these reasons the Jews are
     invited to quit the town altogether within a period fixed by the
     Council. They are permitted to take with them their moveable
     property, but henceforth none of them shall have the right to
     reside in Nuremberg."[15]

On the 10th of March 1499, driven from their homes amid the curses of
the Christians, the Jews left Nuremberg with groans and lamentations,
never to dwell there again till 1850. Maximilian sold their houses to
the Council. Their churchyard was built over, their tombstones used for
building the Corn Exchange--(die Waage). But no persecution, no
repression, no laws forbidding commercial transactions between Christian
and Jew, could ever subdue that despised but indomitable race. Most of
them found refuge in Frankfort; but some years later, with the
encouragement of the Markgrafs of Brandenburg, many of them settled at
Fürth, which speedily became a serious commercial rival to Nuremberg,
and remains to this day as prosperous as her neighbour.

One curious and interesting result this expulsion had. In order to
supply the place of the money-lenders the Emperor ordered a Leihaus or
State Pawnshop to be built, where money was to be advanced at a
moderate percentage on property to people in difficulties. It was to be
run at cost price, or, if there were any surplus, it was to go to the
State. This was an imitation of the Italian system (Monte di Pietà)
already in vogue at Augsburg--a system not without interest to the
Englishman of to-day.

During the Thirty Years War, the Jews in Fürth, oppressed by the
Imperial troops, asked to be received back into Nuremberg. Some of the
Council were ready to comply, on the receipt of a large payment, but the
majority refused to have the "damaging rascals" within their walls.

So long did the hostility towards the Jews survive here that it was not
till 1800 that the regulation was done away with by which, in order to
stop a day in Nuremberg, a Jew had to pay a personal tax of 45 kreuzer,
and, in addition, had to be accompanied by a guard, for he was not
allowed to walk in the streets alone. This guard was usually an old
woman, who followed her Jew everywhere for the consideration of 15
kreuzer.




CHAPTER III

_Nuremberg and the Reformation_

     "Trading Staple of the German World in old days, Toyshop of the
     German World in these new, Albert Dürer's and Hans Sachs'
     City."--CARLYLE.


We have watched the dawning sun of Nuremberg's greatness rise over the
forest till now it has reached the _Mittags_-quarter. We have seen, to
change the metaphor, the little foundling of the swamps grow year by
year till at last she has arrived at the full strength and beauty of
womanhood. For it was under Maximilian that Nuremberg reached her prime:
it was under him and his successors that the greatest of her sons
flourished. She was lavish as a princess in the adornment of her person.
Once in 1447, and again in 1491, for instance, we find her voting some
500 florins to gild the Beautiful Fountain (Schöner Brunnen), which had
been placed in the Hauptmarkt 1385.[16] She was already adorned with
those churches which in her old age are still her brightest jewels.

Once completed, these churches were not regarded merely as houses of
prayer, but rather as the books of God, where the divine history of the
Redemption might be read and illustrated. The Christian fervour of the
artists led them to give their best and sincerest work to the decoration
of them. So that in the course of time the churches came to represent
for the people museums constantly open, historic galleries of sacred
art, to which one masterpiece after another was added.

     "From daily admiration of them an æsthetic sense was formed in the
     minds of the young, and thanks to them the artists found repeated
     opportunities for exercising their art. Orders from private
     individuals or public bodies abounded. Every well-to-do family,
     every corporation was eager to do honour to God by the presentation
     of some gift to his holy dwelling-place: some offered a picture, a
     statue, a window, or an altar-piece; the portraits of the families
     themselves,[17] as portraits of the donors, were placed at the feet
     of the saints. When the artists represented themselves in paint,
     bronze, wood, or stone, they gave themselves the humble attitude of
     suppliants: in those of their compositions which contain numerous
     personages they always choose the humblest place for themselves;
     often, like Adam Krafft in the tabernacle in the Church of St.
     Lorenz, they appear in their working clothes, tools in hand, in the
     attitude of servants."[18]

Whilst such men as Adam Krafft and Peter Vischer were giving their
life-work to the beautifying of the churches, sculpture and painting
also were turned to the adornment of domestic and public life. The
mansions of the merchant princes still bear witness to the wealth of the
burgesses, and to the vigour of the artistic impulse of this period.
Every house, apart from architectural splendour, was decorated with a
painting, whether of some symbol or the patron saint of the family. The
very aspect of the streets spoke to the importance of the rôle which art
played in the life of the town. The influence of the town reacted no
less surely on the art of the period. Albert Durer, for instance, in
spite of his wide experience always speaks in his art, like his master
Wolgemut, in the Nuremberg dialect. The intense patriotism and the deep
religious feeling which formed so intimate a part of the lives of the
citizens are reproduced in their art and literature,

[Illustration: SCHÖNER BRUNNEN]

giving the greatest examples of them the added charm of locality. Their
love of science was no less genuine than their love of art. In June
1471, a few weeks after the birth of Albert Durer, Johannes Muller,
(surnamed Regiomontanus in allusion to Königsberg, his native village)
the great mathematical genius, "the wonder of his generation," took up
his abode at Nuremberg, making her the true home of physical and
mathematical science and contributing mightily to her reputation as "the
capital of German art, the most precious jewel of the Empire, the
meeting-place of art and industry." "I have chosen Nuremberg for my
place of residence," he writes, "because there I find without difficulty
all the peculiar instruments necessary for astronomy, and there it is
easiest for me to keep in touch with the learned of all countries, for
Nuremberg, thanks to the perpetual journeyings of her merchants, may be
counted the centre of Europe." Inspired with the eager desire to know
everything, so characteristic of his age, he was equally desirous to
impart his knowledge. We may trace to his influence Durer's book on
geometry and his beautiful chart of the heavens. Muller introduced
popular science lectures, and organised the manufacture of astronomical
and nautical instruments. His most famous pupil was Martin Behaim the
constructor of the first globe and the adventurous navigator, whose
monument (1890) may be seen in the Theresien Platz. Behaim in 1492
indicated on his terrestrial globe the precise route followed six years
later by Vasco da Gama when he doubled the Cape of Good Hope. It was
Behaim, too, who suggested to Magellan the first idea of the strait
which bears his name. Behaim's famous globe is kept in the Behaim House,
which is in the Ægiden Platz, next to the house of Koberger, the
printer, and opposite the statue of Melanchthon (by Burgschmiet, 1826).

Maximilian, "the last of the knights," had taken a considerable part in
the government before he succeeded his father in 1493. The Nurembergers,
who always had an eye for a strong man, had already shown their loyalty
to him. He had stayed amongst them at the house of Christopher Scheurl
(father of the famous Dr Scheurl), and whilst there would seem to have
amused himself light-heartedly enough. When about to depart, we are
told, he invited twenty great ladies to dinner; after dinner, when they
were all in a good humour, the Margraf Frederick asked Maximilian in the
name of the ladies to stay a little longer and to dance with them.
_They_, it is said, had taken away his boots and spurs, so he had no
choice. Then the whole company adjourned to the Council House, several
other young ladies were invited, and Maximilian stayed dancing all
through the afternoon and night and arrived a day late at Neumarkt where
the Count of the Palatinate had been expecting him all the preceding
day.

As Emperor, Maximilian stayed at the Kaiserburg. A brilliant assembly
attended his first Reichstag. Masques, dances, tourneys and so forth are
recorded with gusto by the chroniclers. The Emperor, they say,
entertained all the ladies of the town at dinner and provided them with
two hundred and forty sorts of dishes. No wonder he was popular!

Nuremberg was not allowed to be content with supplying Maximilian with
partners in the ball-room. In 1499 she had to support him in his
disastrous war with Switzerland. The Nuremberg contingent was under
Willibald Pirkheimer and Wolf Pömer. Beautifully dressed in red and
white uniforms these soldiers earned the reputation of cowardice and
treachery. Such imputations were, let it be confessed, not unfrequently
cast upon Nuremberg courage; but on this occasion the Emperor took their
part and refuted the charge.

Nuremberg knew at any rate how to fight her own battles. Throughout this
period we find her engaged in continual quarrels with the Markgrafs of
Brandenburg. The Burggraf Frederick once made Elector, had parted with
the Burggrafship, sold it, all but the title, to the burghers in 1427.
But principalities and territories were retained in that quarter, and
about these, and their feudal rights and boundaries and tolls, endless
trouble arose. Some fifty years later actual furious war resulted
between the Elector Albert Achilles and the jealous citizens--a war in
"which eight victories are counted on Albert's part--furious successful
skirmishes they call them; in one of which Albert plunged in alone, his
Ritters being rather shy, and laid about him hugely, hanging by a
standard he had taken, till his life was nearly beaten out. Eight
victories, and also one defeat wherein Albert got captured and had to
ransom himself. The captor was one Kunz of Kauffungen, the Nürnberg
hired General at the time, a man known to some readers for his stealing
of the Saxon princes (Prinzenraut, they call it), a feat which cost Kunz
his head."[19] Such quarrels continued, for the Markgrafs did not
relinquish their efforts to extend their powers. Details it would be
wearisome to give, but they illustrate the general family tendency of
the Hohenzollern. It is characteristic that they were generally
successful in their claims (all cases, it was now decided, arising from
Nuremberg property outside the walls were to be tried by the
Landgericht, of which the Markgraf was president), and based on this
success still greater claims in the future.

The memoirs of Götz von Berlichingen furnish us with an interesting
account of the Battle of the Forest of Nuremberg (1502), which affords a
good example of the sort of thing continually occurring in those days.

Towards the end of May it was rumoured in the town that warlike
preparations were being made in Ansbach, the headquarters of the
Markgraf. The feelings of the citizens were still further roused by the
fact that the Markgraf had taken under his protection an enemy of
Nuremberg. The day of the Affalterbacher Fair was at hand. The prospect
seemed so threatening that the Council sent a specially large
contingent--2000 men, with a "Wagenburg" and cannon under the command of
the Magistrate Hans von Weichsdorf, Wolf Haller, and Wolf Pömer--to
escort their citizens who went to attend the fair. An accidental
explosion of powder when they were starting seemed ominous. At home they
kept a small force under Ulman Stromer, who drew up between the
Frauen- and Spitler-Thor. On the day of the fair, the Markgraf appeared
with a large force of knights, Swiss and local soldiery. Amongst them
was Götz von Berlichingen, who was only twenty-two years of age. The
following manoeuvers then took place. In the morning some sixty
horsemen were seen driving off the cattle about a quarter of a mile
south of Nuremberg. Ulman Stromer thereupon marched out and took up a
strong position, under protection of his guns, and drove the horsemen
back into the woods, "for they did not find it very amusing: it is not
everybody who likes to hear the cannon roar," says Götz. The retreat of
the enemy enticed Ulman Stromer to follow them with his carts and cannon
into the wood. Suddenly he came upon the Markgraf Casimir with his main
army. Though outnumbered, the Nurembergers did not lose their courage,
but fired with such effect that the riff-raff of the enemy

[Illustration: FRAUEN THOR]

cleared off, leaving the knights and Switzers to do battle. Under cover
of a strong fire, "so that nothing could be seen for smoke," Stromer
tried to form a "Wagenburg" (waggon fortress), by having the carts
driven round so as to form a circle about the men and guns, hoping to be
able to wait in this extemporised fort till reinforcements should arrive
from Affalterbach. Götz boasts that it was he who prevented this
manoeuvre from being executed. For he killed one of the drivers, and
so interrupted the completion of the circle. The Brandenburgers were
thus enabled to rush in, and compelled the citizens to take to flight.
At this juncture the reinforcements came up, but it was too late. A
general rush for safety to the town took place. On the bridge over the
moat there was so great a crush of refugees that many were forced over
into the water. Luckily the cannon on the Frauen Thor kept the Markgraf
at a safe distance. Within the town a terrible panic had occurred. Götz,
indeed, says that the place could easily have been taken--a statement
not very easy to believe. At any rate, the Markgraf did not attempt it,
but marched back to Schwabach to hold a service of thanksgiving, whilst
the Nurembergers revenged themselves on the peasants whom they had taken
prisoner. Intense indignation was felt and expressed against the
Markgraf: prisoners were torn to pieces in the streets. At last a
curious peace was arranged, to begin on July 1st, but not before. Each
side tried to damage the other as much as possible before that day came,
and the Council, in order to get in a good final blow, burned the
Markgraf's castle of Schönberg at the last moment. A peace thus
inaugurated did not, as may be imagined, produce any lasting good
feeling between the two parties. In the very next year fresh trouble
arose over one Heinz Baum, a Nuremberg citizen who had come down in the
world and been put into prison by his creditors. As soon as he was
released, he left the town, threw up his citizenship, and, after writing
various threatening letters to the Council, he surprised Hans Tucher, a
Nuremberg patrician, when riding out to his country seat, and kept him
prisoner till he was ransomed. With the Markgraf's secret support, Baum
proceeded to seize and keep in the stocks till ransom was paid all the
citizens he could lay his hands on. Though the Emperor outlawed him, he
pursued his way unhindered, protected by the Markgraf, till 1512, when
Nuremberg bought off his chief supporter, and Heinz Baum retired to
Bamberg, where he died poor but unpunished.

The importance of Nuremberg was still further enhanced by the part she
took in the war of the Bavarian Succession. In 1503 George the Rich of
Bavaria had died without male issue. According to the feudal right, his
lands ought to have gone to the male heir, but, hating as he did his
natural successors, his cousins Albrecht of Bavaria and Wolfgang, he had
made his daughter his sole heiress, and married her to her cousin
Ruprecht (third son of the powerful Philip, Elector of the Palatinate),
whom he adopted as his son and made governor of a great part of the
country. On the death of Duke George, Ruprecht succeeded, but Albrecht
and Wolfgang raised such strenuous protest that the Emperor, after
repeated attempts to arrange a compromise, was obliged to outlaw
Ruprecht and all his supporters, his father the Elector Philip included.
War was the inevitable result. The Emperor and other princes, amongst
whom was the Markgraf of Brandenburg, gave their support to Albrecht,
who promised them a share in what was conquered. Many of Philip's
possessions were close to Nuremberg. Albrecht was therefore able to
entice her to fight for him, promising her in return for her aid 40,000
gulden, with all the Palatinate towns and the value of all George's
towns that she might manage to take. With the aid of three special
cannon, called the Owl, the Falcon, and the Fishermaid, capable of
shooting balls of 263 pounds weight, the Nuremberg army captured a
considerable number of Palatinate towns. But even after the deaths first
of Ruprecht and then of his brave widow, who had carried on the struggle
like another Margaret of Anjou, the war still dragged on on behalf of
their little sons, and the Palatinate party were actually getting a
little the best of it when, at a Reichstag in Cologne, Maximilian at
length arranged a successful compromise.

Nuremberg was allowed to keep what she had taken, and now had more land
than any other free town in the Empire. It was a doubtful blessing. She
was involved in constant wars to keep it, in further quarrels with the
Markgraf over the rights of _Fraisgericht_,--of jurisdiction in matters
of life and death in the newly acquired towns, and she had to pay
largely increased contributions to the Empire. Altogether she was
impoverished rather than benefited by her new property.

We have now to trace the story of the celebrated feud with Götz von
Berlichingen--the warrior knight, the chivalrous and charitable, the
brave, free-booting noble, Götz of the Iron Hand. Such is the character
Goethe gave him when he centred in him, as the heroic champion of the
privileges of the Free Knights, the interest of his Shakesperian drama.
Truth, however, compels us to declare, that though men like Götz or
Franz von Sickingen, the Robin Hoods of Germany, had the qualities of a
certain rough justice and courage, they were, for the rest, wholly
undeniable brigands. The love of destruction, disorder, and rapine, and
the hatred of authority were their chief motives. They used their rights
as pretexts for violence and devoted themselves to brigandage as to a
legitimate vocation and organised industry. They were, indeed, little
better than leaders of bands of robbers, the wolves of civilisation.

     "One day," says Götz, "as I was on the point of making an attack, I
     perceived a pack of wolves descending on a flock of sheep. This
     incident seemed to me a good omen. We were going to begin the
     fight. A shepherd was near us, guarding his sheep, when, as if to
     give us the signal, five wolves threw themselves simultaneously on
     the flock. I saw it and noted it gladly. I wished them success and
     ourselves too, saying, 'Good luck, dear comrades, success to you
     everywhere!' I took it as a very good augury that we had begun the
     attack together!"

It was in 1495 that Maximilian, ever anxious to promote peace and order
within the borders of his Empire, abrogated by edict the right of
private war under the penalty of the ban of the Empire--a penalty which
involved the dooms of outlawry and excommunication. Thus the "last of
the Knights" gave the death-blow to the chivalry of the Middle Ages.
Hitherto every German noble holding fief directly from the Emperor had
been on his own property a petty monarch, as it were, subordinate to the
Imperial authority alone. These proud military barons,--an
ever-increasing host of petty lords, since the rule of inheritance in
Germany was division among the male heirs--esteemed above all other
privileges the right of making war on each other, or on the towns, with
no other ceremony than that of three days' notice in writing
(Fehdebrief). The evils and dangers of this privilege are clear, but
they were left untouched by the Golden Bull. With the advance of
civilisation, which was ever opposed to the feudal system, this
Faustrecht had come to be regarded as intolerable by such princes,
bishops and free towns as suffered from the consequent disorder of the
country and the marauding expeditions of the free-knights. For the
residence of every baron had become, as we have seen, a fortress from
which, as his passions or avarice dictated, a band of marauders sallied
forth to back his quarrel or to collect an extorted revenue from the
merchants who presumed to pass through his domain. Princes and bishops,
abbots and wealthy merchants of the towns banded together, therefore, to
enforce the new ordinance and to suppress the petty feudatories, who,
like Götz, struggled to maintain their privilege and independence. Under
Sigismund various efforts had been made to suppress the harrying of the
knights and many robber-nests on solitary rocks were taken. When taken
the robbers, especially those of the lower class, were made short work
of and dealt with in various ways--ways best illustrated by a visit to
the torture chambers of the castle. There was one Hans Schuttensamen,
for instance, on whose head the Council put a price. A citizen of
Bamberg came forward and claimed the reward, saying he had shot him.
After he had received the money his story was found to be a stretch of
the imagination and he was burnt accordingly. Ten years later (1474) the
robber also got burnt.

So bitterly were these knights hated and feared that even the great
tourneys, such as the one recorded in 1446,[20] when all the
neighbouring nobles came in from the surrounding country and tilted and
displayed their skill and valour in the market-place, were very
unpopular with the peace-loving burghers.

Nuremberg, then, joined the Swabian League to suppress such knights as
chose still to indulge in the forbidden Club Law or Faustrecht. It was
not long before she came into direct collision with Götz von
Berlichingen of the Iron Hand. Götz, who had a fine gift for chastising
the gutter-blooded citizens of a free town, had long been anxious to try
conclusions with the men of Nuremberg. He carried out his intention on a
very futile pretext. The Nurembergers, it seems, had pursued and fought
in the adjacent woods some unknown knights, who had refused, when
challenged, to give their names as honest knights and fled. Now, some
years after, Hans von Geislingen, brother of one George, who was the
Squire of Eustace of Lichtenstein and was killed on this occasion,
demanded blood-money for his brother, and on being refused, he seized
some Nuremberg citizens and merchants' caravans. He was outlawed, but
this did not prevent Götz von Berlichingen from helping him. George, he
declared, had been his page (a statement that had the defect of being
untrue), and he demanded a large sum of money in compensation. When this
was refused Götz did not send an _Absagebrief_, or letter of notice of
war, but merely a note saying that he was considering, with his friends,
how to get compensation. His bitterness was further increased by the
action of the Council, who shortly afterwards decapitated Sebastian von
Seckendorf, a knight who had long been a source of annoyance, and whom
they had at last been successful in catching. Suddenly, and without
warning, Götz and his friends swooped down on a party of fifty-five
Nuremberg merchants who were travelling back from the fair at Leipzig,
under the escort of the Bishop of Bamberg. These he plundered and took
prisoners as they were crossing the Rednitz, near Forcheim. Götz did not
treat his prisoners too gently, but used the art of torture to persuade
them to offer huge ransoms. The news of this seizure caused
consternation and surprise in Nuremberg. Götz's letter of notice came
only nine days later to the Council. Spies were sent out to discover his
whereabouts: the town was prepared for a siege, and 800 mercenary
soldiers were hired. Götz was outlawed. But the Council were accused of
being slack to avenge, what they called "a handful of small merchants,
not of patrician families," and Maximilian was not willing to be plunged
into an Imperial war "to recover a merchant's sack of pepper." What he
did do was to attempt to bring about one of his favourite compromises.
The Markgraf was appointed to arbitrate, and his award was that
Nuremberg should pay a certain sum. As is not unusual in the case of
arbitrations, the money was not paid. Götz, laughing at the sentence of
outlawry that had been passed upon him, protected by the princes who
resented peace and order in an Empire, continued to ravage, burn and
pillage, until the Swabian League was renewed, at the end of 1512, to
keep the "eternal peace," at which Maximilian aimed. Nuremberg once more
joined the League, on Maximilian's injunction, though she distrusted the
alliance with the Markgraf thereby involved. The League, however,
decided in January 1513 to take strong measures to repress the outlawed
nobles and to destroy the castles of the robber-knights. But the Emperor
objected, and said that he wanted to arrive at a peaceful compromise
with Götz. The Nurembergers replied that they would be content if the
latter paid over a sum of money sufficient to compensate the merchants
for the losses they had suffered. At the same time they took prisoner a
robber-knight who was a friend of the Markgraf, and to procure his
release the Markgraf promised to arrange peace for them with Hans von
Geislingen. This he succeeded in doing. Götz, however, remained at war,
proud and obstinate in spite of all mediation. Again and again the
League threatened war, the Emperor temporised, and Götz plundered, until
at last Maximilian got it arranged that Götz should pay 14000 florins
damages. These were subscribed chiefly by his supporters, such as the
Bishop of Würzburg, who also persuaded him to cease from his career of
robbery.

Maximilian died in 1519. He had shown himself a good friend to the
Nuremberg artists. No doubt his patronage and his keen interest in art
and literature had been partly responsible for the good work of this
period. He was himself an author, for he had a considerable share in the
_Weisskunig_ and the _Theuerdank_--the latter, a poem which describes
allegorically the private life and ideals of the Emperor, being chiefly
executed by Melchior Pfinzing, his secretary, the Provost of St.
Sebald's and builder of the Parsonage. Of the artists, he frequently
employed Peter Vischer and Veit Stoss, whilst he showed the greatest
appreciation of Albert Durer, to whom he gave a pension of 100 florins.
When at Nuremberg in 1512 Maximilian with the aid of Willibald
Pirkheimer and others, planned a colossal _Holzschnittwerk_, or wood-cut
picture, "The Triumph," in which he himself was, as usual in the works
of art he inspired, to be idealised as the greatest of princes. Durer
was to draw part of it. Ninety-two blocks did Durer design for the
_Triumphal Arch_ in the course of the next two years. Amongst other
works for this patron we may mention _The Triumphal Car_, the
_Crucifixion_, and the ornamental borders of the famous _Book of
Hours_. Finally when Maximilian held the diet at Augsburg in 1518,
Durer, who was one of the commissioners sent by the town of Nuremberg,
drew the Emperor's portrait from the life, "in the little room upstairs
in the palace." From this sketch he painted the picture now at Vienna,
another version of which is in the German Museum at Nuremberg. Durer was
as good a courtier as artist. Melanchthon tells us how Maximilian was
endeavouring to draw a design which he wished Durer to carry out, but
kept breaking the charcoal in doing so. Durer took the charcoal and,
without breaking it, easily finished the drawing. Maximilian, somewhat
vexed, asked how this was, to which the artist replied, "I should not
like your Majesty to be able to draw as well as I. It is my province to
draw and yours to rule." _Aliud est plectrum, aliud sceptrum._ The hand
that wields the sceptre is too strong for the brush.

Maximilian was, in many aspects of his character, a typical product of
the Renaissance. Nuremberg had felt the full force of the revival of
learning, the new stimulus in art and literature which was being brought
to the West from Constantinople by the Jews and Greeks who had been
driven out by the Turks. Not a few of the knights and pilgrims, too,
must have passed through Nuremberg on their return from the Crusades,
and her growing commerce with the East and West and Italy would tend to
keep her in touch with the developments which were taking place in the
world of ideas, and which were tending inevitably towards the
Reformation. She had been among the first to welcome and to practise the
new "German art" of printing. Between 1470, when Johann Sensenschmidt
had brought Gutenberg's invention to Nuremberg, and the end of the
century, twenty-five printers received the rights of citizenship.
Johannes Regiomontanus printed here in 1472 his _Kalendarium Novum_.
But Anthoni Koberger was the most celebrated man in the trade. Over two
hundred different works, mostly in large folio, were issued from his
twenty-four printing presses before 1500. The "prince of booksellers,"
as one of his contemporaries calls him, he had agents in every country,
and sixteen depôts in the principal towns in Christendom. The first work
of art which left his presses was a magnificent illustrated Bible,
published in 1483, and printed from blocks he had obtained from Henry
Quentel of Cologne. But, besides the Bible and theology, the press
poured forth a stream of literature of every kind, spreading new ideas
with unexampled rapidity, and giving expression to thoughtful criticism
or popular satire of established abuses. Under such influences as these
it was felt that a new era of progress was at hand. Nuremberg,
stimulated by the education of self-government and of commercial
intercourse, did not fail to produce such independent humanists as
Conrad Celtes, Dr Scheurl, Lazarus Spengler, Albert Durer, Willibald
Pirkheimer, who could write as well as read, and preach as well as
applaud the doctrines of necessary reform. She was, in fact, one of the
first towns to express sympathy with Martin Luther, when he nailed his
ninety-five theses on the church door of Wittenberg, in protest against
what Erasmus had called "the crime of false pardons," the sale of
Indulgences, to which Leo X. had resorted in order to raise money for a
little war.

Luther came to Nuremberg in the course of the next year (1518) and
stayed in the Augustinerkloster. His friend Leirck, we are told, had to
buy him a new cowl, in order that he might appear in fitting costume
before the Cardinal Cajetan at Augsburg, where he was summoned to answer
for his heresies. None the less the Cardinal received at Nuremberg a
great welcome next year, and Luther's followers continued at present to
perform the rites and cling to the old forms of the Church. Reform, not
revolution, was what they still hoped for. But the stream of events
carried them rapidly with it. Willibald Pirkheimer, thanks to a satire
against Eck, the bitter opponent of Luther, was included in 1519 in the
Papal Bull, by which Luther was excommunicated. The Council, annoyed by
the excommunication of Pirkheimer and Lazarus Spengler (Clerk of the
Council), refused to interfere with the printing and publishing of
Luther's works, and gradually passed over to his side. To show how
little they respected this decree of excommunication, they actually sent
Spengler to represent the town at the Diet of Worms. For Charles V. held
his first Reichstag (1521) at Worms, and not at Nuremberg, because of an
outbreak of plague there. (Outbreaks of plague were not uncommon at
Nuremberg, nor were they surprising. For all refuse was always thrown
into the Pegnitz on the understanding that "the river would eat up all
the dirt.") It was at this Diet of Worms that Luther made his Confession
of Faith, and fought single-handed against Pope and Emperor the great
battle for the right of freedom of conscience. When, as the result, the
ban of the Empire had been passed upon him and all his works, and the
report was abroad that violent hands had been laid on him, Albert Durer,
who had followed him from the first, wrote in his diary, expressing at
the same time the opinion of the nation; "Whether he lives or whether he
has been murdered, I know not; but he has suffered for the Christian
faith and has been punished by the unchristian Papacy." That, too, was
the opinion of all the more important men in Nuremberg. Cautious in
expressing their feelings at first, after a time the people boldly
showed their dislike of monasteries and their approval of the new
movement.

    "Wake up! Now may the dawn be seen;
     And singing in a thicket green
       I hear a tuneful nightingale,"

wrote Hans Sachs, in a poem which had no small influence in forwarding
the reformation movement. So, in many of his later prose dialogues, he
upholds liberty of conscience and freedom of opinion in religious
matters. The Council, in deference to the Emperor, made a bare pretence
of stopping the publication of Lutheran writings. So half-hearted were
they that the Papal Legate demanded that stronger measures should be
taken, and that Lutheran preachers should be imprisoned. But the Council
pursued its policy of keeping the peace between both parties, taking a
middle course and siding with neither reactionary nor revolutionary.
That policy could not be pursued for long. The Council had to yield, not
unwillingly, to public opinion. At a meeting of representatives of the
towns at Rothenburg, held there in 1524 because forbidden by Imperial
edict to meet at Spires and to discuss religious matters, Nuremberg was
very bold and "gave three brave Christian reasons" why they should not
obey this edict. She organised a further meeting of the towns at Ulm,
and for herself began to determine on a new form of worship. The
Sacrament was now administered in both kinds, and Mass was read in
German, with Lutheran omissions, by the Prior of the Augustin Monastery.
Both the Parish Churches followed his example. The Council excused
themselves for allowing this by saying that they did it to avoid an
uproar among the people. The Bishop of Bamberg held an inquiry, and
summoned the officiating priests before him. They denied his power to
judge them, and his sentence of excommunication was practically
ignored. Other towns followed the example of Nuremberg, and imitated her
Lutheran services. Meanwhile the dislike of the people for monasteries
and nunneries broke out more vehemently. The air was full of satires and
cartoons directed against nuns and monks. Hans Sachs was not silent on
this point. At last the Council ordered these institutions to be handed
over to the guidance of the Lutheran preachers. Charitas Pirkheimer, the
virtuous and accomplished abbess of the _Klarakloster_, friend and
correspondent of Durer and sister of Willibald, has left us in her
memoirs a touching account of the manner in which she was torn from her
beloved convent, over which no breath of scandal had ever passed, and
which contained many of the daughters of the best families in Nuremberg.
These memoirs are well worth looking at by those who care to see the
other side of the question, and to make the acquaintance of a beautiful
and fascinating character. Unfortunately we have no space in this little
book to deal with them here.

Shortly after this an organised discussion between the representatives
of the old and new orders of religious belief was held before the
Council. One by one, twelve points of doctrine were put to the heads of
the Lutheran, Carmelite, Augustin and Dominican bodies, and each
answered after his kind. The Catholic party finally claimed that the
decision between them should be referred to the University; but
Osiander, declaring that God's word was the only salvation, wound up the
discussion with a bold and eloquent speech, and called upon the Council
for an immediate decision. The Council gave their vote for the Lutheran
case, and thus formally threw in their lot with the Reformation. The
following year saw a whole series of decrees from the Council carrying
out Lutheran principles. Thus, chiefly no doubt in deference to the
popular demand--for these were the days of the terrible Peasant
wars--the property of the priests was ordered to be taxed. There was
little violence. The influence of the gentle Melanchthon, who came to
Nuremberg in 1525, did much to smooth down any tendency to brutality, or
harsh treatment of the monks and nuns. Even in the first flash of
religious excitement education was not neglected. The educational
movement inaugurated by Luther's letter to the towns asking them to
found schools, met with eager support at Nuremberg. Through the agency
of Hieronymus Paumgärtner and Spengler, Philip Melanchthon was induced
to come and assist at the founding of a new gymnasium for secondary
education. No expense was spared, and Melanchthon brought a brilliant
staff of teachers with him. The institution was established in the
buildings of the Ægidienkloster. But the school languished. Nuremberg,
after all, was a town of shopkeepers, and, though some were ready to pay
for masters, few were ready to pay, or spare the time, for their sons'
higher education. The school was at last moved to Altdorf, and grew into
the University there. The present gymnasium was refounded in 1633.
Melanchthon's statue, mentioned above, stands in front of the building
erected in 1711 on the site of the old monastery which together with the
church was burnt down in 1699. Conrad III. is said to have built the
church for the Benedictine Order in 1140. Three chapels remain--the
Eucharius, the Wolfgang, and the Tetzel chapels, of which the first is
the oldest, and affords an interesting example of the transition style
(see p. 260).

The Council all this time had a difficult part to play: it had to show
itself both strong and conciliatory. When the Peasants' War broke out,
Nuremberg, the capital of Franconia, was not unaffected by it though

[Illustration: ROTHENBURG]

she suffered less than her neighbours--Rothenburg for example. But the
new-found spiritual freedom preached from Lutheran pulpits was likely to
be misinterpreted by the lower classes in the town, as it had been by
the peasants outside, and construed into temporal licence. The Council,
therefore, whilst striving not to cause any irritation, had to take
strong measures to repress the outbreaks which occurred within the
walls, when the peasants, whom Götz von Berlichingen had joined, were
ravaging and rioting through the country in their barbarous struggle for
emancipation. First of all the Council very wisely expelled Thomas
Münzer, the mad, well-meaning fanatic and agitator, and then promised
the peasants to remain neutral, as long as they did not ravage her
territory or tamper with her citizens. Still, for a few months,
Nuremberg was in imminent danger. She might have fallen into the hands
of the rebels at any moment in the May of this year (1525). The Council,
realising the peril, remitted some of the tithes, as a sop to the
peasants, and sent urgent appeals for aid to the Swabian League. But the
thunder-cloud passed by without breaking over Nuremberg, and she, to her
credit be it recorded, when the revolt was crushed, was not slow to
speak on behalf of towns like Rothenburg which had taken the side of the
peasants. The result of her intervention was to preserve for us the
walls and fortifications of Rothenburg. The illustration shows the
towers and gateways there which recall the White Tower and
Lauferschlagthurm at Nuremberg.

In the later developments of the Protestant revolution, we find
Willibald Pirkheimer warmly supporting Luther with his pen, when
Zwingle, denying the Real Presence, treated the Sacrament as symbolic,
and was violently denounced by Luther for this view. Pirkheimer,
however, was no blind follower of Luther. He, remembering his sister's
case, thought the monasteries and convents too hardly treated, and he
saw, what Luther failed to see, that the peasant risings were the
inevitable results of such times of upheaval and repression. He grew
soured and disappointed with Luther. Like Scheurl, and, as he says
(1528)--

     "Like Durer, I was at first a good Lutheran. We hoped things would
     be better than in the Roman Church, but the Lutherans are worse.
     The former were hypocrites: the latter openly live disgraceful
     lives. For Justification by Faith alone is not possible. Without
     works faith is dead. Luther, with his bold, petulant tongue, has
     either fallen under a delusion, or else is being led astray by the
     Evil One."

However, in spite of splits, the wave of Protestantism was not
diminishing. The answer to the Emperor's order that stringent measures
should be taken against the Lutheran heresy, and that the Edict of Worms
should be carried out, was, that the towns, under the leadership of
Nuremberg, banded themselves together with the Lutheran princes, and at
the Diet of Spires (1526) it was decreed that "Each State should, as
regards the Diet of Worms, so live, rule, and bear itself as it thought
it could answer to God and the Empire."

From this decree, which was an acknowledgment of the temporary breakdown
of Roman Catholicism, resulting from the Emperor's quarrel with the
Pope, came the division of Germany into Catholic and Protestant States.
Next year, when the Bishop of Bamberg commanded the priests of Nuremberg
to observe the Roman Catholic ceremonies, the Council, whom he asked not
to interfere with the carrying out of his order, were able to point to
this Edict. In order, however, to be secure from the Swabian League,
which was hostile to the new teaching, Nuremberg, Augsburg, Ulm, and
other towns, bound themselves together and protested against any
interference, on the part of the League, in religious matters.

But in 1529 the Emperor had settled his quarrel with the Pope and
returned to his loyalty to Rome. Taking advantage of this, the Papal
party succeeded in passing a decree in the Reichstag confirming the
Edict of Worms. The Lutheran princes protested against the decree, and
so earned the name of "Protestants." The Protestant communities
assembled in Nuremberg, and sent a representative to the Emperor, who
was in Italy, to complain. The Emperor, however, took a firm tone with
them and declared the dispensation of Spires at an end. Philip von
Hessen and other zealous leaders were now very eager to make a firm
stand and to form a Protestant union against this fresh attempt to
suppress the new teaching. But the Lutherans could not bring themselves
to work with the Zwinglians. The influence of Luther and Osiander was
sufficient to deter Nuremberg from joining in such a scheme. Wisely or
not, she refused to belong to any union which might bring her into
conflict with the head of the Empire. But, though she said she would not
take up arms, she knew her own mind in religious matters. At a Reichstag
held at Augsburg (1530) the Emperor was to be present. Owing to the
exertions of the Nuremberg Council, the Evangelical party united to send
the celebrated "Confession," or statement of Lutheran doctrines, which
was drawn up by Luther and Melanchthon, signed by Nuremberg and
Reutlingen, and read to Charles. The representatives of Nuremberg also
took with them a confession of faith, drawn up under the direction of
the Council by Nuremberg theologians. A peaceful solution of the
question was what they aimed at: a recognition of religious freedom
brought about by argument, not by arms. For this reason, and because she
had a great distrust of the Protestant princes ("The princes are
princes," it was said, "and if anything happens they will withdraw their
heads out of the noose and leave the towns in the lurch") Nuremberg
would not join "the league of Schmalkalden," formed by the Protestant
princes to defend themselves from that crushing of the Lutheran heresy
by the Imperial power, which the Diet now threatened. This league, in
spite of Luther's protest against opposition to the civil power, would
have led at once to war, had not a Turkish invasion of Austria diverted
Charles' attention. Something like a religious truce was proclaimed, and
Nuremberg sent a double contingent of men to help Charles.

It was, perhaps, in recognition of this proof of loyalty that Charles,
on his way to Regensburg in 1541, held the Reichstag at Nuremberg for
the first time. The town on this occasion was in a great state of
festivity. The roads were strewn with sand; festoons and hangings
brightened the streets which were lined by 5000 armed citizens. Bells
were rung and cannon fired as Charles, clothed in black, with a felt hat
on his head, rode into the town, beneath a magnificent red velvet canopy
held by eight members of the Council in turn. He passed beneath a
triumphal arch which had been erected near Neudörfer's house, in the
Burgstrasse. In the Rathaus a solemn act of homage was performed, and
the Emperor confirmed all the privileges of the town. Costly gifts were
lavished on him; fireworks were let off from the bastion then being
built (see p. 115). The Council, in fact, though they would concede
nothing, even at the Emperor's request, on the religious question,
showed themselves loyal and conciliatory. The bells of the principal
churches were ordered to be rung at noon, to remind all good Christians
to pray for protection against the Turks, the arch-enemies of
Christianity. This ringing, called _Betläuten_, still takes place.

The Civil War, which was the inevitable result of the formation of the
Schmalkalden League, had only been postponed. The Emperor and the
Catholic princes tried to reduce the Protestant princes to obedience,
with the aid of Spanish soldiery, soon after the death of Luther. Though
Charles had said he was going to attack the princes and not the towns,
the northern towns promised help to the princes. Nuremberg, however,
determined to obey the Emperor; she strove, in fact, to pursue, so far
as possible, her usual policy of inactive neutrality. Money was paid to
the Emperor: but, when urgent appeals for help came from the princes,
the Council sent them privately a sum of money, but would take no
further step for the Evangelical cause at present. The sympathy of the
majority was, indeed, with the League, but they shrank from risking all
the great wealth and privileges of the town for the common welfare and
for the freedom of religious belief. _Nürnberg trage auf beiden achseln_
was the bitter sneer of the day. The temper of her citizens was sorely
tried when the Emperor's ill-behaved Spanish troops were quartered on
them. Still, money was supplied loyally enough to the Imperial treasury.
In religious matters they remained steadfast, politely but firmly
forbidding the Emperor's Confessor to read Mass to the nuns in the
Katharinenkirche.

The result of Charles' campaigns against the princes was to leave him
apparently more powerful than any Emperor since Charlemagne. We can
hardly wonder if, in the Reichstag of 1547, he tried to get himself
recognised as supreme head of the Empire, not only in political, but
also in religious matters. A year later he appointed a Commission which
published the "Interim," establishing a half-and-half religion for all
not of the Roman Catholic faith. It was called the strait-waistcoat of
German Protestantism. Papacy was thereby almost reintroduced. The work
of Luther seemed entirely undone. This attempt at repressing Evangelical
teaching roused the Nurembergers. Sermons thundered from the pulpit, and
the Council was severely criticised. None the less they accepted the
"Interim." Osiander resigned his post and shook the dust of Nuremberg
from off his feet. Others followed his example. But, in spite of
protest, the Catholic reaction was, for the moment, successful. It could
not last. The Spanish yoke was in itself intolerable. In 1552 the revolt
of the princes, in alliance even with France, began. The Council pursued
its old policy of neutrality--a policy destined this time not to pay.
Money was contributed to the princes: devotion to the Emperor was
expressed. So they thought they were safe. But the Markgraf of
Brandenburg, Albert Alcibiades, who had declared for the Protestant
cause, held only to the princes' manifesto, that those who were not for
them were against them. He turned his eyes on his old enemy, and seized
the merchant-trains that were leaving the city in fancied security.
Then, suddenly in May, he appeared with a strong force before
Lichtenau--a castle and mart belonging to Nuremberg. The place fell into
his hands, was burnt and razed to the ground. Next day he sent a
message, bearing the Bourbon arms, to express his surprise that he had
received no help from Nuremberg. In the name of the King of France and
of the allied princes who "purposed to bring back and keep liberty in
the dear Fatherland, and to establish a right and true Christian
religion," he demanded whether the town intended to join the league
against the Emperor or not. She referred to her dealings with the
princes. But the Markgraf, ignoring this subterfuge, moved on the city,
and the Council, seeing that he was set on war, determined to stand a
siege, and strained every nerve to strengthen the fortifications. The
princes, indeed, remonstrated with the Markgraf; but in vain. He
advanced, ravaging the villages, taking castles, burning and plundering
all he could lay his hands on in his drunken and murderous march. When
he arrived beneath the walls of Nuremberg, a truce of eight days was
arranged till the Markgraf could hear from Francis I. of France.
Meanwhile he busied himself with throwing up entrenchments. But before
the eight days had expired, he opened fire on the city. Some
cannon-shots struck the Ægidienskirche, in which a service was being
held. One house in the Ægidiensplatz still bears the marks of shot that
struck it on this occasion, says Dr Reicke. Meanwhile Nuremberg was not
slow to defend herself. Her citizens returned the fire with energy, and
made some successful sallies. Gold they seem to have used as well as
steel; for the Markgraf, after one or two experiments, declared that he
would hold no more parleyings with the Nurembergers, for that they had
tried to corrupt one of his commanders.

The position of Nuremberg was now very serious. No help was to be
expected from any quarter. When, therefore, the towns of Franconia and
Swabia came forward at last to act as intermediaries, she welcomed them
with every feeling of relief, and was easily persuaded to join,
nominally, at any rate, the league against the Emperor. The Markgraf's
_casus belli_ was now gone; but his demands knew no bounds. He insisted
on a huge indemnity and the right to garrison the town. In face of this,
continued resistance was the only course for Nuremberg. The siege began
again with renewed vigour. The Markgraf, who boasted, between his
curses, that murder and burning were his favourite pastimes, now
thoroughly enjoyed himself. He destroyed, in this war, 3 monasteries, 2
small towns, 170 villages, 19 castles, 75 estates, 28 mills, and 3000
acres of wood. The position of Nuremberg thus became more and more
difficult. Her trade and buildings were suffering severely: the forest
was being burnt down. The lukewarmness with which she had espoused their
cause made it not worth while for the princes to relieve her. The
Markgraf, on the other hand, had received numerous reinforcements, and
had won over the neighbouring towns to his side. At last, therefore,
Nuremberg yielded on these terms (June 9, 1552):--

     (1) She was to join the League on the same terms as Augsburg and
     the other towns.

     (2) She was to demand no compensation for injuries inflicted.

     (3) She was to pay a large indemnity in cash and war material.

     (4) The Markgraf was to give back all the castles, etc., which he
     had taken.

     (5) Matters in dispute between the two parties were to be decided
     by a commission of princes.

So, for a moment, ended this disastrous war, only to break out again
with variations in the following year, until the Emperor, who had
entered into treaty with the League, declared the Markgraf outlawed and
bade the four Rhenish electors to carry out the sentence. For the
Markgraf had refused to enter into this treaty, which, seeing that the
money and lands he had won in the name of religion and liberty were not
guaranteed to him by it, he denounced as a betrayal of the German nation
and carried on the war on his own account. His power was broken at last
in a battle with the allies near Schwarzach.

Nuremberg paid a _douceur_ to the Emperor and was excused from her
obligations to the Markgraf, whose lands were sequestered. It is amusing
to find that, in spite of this, the Markgraf's rightful heir, George
Frederick, succeeded him and actually obtained through the Emperor
compensation from the allies for the damage done to his property. Hence
arose a fresh series of quarrels with Nuremberg.

The hatred of Nuremberg for the Elector Albert is expressed in the
unsparing satire of Hans Sachs, in which the full bitterness of ruthless
patriotism finds vent. This poem is of so violent a nature that the
Council suppressed it, but a copy is still preserved in the library. It
was written in 1557 after the Markgraf's death, and describes the
descent into hell of this "blütiger Kriegsfürst." A spirit appears to
Hans and bids him accompany him for the purpose of seeing how the soul
of a bloodthirsty warrior goes to--heaven,

    "Ich will dir zeigen ein Kriegsfürsten
     Den allezeit hart nach blut ward dürsten
     Welcher schier das ganze Deutschland
     Mit Krieg erweckt--hat durch sein hand
     Wollauf rund kom bald mit dar
     Schan wie sein sel gen Himmel far,"

and shows the reception the Markgraf gets there from the soldiers he has
not paid, the citizens and peasants, with their wives and children, whom
he has robbed and ruined, and the wretched men whom he has forced to
murder the helpless and innocent.

The result of the treaty we have mentioned above was that the "Interim"
was revoked. Religion was declared free. Three years later came the
peace of Augsburg, with its legal recognition of the Protestant States
and its system of toleration--_cujus regio, ejus religio_--not of the
sort to avert the evils of the Thirty Years War.

[Illustration: PELLERHOF]

Nuremberg was now at last at peace and kept on good terms with the new
Emperor. But the Hapsburg emperors seldom visited her. In 1570, however,
the Emperor Maximilian II. was welcomed with such pomp and jubilation as
had greeted Charles V. On this occasion the records mention the novelty
of an elephant bearing a gold and grey canopy with a Moorish _mahout_.
Again we are told that when the Emperor Matthias, then King of Bohemia,
stayed in the town in 1612, on his way to be crowned King of Rome, he
was lodged, not in the Castle but in the Ægidienplatz. The house of
Martin Peller was intended for his residence, but to this the King's
chamberlain objected on the ground that the Queen did not care for that
style of architecture and decoration. This house, on the north side of
the Ægidienplatz, is a very fine specimen of rich Florentine,
Renaissance building. It is interesting to observe how the façade has
been adapted to the old German high-pitched roof. It was built in 1605
by Jakob Wolff, and is now used for the art and furniture show-rooms of
Herr J. A. Eysser. Within will be found a grand hall, court and
staircase, carved and decorated in the same rich style, and upstairs a
beautifully panelled room.

The policy of the town during this period was purely defensive. The wars
with the Markgraf had cost Nuremberg dear, and she now set herself to
recover from their disastrous effects. Her history for the next few
years is a record of peace and of commercial and architectural activity.
The great new building of the Rathaus was begun in the year 1622 by
Jakob Wolff, the younger. The outbreak of the Thirty Years War prevented
it from ever being really completed.

With regard to religious matters peace was preserved outwardly. Whilst
the struggles between the Catholics and Protestants and Lutherans and
Calvinists and various other sects were being stubbornly fought out
elsewhere, the Nuremberg Council was content to forbid the propagation
of false doctrines by word or writing. _Cujus regio, ejus religio_. They
rejected the _Konkordienformal_ drawn up at Magdeburg and directed
against Melanchthon and his followers. And in 1573 they, in conjunction
with the Markgraf, published a sort of Confession of Faith, consisting
of various Lutheran and other theological works, which was signed by the
clergy and accepted as a sort of rule for the churches. It was called
the Nuremberg Konkordienbuch--_Libri Normales_--and every priest was
required to swear to conform to it.

Perhaps one of the most important occurrences for Nuremberg, in
connection with these theological matters, was the founding of the
University of Altdorf (south-west of Nuremberg). Joachim Camerarius, we
are told, suggested to Joachim Haller, the superintendent of the
Nuremberg schools, that he should form a new school on the pattern of
the monastic schools in Saxony, at which youths were prepared for the
University. This school was to be outside the town, so that there
should be no distractions to interfere with the work of the students.
The Council approved of the scheme. The school was founded and endowed,
and Melanchthon's institution at St. Ægidien's was moved there. In 1622
the Emperor raised it to the rank of a University. Among the most famous
of its _alumni_ was Goethe's grandfather. Leibnitz received his degree
as doctor-of-law, and Oberst von Pappenheim and the great Wallenstein
matriculated there. But whilst Pappenheim became rector for a short
period, Wallenstein, by reason of his wild excesses, was requested to
leave after a residence of five months. The University, however, after a
chequered career, fell at last on evil days: the new University of
Erlangen proved too powerful a rival on her borders, and in 1809 the old
University of Altdorf was by royal order abolished.




CHAPTER IV

_Nuremberg and the Thirty Years War_

Wallenstein--Gustavus Adolphus--Kaspar Hauser.


The Catholic Reaction was now in full swing. With the determination of
Catholicism to regain her ancient dominion came the Thirty Years War,
the last and cruellest of the religious wars, which deprived Germany of,
some say, half her population, and turned a comparatively rich and
prosperous country into a barren desert.

The violence of Duke Maximilian of Bavaria towards the town of
Donauwörth (1607), "which had been put under Ban of the Empire for some
fault on the part of the populace against a flaring Mass-procession
which had no business to be there," filled the free-towns and Protestant
communities with dark forebodings of approaching disturbance. An
Evangelical League, "The Union," was formed by the towns and princes for
the purposes of self-defence against any attacks on religious freedom.
Nuremberg joined it in 1610. This step was, of course, distasteful to
the Emperor, but Nuremberg was left no choice in the matter. For the
bishops of Bamberg and Eichstätt had forced the Nuremberg Evangelical
subjects, living in their dioceses, to revert to the old religion. The
Catholic communities formed a counter-league. Only a signal was wanted
to make the opposing parties draw swords; and in 1618 the Bohemian
resistance to the suppression of the Evangelical religion gave the
signal for that bloody war, in which Nuremberg was to endure her full
share of suffering. But, first, for a long time she endeavoured to
pursue her old policy of neutrality, keeping peace with both parties and
remaining subject to the Emperor. Meantime, as one after another of the
Catholic generals passed through, men were quartered on Nuremberg in
ceaseless relays, and she was bled of money and provisions. The treasury
was depleted; trade disorganised; and the peasantry suffered cruelly.

In 1629 Ferdinand II. thought the time had come to strike a determined
blow for Catholicism, and he published an Edict of Restitution, giving
back to the Roman Catholics all the ecclesiastical property and
institutions which had been handed over to the Evangelists by the Treaty
of Passau and the Peace of Augsburg. This brought matters to a crisis.
But even yet Nuremberg did not follow the example of Magdeburg and make
a firm stand against religious aggressions. Even when Gustavus Adolphus,
the Protestant champion, the Lion of the North, had landed on the
Pomeranian coast, and made secret proposals of union with her, she
turned a deaf ear to him, and received, with princely honours,
Wallenstein, Duke of Friedland, the Catholic General, when on his way to
Memmingen. But at a convention of the Evangelical communities at
Leipzig, called together by the Elector of Saxony, she did sign a
complaint to the Emperor with regard to religious oppression, and also
an agreement of the communities to help each other in case of need, and
to prevent the unbearable quartering of troops and other exactions of
the Emperor. Then in 1631 came the fall of Magdeburg. The subsequent
horrors of that two-days' sack struck terror into the hearts of
Protestant Germany. Nuremberg gave in at once to the demands of the
Emperor. She denounced the Leipzig Convention, dismissed her soldiers,
and paid the money required of her. In spite of these concessions, she
had reason to fear that the freedom of the town would be forfeited.
Tilly's defeat at Breitenfeld, however, prevented the Emperor from
carrying out his expressed intention. Inspired by that victory of the
Swedes, the Council plucked up courage to refuse almost all Imperial
contributions. If they had consulted the wishes of the citizens, they
would have joined Gustavus Adolphus forthwith. They still hankered after
neutrality, however, and even when Gustavus Adolphus informed them that
he would treat neutrals as enemies, they would only promise to be true
to the Evangelical faith. The Swedish King continued to press them, and,
still in the hope of being able to keep in favour with the Emperor, they
sent a sum of money. But Gustavus Adolphus demanded their full and open
support. They were still torn between the fear of offending the Emperor
and the desire of securing Gustavus' aid. A sharp and menacing letter
arrived. At last it was decided to send envoys to Würtzburg with
instructions to draw up a treaty, if there was no help for it. The
result was that Nuremberg and Bayreuth drew up a treaty with Gustavus
Adolphus (October 1631), in which money was promised, and it was
arranged that a special alliance should be concluded in two months'
time. They agreed to put their resources at his disposal, and to stand
by him to the last, whilst he on his side promised to succour them in
all danger, and to relieve them if besieged. In November they renounced
their allegiance to the Emperor, and lost not a moment in arming
themselves. It was not too soon, for the cloud of war which had long
been hanging over Franconia broke at last. Tilly took Rothenburg on
October 30th, and on the 8th of November Lichtenau surrendered.
Negotiations with him were opened by Nuremberg, to gain time, but, when
he found how strongly fortified and garrisoned the town was, he drew
off. He returned next year, but attempted nothing, for Gustavus Adolphus
was now drawing near, to whom Nuremberg, after much shilly-shallying,
was persuaded, by dint of threats, to send 1500 men with arms and
ammunition. In March 1632, the King, leaving his army near Fürth,
entered the town by the Spittlerthor amidst the heart-felt enthusiasm of
the people, who had never approved of the pusillanimous policy of the
Council. The Defender of the Protestants received a splendid and
affecting welcome. The Patricians rode out to meet him before the gates.
They presented him with four cannons and, amongst other works of art,
two silver globes supported by figures of Atlas and Hercules
respectively, which are still to be seen in the Museum at Stockholm.
"Tears of joy streamed down the cheeks of bearded men as they welcomed
the deliverer from the north, whose ready jest and beaming smile would
have gone straight to the popular heart even if his deserts had been
less. The picture of Gustavus was soon in every house, and a learned
citizen set to work at once to compose a pedigree by which he proved to
his own satisfaction that the Swedish King was descended from the old
hereditary Burggrafs of the town."[21] The same day, with further
reinforcements from Nuremberg, he went on his way south to deliver
Donauwörth.

Three months later Wallenstein, breaking up from Bohemia, directed his
whole force upon Nuremberg, which thus became the chief scene in that
drama immortalised by Schiller in his trilogy of plays. For no sooner
did Gustavus hear that Wallenstein with the Imperial army was marching
against her than, mindful of his pledge and eager not to sacrifice so
valued an ally, he summoned all his reinforcements and set out to the
relief of Nuremberg. Thus beneath her walls the Protestant King and the
inscrutable Catholic general were to be brought face to face at last.
The citizens had for some time past been anxiously increasing their
fortifications, storing provisions, and enlisting soldiers. Now, between
June 21st and July 6th, under the direction of Hans Olph, the Swedish
engineer, and with the aid of Gustavus' army, an entirely new ring of
earthworks was constructed enclosing the suburbs. Men and women,
soldiers, burghers and peasants, laboured night and day at these
entrenchments, which were provided with many small bastions and
redoubts, and defended by over 300 cannon. Round them was dug a moat
eight feet deep and twelve feet wide. Very few traces of these
fortifications, which were removed soon after 1806, can be found to-day.
In the Swedish camp lay some 20,000 veterans, for whom 14,000 pounds of
bread were supplied per diem. Within the city was a population of at
least 65,000, of whom 8000 were fighting men, 3000 of these being armed
citizens. Such were the resources with which Gustavus hoped to do battle
with Wallenstein's gigantic army of 60,000 men and 13,000 horse. His
preparations were not yet complete when Wallenstein appeared, July 1, at
Schwabach. Had he consulted the wishes of Gustavus or listened to the
advice of the Elector of Bavaria, Wallenstein would have attacked the
Swedes at once. But, though superior in numbers, he would not pit his
newly enrolled troops against the veterans of the Swedish King. He
preferred to entrench himself in a strong position on the hills above
Fürth, and to starve his enemy out. By the 6th of July he had completed
a camp, which, if not so skilfully engineered as that of the Swedes,
was, thanks to the natural advantages of the ground, almost impregnable.
This vast camp, nearly eight miles round, stretched from the left banks
of the Rednitz, from Stein, over the stream of the Biebert, and enclosed
the villages of Zierndorf, Altenberg, Unterasbach, and Kreutles. Every
house and village and advantage of the ground was turned to account and
utilised for defence. The ruin of an old _Burgstall_--the _Alte
Veste_--a castle which had been destroyed in 1388 during the great
_Städtekrieg_ by the Nurembergers, formed the most important outwork.
Here, where the hill is at its highest, was the northernmost point of
the camp, and from this fortress on the steep, wooded ridge across four
miles of clear plain, through which the little Rednitz winds its course,
Wallenstein gazed sternly on the climbing roofs and splendid mansions,
the gabled houses and innumerable turrets of the beleaguered city.
To-day, a modern tower, some eighty feet high, rears its head above the
woods that crown the hill, and the adjoining inn is a favourite place of
resort with the inhabitants of Fürth and Nuremberg. But some few traces
of the old fortress and of Wallenstein's entrenchments may yet be found,
and he who loves "to summon up remembrance of things past" will find
food enough for his imagination when he attempts to reconstruct the
scene of that terrible encampment.

For terrible it was both to besiegers and besieged. Gustavus was cut off
from his base of supplies in the Upper Danube and Rhine by this great
entrenched camp south-west of Nuremberg, and all the roads leading into
Franconia were scoured by Wallenstein's light Croatian cavalry. Though
provisions had at first been plentiful, the resources of the city were
soon strained to the uttermost by the influx of peasants who had fled
for refuge from the country. The mills and bakeries were unable to
supply bread fast enough to the starving inhabitants, so that mobs
fought outside the bakers' shops in their desperate haste for food.
Famine laid hold of the city first, then of the Swedish, and finally of
the Imperial camp. And in the path of famine followed, as ever,
pestilence. Pestilence in July, in a mediæval city, crowded with grim
soldiers, grown shrunken and meagre, with starving women and whitefaced
children--it would require the pen of a Flaubert or a Zola to describe.
Worse than all for Gustavus to bear, when want came to be felt in the
army, there came the relaxation of that discipline on which he had
prided himself. The citizens complained that his Swedish troops were
behaving like Austrian banditti. Sending for the chief Germans in his
service, the King rated them soundly in a famous oration. Never was his
Majesty seen before in such a rage.

     "They are no Swedes who commit these crimes," he said truly enough,
     "but you Germans yourselves. You princes, counts, lords, and
     noblemen, are showing great disloyalty and wickedness on your own
     fatherland, which you are ruining. You colonels and officers, from
     the highest to the lowest, it is you who steal and rob everyone,
     without making any exceptions.

     "You plunder your own brothers in the faith. Had I known that you
     had been a people so wanting in natural affection for your country,
     I would never have saddled a horse for your sakes, much less
     imperilled my life and my crown and my brave Swedes and Finns. It
     is your inhumanity towards your mother-country that has tarnished
     the glory of my victorious subjects. My heart is filled with gall
     when I see anyone of you behaving thus villainously. For you cause
     men to say openly, 'The King, our friend, does us more harm than
     our enemies.' If you were real Christians you would consider what I
     am doing for you, how I am spending my life in your service. I came
     but to restore every man to his own, but this most accursed and
     devilish robbing of yours doth much abate my purpose. I have given
     up the treasures of my crown for your sake, and have not enriched
     myself so much as by one pair of boots since my coming to Germany,
     though I have had forty tons of gold passing through my hands.

     "Enter into your hearts, and think how sad you are making me, so
     that the tears stand in my eyes. You treat me ill with your evil
     discipline; I do not say with your evil fighting: for in that you
     have behaved like honourable gentlemen, and for that I am much
     obliged to you. Take my warning to heart, and we will soon show our
     enemies that we are honest men and honourable gentlemen."

Again when informed that a soldier had stolen a cow, he turned a deaf
ear to him as he pleaded for his life, for

     "My son," he said, "it is better that thou shouldst expiate thy
     offence by the sacrifice of life than that thy crime should draw
     down the vengeance of the Almighty upon me and thy gallant
     comrades; for though I consider every soldier in the light of a
     child, yet I am destined to perform the duties of a judge, no less
     than those of a parent."

So for two weary months plague, famine and wounds did their fell work
inside and out. The hospitals were full to overflowing. The graves could
not be dug fast enough to hold the dead. The countless victims of hunger
and pestilence lay for days in the trenches, poisoning the air. In the
streets were strewn the half-decayed bodies of men and horses, eaten of
pigs. But if the Protestants suffered so did the Imperialists. And
always Wallenstein sat implacable on the height refusing to join battle,
waiting grimly till starvation should have done its work and the sack of
Magdeburg could be repeated. For Gustavus must either attack Wallenstein
in his impregnable position or march away the city to its fate. The
arrival of reinforcements, which increased the King's army to 50,000
men, determined him to make a general assault on the Alte Veste and the
northern side of the camp. It will be clear to anyone who examines the
ground that this was an almost impossible undertaking, the forlornest of
forlorn hopes. What desperate courage could do was done. For ten hours
the Swedes stormed undaunted against fearful odds and with fearful
losses. Three times they got actual footing in the Burgstall itself;
three times they were hurled back. At last Gustavus, who had had a piece
of the sole of his right boot shot off, and had always been in the
thickest part of the fight, dragging the cannon to points of vantage and
aiming them with his own hands, was obliged to relinquish the desperate
enterprise. "We have done a stupid thing to-day," was his comment. For
the first time in his life, indeed, he was conquered, because he was not
conqueror. But Wallenstein's claws were cut: he had suffered little less
than Gustavus in the fight round the Alte Veste. Nuremberg was saved for
the present, for Wallenstein was in no condition to prosecute a siege.
After fifteen days, therefore (September 8), Gustavus, unable to stay
for lack of supplies, and failing to entice the enemy into battle on the
plain, marched away into Thuringia, and two months later, on the field
of Lutzen, he fell in the moment of victory when he had defeated his old
enemy. Before that, however, ten days after he had departed, and a week
after Wallenstein had broken up his camp, Gustavus came back to Fürth
and looked at what had been the enemy's position. It is said that he had
breakfast on the round stone table still to be found at the Alte Veste,
and known as the _Schweden Tisch_. Once more, in October, he returned,
drove the Imperial troops out of the Nuremberg territory, and took his
last farewell of the town.

The Treaty of Westphalia brought the Thirty Years War to an end in 1648,
but not before the interruption of commerce and the extraordinary
exertions she had made had reduced the resources of Nuremberg to a very
low ebb, and saddled her with a load of debt from which she never
recovered. When at last peace was announced, the festivals with which
she celebrated it reflected the last splendour of the once prosperous
city. Karl Gustav, as representative of the crown of Sweden, gave a
magnificent dinner--the "_Friedensmal_"--in the Rathaus to celebrate
this occasion. The Council ordered a Neptune with nymphs and dolphins,
designed by Christoph Ritter, and figures modelled by Georg Schweigger,
to be placed in the middle of the market-place. It was, for some reason,
placed in the Peünt-hof. It was sold in 1797 to Paul of Russia to raise
money.

Another incident which is recorded of these days of rejoicing is as
follows: When peace was proclaimed with France, Octavio Piccolomini was
staying in the Pellerhaus, and he gave a dance to the peasants. Now a
rumour was circulated that all the boys who appeared on hobby-horses
before his house on the following Sunday would get a silver coin. They
assembled accordingly, and when he heard the reason of this
extraordinary parade, he told them to come next Sunday, and then gave
them each a four-cornered medal--still to be seen in numismatic
collections--with a picture of a hobby-horse, and the date 1650 on it.

Through the peace of Westphalia Nuremberg with the other free towns
obtained full political equality with the princes of the Empire. Their
representatives, who before only had a voice in the discussions, now
enjoyed the full right of voting. But, in spite of this, the political
importance of Nuremberg began to disappear. Her sovereignty, her right
of peace and war, were recognised. But she became a quiet and obedient
attendant of the Reichstag in Regensburg, paying her quota of men and
money, and supporting the Hapsburg interests.

Her energy, in fact, had been exhausted. The census of her citizens in
1622 amounted to 40,000; in 1806 to 25,000. With the decrease in her
population, her prosperity decreased. The load of debt accumulated
during the Thirty Years War weighed her down. Her trade, like that of
Augsburg and all the other German towns, went from bad to worse.
Dislocated during the war, it could not recover now. Chief among the
causes of decay must be counted the circumnavigation of the Cape of Good
Hope. Prior to that, all merchandise from the East was obliged to travel
overland into Europe and came for distribution by way of Germany.
Nuremberg then naturally became the chief entrepôt. Now she suffered,
with Venice, from the discovery of this new channel of commerce. The
Venetians had boasted that thanks to them Nuremberg had come from
nothing to be the richest town in Germany. The Fondaco dei Tedeschi, the
German quarter in Venice since the days of the Crusades, still bears
witness to their connection with the German traders, and, in Nuremberg,
winged lions on many of the houses still record the same fact.

Other and more avoidable causes contributed to the decrease of Nuremberg
trade. She adopted an exaggerated system of protection, and levied
exorbitant taxes on goods brought into or through the country.

In the old days every good thing had been said to come out of Nuremberg
(Was gut sein sollte, wurde aus Nürnberg verschrieben); now the output
of her manufactures was foolishly limited by rules. In some trades, for
instance, only the son or the husband of a widow of a master might
become a master craftsman. Hence many failed to find employment, and set
up in the surrounding country as competitors. The selfish and misguided
prejudices of the trades led also to the exclusion of the Protestant
weavers who had been exiled from France or Flanders, and who, finding
asylum elsewhere, soon became rivals of the shortsighted Nurembergers.

The Council, too, suffered and aided the common degeneration. A narrow,
effete, and selfish oligarchy, it became more tyrannical as it became
more incompetent. The authors of libels and satires, criticising it,
were rewarded with lifelong imprisonment. More and more the patrician
families drew together and separated themselves from the common people.
They clung closer to their exclusive privileges as they became less
worthy of them. Endeavouring to become more like the landed nobility,
they began to abandon business, and withdrew from the State the capital
and brains which had formerly made it prosperous. They grew, indeed, in
their false pride, so ashamed of trade that they said that no Nuremberg
patrician had ever had to do with business! So a proud and poor nobility
came to take the place of rich and patriotic merchant princes. Some even
gave up their rights of citizenship and went to live on their property
outside Nuremberg, thus still further weakening the Council and
quarrelling with it over rights of taxation.

From war, also, Nuremberg suffered. Besides her own private bickerings
with the Markgraf, she felt the wars with France, the war of the
Austrian succession, and suffered still more in the Seven Years War.

In 1786 a fresh struggle arose between the Council and the town over a
new tax which it was sought to impose without consultation. The citizens
made a fruitless complaint to the Imperial Court. Then the Council
appealed to the Diet, saying that the town was overtaxed. An inquiry
into her finances showed that Nuremberg was heavily in debt and
practically bankrupt. There had been a large yearly deficit since 1763.
A commission to economise and to govern was appointed from both
Councils, and in 1794 an arrangement was confirmed by the Emperor by
which the larger Council was to consist of 250 members (70 of whom were
to be patricians), chosen by the smaller Council. The citizens, however,
were not contented, complaining that they were still not properly
represented.

Meanwhile an event had occurred which drove another nail into the coffin
of the free Imperial city. In 1791, Charles Alexander, Markgraf of
Brandenburg, Ansbach and Bayreuth, died childless, and the government of
his principalities passed to Prussia, together with the old claims of
the Franconian line of the Brandenburg house. A minister, Graf Karl
August von Hardenberg, the famous chancellor, was appointed to rule
these lands. In the name of the King of Prussia he asserted his right of
supremacy over all the territory up to the gates of the town itself. The
oldest claims of the _Burggräflichen_ times were reasserted by the
Prussians. Nuremberg was powerless to resist. Even so her troubles were
not yet ended. A Prussian army had occupied Fürth on July 4, 1796, and
in August a vanguard of the French victorious army, which was swarming
over South Germany, entered Nuremberg on the 9th of August. The scenes
of the Thirty Years War were repeated. The country was ravaged, and the
town called upon for contributions. It was impossible to comply at once
with these demands. Eighteen citizens were therefore taken away to
France as hostages. When, a few weeks later, the French army withdrew,
after the Archduke Karl's victory, a fresh contribution was demanded.
In despair the town almost unanimously decided to seek union with their
old enemy, the King of Prussia. But he refused this Grecian gift, for
the debt of the town was enormous. Then the Council turned to the
Emperor and offered to accept an Imperial commission, which introduced
some financial reforms. But the year 1800 brought more French troops
into Nuremberg, who were a further strain upon her resources.

Even after the Peace of Pressburg the long agony of the Imperial free
city was continued, till in 1806 by a decree of Napoleon, in the 17th
article of the Rheinbund Act, it was laid down that "the town and
territory of Nuremberg be united to Bavaria with full sovereignty and
possession." On the 6th of August 1806, Emperor Francis abdicated, and
the Holy Roman Empire, "which was a grand object once, but had gone
about in a superannuated and plainly crazy state for some centuries
back, was at last put out of pain and allowed to cease from the world."

Since then the story of Nuremberg is swallowed up in the history of
United Germany. She has shared and still shares in the growing
prosperity of the new Empire. The first railway in Germany was opened in
1835 between Nuremberg and Fürth. Her hops, her toys, her cakes, her
railway-carriages, her lead-pencils, are they not known the world over?
New buildings have sprung up on every side of her: the suburbs are
themselves great manufacturing towns. The population has grown to
170,000. These are all things on which she may most sincerely be
congratulated; but whatever her prosperity in the present or the future,
her golden age, we feel, is in the past. She is Albert Durer's and Hans
Sachs' city.

       *       *       *       *       *

We began by hinting that the atmosphere of Nuremberg is mediæval, that
of a city of legend. We will close this account of her history with the
brief narration of her last, her nineteenth century myth. For we cannot
pass over in silence the curious case of Kaspar Hauser.

At a time when Europe was still dripping from the douche of
sentimentality in which it had been bathed by the sorrows of Werther and
the romanticism of Byron, Kaspar Hauser appeared suddenly in Nuremberg.
His astonishing story achieved a European celebrity. The history of this
impostor has recently been placed once more before the public by the
Duchess of Cleveland,[22] with the object of clearing her father from
imputations which would have been ridiculous if they had not been so
impudent. Charity, and the facts of the case, enable us to add with
regard to Kaspar himself, that if he was an impostor he was also half a
lunatic; for we can trace in the records of his career, among other
symptoms of a diseased brain, the mania of persecution, an over acute
and perverted sense of smell, a restless love of notoriety, and an
ineradicable habit of lying.

On Easter Monday, May 1828, a lad of seventeen, dressed like a
countryman, appeared outside the Neue Thor, and asked, in the low
Bavarian dialect, his way to the Neue Thor Strasse.

He had with him two letters in one envelope addressed to "The Captain of
the 4th Squadron of the Schmolischer Regiment, Neue Thor Strasse,
Nuremberg." They ran as follows, in handwriting exactly similar to
Kaspar's:--

"HONORED SIR,--I send you a lad who wishes to serve his King truly; this
lad was brought to me on Oct. 7, 1812. I am a poor day labourer, with
ten children of my own; I have enough to do to get on at all. His
mother asked me to bring up the boy. I asked her no questions, nor have
I given notice to the county police that I had taken the boy. I thought
I ought to take him as my son. I have brought him up as a good
Christian, and since 1812 I have never let him go a step away from the
house, so no one knows where he has been brought up, and he himself does
not know the name of my house or of the place; you may ask him, but he
can't tell you. I have taught him to read and to write; he can write as
well as myself. When we ask him what he would like to be, he says a
soldier, like his father. If he had parents (which he has not) he would
have been a scholar: only show him a thing and he can do it.

"Honoured Sir, you may question him, but he don't know where I live. I
brought him away in the middle of the night; he can't find his way
back."

Dated, "From the Bavarian Frontier; place not named."

The second letter ran thus:--

"The boy is baptized, his name is Kaspar; his other name you must give
him. I ask you to bring him up. His father was a Schmolischer (trooper).
When he is seventeen send him to Nuremberg to the 6th Schmolischer
Regiment; that is where his father was. I beg you to bring him up till
he is seventeen. He was born on April 30, 1812. I am so poor, I can't
keep the boy; his father is dead."

In answer to the Captain's questions the lad would only reply: "My
foster-father bade me say, 'I don't know, your honour.'" The result was
that he was placed in a prison cell in the castle. That was neither a
fair nor a judicious proceeding. The garbled story of a wild man, a
wronged man, quickly spread through the town. Feigning at first an
intense fear and animal stupidity, it seems probable that Kaspar picked
up from the visitors who discussed his history in his presence the
suggestion of the marvellous tale which he presently told, and which
made so tremendous a sensation. It was a tale demonstrably false on the
face of it--of a life spent in close and solitary confinement in a cell,
without knowledge of his kind or acquaintance with the outside world.

Here is his story as he told it to the Nuremberg magistrates, and as it
found acceptance in credulous quarters.

"All his life," he said, "had been spent in a cell 6 or 7 feet long, 4
feet wide, and 5 feet high, and always in a sitting posture; the only
change in which was that when awake he sat upright, but leant back on a
truss of straw when he slept. There were two small windows, but they
were both boarded up, and as it was always twilight he never knew the
difference between day and night. Nor did he ever feel hot or cold. He
saw no one, and no sound of any kind ever reached his ear. Each morning,
when he awoke, he found a pitcher of water and a loaf of rye bread by
his side. He was often thirsty, and when he had emptied his pitcher, he
used to watch to see whether the water would come again, as he had no
idea how it was brought there. Sometimes it tasted strangely and made
him feel sleepy. He had toys to play with--two wooden horses and a
wooden dog, and he spent his time in rolling them about, and dressing
them up with ribbons.

"One day a stool was placed across his knees, with a piece of paper upon
it: an arm was stretched out over his shoulder, a pencil put into his
hand, which was taken hold of, and guided over the paper. 'I never
looked round to see whom the arm belonged to. Why should I? I had no
conception of any other creature beside myself.' This proceeding was
repeated seven or eight times: the arm was then withdrawn, but the
stool and paper left behind. He tried to copy the letters he had been
made to trace, and pleased with this new occupation, persevered till he
had succeeded. Thus it was that he learned to write his name. About
three days afterwards--as far as he could judge--the man came again and
brought a little book (a prayer-book which was found on him). This was
placed on his knees and his hand laid upon it; then, pointing to one of
the wooden horses, the man kept on repeating the word 'Ross' (horse)
till he had learned to say it after him. According to his own account,
this was the first time in his life he had ever heard a sound of any
kind, as the man came and went noiselessly. Then, in the same fashion,
he was taught two sentences--'In the big village, where my father is, I
shall get a fine horse.' 'I want to be a trooper as my father
was'--which he repeated by rote, of course without understanding them.
When his lesson was learnt the man went away, and he began playing with
his toys, making so much noise that the man returned and gave him a
smart blow with a stick, which hurt him very much.

"'After that I was always quiet.' The last time the man came it was to
take him away. His clothes had been changed while he slept; a pair of
boots were now brought and put on; he was hoisted up on the man's
shoulders, and carried up a steep incline into the open air. It was
night-time and quite dark. He was laid down on the ground, and fell
asleep at once. When he awoke, he was lifted upon his feet, and placed
in front of the man, who, holding him under the arms, pushed forward his
legs with his own, and showed him how to walk. But the pain and fatigue
were very great, and he cried bitterly. The man said impatiently, 'Leave
off crying at once, or you shall not get that horse;' and he thereupon
obeyed. Then he was again lifted up and carried; again dropped asleep,
and again he woke to find himself lying on the ground. This was repeated
over and over again. There were the same painful attempts to walk; the
same floods of tears, checked by the same threat; and then the same rest
on the ground, with 'something soft' under his cheek. By degrees he
began to walk alone, supported by the man's arm, though at first only
six steps at a time. The sunshine and fresh air together dazzled and
bewildered him, and he scarcely took note where they went. They never
travelled on a beaten track, but generally on soft sand; never went up
or down hill, or crossed a stream. Sometimes he attempted to look about
him; then the man instantly desired him to hold his head down. His
clothes were once more changed; but the man, even while dressing him,
stood behind him, so that he might not see his face. The two sentences
he had learned were again and again impressed on his memory as he went
along, the man always adding impressively, 'Mind this well.'

"He also said, 'When you are a trooper like your father, I will come and
fetch you again.'

"The journey cannot have been a long one, as he only took food once; he
himself computed it had lasted a day and a night.

"Finally the letter was put into his hands with the words: 'Go
there--where the letter belongs;' and the man suddenly vanished from his
side. He found himself alone in the street of Nuremberg--having never
till then perceived that he had entered the town, or, in fact, seen it
at all. He was quite dazed and helpless, but someone kindly came and
took charge of him and his letter." ...

So great was the interest caused by this story, which easily roused the
sympathy of the illogical--people are always readier to sympathise than
to inquire--that Kaspar was (July 1828) formally adopted by the town of
Nuremberg. An annual sum of 300 florins was voted for his maintenance
and education. He became the idol of society. It was openly hinted that
he was the legitimate son of the reigning House of Baden, who stood in
the way of the next in succession, and would have been long since in his
grave had he not been rescued by a faithful retainer, who kept him in
close confinement to conceal him from his pursuers. In the course of a
year or so, however, the interest in him began to wane. His tutor, who
had at first been delighted with him, was beginning to find him out.
Kaspar, in fact, was both cunning and untruthful. One day a particularly
gross instance of his deceitfulness came to his tutor's knowledge. The
same morning Nuremberg was electrified by the news that Kaspar's life
had been attempted in broad daylight, and actually under his tutor's
roof. A man, he said, with a black handkerchief drawn across his face,
had suddenly confronted him, and aimed at him a blow with a heavy
woodman's knife, crying, "After all, you will have to die before you
leave Nuremberg." The voice was the voice of the man who had brought him
to the town. He described him accurately. But no such man could be
traced.

The wound was very slight. Almost certainly it was self-inflicted, with
the object of stimulating the flagging public interest by a new and
romantic incident. That at any rate was its effect. Pamphlets by the
dozen appeared, and in 1832 President von Feuerbach published his
"History of a Crime against a Human Soul," which moved all hearts by the
pathos and eloquence with which it pleaded the cause of the
mysteriously persecuted "Child of Europe."

But the Nurembergers were no longer eager to continue their allowance to
the boy, so Lord Stanhope, who had always befriended him, now came
forward, and made himself responsible for his education and maintenance.
The rest of Kaspar's life is somewhat dismal reading. He had to endure
the process of being found out by successive people at successive
places, for he had all the astuteness but also all the vanity of a
lunatic. Once again, it appears, he attempted to reawaken the flagging
interest of the public. At Ansbach he tried to repeat his Nuremberg
success, and to confirm the existence of the mysterious persecutor who
was supposed to haunt him. But this time he failed. Once more he got
stabbed, but instead of a slight, he inflicted on himself a deadly
wound. Now though he had taken much trouble to make the conditions of
the affair as mysterious and misleading as possible, a long judicial
investigation resulted in the irresistible conclusion that "no murder
was committed." At Ansbach stands the tomb of the poor deluded and
deluding "Child of Europe," a monument of folly not all his own.

                              "Hic jacet
                            CASPARUS HAUSER
                          Ænigma sui temporis
                           Ignota Nativitas
                             Occulta Mors,
                                1833."




CHAPTER V

_The Castle, the Walls and Mediæval Fortifications_

    "Aufwärts Ich mit dem Alten ging
     Nach einer königlichen Veste,
     Am Fels erbauet auf das Beste;
     Manch Thurm auf Felsvorsprüngen lag,
     Darin ein kaiserlich Gemach.
     Geziert nach meisterlichen Sinnen
     Die Fenster waren und die Zinnen;
     Darum ein Graben war gehauen
     In harten Fels."
     --HANS SACHS.


Nuremberg is set upon a series of small slopes in the midst of an
undulating, sandy plain, some 900 feet above the sea. Here and there on
every side fringes and patches of the mighty forest which once covered
it are still visible; but for the most part the plain is now freckled
with picturesque villages, in which stand old turreted châteaux, with
gabled fronts and latticed windows, or it is clothed with carefully
cultivated crops or veiled from sight by the smoke which rises from the
new-grown forest of factory chimneys.

The railway sets us down outside the walls of the city. As we walk from
the station towards the Frauen Thor, and stand beneath the crown of
fortified walls three and a half miles in circumference, and gaze at the
old grey towers and picturesque confusion of domes, pinnacles and
spires, suddenly it seems as if our dream of a feudal city has been
realised. There, before us, is one of the main entrances, still between
massive gates and beneath archways flanked by stately towers. Still to
reach it we must cross a moat fifty feet deep and a hundred feet wide.
True, the swords of old days have been turned into pruning-hooks; the
crenelles and embrasures which once bristled and blazed with cannon are
now curtained with brambles and wallflowers, and festooned with virginia
creepers; the galleries are no longer crowded with archers and
cross-bowmen; the moat itself has blossomed into a garden, luxuriant
with limes and acacias, elders, planes, chestnuts, poplars, walnut,
willow and birch trees, or divided into carefully tilled little garden
plots. True it is that outside the moat, beneath the smug grin of
substantial modern houses, runs that mark of modernity, the electric
tram. But let us for the moment forget these gratifying signs of modern
prosperity and, turning to the left ere we enter the Frauen Thor, walk
with our eyes on the towers which, with their steep-pitched roofs and
myriad shapes and richly coloured tiles, mark the intervals in the
red-bricked, stone-cased galleries and mighty bastions, till we come to
the first beginnings of Nuremberg--the Castle. There, on the highest
eminence of the town, stands that venerable fortress, crowning the red
slope of tiles. Roofs piled on roofs, their pinnacles, turrets, points
and angles heaped one above the other in a splendid confusion, climb the
hill which culminates in the varied group of buildings on the Castle
rock. We have passed the Spittler, Mohren, Haller and Neu Gates on our
way, and we have crossed by the Hallerthorbrücke the Pegnitz where it
flows into the town. Before us rise the bold scarps and salient angles
of the bastions built by the Italian architect, Antonio Fazuni, called
the Maltese (1538-43).

Crossing the moat by a wooden bridge which curls round to the right, we
enter the town by the Thiergärtnerthor. The right-hand corner house
opposite us now is Albert Durer's house. We turn to the left and go
along the Obere Schmiedgasse and the row of houses labelled Am Oelberg,
till we arrive at the top of a steep hill (Burgstrasse). Above, on the
left, is the Castle, and close at hand the "Mount of Olives" Sculpture
(see p. 201).

We may now either go through the Himmels Thor to the left, or keeping
straight up under the old trees and passing the "Mount of Olives" on the
left, approach the large deep-roofed building between two towers. This
is the Kaiserstallung, as it is called, the Imperial stables, built
originally for a granary. The towers are the Luginsland (Look in the
land) on the east, and the Fünfeckiger Thurm, the Five-cornered tower,
at the west end (on the left hand as we thus face it). The Luginsland
was built by the townspeople in the hard winter of 1377. The mortar for
building it, tradition says, had to be mixed with salt, so that it might
be kept soft and be worked in spite of the severe cold. The chronicles
state that one could see right into the Burggraf's Castle from this
tower, and the town was therefore kept informed of any threatening
movements on his part. To some extent that was very likely the object in
view when the tower was built, but chiefly it must have been intended,
as its name indicates, to afford a far look-out into the surrounding
country. The granary or Kaiserstallung, as it was called later, was
erected in 1494, and is referred to by Hans Behaim as lying between the
Five-cornered and the Luginsland Towers. Inside the former there is a
museum of curiosities (Hans Sachs' harp) and the famous collection of
instruments of torture and the Maiden (Eiserne Jungfrau), to which we
shall refer at greater length in the next chapter. The open space

[Illustration: THE CASTLE FROM THE HALLERTHORBRÜCKE]

adjoining it commands a splendid view to the north. There, too, on the
parapet-wall, may be seen the hoof-marks of the horse of the
robber-knight, Ekkelein von Gailingen, whose story we have already
narrated (p. 43). Here for a moment let us pause, consider our position,
and endeavour to make out from the conflicting theories of the
archæologists something of the original arrangement of the castles and
of the significance of the buildings and towers that yet remain.

Stretching to the east of the rock on which the Castle stands is a wide
plain, now the scene of busy industrial enterprise, but in old days no
doubt a mere district of swamp and forest. Westwards the rock rises by
three shelves to the summit. The entrance to the Castle, it is surmised,
was originally on the east side, at the foot of the lower plateau and
through a tower which no longer exists.

Opposite this hypothetical gate-tower stood the Five-cornered tower. The
lower part dates, we have seen, from no earlier than the eleventh
century. It is referred to as Alt-Nürnberg (old Nuremberg) in the Middle
Ages. The title of "Five-cornered" is really somewhat a misnomer, for an
examination of the interior of the lower portion of the tower reveals
the fact that it is quadrangular. The pentagonal appearance of the
exterior is due to the fragment of a smaller tower which once leant
against it, and probably formed the apex of a wing running out from the
old castle of the Burggrafs. The Burggräfliche Burg stood below,
according to Mummenhof, south-west and west of this point. It was burnt
down in 1420, and the ruined remains of it are supposed to be traceable
in the eminence, now overgrown by turf and trees, through which a sort
of ravine, closed in on either side by built-up walls, has just brought
us from the town to the Vestner Thor. The Burggrafs' Castle would
appear to have been so situated as to protect the approach to the
Imperial Castle (Kaiserburg). The exact extent of the former we cannot
now determine. Meisterlin refers to it as _parvum fortalitium_--a little
fort. We may, however, be certain that it reached from the Five-cornered
tower to the Walpurgiskapelle. For this little chapel, east of the open
space called the Freiung, is repeatedly spoken of as being on the
property of the Burggrafs. Besides their castle proper, which was held
at first as a fief of the Empire, and afterwards came to be regarded as
their hereditary, independent property, the Burggrafs were also
entrusted with the keeping of a tower which commanded the entrance to
the Castle rock on the country side, perhaps near the site of the
present Vestner Thor. The _custodia portæ_ may have been attached to the
tower, the lower portion of which remains to this day, and is called the
Bailiff's Dwelling (Burgamtmannswohnung). The exact relationship of the
Burggraf to the town on the one hand, and to the Empire on the other,
is, as we have already observed, somewhat obscure. Originally, it would
appear, he was merely an Imperial officer, administering Imperial
estates, and looking after Imperial interests. In later days he came to
possess great power, but this was due not to his position as castellan
or castle governor as such, but to the vast private property his
position had enabled him to amass and to keep.

As the scope and ambitions of the Burggrafs increased, and as the
smallness of their castle at Nuremberg, and the constant friction with
the townspeople, who were able to annoy them in many ways, became more
irksome, they gave up living at Nuremberg, and finally were content to
sell their rights and possessions there to the town. Besides the
_custodia portæ_ of the Burggrafs, which together with their castle
passed by purchase into the hands of the town (1427), there were
various other similar guard towers, such as the one which formerly
occupied the present site of the Luginsland, or the Hasenburg at the
so-called Himmels Thor, or a third which once stood near the Deep Well
on the second plateau of the Castle rock. But we do not know how many of
these there were, or where they stood, much less at what date they were
built. All we do know is that they, as well as the Burggrafs'
possessions, were purchased in succession by the town, into whose hands
by degrees came the whole property of the Castle rock.

Above the ruins of the "little fort" of the Burggrafs rises the first
plateau of the Castle rock. It is surrounded by a wall, strengthened on
the south side (_l_) by a square tower against which leans the
Walpurgiskapelle.

The path to the Kaiserburg leads under the wall of the plateau, and is
entirely commanded by it and by the quadrangular tower, the lower part
of which alone remains and is known by the name of Burgamtmannswohnung
(_r_). The path goes straight to this tower, and at the foot of it is
the entrance to the first plateau. Then along the edge of this plateau
the way winds southwards (_l_), entirely commanded again by the wall of
the second plateau, at the foot of which there probably used to be a
trench. Over this a bridge led to the gate of the second plateau. The
trench has been long since filled in, but the huge round tower which
guarded the gate still remains and is the Vestner Thurm (_r_).[23] The
Vestner Thurm or Sinwel Thurm (sinwel = round), or, as it is called in a
charter of the year 1313, the "Turm in der Mitte," is the only round
tower of the Burg. It was built in the days of early Gothic, with a
sloping base, and of roughly flattened stones with a smooth edge. It was
partly restored and altered in 1561, when it was made a few feet higher
and its round roof was added. It is worth paying the small gratuity
required for ascending to the top. The view obtained of the city below
is magnificent. The Vestner Thurm, like the whole Imperial castle,
passed at length into the care of the town, which kept its Tower watch
here as early as the fourteenth century.[24]

[Illustration: VESTNER THURM]

The well which supplied the second plateau with water, the "Deep Well,"
_Tiefer Brunnen_, as it is called, stands in the centre, surrounded by a
wall. It is 335 feet deep, hewn out of the solid rock, and is said to
have been wrought by the hands of prisoners, and to have been the labour
of thirty years. So much we can easily believe as we lean over and count
the six seconds that elapse between the time when an object is dropped
from the top to the time when it strikes the water beneath. Passages
lead from the water's edge to the Rathaus, by which prisoners came
formerly to draw water, and to St. John's Churchyard and other points
outside the town. The system of underground passages here and in the
Castle was an important part of the defences, affording as it did a
means of communication with the outer world and as a last extremity, in
the case of a siege, a means of escape.[25]

Meanwhile, leaving the Deep Well and passing some insignificant modern
dwellings (_r_), and leaving beneath us on the left the Himmelsthor, let
us approach the summit of the rock and the buildings of the Kaiserburg
itself. As we advance to the gateway with the intention of ringing the
bell for the castellan, we notice on the left the Double Chapel,
attached to the Heidenthurm (Heathen Tower, see page 3), the lower part
of which is encrusted with what were once supposed to be Pagan images.
The Tower protrudes beyond the face of the third plateau, and its
prominence may indicate the width of a trench, now filled in, which was
once dug outside the enclosing wall of the summit of the rock. The whole
of the south side of this plateau is taken up by the _Palas_ (the vast
hall, two stories high, which, though it has been repeatedly rebuilt,
may in its original structure be traced back as far as the twelfth
century), and the _Kemnate_ or dwelling-rooms which seem to have been
without any means of defence. This plateau, like the second, is supplied
with a well. But the first object that strikes the eye on entering the
court-yard is the ruined lime-tree, the branches of which once spread
their broad and verdant shelter over the whole extent of the quadrangle.

The Empress Kunigunde planted it, says the legend, some seven hundred
years ago. For once, when King Henry was a-hunting, he came in the
pursuit of a deer to the edge of a steep precipice, and this in the heat
of the chase he did not perceive, but would have fallen headlong had not
a lime-branch, at which he grasped in his extremity, stopped and saved
him. And he, recognising the special protection of the Most High, broke
off a twig of the lime-tree in remembrance of his wonderful
preservation, and brought it to his anxious wife, who planted it at once
with her own hands in the earth, and it soon grew into a beautiful
tree.

A modern staircase leads from the court to the rooms of the Castle. They
have been much spoilt by being rebuilt in modern Gothic style by Voit
(1856) and being furnished as a royal residence. Some objects of
considerable interest, however, may still be seen here. In the great
hall and in the bedrooms will be found some magnificent old stoves by
Augustin Hirschvogel and others; whilst in the various rooms may be seen
some fine stained glass and some heraldic paintings of Albert Durer's
time. The single large spread-eagle on the ceiling of the writing-room
(which was discovered in 1833 after two other ceilings had been removed)
is especially remarkable.

The windows command splendid views of the surrounding country. There are
a few pictures in the hall of unequal interest. They are mostly copies
of Italian painters; but we may mention the Venus and Cupid by Lucas
Cranach, the Mocking of Christ by Hans Schäuffelein, Durer's favourite
pupil, and others by artists of the old Nuremberg and Flemish schools.

A narrow staircase leads from the dining-hall to the _Emperor's Chapel_
(Kaiser-kapelle). It was built in the twelfth century by one of the
Hohenstaufen emperors, very likely by Frederick Barbarossa himself, when
the growing favour with which Nuremberg was regarded gave rise to the
need of a larger and more splendid building than the primitive _St.
Margaret's Chapel_ and fort which already existed. A rebuilding and
enlarging of the Imperial castle then took place, and the beautiful
Emperor-Chapel was superimposed on the Margaret-Chapel, thus forming the
two-storied or double chapel. Romanesque in style, it is comparatively
uninjured, and resembles the Double Chapel of Eger, where the lower
chapel is also attributed to Barbarossa. The two chapels are very
different in character. The lower, which was used as a Gruftkapelle[26]
or place of sepulture, is solemn and almost gloomy in effect; the upper,
whilst harmonising with the lower, is in a much lighter and more
charming style. The plan of the lower chapel is rectangular with an
extension into the Heathen Tower in the shape of a rectangular choir,
lighted by a romanesque window.

The low, round vaulting of this, the St. Margaret's Chapel, rests on two
low four-cornered pillars and on four columns, the capitals of which,
hewn from great blocks, are richly sculptured, one with four eagles, two
with foliage, and the fourth with masks. They were, according to the
manner of construction customary at Nuremberg, set up unwrought and only
carved afterwards, as may be seen from the capital of the south-west
column, which is only decorated on the two inner sides, the other two
being unfinished. From the walls spring heavy brackets to receive the
plinths of the arches which support the cross-vaulting.

The two low pillars mentioned above divide the main body of the chapel
from an irregular intermediate building adjoining the Castle.

Entrance to the upper, or Kaiser, Chapel is only possible from the lower
rooms of the Castle, whence, above the flight of steps already referred
to, a Gothic doorway now leads to the chapel, by way of a vestibule or
entrance hall. This hall is situated exactly over the western irregular
section of the lower chapel. The low stout pillars which support the
vaulting correspond in their ornamentation with that of the lower
chapel. On the hexagonal capitals of one we find four of the familiar
mediæval masks, whilst on both of them the sculptured foliage and
basket-work recall that of the Margaret Chapel.

In the wall which separates the vestibule from the Castle a small
connecting staircase leads up to a platform, which opens out in two
arches towards the chapel and probably formed the Imperial oratory. It
is in immediate connection with the upper rooms of the Castle by means
of a Gothic door which has replaced a romanesque gateway. Thus the
Emperor could easily reach his seat in the chapel from the Castle.

Ascending three steps, one arrives through a broad archway at the raised
choir, which also resembles the Margaret Chapel in its ornamentation.
But the most striking and distinctive feature of the Kaiserkapelle,
which gives it its characteristically light and graceful appearance, is
the four slender columns of white marble, with richly decorated capitals
and bases, which support the vaulting. One of the columns is built of
two pieces. An unwrought ring covers the seam. Hence arose the legend
that, at the time when the chapel was building, the Devil, who lusted
after the soul of the Castle chaplain, wagered him that he would bring
these four pillars from Milan sooner than the priest could read the
Mass. The priest, who had a glib tongue, cheerfully undertook the wager.
The Devil was quick, but the chaplain was quicker. The Devil had already
brought three columns, and the fourth was close at hand, when the nimble
priest said "Amen." So infuriated was the Devil at losing his wager that
he flung down the pillar. It fell so heavily on the floor that it broke
in two, and had to be bound together with the ring. The coloured stone
head above the choir-arch is supposed to be a memorial of this castle
chaplain, who so cleverly obtained cheap transport for the Church!

Without taking this legend altogether _au pied de la lettre_, we may
think it likely from the style and material that these pillars were
brought from some Italian building.

On the north-east wall of the chapel is an altarpiece with wings by
Wolgemut--SS. Wenceslaus and Martin, and SS. Barbara and Elizabeth on
the reverse. The carved figures in the centre of the altarpiece on the
south-east wall are by Veit Stoss, and the wings are of the school of
Wolgemut. On the south wall are two pictures by Burgkmair (?) and a
relief after designs by Adam Krafft. On the west wall are a picture by
Kulmbach and a remarkable relief by Krafft, and on the north wall two
pictures by Strigel, and one by Holbein the elder.

The quadrangular aperture,[27] which occupies the entire space between
the four pillars and allows a full view of the lower chapel, was for a
long time walled up. This was done after the chapel had been plastered
over, probably towards the end of the fifteenth century. Ably restored
in 1892 the chapel is now very much in its original state. The plaster,
repeated layers of which had covered the capitals and ornaments with a
thick crust, preventing their shape from being any longer recognisable,
has been removed. The missing parts of the ornaments have been very
skilfully replaced. The original red stone flooring was laid bare and
the aperture reopened. There is some disagreement as to the purpose of
this opening. We are usually told that it was made for a united church
service of the Emperor and Castle retainers: the Emperor taking his seat
in the upper, the retainers in the lower chapel. It may be so: but one
would rather believe that it was intended to enable the Castle
dignitaries, when the service was held in the upper chapel, still to
obtain a view of the niches where the mortal remains of their ancestors
rested, and to reflect upon the virtues and the end of their mighty
dead, remembering the while that they too were mortal.

       *       *       *       *       *

On leaving the Castle we find ourselves in the Burgstrasse, called in
the old days Unter der Veste, which was probably the High Street of the
old town. Off both sides of this street and of the Bergstrasse ran
narrow crooked little alleys lined with wooden houses of which time and
fire have left scarcely any trace.

As you wander round the city tracing the line of the old walls, you are
struck by the general air of splendour. Most of the houses are large and
of a massive style of architecture, adorned with fanciful gables and
bearing the impress of the period when every inhabitant was a merchant,
and every merchant was lodged like a king. The houses of the merchant
princes, richly carved both inside and out, tell of the wealth and
splendour of Nuremberg in her proudest days. But you will also come upon
a hundred crooked little streets and narrow alleys, which, though
entrancingly picturesque, tell of yet other days and other conditions.
They tell of those early mediæval days when the houses were almost all
of wood and roofed with straw-thatching or wooden tiles; when the
chimneys and bridges alike were built of wood. Only here and there a
stone house roofed with brick could then be seen. The streets were
narrow and crooked, and even in the fifteenth century mostly unpaved. In
wet weather they were filled with unfathomable mud, and even though in
the lower part of the town trenches were dug to drain the streets, they
remained mere swamps and morasses. In dry weather the dust was even a
worse plague than the mud. Pig-styes stood in front of the houses; and
the streets were covered with heaps of filth and manure and with rotting
corpses of animals, over which the pigs wandered at will. Street police
in fact was practically non-existent. Mediævalism is undoubtedly better
when survived.

As to the original extent of the city walls there are many theories.
Most likely they embraced a very small district. According to Mummenhoff
the first town wall ran from the west side of the Castle in a southerly
direction over the modern Weinmarkt. (To reach it go straight down the
Albert Durer Strasse, starting from Durer's house.) Further on the wall
struck eastwards (_l_) to the river, either leaving the swampy
meadowland near the river free, or, as others hold, coming right down to
the river banks. Then, leaving the river again near the Spitalplatz, it
stretched northward, apparently from the Malerthor which was then in
existence, to the Romer Tower in the Tetzelgasse.[28] This tower was
probably not actually part of the wall but a fortified house, such as
may be seen in many German and Italian towns, built by the dwellers in
it for their own especial protection. A noble family of the name of
Romer lived there in early times and gave their name to the house. But
popular tradition has forgotten this fact and asserts that the tower
dates back from Roman times.

From this spot the wall made a distinct bend to the east, ran over the
Ægidien hill through the Wolfsgasse, where we may perhaps still
recognise in one of the houses an old tower of the wall, and so on to
the Fröschturm, or Frog's Tower near the Maxthor of to-day.

A glance at the map will show us that Nuremberg, as we know it, is
divided into two almost equal divisions. They are called after the names
of the principal churches the St. Lorenz, and the St. Sebald-quarter.
The original wall which we have just described included, it will be
seen, only a small portion of the northern or St. Sebald division. With
the growth of the town an extension of the walls and an increase of
fortification followed as a matter of course. It became necessary to
carry the wall over the Pegnitz in order to protect the Lorenzkirche and
the suburb which was springing up around it. The precise date of this
extension of the fortifications cannot be fixed. The chronicles
attribute it to the twelfth century, in the reign of the first
Hohenstaufen, Konrad III. No trace of a twelfth-century wall remains;
but the chroniclers may, for all that, have been not very wide of the
mark. The mud and wood which supplied the material of the wall may have
given place to stone in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. However
that may be, it will be remembered that the lower part of the White
Tower, which is the oldest fragment of building we can certainly point
to dates from the thirteenth century. All other portions of the second
wall clearly indicate the fourteenth century, or later, as the time of
their origin. What, then, was the course along which ran this second
line of fortifications?

Assuming that the reader has accompanied us on our short circuit of the
imaginary first town wall--(there is no better way of acquainting
oneself with the topography of the place and of coming upon the most
picturesque bits of old Nuremberg than to work round the three lines of
fortifications sketched here)--we will start again from the Maxthor, the
nineteenth-century gateway on the north side of the town. From the
Froschturm, which is near at hand, the wall ran alongside of the seven
rows of houses (Zeilen) which were built by the Council in 1488 (on the
old moat which had been filled in) for the immigrating Swabian weavers;
and then from the Webersplatz by the Landauerkloster (used at the
present time as a polytechnic school) straight down to the
Lauferschlagturm. This tower, also called the inner Lauferturm, dates in
its present form from the fifteenth century and in part from the
sixteenth century. It derives its name from the striking clock which was
put up in 1478, at a period when clocks with bells to mark the hours
were still rare. Proceeding past the Lauferschlagturm we can trace
clearly enough the shooting-trench, which was assigned to the
cross-bowmen in 1485 and runs on to the former foundry of the
coppersmiths "Auf dem Sand." Presently before reaching the Pegnitz the
wall made a sharp turn to the west: it is uncertain whether the present
Neuegasse (which we must follow) ran inside or outside of it; at any
rate the Mohler or Mahler Thor (Müllerthor) stood at the spot where the
Heugässchen and Neuegasse run into the Spitalplatz. Leaving the
Mohlerthor the wall crossed the Spitalplatz (_l_) and ran in a straight
line, strongly protected by towers, across the two arms of the Pegnitz
which encircle the Schütt Island. In the northern arm of the river, near
the Synagogue (_l_), you may still distinguish a bit of ruined wall
overgrown by alders, rising out of the water. This is the remains of the
pier which once buttressed the town-wall against the current of the
Pegnitz. On the island there are still two towers, the larger of the
two being the Schuldturm or Debtor's Tower for men (Männereisen) which
bears the date 1323. Originally a corresponding tower for female debtors
stood on the south bank of the river. But this, together with the
connecting walls and the arch over the Pegnitz, was demolished in 1812.
The bridge, which joined the two debtors' towers, was called the
Schuldbrücke, and the whole probably resembled the Henkersteg group at
which we shall presently arrive. At any rate it is recorded that towards
the end of the fifteenth century "they built dwellings for the
townspeople on the old arch by the Debtors' Towers, through which the
Pegnitz formerly flowed into the town."

We have now reached the South or Lorenz-quarter of the town. From the
river the wall ran straight on along the Nonnen-gasse to the inner
Frauenthor, which was destroyed in 1499. Cross the Lorenzer Platz and go
down the Theatergasse opposite. Behind the theatre there is still a
piece of open ditch--the old Lorenzer shooting-trench, and near the old
_inner_ Frauenthor is the entrance to the Herrenkeller, which goes under
the Königstrasse to beneath the Great Hall. The old moat was converted
into this cellar, which is 447 feet long, and supported by twenty-six
pillars. Over it the architect Hans Behaim erected the Neue Kornhaus and
the Great Hall or Grosse Wage, a deep-roofed building, also called the
Mauthaus, because it is now used as a Custom House. Going straight on
down the north side of this hall we come to the Frauengässlein, a
fascinating old street, which stretches behind the old arsenals (_r_)
(now used as storehouses for hops) to the Färbergasse, and marks the
further course of the walls, which, from the arsenals to the White Tower
(Weissturm) is easily traced. For a considerable part of the old moat
(Färbergraben) and a piece of the old wall, with its large curved
blocks of sandstone black with age, are still visible. At the end of
the Frauengasse turn first to the right and then to the left into the
Breitegasse, when the White Tower will confront you. The lower portion
of the White Tower, or inner Spittlerthurm as it used to be called (a
name, like that of the modern Spittlerthor, derived from the St.
Elizabethspital), is, as we have noted, thirteenth-century work. The
tower was renovated in the fifteenth century and fitted, like the
Lauferschlagturm, with a chiming clock. The outer gate (Vorthor) is
still preserved. Keeping on the inside of the White Tower cross the
Ludwig Strasse and go down the Waisen Strasse, which brings you to the
Brewery. Keep on down the same street with first the Brewery and then
the Unschlitthaus on the right till you reach the river.

Beyond the White Tower the moat was long ago filled up, but the section
of it opposite the Unschlittplatz remained open for a longer period than
the rest, and was called the Klettengraben, because of the burdocks
which took root there. Hereabouts, on a part of the moat, the
Waizenbräuhaus was built in 1671, which is now the famous Freiherrlich
von Tuchersche Brewery. Here, too, the Unschlitthaus was built at the
end of the fifteenth century as a granary. It has since been turned into
a school.

We have now reached one of the most charming and picturesque bits of
Nuremberg. Once more we have to cross the Pegnitz, whose banks are
overhung by quaint old houses. Their projecting roofs and high gables,
their varied chimneys and overhanging balconies from which trail rich
masses of creepers, make an entrancing foreground to the towers and the
arches of the Henkersteg. The wall was carried on arches over the
southern arm of the Pegnitz to the point of the Saumarkt (or
Trödelmarkt) island which here divides the river, and thence in like
manner over the northern arm. The latter portion of it alone survives
and comprises a large tower on the north bank called the Wasserthurm,
which was intended to break the force of the stream; a bridge supported
by two arches over the stream, which was the Henkersteg, the habitation
of the hangman or _Löb_ as he was called, of whom and of whose duties we
shall have to speak in the next chapter; and on the island itself a
smaller tower, which formed the point of support for the original,
southern pair of arches, which joined the Unschlitthaus, but were so
badly damaged in 1595 by a high flood that they were demolished and
replaced by a wooden, and later by an iron bridge.

After the great Wasserthurm, all trace of the old wall is lost. Probably
it stretched in a straight line across the Weintraubengässlein, along
the back of the houses of the Karlstrasse, and across the Irrergasse to
the Lammsgasse. Mummenhoff fancies that he can recognise one of the
towers of it in an exceptionally high house on the north side of this
latter street. There too stood the _inner_ Neuthor. The houses at the
back of Albrecht-Dürerstrasse show pretty clearly the further course of
the wall until at the Thiergärtnerthurm it finally joined the
fortifications of the Castle.

Thus we have completed the second circuit of the old Imperial town as it
was in the thirteenth and most of the first half of the fourteenth
centuries. It was then a city of no mean size for the middle ages, but
it was far from having attained its full development. New monasteries
and churches and new suburbs sprang up outside the new line of
fortification. As usually happens, the majority of the dwellers outside
the walls were of the lower class: but, besides their houses, there
were, especially towards the east, splendid gardens and properties
belonging to the patrician families and also several large buildings,
including the Katherine and Clara Convents, the Mary Hospital, and the
Carthusian Monastery (now part of the German Museum). Buildings of this
kind, close to and outside of the gates of the old town, would, if they
fell into the hands of an enemy, be a continual menace to the peace and
safety of the burghers. Hardly, therefore, was the second line of
fortifications completed when it became necessary to protect the new
suburbs with wall and ditch like the old town. It may be noted that even
when the new enceinte, that is the _third_ or outer town wall, was
finished, the second wall was still carefully preserved as a second line
of defence. This was directly contrary to the advice of Macchiavelli
"not to establish within the circuit of a city fortifications which may
serve as a retreat to troops who have been driven back from the first
line of entrenchments ... for there is no greater danger for a fortress
than rear-fortifications whither troops can retire in case of a reverse;
for once a soldier knows that he has a secure retreat after he has
abandoned the first post, he does, in fact, abandon it and so causes the
loss of the entire fortress." The Nurembergers, however, never favoured
any policy that could even remotely suggest that of burning their boats.
For a long time they kept their second line of defence. Thus in 1509 it
came to the notice of the authorities that "the inner moat near the
arsenals and granaries were filled up with dirt and rubbish, which at
some future time might do harm to the town, and the neighbours were
forbidden to empty any more rubbish into the moat, and the town
architect was ordered to see to it that what had been thrown into it was
either levelled or taken out and that the parapet was renewed."
Similarly and in the same year the inhabitants of the neighbourhood of
St. Katherinagraben (the present Peter Vischerstrasse) were refused
leave to build a bridge over the existing moat.

That part of the town which lay between the second and third lines of
fortification continued for a long time to retain something of a
suburban character. People of small fortunes who came to settle in
Nuremberg were at first admitted only into the district outside the
older wall and were only allowed to move into the inner town after they
had been domiciled in the outer town for several years. The suburban
character of the outer town was and is still in some degree apparent
also from the large open spaces there and, especially on the eastern
side, from the extensive farms and gardens belonging to the richer
citizens, such as the Holzschuhers, the Volkamers and the Tuchers.

Somewhere in the second half of the fourteenth century, then, in the
reign of Karl IV., they began to build the outer enceinte, which,
although destroyed at many places and broken through by modern gates and
entrances,[29] is still fairly well preserved, and secures to Nuremberg
the reputation of presenting most faithfully of all the larger German
towns the characteristics of a mediæval town. The fortifications seem to
have been thrown up somewhat carelessly at first, but dread of the
Hussites soon inspired the citizens to make themselves as secure as
possible. In times of war and rumours of war all the peasants within a
radius of two miles of the town were called upon to help in the
construction of barriers and ramparts. The whole circle of walls,
towers, and ditches was practically finished by 1452, when with
pardonable pride Tucher wrote, "In this year was completed the ditch
round the town. It took twenty-six years to build, and it will cost an
enemy a good deal of trouble to cross it." Part of the ditch had been
made and perhaps revetted as early as 1407, but it was not till twenty
years later that it began to be dug to the enormous breadth and depth
which it boasts to-day. The size of it was always a source of pride to
the Nurembergers, and it was perhaps due to this reason that up till as
recently as 1869 it was left perfectly intact. On the average it is
about 100 feet broad. It was always intended to be a dry ditch, and, so
far from there being any arrangements for flooding it, precautions were
taken to carry the little Fischbach, which formerly entered the town
near the modern Sternthor, across the ditch in a trough. The
construction of the ditch was provided for by an order of the Council in
1427, to the effect that all householders, whether male or female, must
work at the ditch one day in the year with their children of over twelve
years of age, and with all their servants, male or female. Those who
were not able to work had to pay a substitute. Subsequently this order
was changed to the effect that every one who could or would not work
must pay ten pfennige (one penny). There were no exemptions from this
liturgy, whether in favour of councillor, official, or lady. The order
remained ten years in force, though the amount of the payment was
gradually reduced.

Whilst the enceinte was in course of erection the Burggraf Frederic VI.
sold (1428) to the town the ruins of his castle. Steps were immediately
taken therefore to fortify the whole of the Castle grounds with ditch
and large revetted circular bastions. Paul Stromer was the director of
the works. At this time we first find distinct mention of the Vestner
Thor, and the Vestnerthorbrücke. The other main gates, the Neue Thor,
the Spittler Thor, the Frauen Thor, and the Laufer Thor had begun to be
built about 1380.

[Illustration: WALLS AND DITCH]

The Wührderthürlein and the Hallerthürlein were constructed probably
about the same time as the Vestnerthor--_i.e._ circ. 1430. It was
against the gates that the main attacks of the enemy were usually
delivered, and they were therefore provided with the most elaborate
means of defence. Each principal gate in fact was an individual castle,
a separate keep: for it was defended by one of those huge round towers
which still help to give to Nuremberg its characteristic appearance. The
Laufer, Spittel, and Frauen towers, and the tower near the new gate were
built in the above order in their present cylindrical shape (1555-1559)
by the architect George Unger, on the site of four quadrilateral towers
that already existed. The towers are about 60 yards in diameter. They
are furnished on the ground story with one or two gun-casemates, which
would command the parapet wall if that were taken. Above, beneath the
flat roof, is fixed a platform blinded with wood relieved by embrasures
capable of receiving a considerable number of cannon. Guns indeed were
in position here as recently as 1796, when together with all the
contents of the arsenal they were removed by the Austrians.

At the time of the construction of these and the other lofty towers it
was still thought that the raising of batteries as much as possible
would increase their effect. In practice the plunging fire from
platforms at the height of some eighty feet above the level of the
parapets of the town wall can hardly have been capable of producing any
great effect, more especially if the besieging force succeeded in
establishing itself on the crest of the counterscarp of the ditches,
since from that point the swell of the bastions masked the towers. But
there was another use for these lofty towers. The fact is that the
Nuremberg engineers, at the time that they were built, had not yet
adopted a complete system of flank-works, and not having as yet applied
with all its consequences the axiom that _that which defends should
itself be defended_, they wanted to see and command their external
defences from within the body of the place, as, a century before, the
baron could see from the top of his donjon whatever was going on round
the walls of his castle, and send up his support to any point of attack.
The great round towers of Nuremberg are more properly, in fact, detached
keeps than portions of a combined system, rather observatories than
effective defences.[30]

They were perhaps the last of their kind. Tradition has quite
incorrectly ascribed them to Albert Durer. Not only were they built
thirty years after his death, but they are in principle entirely opposed
to the views expounded in his book on the "Fortification of Towns." This
book, which appeared in 1527, broke completely with the old mediæval art
of fortification (the theory of which may be said roughly to have
consisted in an extensive use of towers), and recommended the
construction of such bastions as the Köcherts-zwinger, or that in the
neighbourhood of the Laufer Thor (1527) which form the starting-point of
modern fortification.

The round towers, however, were not the sole defences of the gates.
Outside each one of them was a kind of fence of pointed beams after the
manner of a chevaux-de-frise, whilst outside the ditch and close to the
bridge stood a barrier, by the side of which was a guard-house. Though
it was not till 1598 that all the main gates were fitted with
drawbridges, the wooden bridges that served before that could doubtless
easily be destroyed in cases of emergency. Double-folding doors and
portcullises protected the gateways themselves. Once past there, the
enemy was far from being in the town, for the road led through
extensive advanced works, presenting, as in the case of the Laufer Thor
outwork, a regular _place d'armes_. Further, the road was so engineered
as not to lead in a straight line from the outer main gates to the inner
ones, but rather so as to pursue a circuitous course. Thus the enemy in
passing through from the one to the other were exposed as long as
possible to the shots and projectiles of the defenders, who were
stationed all round the walls and towers flanking the advanced tambour.
This arrangement may be traced very clearly at the Frauen Thor to-day.
The position of the round tower, it will be observed, was an excellent
one for commanding the road from the outer to the inner gate.

The entrance and exit of the Pegnitz were two weak spots, calling
equally with the gates for special measures of defence. They were
completely barred by "Schossgatter" as they were termed--strong oak
piles covered with iron--set beneath the arches that spanned the river.
Strong iron chains were stretched in front of them, forming a boom to
prevent the approach of boats. The tower at the exit of the Pegnitz was
erected, we know, in 1422. It is mentioned by sixteenth-century
chroniclers as the Schlayerturm, and, though it has lost its former
height, it serves to-day in conjunction with the adjoining building over
the water as a jail.

The most vulnerable points were thus provided for. The rest of the
enceinte consisted of the ditch and walls and towers. There were two
lines of walls and towers enclosing a space which in peace-time served
as a game-park. Celtes in his poem in praise of Nuremberg boasts of the
rich turf growing there, upon which grazed splendid herds of deer. The
Tiergärtner Thor, however, did not derive its name from this game-park
(Tiergärten), but from another earlier one belonging to the Burggrafs.

The interior line of walls was the first to be built. It was made about
three feet thick and twenty-two feet high. Originally there were no
buttresses to it (as one may gather from the short length of old wall,
north of the Spittler Thor, where the inside of the wall is plain), but
afterwards buttresses were added along the whole of it, at a distance of
eighteen feet or so from centre to centre. About four feet broad, they
projected some two feet beyond the actual wall. They are joined by
circular arches, the coins of which are walled up. The blinded galleries
thus formed are still frequently used as workshops.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE WALLS]

The top of the wall is about three yards broad, thanks to a coping stone
which projects on each side. Along the outer edge of the coping stone
runs a crenelated wall, only a foot and a half thick. Seeing that it was
already at the time of construction exposed to artillery, the thinness
of this wall is somewhat surprising. Probably the Nurembergers knew that
the neighbouring nobility could not afford a heavy and expensive
siege-train. A roof, composed, according to the poet Celtes, of tiles
partly glazed, was erected over the crenelated wall and thus formed a
covered way. The crenelles were furnished with hanging shutters, which
had a hole pierced in them and were adapted therefore either to the fire
of small pieces or of arquebuses.

At intervals of every 120 or 150 feet the interior wall is broken by
quadrilateral towers. Some eighty-three of these, including the gate
towers, can still be traced. What the number was originally we do not
know. It is the sort of subject on which chroniclers have no manner of
conscience. The Hartmann Schedel Chronicle, for instance, gives
Nuremberg 365 towers in all. The fact that there are 365 days in the
year is of course sufficient proof of this assertion! The towers, which
rise two or even three stories above the wall, communicated on both
sides with the covered way. They are now used as dwelling-houses. On
some of them there can still be seen, projecting near the roof, two
little machicoulis turrets, which served as guard-rooms for observing
the enemy, and also, by overhanging the base of the tower, enabled the
garrison to hurl down on their assailants at the foot of the wall a
hurricane of projectiles of every sort. Like the wall the towers are
built almost entirely of sandstone, but on the side facing the town they
are usually faced with brick. The shapes of the roofs vary from flat to
pointed, but the towers themselves are simple and almost austere in form
in comparison with those generally found in North Germany, where fantasy
runs riot in red brick. The Nuremberg towers were obviously intended in
the first place for use rather than for ornament.

Parallel with the interior town wall there ran an exterior lower one,
which, together with the former, enclosed a space, to which we have
already referred, varying from fifty to twenty feet in breadth. We know
very little about the _original_ height and form of this exterior wall.
It suffered many changes and can no longer be traced in its original
shape. Experts hold diametrically opposite views both as to the use and
the height of it. But that is the way of experts. We shall probably not
be far wrong in concluding that this wall was originally a mere
crenelated crowning[31] of the escarp of the ditch; that catapults were
worked from the space enclosed by the two walls; and that the chief
object of the outer wall and the enclosure was to prevent the enemy from
working at the main, or inner, wall and towers with his rams and
moveable turrets. Later, when the use and effectiveness of artillery
developed and guns supplanted catapults in vigour as well as in fact,
some time at the end of the fifteenth or the beginning of the sixteenth
century, we may suppose that this old crenelated wall was removed, and
the escarp wall of the ditch was raised and strengthened and provided
with embrasures for large cannon, and rounded off on the outside so as
to neutralise the effect of shot striking the face of the walls. In this
form the exterior wall is well preserved, and can be seen at many places
in the course of a walk round the outside of the town. At many points in
the circumference, but chiefly where the fortifications are accessible
(_e.g._ near the Frauen Thor) the parapets of this curtain-wall present
a somewhat remarkable arrangement. The parapets, pierced with embrasures
for cannon, are surmounted by timber hoards or filled in with brick and
mortar, like the old English half-timbered houses. In these hoards
(wooden galleries roofed in with tiles) arquebusiers and even archers,
who were still employed at that period, might be placed. Pieces in
battery were covered by these hoards just in the same way as pieces in
the "'tween decks" of a man-of-war. The crenelles of the hoards were
closed by shutters opening on the inside, in such a way as to present
an obstacle to the balls or arrows fired by the assailants placed on the
top of the glacis.

The outer, like the inner wall was provided with towers. These were
thicker in construction but lower and less numerous than the interior
ones. They were placed at intervals of 200 to 250 feet and amounted in
all to forty or thereabouts. The chief purpose of them was to flank and
command the ditch and thus to prevent the enemy from building a dam
across it. With this object they projected some distance into the ditch.

Simultaneously with the alterations of the exterior wall small
bastion-like towers were also constructed, chiefly at places where the
wall formed an angle, and where the enemy could not therefore advance in
line. From these towers a searching fire could be maintained in all
directions, sweeping both the ditch and the ground in front. The strong,
low, semi-circular tower at the Haller Thor is supposed to be the oldest
work of this description.

Lastly, in the second half of the sixteenth century, the large bastions
which bring us in touch with modern ideas of fortification were built.
We may instance the bastion adjoining the Neue Thor, called the Doktors
Zwinger because the doctors had their summer garden there. And in 1613
the Vöhrderthor-Zwinger was added to the old town-wall. It was designed
by Meinhard von Schönberg, and built by Jakob Wolf, the younger. But in
1871 this magnificent structure, with the armorial devices which
decorated the four corners of it, was enclosed in the Vestner Thor
Zwinger.

An account of the fortifications of Nuremberg would be incomplete if no
mention were made of the _Landwehr_--a continuous line of defence which
was thrown up at some little distance from the town about the middle of
the fifteenth century, in the time of the first Marggravian war. The
_Landwehr_ was a ditch with an earthen parapet strengthened by
stockades, barricaded at the crossings of the roads with obstacles and
moveable barriers, and defended by blockhouses in which guards were
always kept. The main object of this fortification was to afford shelter
to the country people, and to secure them and their goods and cattle
from the raids of the enemy. Only the merest fragment of the
"Land-ditch" remains, viz., the Landgraben, running through the
Lichtenhof meadow.

It will be gathered from these dry details that the chief note struck by
the fortifications of Nuremberg is that of picturesque variety. The
defences have been built at different times and form no stereotyped
pattern. Walls, towers, and bastions of varying types and shapes,
suggesting the ideas of different ages, succeed each other in pleasant
confusion. The walls themselves, now high, now low, now with, now
without roofing, here crenelated with narrow loopholes and arrow-slits,
there fitted with broad embrasures for heavy guns, seem to be typical of
the place and to suggest to us the recollection of her chequered career.

At the end of our long perambulations of the walls it will be a grateful
relief to sit for a while at one of the _Restaurations_ or restaurants
on the walls. There, beneath the shade of acacias in the daytime, or in
the evening by the white light of the incandescent gas, you may sit and
watch the groups of men, women, and children all drinking from their
tall glasses of beer, and you may listen to the whirr and ting-tang of
the electric cars, where the challenge of the sentinel or the cry of the
night-watchman was once the most frequent sound. Or, if you have grown
tired of the Horn- and the Schloss-zwinger, cross the ditch on the west
side of the town and make your way to the Rosenau, in the
Fürtherstrasse. The Rosenau is a garden of trees and roses not lacking
in chairs and tables, in bowers, benches, and a band. There, too, you
will see the good burgher with his family drinking beer, eating
sausages, and smoking contentedly.




CHAPTER VI

_The Council and the Council House--Nuremberg Tortures_

         Da ist in dieser Stadt
    Ein weiser, fürsichtiger Rath,
    Der so fürsichtiglich regiert
    Und alle Ding fein ordinirt.
   --HANS SACHS, _Lobspruch der Stadt Nürnberg_.


We have seen how in gradual and piecemeal fashion the Council, as
representative of Nuremberg, acquired the character of an imperial state
on an equality with the reigning princes and territorial lords. The
special mark of sovereign power, the higher jurisdiction, was accorded
in perpetuity to the Nuremberg Council through an edict of Frederick
III., 1459. The Council was composed originally of such burghers as the
community saw fit to elect. But gradually it came about that only the
moneyed classes, large merchants, large land-owners, and court-officials
admitted to the citizenship took part in the election, and that, within
this circle again, those who had already held office formed themselves
into a specially privileged group. So there resulted in Nuremberg, as
everywhere else, the formation of a special town-aristocracy of those
families eligible to the Council, which in Nuremberg particularly, where
the original suffrage soon had to give place to the Council's right of
self-election, developed into the most pronounced exclusiveness. The
final result was the separation of the citizens into the governing
families and into the remaining classes cut off from any influence upon
the town government, and represented in general by the Trades Guilds.
This antithesis, which existed in all towns, led everywhere, in the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, to violent conflicts; in our town,
to the riots of 1348, to which we have already referred.

The families eligible to the Council composed the _Patriciate_, the
origin of which can no longer be traced in detail. The Patricians were
not, as often in other towns, burghers of long standing, for in the
fourteenth century and later, even up to the beginning of the sixteenth
century, it happened that foreign families settling here were at once
accepted as eligible to the Council. This is a circumstance which does
not at all correspond to the usual conception of the burgher
exclusiveness in the Middle Ages; but on the contrary it betrays a
certain liberality.

The Patricians appear with others of the nobility as witnesses to
documents, and are not infrequently given precedence over the
territorial nobility. They carried shield, helmet, and seal; their
hatchments hung in the churches, they held fiefs from the princes, and
were eligible to church dignities. The Patriciate, however, did not by
any means occupy itself wholly with military service and knightly
exercises. Many of them carried on wholesale businesses and
manufacturing trades. This occurred pretty generally throughout the
Middle Ages, as also in the sixteenth century, though their descendants
denied that they were ever connected with trade.

As the burghers were in general capable of bearing arms, the governing
families especially kept themselves in military practice. They led the
armed burghers or the mercenaries in the wars of their country, and
many of them obtained in the service of the Emperor, or elsewhere, the
dignity of knighthood.

As early as the fifteenth century the Patrician families claimed the
rights of knighthood and heraldry like territorial nobles. Probably the
tourney held in 1446, on the occasion of a Patrician wedding, and
represented in life-size stucco-work on the ceiling of the upper
corridor in the Town Hall, by Hans Kuhn, 1621, was intended as a
manifesto to this effect.

At any rate it is recorded that this tourney vexed the nobles very
sorely, "as they opined, it did not become the Nuremberg families to
tilt in noble conflict or to indulge in such knightly pastime; it was
indeed generally held that this tourney had had no little influence in
bringing about the great Margravian War which soon followed." In the
year 1481, and again in 1485, in the Heidelberg and Heilbronn tournament
regulations, the Town Patriciate's right of tourney was formally
contested.

Though we do not know how their prerogative arose, we certainly find
that by 1521 the number of actual Patrician families was limited to
forty-three, whilst, by the end of the century, only twenty-eight are
left eligible for the Council. They formed a close and very exclusive
corporation, clinging very tightly to their fabricated privileges. "Anno
1521," runs an old statute, "it was declared and set down by the Elders
of the Town of Nuremberg which families have always from time immemorial
danced and may still dance in the Town Hall."

We cannot deny that the short-sighted policy so often pursued by
Nuremberg to her own undoing was due to the narrow and selfish oligarchy
thus formed. But if we blame them for the decay we must also give them
full meed of praise for the ripening of the prosperity of Nuremberg. The
truth seems to be that the government of oligarchies of this nature,
formed, not of all the wealthy families, but of a Patrician order of
certain families, is, owing to the varied interests of the remaining
society over whom they rule, peculiarly difficult to overthrow.
Moreover, it is at first likely to lead on the State to success and
prosperity: for at first the prominence of particular families
represents the triumph of the fittest, the rise of those best able to
govern, to conduct commerce, to encourage industry and art. But when in
the course of nature these families begin to decay and cling all the
more obstinately to their rights, it is then that the weakness of the
position appears and the State is involved in the ruin of its most
degenerate members.

It is noticeable that many of the early measures of the Council bore a
decidedly socialistic character. We may instance the establishment of
public baths, and the storing up of corn against the time of famine,
besides the foundation of a great town brewery, which is the origin of
the famous Tucher brewery of to-day, and the keeping of public stallions
to improve the breed of horses, a measure that resulted in Nuremberg
becoming famous for its chargers. On the other hand, as an instance of
the jealous tyranny of the Council, we may quote the case of Christoph
Scheurl. When he, the "Oracle of the Republic" as he was called,
threatened to appeal to the Imperial Chamber against a sentence of the
Council they replied by torturing him in the cruellest fashion for three
weeks.

The public attitude of the Councillors being of this somewhat
grandmotherly kind, it is not surprising that they left the young
members of their families very little liberty in placing their
affections. Love affairs and marriage for love were in fact not regarded
with favour. Girls were betrothed by their parents at eight years of age
and married at fourteen, often to old men of sixty or seventy. A couple
were very seldom permitted to initiate for themselves an affair of the
heart. So when Leonhard Groland, against good manners and tradition, had
begun a love affair with Catherine, daughter of Hans Hardörfer, and this
was discovered, the precocious lover was punished with two months'
imprisonment and banished for five years from the town. When a father
did allow his son to choose his own wife he very seldom allowed him to
woo her. They tell us how when the young Paul Tucher said that he would
like to marry Ursula, daughter of the late Albrecht Scheurl, his father
did the wooing for him, and went to Andreas Imhof, her guardian, and
these two "with unshaken calm and dignified respectability" arranged the
dowry and settlements. The public betrothal took place first in the
Rathaus and then in the house of the bride. The wedding, after many
formalities, took place not in the church, but before the portal of the
church,[32] and only after the marriage service was completed did the
bridal pair enter the church to partake of the holy sacrament. After the
service the bridal party danced in the morning and then, after dinner at
the bride's home (where it was customary for the pair to reside for a
year), another dance took place in the evening; in the case of members
of the Patriciate, in the Rathaus. These proceedings were regulated by
laws by which the Council continually strove to repress the tendency to
luxury and extravagance which always accompanies commercial prosperity.

       *       *       *       *       *

The _Rathaus_, the heart of the old trading Republic, fronts the chancel
end of the Sebald-kirche, a position architecturally unfortunate. The
original Councilhouse, which was shared by the Council with the
Clothiers Guild, stood in the present Tuchgasse. But in 1332 the Council
bought from the Heilsbronn Monastery a house on the site of the present
Rathaus, and here they built themselves a new Council-house into which
they first moved in 1340. In its oldest form the Rathaus consisted only
of a large hall, large enough to hold with comfort and dignity the
numerous assembly that might gather there on the occasion of a
Reichstag. All that now remains intact of this hall is the outer
architecture on the east side. The oldest portions of the Rathaus are to
be seen from the interior quadrangle and from the Rathausgasse, the
street at the back.

[Illustration: RATHAUS (WINDOW)]

In 1514 new rooms were added. They are mostly by Hans Behaim and are
very good specimens of late Gothic. In 1520 the Rathaus Hall was
renovated and altered and the side walls were painted after Durer's
designs, by Georg Pencz and other pupils of the master. The hall was
again restored and adorned with new pictures in 1613. Two years later
the great chandelier, by Hans Wilhelm Behaim, was placed there. Two
copies of it were added in 1874.

The Rathaus took almost its present form in 1616. The architect,
Eucharius Karl Holzschuher, adapted, so far as possible, the old Rathaus
to the new Italian style of building which now enclosed it. The outbreak
of the Thirty Years War, however, prevented the completion of his plan.
The north-east portion of the Rathaus has indeed only recently been
finished after the designs of Dr A. von Essenwein. The imposing
Renaissance façade confronting St. Sebald's is nearly 300 feet long and
consists of two stories containing thirty-six windows apiece. Three
Doric portals form the entrances, and are ornamented with sculptures of
reclining figures--Justice holding the scales and Truth with a mirror,
Julius Cæsar and Alexander, Ninus and Cyrus--by Leonhard Kern. The
sculptor received the moderate wage of 100 gulden per figure.

Entering the first court by the central portal, we see in front on the
right the charming old Gothic gallery, supported by three pillars. In
the centre of the court is a bronze fountain by Pankraz Labenwolf
(1556); in the second court is the Apollo fountain of Hans Vischer.[33]
The principal[34] staircase (_r_ of central entrance) leads to the Great
Hall or Council Chamber already referred to (1332). The arched wooden
ceiling dates from 1521. The hall is 130 feet long and 40 feet wide and
contains the chandeliers and the paintings after Durer's designs
mentioned above. The latter, on the north wall, have been much spoiled
by the effects of time and of incompetent restoration. The first of them
represents the Triumphal Car of Maximilian I. drawn by twelve horses.
Victory holds a laurel wreath over the Emperor, who is attended by the
various Virtues. Behind the car follows an animated procession of
Nuremberg town musicians. The second design is on the well-worn subject
of Calumny--Midas with his long ears sitting in judgment on Innocence
who is accused by Calumny, Fraud, Envy, and so forth, whilst in the
background appear Punishment, Penitence, and Truth. On the right of the
judge (our left) who sits between Ignorance and Suspicion, are the
words: _Nemo unquam sententiam ferat priusquam cuncta ad amussim
perpenderit_, on the left the same sentiment in German:

    Ein Richter soll kein Urtheil geben
    Er soll die Sach erforschen eben.

Over the little door is written "Eins manns red ist eine halbe red. Man
soll die Teyl verhören bed." (One man's rede is but half the rede. The
other side should be heard.)

The frescoes (now scarcely visible) between the windows are by Gabriel
Weyer (1619?). As both _Bædeker_ and _Murray_ state that "among them is
a representation of the _guillotine_, which is thus proved to be two
centuries older than the French Revolution," it may be worth while to
remark that nothing of the sort is proved. The falling-axe, _fall-beil_,
the Italian _caraletto_ here represented, was of course much used at
this time, as the engravings of Lucas Cranach, Georg Pencz and others
and as our own Halifax Gibbet and Morton's Maiden show. But the
guillotine, properly so-called, was a revived and modified form of this.
The instrument then took its name from the inventor of these
modifications, M. Guillotin, a philanthropic French physician, who
designed "to reduce the pain of death to a shiver" by this machine;

    "Qui simplement nous tuera
     Et que l'on nommera,
         Guillotine."

as the royalist song first phrased it.

The bronze railing, by Peter Vischer, which once separated the lower
from the upper half of the hall has now disappeared.

The small hall on the second floor is used now as the city court. It has
recently been repaired and contains, besides portraits of modern
Nuremberg worthies, some pompous allegorical paintings by Paul Juvenell
(1579-1643).

In the Rathaus as in the Castle and Museum some very fine specimens of
old German stoves are to be seen. The stucco-relief on the ceiling of
the corridor on this floor we have already mentioned more than once.[35]

The Municipal Art Gallery (gratuity) on the third floor contains an
interesting collection of paintings that deal with the history of
Nuremberg. The most remarkable historically is the _Banquet held in the
Rathaus_ on the occasion of the Peace of Westphalia (1649), by Joachim
von Sandrart (1606-1688). Thirty of the forty-seven figures at the table
in this piece are portraits from life.

       *       *       *       *       *

The power over life and death was given, as we have said, to the Council
along with the other rights of the _Schuldheiss_ in 1459 by Frederick
III. Till then the Emperor had reserved to himself the power to give to
any individual he chose this right, "Ban über das Blut in der Stadt zu
richten." It was an evil thing now to fall into the hands of the
Council. Prisoners even during their detention before trial were made to
suffer more severely than the worst modern convicts. The accused were
put into the _Loch_, the hole which formed a part of the cellar of the
old Rathaus, where there are twelve underground cells, each about two
yards square, and two yards high.

Entering the Rathaus by the portal nearest to the Schöner Brunnen we
turn to the right, ascend a flight of steps and ring the bell for the
Hausmeister,[36] who will guide us with lanterns to those gloomy caverns
which like the Piombi of Venice cry shame on the inhumanity of man. We
follow our guide down a narrow stone staircase to the dungeons cold and
dark as the grave. Over the various entrances were symbolic figures of
animals: the two last being ornamented with a red cock and a black cock.
No one seems able to say what these strange hieroglyphics denote.

The cells were never cleaned, but were warmed by a brazier in the
winter. Two of them are furnished with stocks; in each there is an
angular wooden couch; in some, when the sight has got gradually
accustomed to the darkness, we become aware of a ghastly cleft in the
floor. Flaubert, Poe, Scott, and Victor Hugo never fail to make my blood
run cold with their descriptions of tortures, but the pages of
"Salammbo," of the "Pit and the Pendulum," of "Old Mortality," or "Les
Misérables" have no such terrors for my imagination as the actual sight
of these deep and horrid dungeons wherein so many hundreds, innocent and
guilty alike, have been incarcerated and suffered, with no Anne of
Geierstein to deliver them. Presently we pass on to a room of still more
horrible interest--the torture-chamber where the judges (Die
Blutrichtern) sat, whilst their wretched victim, far removed from human
aid and human sympathy, was "examined" till a confession was wrung from
him. This vaulted room in the _Loch_ was called the "Chapel." Over it is
written "Folterkammer, 1511" (Torture Chamber). On the wall was
inscribed the jingling verse--

"_Ad mala patrata hæc sunt atra theatra parata_."

Revolting as the idea of torture is to us, it would not be fair to
concentrate our indignation on the Nurembergers, as we are tempted to
do, when we see these things and still more when, in the Castle, we
visit the stupendous collection of torture-instruments, those melancholy
monuments of human error. For torture as a system of trial, as the great
alternative to the ordeal, has received the sanction of the wisest
lawgivers throughout far the greater portion of the world's history. It
is, indeed, only quite recently that we have in practice acknowledged
Quintilian's objection to torture--that under it one man's constancy
makes falsehood easy to him whilst another's weakness makes falsehood
necessary. History, too, has shown us the evil effects of this system
upon the judge, who became inevitably eager to convince himself of the
guilt of the poor wretch whom he had already caused to suffer. How
completely the prisoner thus became a quarry to be hunted to the death
is shown by the jocular remark of Farinacci, a celebrated authority in
criminal law, that the torture of sleeplessness invented by Marsigli was
most excellent, for out of a hundred martyrs exposed to it not two could
endure it without becoming confessors as well. This form of torture was
practised in England even without the continental limit of time. But on
the whole, torture in England fell short of the best continental
standard. Still, it remains true to say that human ingenuity could not
invent suffering more terrible than was constantly and legally employed
in _every_ civilised community. Satan himself, one writer exclaims,
would be unable to increase its refinements. A visit to the Tower of
London will prove that Nuremberg was not a solitary and disgraceful
exception to the manners of her day. The robber-barons, who flourished
under King Stephen in England used the same methods as their German
brethren to extract ransoms from the rich merchants they captured, using
knotted ropes twisted round the head, crucet-houses, or chests filled
with sharp stones in which the victim was crushed, sachentages, or
frames with a sharp iron collar preventing the wearer from sitting,
lying, or sleeping. A visit to the Castle of Nuremberg shows us that the
rich merchants were ready to use similar arguments to the robber-barons.

When the prisoner had been brought into the torture chamber and the
professional gentlemen (the Hangman and the Secretary) had decided how
much the patient could bear, operations began. A circular opening on the
inside of the room above the entrance marks the place behind which sat
the person who took down the prisoner's confession. Innumerable devices
and instruments had been invented, as we see in the Castle, by using
which separately and in combination the confession was extorted. Burning
candles held under the arms were found very effective and the favourite
Spanish methods, the Strappado (suspension by the arms behind the back
with weights to the feet), pouring water down the throat and applying
fire to the soles of the feet were in frequent use. We find many
varieties of the "little ease" or rack in the Castle. The severity of
the instrument is attested by the signature of our Guy Fawkes before and
after being submitted to that ordeal. But even less attractive than this
must have been the _peine forte et dure_. John Gow, it will be
remembered, in "The Pirate," stands mute even when his thumbs were
squeezed by two men with a whipcord till it broke, and again when it was
doubled and trebled so that the operators could pull with their whole
strength. But his fortitude gave way and he confessed when he had seen
the preparations for pressing him to death with the _peine forte et
dure_, a board loaded with heavy weights. A peculiar atrocity marked the
torture system of Scotland. Torture retained its place in that kingdom's
laws as long as she preserved the right of self-legislation. Her system
could not surpass, but it serves to illustrate the fiendish barbarities
of the Nuremberg questions. Readers of Sir Walter Scott will remember
his description of the "boot"--an iron frame in which the leg was
inserted and broken by iron wedges driven in with a hammer. The
penni-winkis, thumb-screws, and caschielawis, iron frames for the leg
heated from time to time over a brazier, were also favourite instruments
both there and here.

It is not surprising that such persuasion usually succeeded in producing
a confession from the prisoners, whether true or not, of their own or of
other people's guilt. They were not infrequently compelled to confess to
crimes which they had never committed[37] and were hanged for murdering
persons who afterwards were found to be alive and well. Real criminals,
however, often refused to speak; for habitual and professional
malefactors used to torture each other regularly in order to be hardened
when brought to justice. But in that case their wives and children often
proved less reticent. Confession having been secured the Council
appointed a day of judgment for the _armen_, "poor fellow," as they
termed him. If when he came before them he still persisted in his
confession he was condemned. But condemnation depended on the confession
of the criminal, and the Church had long maintained that confessions
obtained under torture were invalid. If, therefore, when brought before
the Council he recanted he was tortured again, and as often as he
retracted this process was repeated until a confession apart from
torture was obtained. The humane intervention of the Church thus
resulted in a redoublement of cruelty. Even after condemnation, if the
convict told the clergyman, who came to prepare him for death, that he
was really not guilty but had confessed only because of the torture, the
Council on hearing of it had to begin all over again. This became such a
nuisance that they warned the clergy not to talk to the condemned too
much about temporal matters! After sentence had been passed by the
Council a public trial of an entirely formal character was held, very
wearisome to the condemned wretch, who probably knew that it was so
empty a form that it was held even if the prisoner had already succumbed
to the torture or committed suicide in the cells.

In Nuremberg, as elsewhere, various methods of punishment were employed.
Much ingenuity and some humour were displayed in making "the punishment
fit the crime." The shrew was tamed, as in England, by the application
of the _Brank_ or scold's bridle--an iron framework placed over the head
in such a way that a plate covered with spikes, which was attached to
it, fitted into the mouth. Thieves, like English authors, had their ears
cut off. This operation was performed on the Fleischbrücke. The tongues
of blasphemers were torn out, and if the banished returned to the city
their eyes were gouged out. The latter treatment was often applied in
the East to junior princes not required to be heirs. But there the
removal of the eyeball gave way, in later times, to the drawing of a
red-hot sword blade across the eyeball. In Italy the use of a heated
metal basin (bacinare) was preferred. Whilst, in England, we punished
drunkenness, as lately as 1872, with confinement in the stocks, the use
of the ordinary Nuremberg punishment--"The Drunkard's Cloak"--a barrel
worn after the manner of a cloak--was almost confined to Newcastle. The
ancient Moslem punishment for wine-drinkers--the pouring of melted lead
down the offender's throat--does not appear to have been in vogue. Other
devices shown in the Five-Cornered Tower are the Spanish horse, which
suggests the modern American method of "riding on a rail," the
finger-cramp for bad musicians, pipes for excessive smokers, faces to
be worn by husband-beaters, ducking-stools and the wheel, last used in
1788, and the cradle, last used in 1803.

Even the sentence of death was variously performed. Robbers were hanged;
murderers beheaded; worse criminals were torn asunder by horses or
broken on the wheel. Sinners against the Church were exposed barefooted
and bareheaded and hanged before the church doors; sinners against
morality were branded. Jews--if it was a question of hanging them--were
always hung from the end of the gallows' beam, so that they and the
Christians might swing from a different place. Boiling oil does not seem
to have been indulged in, though it was used in France for mere
counterfeiters, and in England for poisoners. The Bishop of Rochester's
cook for instance was treated in this manner in 1630. Terrible as these
atrocities were, they are also terribly recent. The last burning at the
stake in Germany took place in Berlin, 1786, and in the same year at
Vienna occurred the last case of breaking on the wheel. The victim was
tortured with red-hot pincers as he walked to the place of execution.
And in England the execution of the rebels after the "45" was carried
out in exact accordance with the statute of treason of Edward III.,
1351, by which the unhappy victim of justice must be drawn to the
gallows and not walk; be cut down alive and his entrails be then torn
out and burnt before his face.

Women in Nuremberg, as in France and England, were not exposed on
gibbets in chains but were buried alive, till 1515, when at the
hangman's request they were drowned instead. In 1580 they took to being
decapitated. Women who had murdered their husbands were bound to a cart
on the way to execution, bared to the waist and tortured with red-hot
tongs. The condemned criminal usually walked from the

[Illustration: HENKERSTEG (HANGMAN'S TOWER)]

Rathaus over the Barfüsserbrücke to the Frauenthor, where the gallows
stood. On the way priests confessed him; pious people prayed for him and
supported him with draughts of wine. It is satisfactory to learn that
the feeling of the people was usually in favour of the "poor" thing.
Fellow-feeling made them wondrous kind, so that if the hangman bungled
his business and failed to kill his subject outright the mob might prove
dangerous. But the executioners, who lived in the picturesque
Henkersteg, were usually masters of their art.[38] They tell us of one
great artist who in 1501 killed two robbers almost at a blow. He placed
them back to back, two or three yards apart, and took his stand between
them. He beheaded the first one, who was kneeling, then with the same
sweep, swinging round in a circle, he whipped off the other's head.
Clearly he was not devoid of professional pride, and worthy was he to be
compared with the executioner in Anne of Geierstein who boasted that

     "Tristrem of the Hospital and his famous assistants André and Trois
     Eschelles are novices compared with me in the use of the noble and
     knightly sword," and who claimed "if one of my profession shall do
     his grim office on nine men of noble birth with the same weapon and
     with a single blow to each patient, hath he not a right to his
     freedom from taxes and his nobility by patent?"

The day-book of the Nuremberg executioner, 1573-1617, shows that no less
than 361 were executed, and 345 were beaten with rods and had their ears
and fingers cut off in that period. Besides these there were doubtless
many dungeon executions and much cellar practice as well. There were
also the victims of the Secret Tribunal, the Vehme-Gericht.

After leaving the torture-chamber we pass the entrance to a passage,
inaccessible now by reason of the masses of fallen stone, which leads
beyond the town to a distance of nearly two miles, and emerges (it is
said) in the forest near Dutzendteich. It was used to despatch envoys,
and as a means of access to, and escape for, the Senate in troublous
times.

The passage which we follow was constructed about 1543. It runs beneath
the streets towards the Castle, making a circuitous course and passing
under the Albrecht Dürer Platz. It varies in height from 3 to 7 feet,
and, as it nears the Castle, is hewn out of the living rock. Presently
we pass on the right the passage which leads down to the Deep Well (see
Chap. V.); and then at last we emerge first into the
Thiergärtnerthorthurm and then on to the Castle bastion--the
Schlosszwinger. This bastion is now a well-kept garden, and the empty,
spreading embrasures for guns are now covered with creepers. Our guide
leads us out into the Burgstrasse. A few years ago it was possible to
descend again into the passages, traverse the inner side of the
town-wall and pass into the Castle dungeon--the secret prison of the
Vehme-Gericht. Underground passages led thither both from their own
tribunal--a hall now used as a warehouse in the Pannier-Gasse--and from
the private residences of the Senators. There, too, was that deep and
dismal abyss[39] which was wont to receive the mangled remains of the
prisoners, mostly of rank, who had been condemned to "kiss the
maiden"--_die verfluchte Jungfer_. He upon whom doom had been passed was
forced, after a night spent in her presence, into the embraces of the
famous female figure, which stands to-day with Sphinx-like placidity in
the Castle. Gradually by cunningly-contrived machinery the Maiden
grasped the unhappy man with iron arms and pressed him crushingly to her
bosom. But from her body and from her face sharp spikes sank as
gradually into his eyes and flesh, piercing him through and through. At
last the arms relaxed from their cruel embrace, but only to precipitate
him, a mass of ghastly laceration, into the pit below, where the body
was received upon sharply-pointed bars of steel placed vertically at the
bottom, and was cut to pieces by wheels armed with knives which soon
completed this inhuman work of secret destruction. This subsequent
cutting into a thousand pieces may be compared with the Chinese
_Ling-chee_, and the _Bodoveresta_ prescribed by Zoroaster for
incompetent physicians. Besides its horrid appeal to the imagination, it
was doubtless useful in concealing the identity of a prisoner secretly
condemned and secretly executed.

There are various parallels to the Nuremberg Maiden. A similar
instrument was invented by Nabis, a Spartan tyrant, who named it the
Apega, after his wife. But the famous Morton's Maiden in the Museum of
Antiquities in Edinburgh is simply a beheading machine, something after
the manner of a guillotine. Tradition says that the Regent, Earl of
Morton, introduced it into Scotland and was the first to suffer by it.
This is a story as old as the Bull of Phalaris. But it is not likely
that Morton introduced it and he was certainly not the first to suffer
by it. Similarly the rack was called Exeter's Daughter because the Duke
of Exeter is said to have introduced it into England. So, too, the
Scavenger's Daughter in the Tower of London took its name from Sir
William Skevington, a lieutenant of the Tower under Henry VIII., who
revived the use of an iron hoop, in which the prisoner was bent heels to
hams and chest to knees, and was thus crushed together unmercifully. In
all these cases, it will be observed, the instrument took its title of
Maiden or Daughter from the grim contrast that would strike the popular
mind between the soft embraces of a girl and the cruel greeting of the
machine. It was the sweetest maiden he ever kissed, said the Marquis and
Earl of Argyle when he suffered death by Morton's Maiden. So in the navy
the gun to which a sailor was lashed before being flogged was termed the
Gunner's Daughter.[40] So, too, in the days of the French Revolution, as
Dickens tells us, the figure of the sharp female figure called La
Guillotine was the popular theme for jests: it was the best cure for
headache, it infallibly prevented the hair from turning grey, it
imparted a peculiar delicacy to the complexion, it was the National
Razor which shaved close; who kissed La Guillotine looked through the
little window and sneezed into the sack. In Nuremberg this grim jest was
translated into literal earnest. But it must have been difficult for the
sufferer to appreciate the hideous humour of the thing.

Not long ago there was an exhibition of torture instruments in London.
The Nuremberg Maiden was represented, and round her neck hung a placard
with the legend: "Maiden: Nuremberg." A cockney, the story runs, read
out this inscription to his companion: "Syme old gyme," was the comment;
"Myde in Germany." And it was.




CHAPTER VII

     _Albert Durer and the Arts and Crafts of Nuremberg. (Michel
     Wolgemut, Peter Vischer, Veit Stoss, Adam Krafft, etc.)_

    "Wie friedsam treuer Sitten
     Ertrost in that und Werk
     Liegt nicht in Deutschlands Mitten
     Mein liebes Nüremberg."
     --WAGNER, _Die Meistersinger_.

    "Here, when Art was still Religion, with a simple, reverent hart,
     Lived and laboured Albrecht Dürer, the evangelist of Art;
     Hence in silence and in sorrow, toiling still with busy hand,
     Like an emigrant he wandered, seeking for the Better Land.
     Emigravit is the inscription on the tomb-stone where he lies;
     Dead he is not--but departed,--for the artist never dies."
                       --LONGFELLOW.


At Nuremberg, as elsewhere, in the Middle Ages, every trade formed a
close corporation, the rules and ordinances of which were subject to the
Council alone. These unions, besides enjoying a monopoly of their
particular trade, aimed at producing good work after their kind, and at
"living together peacefully and amicably, according to the Christian law
of brotherly love." Wages and prices were fixed, the relations of
masters and subordinates were regulated by the corporations. Equality as
well as fraternity was aimed at. Each master was allowed only a certain
number of apprentices and workmen, who might not work at night, on
Sundays, or on Feast days. Occasionally, in the case of artists whose
work was in very great repute and demand, the Council relaxed this rule.
By special privilege Adam Krafft was allowed to increase his
establishment of workers. The trade-corporations paid great attention to
the quality of the goods produced. They were always anxious that only
products which were "in the eyes of all good, irreproachable, and
without flaw," should be delivered. To guarantee their quality and
soundness goods were carefully inspected before being put on sale: shoes
or works of art, bread or beef--all alike came under the eye of
inspectors appointed by the respective associations. Punishment for
infringement of the rules was severe. Two men were burnt alive at
Nuremberg in 1456 for having sold adulterated wine.

The modern publican would doubtless be surprised at such treatment.

The youth who was destined for a certain trade had to be apprenticed to
some master of that trade, "who," say the rules of the time, "must
maintain his apprentice night and day in his house, give him bread and
attention (and in some cases even clothes), and keep him under lock and
key." The master, who was responsible for his apprentice's work, had
also to teach him his trade, and to see that he was brought up in the
fear of God, and that he attended church. When the apprenticeship
(Lehrjahre) expired the young worker set out on his travels
(Wanderjahre) for one, three, or even five years, visiting foreign
countries, and learning all he could of his trade. Then he returned and
occupied himself, whilst working for a master, in endeavouring to
produce a piece of work--his masterpiece--which should entitle him to be
admitted to the rank of master.

[Illustration: ALBERT DURER'S HOUSE]

That this system had faults, economically, is undeniable. That it
produced good work and engendered in the craftsmen a personal interest
and pride in their work, is equally certain. Among the craftsmen of
Nuremberg in her golden age were Albert Durer, Peter Vischer, Adam
Krafft, Veit Stoss, and a host of others eminent in their line. It was
under the conditions we have sketched that they learned and laboured.

       *       *       *       *       *

Among the most treasured of Nuremberg's relics is the low-ceilinged,
gabled house near the Thiergärtnerthor, in which _Albert Durer_ lived
and died, in the street now called after his name. The works of art
which he presented to the town, or with which he adorned its churches,
have unfortunately, with but few exceptions, been sold to the stranger.
It is in Vienna and Munich, in Dresden and Berlin, in Florence, in
Prague, or the British Museum, that we find splendid collections of
Durer's works. Not at Nuremberg. But here at any rate we can see the
house in which he toiled--no genius ever took more pains--and the
surroundings which impressed his mind and influenced his inspiration.
If, in the past, Nuremberg has been only too anxious to turn his works
into cash, to-day she guards Albert Durer's house with a care and
reverence little short of religious. She has sold, in the days of her
poverty and foolishness, the master's pictures and drawings, which are
his own best monument; but she has set up a noble monument to his memory
(by Rauch, 1840) in the Durer Platz, and his house is opened to the
public (on payment of 50 pfennige) between the hours of 8 A.M. and 1
P.M., and 2 and 6 P.M. on week days. The Albert-Durer-Haus Society has
done admirable work in restoring and preserving the house in its
original state with the aid of Professor Wanderer's architectural and
antiquarian skill. Reproductions of Durer's works are also kept here.

The most superficial acquaintance with Durer's drawings will have
prepared us for the sight of his simple, unpretentious house and its
contents. In his "Birth of the Virgin" he gives us a picture of the
German home of his day, where there were few superfluous knick-knacks,
but everything which served for daily use was well and strongly made and
of good design. Ceilings, windows, doors and door-handles, chests,
locks, candlesticks, banisters, waterpots, the very cooking utensils,
all betray the fine taste and skilled labour, the personal interest of
the man who made them. So in Durer's house, as it is preserved to-day,
we can still see and admire the careful simplicity of domestic
furniture, which distinguishes that in the "Birth of the Virgin." The
carved coffers, the solid tables, the spacious window-seats, the
well-fitting cabinets let into the walls, the carefully wrought
metal-work we see there are not luxurious; their merit is quite other
than that. In workmanship as in design, how utterly do they put to shame
the contents of the ordinary "luxuriously furnished apartments" of the
present day! _Simplex munditiis_ is the note struck here.

The artists of those days gave themselves no airs: they were content to
regard themselves merely as successful workmen. The same hands that
carved the most splendid cathedral stalls were ready to lavish equal
care on the most insignificant domestic utensil: whilst the simplest
artisan was filled with the ambition to turn out work truly artistic. He
aimed at perfection, sharing in his master's toil and triumphs, and
hoping, no doubt, to produce some day a masterpiece himself.

And what manner of man was he who lived in this house that nestles
beneath the ancient castle? In the first place a singularly loveable
man, a man of sweet and gentle spirit, whose life was one of high ideals
and noble endeavour.[41] In the second place an artist who, both for his
achievements and for his influence on art, stands in the very front rank
of artists, and of German artists is _facile princeps_. At whatever
point we may study Durer and his works we are never conscious of
disappointment. As painter, as author, as engraver or simple citizen,
the more we know of him the more we are morally and intellectually
satisfied. Fortunately, through his letters and writings, his journals
and autobiographical memoirs we know a good deal about his personal
history and education.

Durer's grandfather came of a farmer race in the village of Eytas in
Hungary. Durer, it has been plausibly suggested, is a Nuremberg
rendering of the Hungarian word Ajtó = door = Eytas. The Open Door,
Azure, in his canting coat of arms seems to confirm this. The
grandfather turned goldsmith, and his eldest son, Albrecht Durer the
elder, came to Nuremberg in 1455 and settled in the Burgstrasse (No.
27). He became one of the leading goldsmiths of the town: married and
had eighteen children, of whom only three, boys, grew up. Albrecht, or
as we call him Albert Durer, was the eldest of these. He was born May
21, 1471, in his father's house, and Anthoni Koberger, the printer and
bookseller, the Stein of those days, stood godfather to him. The
maintenance of so large a family involved the father, skilful artist as
he was, in unremitting toil.

     "My dear father," writes Durer, "passed his life in the midst of
     great toil, and difficult and arduous labour, having only what he
     earned by his handiwork to support himself, his wife and his
     family. His possessions were few and in his life he experienced
     many tribulations, struggles and reverses of all sorts: but all who
     knew him had a good word to say of him, for he clung to the conduct
     of a good and honourable Christian. He was a patient and gentle
     man, at peace with all men and full of gratitude to God."

The portrait he has left of his father (at Munich) corresponds exactly
to the character he has thus described. It is the trustful, strenuous
face of a worn but strong old man, who seems to accept without regret,
in the glad possession of a conscience free from all reproach, a life
deprived of all comfort and worldly pleasure. He took great pains to
bring up his children in the way they should go.

     "My father took much trouble over our education. He brought us up
     to the glory of God: his chief desire was to keep his children
     under severe discipline, so that they might be acceptable to God
     and to man. Every day he urged us to love God and to show a sincere
     affection for our neighbours." Of his mother, Albert Durer writes,
     "It was her constant custom to go much to church. She never failed
     to reprove me every time that I did wrong. She kept us, my brothers
     and me, with great care from all sin, and on my coming in or my
     going out, it was her habit to say 'Christ bless thee.' I cannot
     praise enough her good works, the kindness and charity she showed
     to all, nor can I speak enough of the good fame that was hers."

His father, who was delighted with Albert's industry, took him from
school as soon as he had learned to read and write and apprenticed him
to a goldsmith. "But my taste drew me towards painting rather than
towards goldsmithry. I explained this to my father, but he was not
satisfied, for he regretted the time I had lost."

[Illustration: ALBERT DURER AS A BOY.

FROM A DRAWING BY HIMSELF AT THE AGE OF THIRTEEN]

Benvenuto Cellini has told us how his father, in like fashion, was eager
that he should practise the "accursed art" of music. Durer's father,
however, soon gave in and in 1486 apprenticed the boy to Michel
Wolgemut. That extraordinarily beautiful, and, for a boy of that age,
marvellously executed portrait of himself at the age of thirteen (now at
Vienna) must have shown the father something of the power that lay
undeveloped in his son. So "it was arranged that I should serve him for
three years. During that time God gave me great industry so that I
learnt many things; but I had to suffer much at the hands of the other
apprentices."

       *       *       *       *       *

Painting was already in vogue at Nuremberg in the fourteenth century,
but it was never much encouraged. One of the reasons may perhaps have
been that there was little opportunity for fresco painting here, as in
Italy; for the Gothic style of architecture offers no large surfaces
that seem to demand the relief of colour and drawing. Painting was
regarded at first merely as an assistant of architecture, glass-blowing
and sculpture, for the purposes of decoration and ornament, and painters
therefore always continued to be treated as mere artisans of one craft
or another. "Here I am a master," writes Durer from Italy, "at home a
Parasite." But, however regarded, the art of painting had attained to
the dignity of a separate existence when, in the fourteenth century, it
was called in to supply the place of sculpture and to furnish
altar-pieces and memorial pictures attached to monuments. These latter,
"epitaphs," are highly characteristic of northern art, and no better
examples of them are to be found than in the great churches of
Nuremberg. Many of them, in their original positions, can be seen in the
Churches of St. Lorenz and St. Sebald, executed for the great burgher
families--Imhoffs, Tuchers, Holzschuhers, etc.--on the death of one of
their number. An early example is that of Paul Stromer (1406) in St.
Lorenzkirche.

The oldest Nuremberg picture is said to be an altarpiece in St.
Jakobskirche. A great advance on this awkward work is the celebrated
Imhoff'sche Altar-piece in the Lorenzkirche (1418-22). Of the same
period, but more full of colour and movement, are the pictures of the
Deokarus Altar in the same church, of the Altar of the Sacristy in St.
Jakobskirche, and notably of the Tuchersche Altar in the Frauenkirche
(1440). The figures in this picture are more severe and also more
vigorous than the graceful, soft, full figures of the Imhoff'sche
Altar-piece.

The names of the painters of these works are unknown. Berthold, who was
commissioned by the Council in 1423 to paint the interior of the
Rathaus, is the only early painter of note whose name has survived. To
him some of the earliest epitaphs are safely to be attributed.

So far no outside influence had affected the work of the Nuremberg
painters. They were content to supply their pictures with plain gold
backgrounds and to subordinate the composition of them to the
requirements of the folding divisions of the altar-pieces, carved in
stone or wood. The grouping is therefore often crowded and the drawing
and arrangement of the limbs and figures frequently approaches the
grotesque. But presently, and probably through the agency of Martin
Schongauer, the famous engraver and painter of Colmar, the influence of
the Flemish School began to make itself felt. The introduction of
landscape backgrounds and a great improvement in drawing and composition
are noticeable, and may be traced in the Löffelholz Altar-piece in St.
Sebald's (1453). In these respects and in the smooth and brilliant
colouring, not quite perfectly harmonised, _Michel Wolgemut's_
(1434-1519) earliest works show the influence of the Flemish School in
full vigour. It was in 1473 that he married the widow of Hans
Pleydenwurf, a painter of some reputation, and in his house, beneath the
old Castle, proceeded to carry on the firm of Wolgemut and Pleydenwurf.
From this workshop all the principal paintings of that period would seem
to have issued. It is extremely difficult to determine how far the
pictures that have hitherto passed under the name of Michel Wolgemut are
really his. The master has certainly failed as a rule to stamp his own
personality on his works. This is no doubt due in great part to the fact
that he left much of each picture to be done by his pupils and
assistants. The "firm" took a frankly business view of their handiwork.
The amount of personal attention Michel Wolgemut gave to a picture
probably varied with the price paid for it. It is unfortunate that Durer
in many cases followed the same custom. He found that his careful and
elaborate style of painting was simply beggaring him, and he frequently
therefore allowed his paintings to be finished by his assistants.

Some common characteristics of the Pleydenwurf-Wolgemut School soon
impress themselves on us as we study their works in the German Museum,
or the Churches of St. Lorenz, St. Sebald, St. John, and St. Jakob. The
drapery is stiffly drawn but the colouring remarkably clear and
brilliant. The modelling of the limbs, not founded on Durer's close
studies of the nude, still leaves much to be desired. The female type is
at first sight graceful, but on closer acquaintance we find it soulless
and unsatisfying. The prominent cheekbones, straight noses, mild
expression of almond-shaped eyes, thin lips and lifeless mouths produce
an impression very different from that caused by the almost painful
intensity of Durer's portraits. As the fifteenth century draws to a
close an increasing severity of design and hardness of expression
becomes noticeable. It is not altogether fanciful, I think, to attribute
this in part to the stern independent spirit of the Reformation and in
part to the prevalence of engraving. For Wolgemut, with Wilhelm
Pleydenwurf, paid much attention to woodcarving,[42] and aided doubtless
by their youthful apprentice, Albert Durer, illustrated the
_Schatzbehalter_ (1491) and the _Hartmann-Schedel Chronicle_ (1493),
published by Koberger. The influence of this style of work is perhaps
traceable in the flatness and severe modelling of the hands, feet, and
faces, and in the stiff movement of the figures in Wolgemut's pictures.

Wolgemut is seen to best advantage in his single figures of saints, as
in his Peringsdörffer masterpiece, from the Augustinerkirche, now in the
German Museum, the only painting of importance known to have been
produced in his studio during Durer's apprenticeship. But even in his
best pieces we see little more than the fine feeling of a skilful
workman. We look in vain for inspiration, in vain for imagination, we
listen in vain for any echo from that world of Perfect Beauty which
Durer and the greatest artists have known in part and striven to
express. And yet, somehow, his best works do appeal to us and stir our
hearts. What the secret of that appeal may be is a question which will
doubtless find various answers. _Quot homines tot sententiæ._ For me it
is that Wolgemut speaks in the naïve, straightforward tones of the
Middle Ages, and decks the actors of the Sacred Story in the clothes and
colours of his own time and his own surroundings. The atmosphere of his
pictures is laden with subtle associations. If there was no note of
poetry in Wolgemut, still, round the landscapes in his pictures, there
hovers a tone like the echo of some old folk-song that has been sung and
yet lingers in the air.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Albert Durer_ always entertained the highest respect for his master,
and in 1516 painted the immortal portrait of him in his eighty-second
year, now in Munich.

When in 1490 his apprenticeship was completed Durer set out on his
Wanderjahre, to learn what he could of men and things, and, more
especially, of his own trade. Martin Schongauer was dead, but under that
master's brothers Durer studied and helped to support himself by his art
at Colmar and at Basle. Various wood-blocks executed by him at the
latter place are preserved there. Whether he also visited Venice now or
not is a moot point. Here or elsewhere, at any rate, he came under the
influence of the Bellini, of Mantegna, and more particularly of Jacopo
dei Barbari--the painter and engraver to whom he owed the incentive to
study the proportions of the human body--a study which henceforth became
the most absorbing interest of his life.

"I was four years absent from Nuremberg," he records, "and then my
father recalled me.... After my return Hans Frey came to an
understanding with my father. He gave me his daughter Agnes and with her
200 florins, and we were married." Durer, who writes so lovingly of his
parents, never mentions his wife with any affection: a fact which to
some extent confirms her reputation as a Xantippe. She, too, in her way,
it is suggested, practised the art of _cross-hatching_. Pirkheimer,
writing after the artist's death, says that by her avariciousness and
quarrelling nature she brought him to the grave before his day. She was
probably a woman of a practical and prosaic turn, to whom the dreamy,
poetic, imaginative nature of the artist-student, her husband, was
intolerably irritating. Yet as we look at his portraits of himself--and
no man except Rembrandt has painted himself so often--it is difficult to
understand how anyone could have been angry with Albert Durer. Never did
the face of man bear a more sweet, benign, and trustful expression. In
those portraits we see something of the beauty, of the strength, of the
weakness of the man so beloved in his generation. His fondness for fine
clothes and his legitimate pride in his personal beauty reveal
themselves in the rich vestments he wears and the wealth of silken
curls, so carefully waved, so wondrously painted, falling proudly over
his free neck. Joachim Camerarius, the first rector of the Melanchthon
Gymnasium in Nuremberg, tells a pleasant story of how the aged Giovanni
Bellini once asked Durer to present him with one of the brushes with
which he drew hairs.

     "Durer immediately produced several ordinary brushes such as
     Bellini himself used, and begged him to take the best, or all if he
     would. Bellini said 'No, I don't mean these. I mean the ones with
     which you draw several hairs with one stroke. They must be more
     spread out and more divided; otherwise in a long sweep such
     regularity of curvature and distance could not be preserved.' 'I
     use no other than these,' Albrecht replies, 'and, to prove it, you
     may watch me.' Then taking up one of the same brushes, he drew some
     very long, wavy tresses, such as women generally wear, in the most
     regular order and symmetry. Bellini looked on wondering, and
     afterwards admitted that no human being could have convinced him by
     report of the truth of that which he had seen with his own eyes."

     "Nature had given him a body," says the same writer, "noble in
     build and structure, consonant with the beautiful mind it
     contained. His head was expressive, the eyes flashing, the nose
     nobly formed, and what the Greeks called [Greek: tetragônon]
     (Roman). His neck was long, and his chest broad; his thighs
     muscular, and legs powerful."

And most noteworthy of all are his exquisitely beautiful hands and
fingers, which strike us equally in the portrait of the boy of thirteen,
and in the Munich portrait which forms our frontispiece. No one who
studies the latter picture can fail to notice how closely the
countenance of Durer approaches the ideal type of Jesus Christ in art.
The artist, indeed, was conscious of this himself, for his own
representations of Christ bear a resemblance to his own features.

On his marriage Durer did not proceed to live in the house of his
parents-in-law as was customary, but, for some reason, took up his abode
in his father's house. It was his ambition to excel as a painter, but it
is as an engraver that he won his hold on the world--and still retains
it. Copperplate engraving had been practised as early as the first
quarter of the fifteenth century. It had been developed out of the
goldsmith's art, and perfected by the masters E. S. and Martin
Schongauer. There was a great demand for engravings. Accordingly, with a
view to earning the much needed money for his family, Durer at first
devoted himself to this art. We can trace clearly enough the progress of
the artist as he endeavoured to produce not merely the simple
representation of a subject, but by the aid of landscape backgrounds, a
picture, an artistic whole on the copper. For this purpose he turned to
account his early studies of Nuremberg scenery and his charming drawings
of Nuremberg, the Pegnitz, and the houses to which he was ever devoted.
Piracy of his works soon followed on and proved his popularity. Literary
piracy, it will be seen, if not yet respectable, is at any rate of some
antiquity. Meantime he was busy painting the portraits of members of
patrician families, of his father, of himself. For these we must not
seek in Nuremberg, but an example of his painting at this period
(_circa_ 1500), is to be found in the Pietà, now in the German Museum.
In painting, it was Durer's rule to deal only with sacred subjects or
portraits. The much damaged and inferior work, "Hercules with the
Stymphalian Birds," in the same museum forms an interesting exception to
this rule. But in his engravings Durer did not confine himself to any
one subject: sacred and secular history, mythology, animals, satire,
humour, architecture, land and water scapes, portraits, all formed
material for his receptive and strenuous mind. His humour may be studied
in his designs for Maximilian's "Book of Hours," and there, too, his
mordant satire lashes the faults of vain women and the _gaucheries_ of
proud and foolish peasants.

We have already had occasion to refer to the circle in which Durer moved
in these days; but special mention should here be made of Willibald
Pirkheimer, his great friend and patron, the most generous Mæcenas of
sciences and art in Nuremberg. Scholar and statesman, writer, orator,
and soldier, his house and splendid library in the Herrenmarkt was the
centre of intellectual activity in Germany, and the chief meeting-place
of the Humanists. Maximilian I., Conrad Celtes, Eobanus Hesse, Luther
and Melanchthon, and especially Ulrich von Hutten and Durer were among
his most favoured and frequent guests. He was a constant correspondent

[Illustration: ST. ANTHONY, FROM THE ENGRAVING BY ALBERT DURER.
BACKGROUND OF NUREMBERG SCENERY]

also of Reuchlin and Erasmus. A martyr to gout, he was naturally
choleric, but he had the humour to write a poem in praise of gout. His
quick temper and vehement opinions led to his quarrelling in time with
every friend except the gentle Durer. Coarse and caustic was his wit:
and it is only under his influence that Durer ever shows these
qualities. Pirkheimer was, in fact, a great man, a very great man, in
his day; but he lives now through his friendship with Durer, and through
the portrait, that marvellous engraving so full of character, which
Durer published in 1524.

Besides copper-engraving and painting Durer also turned his attention to
wood-engraving, and by his admirable work and designs began to give it
its place among the pictorial arts. One of his earliest woodcuts is
entitled _The Men's Bath_. It represents a group of nude male figures in
one of those open-air public baths in the Pegnitz, which are still used
in Nuremberg, and of which an old writer says: "A solicitude
particularly attentive to the needs of the working classes and to the
health and well-being of artisans, servants and the poor, has
established baths in the towns and villages: it is a habit very
praiseworthy and profitable to the health to take a bath at least once a
fortnight." There were a dozen such public baths at Nuremberg, often
visited by Durer no doubt in his pursuit of the study of the nude. He
continued to pour forth works drawn from mythology and church history,
until in 1498 he produced that "great trumpet-call of the Reformation,"
the famous series of wood-cut illustrations to the _Apocalypse_. In this
series, so full of artistic skill and imagination, Durer not only
reveals to us the aspirations of his own mind, but he also expresses the
thoughts and emotions of the age in which he lived. The Apocalypse, in
which under the veil of religious symbolism are made to appear the
terrible judgments of the Lord and the peace of his saints, was followed
by that sweet and tender poem, _The Life of Mary_, and by the _Great_
and the _Little Passion_, two sublime tragedies that leave nothing to be
desired in truth of expression and vigour of design. Durer put his whole
soul into these religious works--the same deeply penitent, simply
trusting soul which he reveals to us in his prayers, his diaries, and
his books. How real his subjects were to him, how homely his religion,
is indicated by the inevitable manner in which he transfers the scenes
of Holy Writ to the ordinary surroundings of his daily life in
Nuremberg. Deeply imbued with the religious spirit, he tells this
pictorial history of the Christian faith as one to whom it was indeed a
living reality and a very intimate part of his life.

But before this immortal series was finished various important events
occurred in the life of the artist. In 1502 his father died.

     "O all you who are my friends," writes Albert, in words that remind
     us of St. Augustine, "I pray you for the love of God, when you read
     the account of my good father's death, remember his soul, and say
     for him a _Pater_ and an _Ave_. Do so too for your own salvation,
     that we may all obtain the grace of truly serving God, and that it
     may be granted to us to lead a holy life and to make a good end.
     No, it is not possible that he who has lived a good life should
     leave this world with regret or fear, for God is full of mercy."

In the following year were produced the tender _Virgin and Child_, and
in 1504 the _Adam and Eve_, in which the fruits of his study of the nude
were given to the world in ideal figures of man before the Fall. Next
year another break occurred in Durer's career. Whether, as Vasari says,
to secure himself against the piracy of his engravings, or merely in
search of fresh knowledge, towards which "his lofty mind was ever
striving," Durer paid another visit to Venice in 1505. Here he painted
for the German colony, as an altar-piece in the Church of St.
Bartolommeo, the _Madonna del Rosario_, now at Prague. This picture
contains portraits of Maximilian, Julius II., Durer, Pirkheimer, and
several German merchants. So great was the admiration roused by it that
the Doge visited the artist and endeavours were made to induce him to
live permanently in Venice. But in 1507, in spite of all temptations, he
returned to his native town and proceeded to execute many commissions.
In 1508 he obtained an injunction from the Council to prevent the
fraudulent copying of his prints. In the same year a Nuremberg worthy,
Matthäus Landauer, added a chapel to the almshouses (Zwölfbrüderhaus or
Landauerkloster) he had founded in 1501. The chapel was dedicated to All
Saints, and Durer was invited to paint an altar-piece for it,
representing "The Adoration of the Trinity by all Saints." The result,
the Allerheiligenbild, is one of the artist's noblest and most famous
compositions, but it too has left Nuremberg. For in 1585 the Rat sold it
to Emperor Rudolph II., replacing it by a copy for which they retained
the original frame.

In 1509 Durer bought the Durer-haus and took his aged mother to live
with him there. He also bought his father's house in the Burgstrasse off
his brother. This in itself shows that the stories of his poverty have
been much exaggerated. On his death he left 6858 gulden--a very good
fortune in those days. His connection with Maximilian, to which we have
already referred,[43] no doubt brought him something, though he had
difficulty in procuring the payment of the pension allowed him by the
Emperor. The Council, in 1510, at last gave a sign that they were aware
of the presence of a great artist in their city by ordering Durer to
paint the portraits of Charlemagne and Sigismund, to be displayed at the
festival when the Imperial insignia and sacred relics--many of which
were introduced into the pictures--were shown to the people. These
portraits, into the former of which Durer introduced the features of
Stabius, Maximilian's poet-laureate, are now in the German Museum, much
restored and over-daubed with repaintings.

The illness and death of his mother in 1514 caused Albert Durer very
great grief. Most touching is his description of that event.

     "Just a year after she had fallen ill, my mother died in a
     Christian manner, after having received full absolution. Before
     dying she gave me her blessing, and with many pious words invoked
     upon me the peace of God, recommending me above all to keep myself
     from all sin. She had much fear of death, but, she said, she had no
     fear of appearing before the Lord. She suffered when she died, and
     I observed that she saw before her something which terrified her,
     for she asked for holy water, although she had not uttered a word
     for a long time. At last her eyes grew fixed and I saw Death deal
     her two great blows to the heart. Then she closed her eyes and
     mouth and died suffering. I betook myself to reciting prayers at
     her side, and experienced such paroxysms of anguish as I cannot
     express to you. May God have mercy on my mother! It was always her
     greatest joy to speak to us of God, and she saw with gladness
     everything that could increase the glory of the Lord. She was
     sixty-three years of age when she died, and I had her interred
     honourably according to my means. May our Lord give me grace to die
     a holy death even as she died! May God with all the heavenly host,
     my father, my mother, my relatives and my friends, be present at my
     end! May God Almighty grant us the life everlasting! Amen. And
     after my mother was dead her face became more beautiful than it had
     been during her life."

Sorrow is the source of most great works of art. In his sorrow Durer
produced his three most famous, best-wrought engravings, works full of
imagination and of thought, works in which, expressed in exquisite
draughtsmanship, lies his whole philosophy. Through _St. Jerome in his
Library_, _The Knight_, _Death and the Devil_, and _Melencolia_, Durer
has more than elsewhere revealed himself to us and shown us his outlook
upon things, his manner of regarding the world, his criticism of life.

On the death of Maximilian Durer travelled to the Court of Charles V. in
order to get his pension confirmed. He succeeded in his object, and,
after travelling through the Netherlands, where he was accorded a great
reception, he returned to Nuremberg in 1521, having refused the pressing
invitation of the Council of Antwerp that he should take up his
residence in their city. When he returned he received another commission
from the Rat--to design decorative paintings for the great hall of the
Council-house. But Durer's health was broken and his prolific
imagination was flagging. He seems to have taken little interest in this
commission. He chose the time-worn subject of the _Calumny_ of Apelles
for one design, and used his unfinished sketch of Maximilian's
_Triumphal Car_ for the other. The painting was carried out by Georg
Pencz and others of his pupils. Durer's last great imaginative effort
was the painting of the Four Preachers, two large upright panels with
figures of St. Peter and St. John on the one, and St. Mark and St. Paul
on the other. These, as his final message to his native town, he
presented in 1526 to his _gunstigen und gnädigen Herren_, the Council of
Nuremberg.

Painter, designer, engraver, mathematician, Durer was also an author.
The year before he died, he published his "Instructions how to Use the
Compass" and "Instructions how to Fortify Towns, Castles, and Villages,"
and after his death appeared the four books of his life-long work on
"The Human Proportions."

His life had been passed in a strenuous endeavour to perfect his art:
he died amid a universal chorus of regret, on April 6th, 1528. His grave
is in St. John's Churchyard (No. 649). A plain bronze plate on the
headstone bears his well-known monogram and the following inscription:--

       ME(ister) AL(brecht) DU(rer)

    QUICQUID ALBERTI DVRERI MORTALE
    FUIT, SVB HOC CONDITUR TUMULO.
    EMIGRAVIT, VIII, IDUS APRILE,
    M., D. XXVIII.

"I can truthfully say," wrote Durer to the Council, "that in the thirty
years I have stayed at home, I have not received from people in this
town work worth 500 gulden--truly an absurd and trifling sum--and not a
fifth part of that has been profit." After his death his fellow-citizens
became more fully alive to the value of his works, and the worthy
shopkeepers began those transactions which gradually stripped Nuremberg
of almost all the master's drawings and paintings. I borrow the
following account from Mr Lionel Cust's excellent monograph on "The
Paintings and Drawings of Albert Durer":--

     "The greater part of his drawings, which were made for his own use,
     appear to have passed into the possession of his life-long friend,
     Pirkheimer, perhaps handed over by Durer's widow to redeem the many
     financial obligations under which Durer lay to his friend. The
     sketch-books used by Durer in the Netherlands seem to have passed
     into the possession of the Pfinzing family, and were dispersed by
     their next owner. At Pirkheimer's death the whole of his
     collections, including the paintings and drawings by Durer, became
     the property of the Imhoff family, the bankers and usurers of
     Nuremberg. The Imhoffs, as befits a good, steady, money-making
     firm, seem to have regarded Durer's works as a marketable
     commodity. At the end of the sixteenth century, when the Emperor
     Rudolph II. was forming his great collection of works of art and
     curiosities, the Imhoffs, knowing his intense admiration for the
     works of Durer, pressed upon him the collection of paintings and
     drawings which they possessed. The Town Council of Nuremberg seem
     to have followed suit with the paintings which were immediately
     under their control, if not actually in their possession. In a
     short time Rudolph became possessed of the bulk of Durer's
     paintings and drawings at Prague or Vienna. Several of the
     paintings remain in the Imperial collection to this day, and a
     large portion of the drawings now forms the nucleus of what is
     known as the 'Albertina' collection at Vienna. Another portion of
     the Imhoff collection found its way through a collector in the
     Netherlands, perhaps through one of the Austrian governors, into
     that of Sir Hans Sloane, and is now in the print-room at the
     British Museum. These two collections, together with the great
     collection, which official industry and acumen have brought
     together at Berlin, are the best field for the study of Durer's
     work as a draughtsman, although in some of the smaller public or
     private collections some of the most remarkable examples are to be
     found.

     "The good citizens of Nuremberg continued their work of converting
     Durer's works into hard cash whenever the opportunity occurred. In
     1585 the Town Council persuaded or compelled the governors of the
     Landauer almshouses to sell to the Emperor Rudolph their great
     painting of _All Saints_, replacing it by a copy which, by way of
     carrying out the deception, was inserted in the original frame
     designed by Durer. The _Adam and Eve_ also appear to have passed
     into the same Imperial hands. In 1627 the Council sold to the
     Elector Maximilian of Bavaria the two great panels of the _Four
     Preachers_, Durer's last gift to his native town, and replaced them
     by copies. The long inscriptions from the Bible were cut off from
     the original panels and added on below the copies. A few years
     before, in 1613, they had presented the same Elector with the
     beautiful Baumgärtner altar-piece, which was torn from its place in
     St. Catherine's Church at Nuremberg. The two _Descents from the
     Cross_ followed in the same channel: and the Praun collection at
     Nuremberg yielded up the portrait of Wolgemut and the portrait of
     Hans Durer. Worst of all, the portrait of their beloved and
     honoured citizen, the world-famous portrait of Durer by himself,
     which had become actually the property of the Town Council, was
     lent by them to a local painter to copy; this ingenious craftsman
     sawed the panel in half, and glued his copy on to the back, on
     which were the town seal and other marks of ownership, and sold
     the original to King Ludwig of Bavaria. The worthy magistrates
     never discovered the fraud, or pretended not to, and this copy
     hangs to-day at Nuremberg a monument of dishonour and fraud.
     Gradually Nuremberg divested itself of every work by Durer which it
     could, and rejoiced in its copies and its cash. Ludwig I. of
     Bavaria took pity on its denuded condition, and gave back to it as
     a gift the _Descent from the Cross_, known as the Peller
     altar-piece, and also apparently returned from Schleissheim the
     _Hercules and the Stymphalian Birds_. With the overdaubed paintings
     of Charlemagne and Sigismund, these appear to be the only
     authenticated paintings by Durer in his native town at the present
     day. Three hundred years after Durer's death, a statue was erected
     to him in Nuremberg, and his house is now preserved and shown as a
     national relic. Yet little more than fifty years after the erection
     of this statue, in 1884, the citizens allowed the famous
     'Holzschuher' portrait, the last great work by Durer which the town
     possessed, to be sold by the family, to whom it still belonged, to
     the Munich Gallery. Truly a prophet hath little honour in his own
     country!"

Of the pupils and assistants of Durer who carried on his tradition we
may mention Hans Schäuflein, Albert Altdorfer, Hans Baldung, Georg
Pencz, the two Behaims and the two Sebalds, and Hans von Kulmbach. We
meet with many examples of their work in the churches and in the German
Museum.

       *       *       *       *       *

As we turn our steps from Durer's house and wander through the
Durer-platz to St. Sebald's we come upon the oldest restaurant in
Nuremberg, where the devout tourist should not fail to drink _ein Glas
Bier_ to the memory of Hans Sachs, Pirkheimer, and Durer, who sat here,
drank and talked in days gone by. The _Bratwurstglöcklein_ is a little
beerhouse clinging to the north wall of St. Moritz Chapel, and owes its
name, I suppose, to the custom of ringing a small bell when the sausage
was ready. As to the curious position of this little restaurant we may
remark that the practice of bargaining in the sacred precincts was very
prevalent at one time, and little booths were frequently built on to the
churches. It is only quite recently that the booths attached to the
Frauenkirche were broken up.

       *       *       *       *       *

North of the Rathaus runs the Theresien Strasse. No. 7 is the house of
Adam Krafft, the greatest of Nuremberg sculptors (1430-1507). The house
belonged originally to the Pfinzing family, and is of interest in itself
for its architectural features. The figure of St. Moritz on the fountain
in the courtyard is by Peter Vischer. Here Adam Krafft, the pious and
modest stone-mason, worked at his art to the glory of God. We know next
to nothing of the man beyond what we can learn from his handiwork. There
is fortunately little reason for believing the legend that he died in
great poverty. A friend we know he was of Lindenast and Vischer, with
whom, so great was his industry and eagerness to improve in art, he used
to practise drawing on holidays, even in his old age; and it is recorded
that he made his wife call herself Eva because he was Adam. That quaint
humour of his is revealed in the pleasing relief over the gateway of the
"Waage" or old weighing-house in the Winklerstrasse. If we would see the
counterfeit presentment of the man himself, we must pay a visit to St.
Lorenzkirche, and there, on the pedestal of his masterpiece the figure
of the master appears with the tools and in the costume of his craft,
kneeling in company with his assistants and supporting their beautiful
creation.

A simple man, of calm, unruffled temper and fervent faith he must have
been, thoroughly representative of the best German spirit of his day. No
German artist has portrayed the scenes of Christ's passion with greater
depth of genuine feeling. Happily many of his principal works are at
Nuremberg. Probably the earliest examples of Nuremberg sculpture are
the figures of Adam and Eve and the prophets round the portal of St.
Lorenzkirche. They date from the fourteenth century. In point of style
and execution it is a far cry from these stern and angular figures to
the almost supernatural grace and lightness of Krafft's Pix within the
cathedral. Well did legend pay him the pretty compliment of saying that
he knew the art of _founding_ stone like bronze. Tender and graceful as
the artist here shows himself, the strength and vigour of his reliefs
are equally remarkable. His treatment of the folds of garments seems to
reflect the influence of the Netherland school, and to point to a
dangerous striving after the effects of painting. For his subjects
Krafft rarely went outside the New Testament, which he interpreted in
the terms of Nuremberg life and dress. His figures, like those in the
works of his contemporaries at Nuremberg, are in most cases short, not
to say dumpy, and reflect, no doubt, the ordinary type of human form
around him. But always the homely Nuremberg costumes in which they are
clad seem to bring the scenes portrayed nearer to our hearts; and
thereby when a Mary draws to her breast the head of her crucified Son,
or a Magdalene at the feet of Jesus waters His feet with her tears, we
are impressed the more vividly with sympathy for their sorrow.

One of his earliest works, if, as I think, it is indeed by him, is the
Last Judgment over the Schauthüre, on the south-east side of St.
Sebaldskirche. His earliest works of unquestioned authority are the
Seven Stations of the Cross on the Burgschmietsstrasse. These are a
series of bas-reliefs on seven pillars, each representing a scene in the
passion of our Lord. Starting from the house of the founder they mark
the way to St. John's churchyard. Some of them are much defaced by time
and some have been carefully copied by Burgschmiet,[44] but here and
there we can still recognise the vigorous touch of Adam Krafft, and they
still keep green the memory of their pious founder. Martin Ketzel,
somewhere about the year 1470, had undertaken a pilgrimage to the Holy
Land. Struck by the fact that the distance between Pilate's house and
Golgotha was exactly that between his own house and St. John's
Churchyard, he returned home with various measurements, determined to
erect at certain intermediate stations some pieces of sculpture
commemorative of our Saviour's passion. To his dismay when he arrived he
discovered that he had lost his precious measurements. There was nothing
for it but to return to Jerusalem and take the measurements afresh. For
he could trust no one to perform so important a task for him. This time
he was more successful, and Adam Krafft was commissioned to provide the
reliefs. Starting from Pilate's house, which was represented by Ketzel's
own house--Thiergärtnerthorplatz (opposite Durer's house--it is adorned
by the statue of an armed knight) the pillars were placed at intervals,
marking the spots corresponding to those where Christ was said to have
rested on the real Dolorous Way to Mount Calvary. Calvary itself is
represented at St. John's. Each pillar bears an inscription:--

     1. Hir begegnet Christus seiner wirdigen lieben Muter die vor
     grossem hertzenleit anmechtig ward. 200 Srytt von Pilatus haws.

     2. Hir ward Symon gezwungen Cristo sein krewtz helfen tragen. 295
     Sryt von Pilatus haws.

     3. Hir sprach Christus Jr Döchter von Jherusalem nit weint über
     mich, sünder uber euch und ewvre kinder. 380 Srytt von Pilatus
     haws.

     4. Hier hat Christus sein heiligs Angesicht der heiligen Fraw
     Veronica auf iren Slayr gedruckt vor irem Haws. 500 Sryt von
     Pilatus Haws.

     5. Hier tregt Christus das Creuz und wird von den Juden ser hart
     geslagen. 780 Srytt von Pilatus Haws.

     6. Hier felt Cristus vor grosser unmacht auf die Erden bei 1000
     Srytt von Pilatus haws.

Then on a small eminence by the gate of the Cemetery we behold the last
sad scenes of Calvary reproduced. It is a noble group which moves us
alike by the pathos and dignity of its treatment and by the beauty of
the inscription.

     7. Hir legt Cristus tot vor seiner gebenedeyten wirdigen Muter die
     in mit grosem Herzenleyt und bitterlichen smertz claget und
     beweynt.

In the Holzschuher Chapel near at hand is Krafft's last work (1507) the
Burial of Christ. In this piece, which lacks the fervent feeling of his
earlier representations of Christ's passion and was probably chiefly
executed by his assistants, the figure of Joseph of Arimathea is a
portrait of Adam Krafft. Krafft in his prime (1492) had dealt with the
same subject in the Sebald-Schreyer-tomb on the outer wall of the Choir
of St. Sebaldskirche, facing the Rathaus. The "Burial" in St. John's
Church seems cold and hard compared with the pathos and beauty of this
masterpiece, so finely composed and exquisitely wrought.

Other works of Adam Krafft's which well repay study are:--

  1496. Bearing the Cross, St. Sebaldskirche.

  1501. The Last Supper, Mount of Olives and Betrayal,
        behind the High Altar, St. Sebaldskirche.

  1504. The Annunciation, on the house at the corner
        of Winklerstrasse and Schulgässchen.

  1499. The Crowning of Mary (Pergenstorfer Relief)
        in the Frauenkirche.

  1499. Madonna with Child, on the corner-house,
        Wunderburggässlein.

  1501. Crowning of Mary, in the Tetzellchapel of the
        Ægidien Church.

But most important of all stands in the St. Lorenzkirche the wonderful
Pix, Ciborium, Weibrodgehäuse, or Sakramentshäuslein, wherein were
deposited the elements of the Eucharist, previous to consecration. This
"miracle of German art" (1496-1500) was made on commission for Hans
Imhoff, a member of the great family of merchant princes, who died in
1499, a year before it was finished, though long after it was due to be
delivered. His heirs, however, recognised the merit of the master who,
inspired by friendly rivalry with Vischer's Sebaldusgrab, completed at
last so great a work of art. They gave to Krafft 70 gulden more than the
700 gulden he asked, and to his wife a mantle worth 6 gulden.

[Illustration: SAKRAMENTSHÄUSLEIN. (ADAM KRAFFT)]

Nuremberg, so rich in legend, tells a story of the origin of the Pix. A
servant of Hans Imhoff was accused of having stolen a goblet and, in
terror of being tortured, confessed the theft. He suffered death
accordingly. But a little while afterwards the goblet was found, full of
wine, beneath a bed, where it had been placed, it was surmised, by some
guest who had been drinking too freely. As an atonement for his
hastiness Hans Imhoff dedicated this offering to the Lord.

Similar, but inferior _Weihbrodgehäusen_ by Adam Krafft are to be seen
at Schwabach and at Heilsbronn. That by the Master of Weingarten at Ulm
rivals though it can scarcely surpass the St. Lorenzkirche masterpiece.

     The life-size kneeling figures of the master, in the middle with
     cap, apron and mallet, and two assistants, the one with a measure
     and the other with a chisel, support the balcony which runs round
     the Ciborium. The pillars of the balustrade are adorned with eight
     figures of saints, including St. Lorenz (with gridiron) and St.
     Sebald.

     On the pillars of the Ciborium itself (beneath which are small
     angels and escutcheons), are the statues of Moses, John, Mary, and
     James the Less.

     Above the receptacle rises a spire like a bishop's crosier,
     representing perhaps the crook of the Good Shepherd. It is
     ornamented with statuettes of saints, and as the Holy Sacrament was
     instituted to commemorate the death of the Redeemer the artist has
     added reliefs representing episodes of the Passion, which with the
     Resurrection complete for all believers the fruits of the Holy
     Supper.

  1. Christ comforting the Women.
  2. The Holy Supper.
  3. The Mount of Olives.

     Above these again are four patriarchs and eight angels holding
     signs of the passion, which interpreted as instruments of torture
     may have given rise to the story of the origin of the Pix. Then--

  4. Christ before Pilate.
  5. The Crown of Thorns.
  6. The Crucifixion. SS. Mary and John and a kneeling figure (the Church?).

     On the pillars above stand the four Evangelists(?) and above all
     the figure of the risen Saviour, the right hand stretched out in
     benediction, the left holding the banner of victory.

But apart from the details of the carving, it is the grace of the
fretted Gothic pinnacle of finest filigree stonework that seizes our
attention. Tapering, or rather mounting airily on high it carries the
eye up to the spandril of the vaulting of the choir, soaring like the
notes of a flute-like voice, and embodying, as it were, the utterance of
some deeply spiritual aspiration. The delicate elaboration of this
wonderful stonework seems to have overcome all terrestial heaviness.
Higher still and higher, it springs from the earth like Shelley's
skylark, but it fades not from view. For when, some sixty feet from the
ground, the bend of the vaulting checks its further growth, it bows its
beautiful head and like a lily on its stalk or snowdrop on its stem
terminates in a pendant flower. It is indeed a miracle of rare device.
So slender and graceful is it and withal so clear-cut that the triumph
of the artist over his material seems almost unearthly, whilst the
spring and proportion of the whole and the sharpness of the carving
redeem him from the imputation of making an inappropriate use of stone.
In this, as in the Schreyertomb, it is usual to trace the influence of
Durer on the sculptor. To me it seems more probable that Adam Krafft's
style with its excessive minuteness influenced Albert Durer and was in
turn influenced by Martin Schongauer.

       *       *       *       *       *

Wood-carving (as a visit to the Museum will demonstrate) flourished
exceedingly at Nuremberg. There were indeed so many carvers there
towards the end of the fifteenth century that it is difficult to
understand how they all gained a livelihood. The greatest artist among
them, if we except the unknown master of the Nuremberg Madonna in the
Museum, was certainly Veit Stoss. Born in 1440 he was of abstemious and
frugal habits and lived till 1533. In 1477 he gave up his rights of
citizenship, went to Poland, and at Cracow made a great reputation by
the high altar and choir-stalls he carved for the Church of St. Mary
there. Like Durer he was very versatile--a carver in wood and stone,
painter, engraver, mechanician, and architect. But unlike most of the
great artists of this period, his character was stained by a
considerable crime.

On returning to Nuremberg in 1496 he was nick-named the Pole and was
presently condemned on a charge of forging a signature to a document
which was to substantiate his claim against a Nuremberg merchant, whom
he accused of having cheated him out of a sum of money. He was sentenced
to be branded on both cheeks--a gentle punishment, seeing that a forger
was liable to lose both eyes. The Council also compelled him to swear
that he would never leave Nuremberg, but, when he found that no one
would work with him, he fled. But later, the Council pardoned him and
received him back. They seem to have appreciated his artistic gifts as
much as Maximilian. Stoss worked very diligently at Nuremberg and
received orders even from Transylvania and Portugal. Whatever his
character--and it is fair to add that on the count of forgery he always
maintained that he was unjustly accused--his art will always bring him
praise. Of his numberless altar-pieces, crucifixes and Madonnas, the
very beautiful wood gilt crucifix and the much-admired Angels' Greeting,
both in the Lorenzkirche, are the most famous. His earliest work in
Nuremberg is a painted carving of the Madonna and Child on the north
wall of the Frauenkirche, executed for the old Welser Altar (1504). Veit
Stoss, it is pointed out in his later work, exhibits the increasing
influence of Albert Durer, but nowhere more unmistakably than in the
"Englischer Gruss" (1518)--the Angelic Greeting, which hangs from the
roof of the Lorenzkirche, a work of tender piety, in which the delicacy
of the figures is very noticeable. Formerly the Greeting hung in the
choir suspended by a costly chain. But owing to the torrent of coarse
abuse which Osiander, the great preacher and reformer, hurled against
it, it was wrapped up in a green sack, on which were set the Tucher
arms. Later on, the chain was replaced by a rope. Then the Greeting was
moved about from church to church till at last it returned to St.
Lawrence's. But it was insecurely hung, and in 1817 it fell from a
height of 50 feet and was broken to pieces. It was very skilfully put
together again by the brothers Rotermundt. But the huge crown which
originally surmounted it was not restored.

Celebrated as this carving is, and beautiful as are many of the
individual figures and details in the medallions, the Angelic Greeting
as a whole is, I confess, too florid and too heavy for my taste. So
that, rather than be dishonest in my enthusiasms, I will only add
(without superciliousness) that for those who like this sort of thing,
this is the sort of thing they like.

     The praying Mary, who holds in her left hand a book, her right hand
     being laid upon her breast, and an angel with the staff of the
     Annunciation, stand alone, over life-size, in the centre of a
     rose-wreath frame. Over the wreath is carved God the Father,
     sitting between two angels, with crown and sceptre, blessing the
     figures beneath. Other angels hovering about Mary make heavenly
     music. Under the wreath, Eve's serpent (with the apple), is being
     conquered by the Ave with which the Angel of Annunciation greets
     Mary.

     On the wreath itself, seven round medallions in low relief
     represent the seven joys of Mary:--the Annunciation, Visitation,
     Birth of Christ, (_cf._ the Rosenkranz-tafel in the Museum),
     Adoration of the Wise Men, Resurrection of Christ, Pouring out of
     the Holy Spirit, and Crowning of Mary.

       *       *       *       *       *

Krafft and Stoss worked in the Gothic style, but Peter Vischer
(1455-1529), the bronze founder, except in his early works, of which
there are no examples in Nuremberg, shows the influence of the Italian
Renaissance. Perhaps this had come to him through Jacopo dei Barbari,
whose influence on Durer we have noted. However that may be, Peter
Vischer remains a truly original artist. And yet, the son of a
coppersmith, he ever continued to regard himself as a simple artisan.
With a workman's cap, and a large leather apron round his waist, with
hammer and chisel in hand, the signs of his calling, he has portrayed
himself to us in his most beautiful work of art--the shrine of St.
Sebald. There, in a niche facing the altar, stands, thick-set and
full-bearded, the modest, pious labourer, whose reputation had spread
beyond the limits of Germany, and whose bronze work, if we may believe
the chronicler, once "filled Poland, Bohemia, Hungary, and the palaces
of princes throughout the Holy Roman Empire." Seldom did prince or
potentate come to Nuremberg without paying a visit to Vischer's
workshop. Adam Krafft and Sebastien Lindenast, the coppersmith who made
works of art of copper "as if they had been of gold or silver," and who
is responsible for the copper figures which adorn the Frauenkirche
clock, were his two bosom friends. They seemed, we are told, to have but
one heart. All three were equally simple, disinterested, and ever eager
to learn. "They were like brothers: every Friday, even in their old age,
they met and studied together like apprentices, as the designs which
they executed at their meetings prove. Then they separated in friendly
wise, but without having eaten or drunk together."

The masterpiece[45] of Peter Vischer is without doubt the shrine of St.
Sebald, the highest expression of German art in this kind. Imagination,
which is so much lacking in most German art, is found here in plenty,
and in a still higher degree the artist displays his sense of form and
his careful attention to detail. To find any work of the fifteenth
century which can vie with this in richness of fancy and in depth of
feeling, as well as in successful handling of bronze, we must go I think
to Ghibellino Ghiberti's gates of the Baptistry at Florence. The
criticism, however, which must be passed on the Sebaldusgrab is that the
parts are very much greater than the whole; but the beauty and finish of
the details are so great that once we are within range of their
influence we forget and forgive any fault that may have caught our eye
in the proportionment of the complete structure.

It was in 1507 that Vischer received the commission to make this superb
receptacle for the bones of St. Sebald. For twelve years he with his
five sons laboured, though their labour was often interrupted by want of
funds. Private subscriptions failed to supply the cost even of the
15,700 pounds--about 7 tons--of metal used. At last when, in 1519, Anton
Tucher in moving words had told the citizens in St. Sebald's Church that
they ought to subscribe the 800 gulden still wanting "for the glory of
God and His Holy Saint," the money was forthcoming, and the monument was
completed.

The iron railings which surround it were made by George Heuss, who was
also responsible for the clockwork at the Frauenkirche and the mechanism
for drawing water at the deep well on the Paniersberg.

Round the base of the shrine runs the following inscription:--"Peter
Vischer Bürger in Nürnberg machet dieses Werk, mit seinen Söhnen, ward
vollbracht im Jahr, 1519. Ist allein Gott dem allmächtigen zu lob und
St. Sebald dem Himmelsfürsten zu ehren, mit Hülf andächtiger Leut von
dem Almosen bezahlt."

That is the keynote of this wonderful structure. Through years of
difficulty and distress the pious artist had toiled and struggled on
with the help of pious persons, paid by their voluntary contributions,
to complete a work "to the praise of God Almighty alone and the honour
of St. Sebald." No words, one feels, can add to the simple dignity and
faith of that inscription. It supplies us with the motive of the work,
and it supplies us also with the interpretation of the various groups
and statues which form the shrine. To the glory of God,--we are shown
how all the world, all nature and her products, all paganism with its
heroic deeds and natural virtues, the Old Dispensation with its prophets
and the New with its apostles and saints, pay homage to the Infant
Christ, who enthroned on the summit holds in his hands the terrestrial
globe. To the honour of St. Sebald,--the miniature Gothic chapel of
bronze, under the richly fretted canopy some fifteen feet high, contains
the oaken coffer encased with silver in which the bones of St. Sebald
lie; and below this sarcophagus, which dates from 1397, are admirable
bas-reliefs representing scenes and miracles from the life of the
Saint.[46]

At the feet of the eight slender pillars which support the canopy are
all sorts of strange figures and creatures suggestive of the world of
pagan mythology, gods of the forest and of the sea, nymphs of the water
and the wood. Between them are some lions couchant, which recall to the
memory Wolgemut's Peringsdörffer Altar-piece. At the four corners are
candlesticks held by most graceful and seductive winged mermaids. But
the most famous and the most beautiful figures are those of the Twelve
Apostles, which stand, each about two feet, on high brackets and in
niches on the pillars of the canopy. Clad in graceful, flowing robes,
their expression and whole attitude expressive both of vigour and of
tranquil dignity, these statues are wholly admirable. I know no
sculpture or painting which conveys to a higher degree the sense of the
intellectual and moral beauty and strength which centred in these first
followers of Christ. That characteristic pervades them all, but the
unity of suggestion is conveyed through a variety of individualities and
of actions. Each apostle stands forth distinct in the vigour of his own
inspired personality.

Those at the east end of the monument are St. Peter and St. Andrew; on
the north, or right side as we face these, are SS. Simon, Bartholomew,
Thomas, and Matthew; on the south, or left, SS. John, James, Philip, and
Paul; and on the west SS. Thaddæus and Matthias.

The apostles are surmounted by the forms of the Fathers of the Church,
or rather perhaps of the twelve minor prophets. Beneath the apostles, on
the substructure in a niche facing west, is a fine statue of St. Sebald,
and at the corresponding place on the other end of the monument is the
excellent statue of P. Vischer himself, to which we have referred.

Right at the bottom, at the foot of the four corner pillars, are the
nude figures of Nimrod with his bow and quiver, of Samson with the
slaughtered lion and jawbone of an ass, Perseus with sword and shield
and in company of a mouse, and innumerable other little animals;
Hercules with a club. Between these heroes, in the centre of either
side, are female figures representing the four chief manly
Virtues--Strength in a coat of mail with a lion, Temperance with vessel
and globe, Truth with mirror and book, and Justice with sword and
balance. In all, besides the apostles and prophets, there are
seventy-two figures, in the presentation of which amidst flowers and
foliage the exuberant fancy of the artist has run riot. But all are
subordinated to the two central ideas which animate the whole, and all
are executed with a delicacy and finish little short of marvellous. The
whole fabric rests on twelve large snails with four dolphins at the
corners.

Peter Vischer died in 1529 and was buried in the Rochus Churchyard. His
sons and Pankraz Labenwolf proved worthy successors in his art.
Labenwolf was responsible for the Gänsemännchen fountain in the
Gänsemarkt, the fountain in the Court of the Rathaus and perhaps for the
St. Wenzel in the Landauerbrüderhaus. After Peter Vischer's death his
sons received an order to complete for the Great Hall of the Rathaus a
very beautiful bronze railing, which their father had begun in 1513 for
the family of Fugger in Augsburg, who, however, had withdrawn their
commission. This railing, which divided the Great Hall, was a work of
very great artistic excellence. But it was taken away in 1806 by the
Bavarian Government, _and sold for the weight of the metal_. It was
probably melted down by the purchaser for the sake of the bronze. Anyhow
all trace of this beautiful work of art has disappeared.

We have now dealt with the most famous of the Nuremberg craftsmen. It
would be wearisome to do more than mention a few of the leading names
amongst those who excelled in other branches of art. A host of
locksmiths, glasscutters, potters and stovemakers, bookbinders and
carvers turned out in the golden age of Nuremberg work which has never
received its artist's name, but which continues to delight us. The
painted glass, which in spite of much modern restoration is one of
Nuremberg's most priceless possessions, is often by unknown hands. But
we can name such artists as Schapfer and Helmbach and later Veit,
Augustin and Sebald Hirschvogel, Guttenberger, Juvenell, Amnon,
Kirnberger and Springlin. Especially is it the case with the early glass
in the smaller churches that we must label it _Pictor Ignotus_. The
principal churches contain painted glass windows which surpass even
those of Ulm and Cologne. In St. Lorenzkirche there is the Tucher window
(1457) by Springlin; whilst the Volkamer window (1493), representing the
family and patron saint of the donor and the genealogical tree of Jesus
Christ, is justly claimed to be, for richness and depth of colouring and
for elaboration of design, one of the noblest windows in the world. It
can only be doubtfully attributed to Veit Hirschvogel. To him, however,
belongs the credit of the Maximilian window in St. Sebald's (1514), and
the Margrave's window (1527), designed by Kulmbach, in the same church.
There, too, is a window by Kirnberger and the Bishop of Bamberg's window
(1493), which may perhaps be by Katzheimer of Bamberg.

There were at one time fifty masters in the goldsmith trade, whose
delicate work, excellent in execution and varied in design, was renowned
throughout Europe. The fact that in 1552 nine hundred pounds' weight of
silver and silver-gilt ornaments was taken from the churches and sold by
order of the Council, will show how rich Nuremberg was in this respect.
But we can do here no more than mention the names of Ludwig Krug and
Wenzel Jamnitzer and Augustin Hirschvogel, goldsmiths and painters on
enamel.

Of armourers and metal-workers there were Hans Grünewalt, who died in
1503, and his son-in-law Wilhelm von Worms, whilst Martin Harscher
(1523) and Kaspar Endterlein (1633) were chief among the makers of
waterpots and candelabra. Sebald Behaim, the great gunsmith; Hieronymus
Gärtner, the architect; Jakob Püllman, the clockmaker and locksmith,
also claim mention.

Nuremberg was the home of invention as well as of industry. Christopher
Denner invented the clarionet in 1690, and Lobsinger the air-gun in
1550. Cannon were first cast here about the year 1350, and in 1500 Peter
Henlein made the first watches, which, from their shape, were called
Nuremberg eggs. Specimens may be seen in the Castle and in the Museum.
Erasmus Ebner discovered the particular alloy of metals which we call
brass, the brass of earlier times being apparently of different
combination, and one Rudolph invented a machine for drawing wire in
1360. About the same time the first paper-mill in Germany, if not in
Europe, was established at Nuremberg; and here at the latter end of the
fourteenth century playing-cards, though not invented, were certainly
printed. Last, but not least, the honey cakes, which still introduce the
German child to the name of Nürnberg, were famous as our Banbury cakes,
and much appreciated by princes in the Middle Ages.

It will be seen that the proverb--

    "Nürnberg Tand geht durch alle Land,"

was no empty boast, and we can now understand the force of the rhyme--

    "Hätt' ich Venedigs Macht,
     Augsburger Pracht,
     Nürnberger Witz,[47]
     Strassburger Geschütz
     Und Ulmer Geld
     So wär ich der Reichste in der Welt"




CHAPTER VIII

_The Meistersingers and Hans Sachs_

    "Here Hans Sachs, the cobbler poet, laureate of the gentle craft,
     Wisest of the Twelve Wise Masters, in huge folios sang and laughed....
     Not thy Councils, not thy Kaisers, win for thee the world's regard;
     But thy painter Albrecht Durer and Hans Sachs thy cobbler-bard."
                           --LONGFELLOW.

    "Heil Sachs! Hans Sachs!
     Heil Nürnbergs theurem Sachs!"
      --WAGNER, _Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg_.


It is impossible to be in Nuremberg many hours without becoming
conscious of the fact that there once lived and died here a poet, who is
still, as Wagner calls him, the "darling of Nuremberg." His name is
heard and his portrait seen on every side. In the Spital-Platz stands
the monument erected to his memory in 1874 (Johann Krausser). His house
in the Hans Sachsgässlein,[48] much restored and rebuilt since he lived
there, is marked by a tablet. Who then was this great man? A
cobbler--and more than a cobbler, a poet.

Hans Sachs, the son of a master-tailor, was born 5th November 1494, and
died January 20, 1576. Apprenticed to a shoemaker he yet always found
time, he tells us, to practise the lovely art of poetry. His first
teacher was Lienhard Nunnenbeck. But it was during his five years of
travel (Wanderjahre), in which he visited the greater part of Germany,
that he formed his determination "to devote himself to German poetry all
his life long." In 1516 he returned from his travels to Nuremberg, made
his "Master piece," and became a "Master Singer." We have already seen
how ardently he supported the Lutheran teaching, and we have referred to
his poem (1523) "Die Wittenbergische Nachtigall."[49] His object was
always both to amuse and to instruct. Even his light poems usually end
with a moral. He strove to make the new teaching popular by versifying
and translating passages from the Old and New Testaments. He was apt,
however, to be too vehement in the expression of his convictions. So
violent was he against Roman Catholicism that in 1527 the Council,
anxious as ever to preserve peace and quiet, forbade him to write any
more books or rhymes on that subject.

Hans Sachs was twice married. His first wife died in 1560, and the
following year he married the beautiful widow, Barbara Harscherin, whose
beauty and worth he praises in one of his most pleasing poems, "Der
Künstliche Frauenlob," written after the manner of the Minnesingers:--

    "Wohlauf Herz, Sinn, Muth, und Vernunft
     Helft mir auch jetzt und in Zukunft,
     Zu loben sie, so fein und zart,
     Ihre Sitt', Gestalt und gute Art,
     Auf dass mit Lobe ich bekröne
     Die tugendreich', erwälhte Schöne,
     Dass ich ausbreite mit Begierde
     Wohl ihres Frauenwesens Zierde.
     Vor allen Frauen und Jungfrauen,
     Die je ich thät mit Augen schauen
     Hin und wieder in manchem Land,
     Ward keine mir wie die meine bekannt
     An Leibe nicht, nicht an Gemüthe,
     Die Gott mir ewiglich behüte...."

We have mentioned both Meistersingers and Minnesingers. It may perhaps
not be superfluous to add a word or two on the difference between these.
The Minnesingers flourished in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
They were mostly of noble birth, and, in an age when poetry and chivalry
kissed each other, they exclusively cultivated the poetic art, living in
kings' palaces, or wandering from court to court, and composing and
singing pure and beautiful little love poems, in which the meadows and
flowers sparkle, as it were, in the sunlight of their song. Best known
of these minstrels is Walter von der Vogelweide. He, during his
wanderings, visited and sang in this old town at the Court of Frederick
II., himself a Minnesinger. Heinrich von Meissen, surnamed Frauenlob,
also visited Nuremberg, but he was the last of the Minnesingers, and was
buried at Mainz, 1318. After his time the practice of German poetry
devolved almost exclusively on the burgher and artisan class. Close
societies were formed: the rules of poetry and singing were taught in
their schools. Versecraft became one of the Incorporated Trades. The
Sängerzünfte, or Singers' Guilds, flourished chiefly at Augsburg, and on
the Rhine at Strasburg, Mainz, and Worms. The Meistersingers, ever
anxious, but all unable to clothe themselves with the fallen mantle of
ancient glory, speak of the "Twelve old Masters" (including Tannhäuser,
Walter von der Vogelweide, Wolfran, etc.), as having lived together and
formed the first society of Meistersingers, under Otto I. The truth is
that these Twelve Masters were Minnesingers, and did not live together.
Longfellow's phrase, "Wisest of the Twelve Wise Masters," cannot,
therefore, be correctly applied to Hans Sachs. The Incorporated Poets,
we must confess, though they derived many of their rules and metres from
the Minnesingers, managed to degrade the old German Minnesinging to a
close, artificial, and philistine art. The final pitch of absurdity was
reached, when in 1646 was published Harsdörfer's "Nuremberg Funnel, for
pouring in the art of German poetry and rhyme, without the aid of the
Latin tongue, in six lessons." Succeeding ages have thanked Harsdörfer
for that phrase. "Nürnberger Trichter" has passed into a proverb. The
first celebrated master-singer of Nuremberg was Hans Folz (1470), whom
Hans Sachs called a "durchleutig deutschen Poeten" (noble German poet).
It is to be noted that the poems of the Meistersingers were always sung
to music, and often had to be written to a particular tune. Hence the
stringent rules made for their formation: hence, too, when prizes were
given for the fewest mistakes in mere technique, the great attention
paid to form and metre, and the gradual elimination of true passion and
poetry. Nuremberg had always fostered music. The art of lute-making, as
of organ-building, had found a home there. Borkhardt, the famous
inventor of musical instruments, built the St. Sebald's organ about this
time. Conrad Gerler's instruments, too, were much sought after. In 1460,
for instance, we find Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, sending for
three lutes for the players at his Court. An extremely good and
interesting collection of old musical instruments will be found in the
_German Museum_. In this connection should also be noted there a picture
of the Meistersingers' singing school.[50]

The reputation of the Nuremberg school of poetry and singing was
greatly enhanced by Hans Sachs. Remarkable for his own personality and
literary fertility, he was also famous for reducing all the rules of the
Meistersingers to writing, in a code which lasted till 1735. But, in
spite of his attention to rules, he, at any rate, showed some poetic and
original talent. It is for this reason that Wagner makes him, in "Die
Meistersinger," recognise the real poetry in Walter, though the latter's
impassioned song does not conform with all the artificial rules of the
Guild, mere paper rules which added nothing to the sound or rhythm of
the words. For, as all the world knows, Hans Sachs has achieved a second
lease of life on men's lips, through the genius of Richard Wagner,
dramatist, poet, satirist, and wonderful musician, who, in this opera,
laughs at the conceit of the Incorporated Poets in assigning an
extravagant antiquity to their Guilds, and at their pedantic sacrifice
of matter to form. No more vivid and humorous picture of mediæval German
life and of the people of quaint old Nuremberg has ever been drawn.
Though "Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg" was not published till 1867,
Wagner had already as early as 1851 sketched out the plan of an opera
which was to display the triumph of genius and genuine passion over
pedantry and conventionalism in art.

The passage[51] from "Eine Mittheilung an meine Freunde" is worth
quoting here.

     "Immediately after the completion of this work" (Tannhäuser), he
     writes, "I was permitted to visit some baths in Bohemia to restore
     my strength. Here, as always, when I have been able to withdraw
     from the atmosphere of the foot-lights and my duties in the
     theatre, I soon found myself in a light and joyous humour. For the
     first time, and with artistic significance, a gaiety peculiar to my
     character declared itself. Capriciously, and yet not without some
     premeditation, I had determined a little time previously to write
     as my next work a comic opera. I call to mind that I had been
     influenced in arriving at this decision by the well-meant advice of
     good friends, who wished to see an opera of a 'lighter kind'
     composed by me, because this, they said, would open the German
     theatres to my work, and so bring about that success, the
     invincible want of which had undoubtedly begun to threaten my
     worldly circumstances with serious embarrassment. As, with the
     Athenians, a gay satirical piece followed on a tragedy, so suddenly
     there appeared to me, on that holiday journey, the picture of a
     comic play, which might suitably be attached as a satirical sequel
     to my 'Battle of the Bards at Wartburg.' This was 'Die
     Meistersinger zu Nürnberg,' with Hans Sachs at their head. Hans
     Sachs I conceived as embodying the last appearance of the
     artistically productive folk's-spirit, and as such I opposed him to
     the vulgar narrow-mindedness of the master-singers, whose very
     droll, rule-of-thumb pedantry I personified in the character of the
     'Marker.' This Marker, as is well-known (or as is perhaps not known
     to our critics), was the overseer appointed by the Singers' Guild
     to 'mark' with strokes the faults against the rules committed by
     the performers, especially if they were candidates for admission to
     the Guild. Whoever received a certain number of strokes had
     _versungen_--failed in his singing." (The singer sat in a chair
     before the assembly: the marker was ensconced behind curtains, and
     gave his attention chiefly to marking mistakes in singing, in
     Biblical history, in Lutheran German, in rhymes, music and
     syllables.) "Now the eldest of the Guild offered the hand of his
     young daughter to that master who should win the prize at an
     approaching public singing-competition. The marker, who has already
     been wooing the maiden, finds a rival in the person of a young
     knight, who, fired by reading the 'Book of Heroes' and the old
     Minnesingers, leaves the poor and decaying castle of his ancestors
     to learn in Nuremberg the art of the master-singers. He announces
     his candidature for admission to the Guild, being inspired thereto
     by a sudden passion for the Prize-Maiden, 'whom only a Master of
     the Guild may win.' He submits himself for examination, and sings
     an enthusiastic song in praise of women, which, however, provokes
     such incessant disapprobation on the part of the marker that ere
     his song is half-sung he has 'failed in his singing.' Sachs, who is
     pleased with the youth and wishes him well, baffles a desperate
     attempt to carry off the maiden, and thereby finds an opportunity
     of deeply annoying the marker. The latter, who, with a view to
     humbling him, has already been turning rudely on Sachs about a pair
     of shoes not yet finished, plants himself at night before the
     maiden's window, in order to make trial of the song with which he
     hopes to win her by singing it as a serenade. By so doing he hopes
     to secure her voice in his favour at the adjudication of the prize.
     Sachs, whose cobbler's shop is opposite the house thus serenaded,
     begins singing loudly as soon as the marker strikes up, because, as
     he informs the infuriated lover, this is necessary if he must keep
     awake to work so late: that the work is pressing nobody knows
     better than the marker himself, who has dunned him so mercilessly
     for the shoes! At last he promises the poor wretch to stop singing
     on condition that whatever faults he may find, in his judgment, in
     the marker's song, he may be allowed to mark according to his
     shoemaker's art--namely, with a blow of the hammer upon the shoe
     stretched on the last. Then the marker sings: Sachs strikes on the
     last again and again. The marker jumps up indignantly. Sachs asks
     him nonchalantly whether his song is finished. 'Not nearly,' he
     cries. Then Sachs laughingly holds up the shoes outside his shop,
     and declares that they are now quite finished, thanks to the
     'marker's strokes.' With the rest of his song, which in desperation
     he screams out without a pause, the marker fails lamentably before
     the lady, who appears at the window violently shaking her head.
     Disconsolate, he asks Sachs next day for a new song for his wooing.
     Sachs gives him a poem by the young knight, pretending not to know
     its source: only he warns him to secure an appropriate tune to
     which it may be sung. The conceited marker thinks he has nothing to
     fear in that respect, and sings the song before the public assembly
     of masters and people to a quite inappropriate tune, which so
     disfigures it that he once more and this time decisively fails
     altogether. In his mortification he accuses Sachs of having cheated
     him by providing so base a song. But Sachs declares the song is a
     very good one, only it must be sung to a suitable tune. It is then
     agreed that whoever knows the right tune shall be the victor. The
     young knight does this and wins the bride: but rejects with disdain
     the admission to the Guild now offered to him. Sachs humorously
     defends the Master-Singers' Guild, and closes with the rhyme--

    "Though should depart
     The pride of Holy Rome,
     Still thrives at home
     Our sacred German art."

The "Marker," thus pourtrayed in The Meistersingers, is Sigs Beckmesser,
who is one of those whom Hans Sachs mentions as having taught him. There
is nothing remarkable in Hans Sachs being a shoemaker as well as a
Meistersinger, for the Guild was chiefly composed of weavers and
shoemakers. What is remarkable is that he was something of a poet as
well as a Meistersinger.

The Guild had to get special leave from the Council each year to
maintain their singing schools. This leave was sometimes refused, on the
ground that the Masters sang lascivious songs, and bawled them rather
than sang. Their meetings occurred principally in the Church of St.
Catherine, after afternoon service on Sundays--usually once a month.
Public performances took place thrice a year, at Christmas, Easter and
Pentecost. The public were invited to these great assemblies by placards
representing a rose-garden and David playing the harp before our Lord on
the Cross. This placard also announced the subjects chosen and the forms
of songs allowed on the occasion.

As an author, Hans Sachs was astonishingly prolific. Besides his songs,
he wrote fables, eighteen books of proverbs, comedies, tragedies and
farces (in which he himself acted). Altogether, the number of his works
reached the huge total of 6205. Some of his plays--and some were in
seven acts--were acted in the Marthakirche and some in the Rathaus. From
Sachs' time the drama began to make headway in Germany; but it was not
till after his death that it received its first great stimulus, when the
English strolling players began to come through Germany, acting
Shakespeare's plays among others no doubt, and the more blood-curdling
scenes from Ford and Webster. In 1628 the Council provided for such
performances by building the Fencing School, "for fencing and comedies"
on the Schütt, next to the Wildbad.

[Illustration: Nürnberger Spruchsprecher]

Sachs was above all things a popular poet. He reflects both the good and
the bad side of the people he represents. At his best we find in him
that mixture of religious gravity with fresh and pungent humour which is
so characteristic of the German spirit of those days. The narrative poem
"Der Schneider mit dem Panier" is a good example of this, and is free
from that coarseness which too often disfigures his writings. Nor must
we forget to mention the long poem, "Ein Lobspruch der Stadt Nürnberg,"
a descriptive eulogy of his native town. His narrative style is plain
and straightforward, his manner pleasingly naive, though often both
prolix and prosaic, his humour original and unaffected, if too
frequently rough and Rabelaisian. But we can forgive him much for his
robust good sense and shrewd irony. The first line of one of his poems--

    "In dem Zwanzigsten Kapitel" (of the Bible)

will show how prosaic he can be: his well-known couplet on himself--

    "Hans Sachs war ein Schuh-
     Macher und Poet dazu,"

is a fair example of the roughness of his versification.

Hans Sachs is buried in St. John's Churchyard, and what is shown as his
grave is numbered 503. But whether that is actually his grave seems to
be somewhat uncertain.

On the whole, literature was far behind art in Nuremberg. But we must
not pass over the institution of the _Spruchsprecher_, the poet laureate
of the town. He was a speciality of Nuremberg, and had to deal in rhyme
with the occasion of all weddings and festivals, when called upon. He
rejoiced in a special dress, and was invented, it seems, about the
middle of the fifteenth century.

One other Nuremberg poet is worth mentioning--Johann Konrad Grübel, "the
Nuremberg Philistine," as Goethe called him in compliment. A comic,
dialect poet of the people, he was first-rate of his kind. He died in
1809, and a statue of him by Professor Wanderer adorns a little fountain
near the house of Hans Sachs.




CHAPTER IX

_The Churches of Nuremberg_

    Der Kirchen act sind in dem Ort
    Darin man predigt Gottes Wort.
    --HANS SACHS.


Nuremberg is rich in churches, those sermons in stones so much more
eloquent than any words that ever fell from the lips of the preachers.
The Gothic style has been finely called the true architectural
expression of Christianity. In her churches Nuremberg possesses some of
the finest specimens of the pure German Gothic style. They exhibit, it
is true, the common failing of German architecture. Exquisite, though
sometimes extravagant, in detail, they fall far below the masterpieces
of the French architects in the proportionment of the whole.

St. Sebald, the patron saint of Nuremberg, affords one more proof of the
fact that a prophet is not without honour save in his own country. It
is, indeed, not even known what his country was. His history and even
his name are so unfamiliar to any but Nurembergers that it will be of
interest if I add here the record of his life from the account written
by an eleventh-century (?) monk.[52]

Born at the beginning of the eighth (?) century, Sebald was the son of a
Christian king: but as to whether his father was King of the Danes,
Britons or Irish or a petty chief on the Danube biographers differ.
Sebald's parents had long been childless, but at last when all hope
seemed gone, God heard the prayers of his servants and gave them a son.
Sebald was born. The boy grew up waxing in years and virtue, learning
the lesson of the love and fear of the Lord, obedience to his parents
and charity to all men. At the age of fifteen he was sent to Paris to
study theology, in which he quickly eclipsed all the scholars of his own
age and many of riper years. He returned to his home full of wisdom and
honours and was betrothed to a beautiful and virtuous maiden. But before
the marriage was consummated he fled from the things of this world, and,
leaving his wife, his father and mother and his inheritance, he chose
the chaste and solitary life of a hermit. Within the lonely recesses of
a dense wood he passed his days in prayer and fasting and his nights in
self-inflicted chastisement. Fifteen years passed and then the hermit
made his way to Rome, whence Pope Gregory the Second despatched him in
company with SS. Willibald and Wunibald to go forth and preach the
gospel, succour the feeble, confirm the good, and correct errors of
doctrine. Together the holy men pursued their way, praising the Lord
with cheerful heart, until at length it came to pass that weary with
journeying and exhausted by storm and wind, they grew faint with hunger,
and his two companions called upon Sebald to provide them with food.
Then, having comforted them with doctrine, he departed from them a
little way, and when he had poured out his soul in prayer, lo! there
came an angel from heaven bringing to them bread that had been baked
under the ashes. And when they were now come to the parts about
Vincentia (Vicenza) Sebald, moved by the Holy Spirit, would go no
further, but abode as a hermit in the wood. His fame spread abroad. From
far and near, even from Milan and Pavia, people flocked to hear from
his lips the wonderful works of God. But, amongst those who came, came
also an unbeliever who scoffed and blasphemed at the prophet and his
message. Then Sebald prayed to God that a sign might be given, and
immediately in the sight of all, the earth opened and the scoffer sank
up to his neck. Then the hermit prayed with a loud voice and interceded
for him, so that he was delivered,[53] and he and many of the
unbelievers embraced the true faith.

Sebald now left Italy and came to Ratisbon (Regensburg), bringing the
gospel into the wilds of Germany. At Ratisbon, after crossing the Danube
in a miraculous manner, he stayed for a short time and mended, by the
power of prayer, a vessel which his host had borrowed and broken.

At last he came to Nuremberg and settled there in the forest, in the
heart of the Franconian people, teaching them the word of God and
working miracles. On one occasion, we are told, he sought shelter in the
house of a poor but churlish mechanic. It was winter: the snow lay on
the ground and the wind howled over the frozen marshes of the Pegnitz.
But the signs of charity did not shine brightly in the host. Sebald
called upon the man's wife to bring more wood for the fire so that he
might warm his body: for he was chilled to the bone. But though he
repeated his request the niggard host forbade his wife to obey. At
length the Saint cried out to her to bring the cluster of icicles which
hung from the roof and to put them on the fire if she could not or would
not bring the faggots. The woman, pitying him, obeyed, and in answer to
the prayer of Sebald, a flame shot up from the ice and the whole bundle
was quickly ablaze. When he saw this miracle the chilly host gave the
hermit a warmer welcome (frigidus hospes ad ipsum factus est
liberalis). Perhaps, it has been suggested, we may see in this pretty
story an allegory of how Sebald quickened the flame of divine love
within the icy Franconian natures, which it seemed as impossible to warm
with grace as the winter's ice. Sebald's host now, to make amends,
sallied forth and bought some fish in the market, contrary to the
regulations of the authorities, and, being caught, was blinded. But the
holy hermit restored to him the light of his eyes.

Sebald clearly foretold the date of his death: the place of his burial
was appointed by a miracle. At length, says the chronicler Lambert
Schagnaburgensis, full of good works, he fell on sleep in the town of
Nuremberg. The bier of the Saint was drawn by untamed oxen. And they,
when they had reached the spot chosen for his resting-place, refused
though goaded to the utmost to move any further. Thus was the site of
the church afterwards built to the patron saint of Nuremberg determined.
Those who ministered to him swung incense over the dead body of the old
hermit and lit candles above it. Now there was a woman, a sinner, whom
Sebald had turned to the love of the true God. In memory of her sins and
in expiation she wore about her arm a hoop of iron. And she came to see
the dead hermit. It chanced that one of the candles above his head was
crooked, and she stretched forth her arm and set it straight. At that
moment the iron band burst. So she knew that the saint, when he entered
into the presence of God, had not forgotten the poor woman whom he had
converted on earth and that God had heard her prayer, and that her sins,
which were many, were forgiven, as the broken ring signified.

Many other miracles were attributed to the ashes and relics of the saint
which lie in the beautiful shrine in St. Sebalduskirche.[54] We have
spoken at length of this exquisite work of art (p. 208), to which, says
Eobanus Hessus in his poem on Nuremberg, no words can do justice and
with which not even the greatest artists of past ages could have found
fault.

    "Musa nec ulla queat tanto satis esse labori
     Nec verbis æquare opus immortale futurum;
     Quod neque Praxiteles, nec Myron, nec Polycletus,
     Nemo Cares, nemo Scopas reprehendere posset."

The east end of _St. Sebalduskirche_ faces the Rathaus: but the western
is the oldest portion of it. Here the St. Peter's or Löffelholz Chapel,
as it was called later, after the Nuremberg family of that name, with
its crypt and choir (Engelschörlein), and the _lower_ part of the two
towers[55] date from the beginning of the thirteenth century. They
belong, in their original state, to the Romanesque style of
architecture; whilst the nave affords a beautiful example of the
transition to Gothic forms and the magnificent east choir is in the
purest German Gothic. We may conjecture that the church was originally a
basilica with a Romanesque east choir, flanked by two small adjoining
aisles, corresponding to the west choir which is still preserved, and
with a nave in the shape of a cross. Then, about 1309, they began to
build broader and higher aisles in place of the low and narrow ones,
and, in so doing, half concealed the old round-arched windows. But the
most important alteration must have been when they pulled down the old
east choir and began to build (1361) the Gothic choir, which together
with the rest of the church has been recently and carefully restored.
Twenty-two pillars 80 feet high support the vaulting. The two simple,
slender towers at the west end, some 260 feet high, were apparently
completed towards the end of the fifteenth century. According to
tradition, the southernmost of these is built on piles--a tradition that
reminds us of the swamps and marshes that once stood here, in the days
when the narrow circumference of the first town wall did not cross if
indeed it reached the river (see Ch. V.). In the base of each tower is a
Romanesque doorway: over the southern one, in the tympanum, a high
relief in stone represents the Trial of St. Helena. On the north side of
the north tower is a low relief of the Crucifixion, a memorial to
Burkhard Semler, 1463. Beneath the towers is the crypt in which was once
the tomb of Konrad von Neumarkt, the founder of the Convent of St.
Catherine. This, the oldest Nuremberg tomb, is now in the German Museum.
The colossal bronze crucifix outside the west end, against the middle
window of the St. Peter Chapel, was presented by the Starck family in
1482. It is attributed to H. Vischer, father of Peter Vischer, and has
some merits as a work of art, though the figure is that of a Hercules
rather than of a Christ. It was repaired in 1625, on which occasion the
Nurembergers incurred the nickname of Herrgottschwärzer, or Blackeners
of God. For, the story runs, the Cross was made of silver, and the
Council ordered it to be coloured black in order to protect it from the
roving bands of soldiers who passed through the town in the Thirty Years
War.

[Illustration: BRAUTTHÜRE, ST. SEBALDUSKIRCHE]

On the north side of the church the beautiful Brautthüre (1380?) or
Bride's Door (see p. 154) is especially worthy of attention. Very richly
and daintily carved, the outer and inner arches form a porch which was
meant to protect the bridal pair from the inclemency of the weather when
they stood here for the first part of the marriage service. On either
side of the pointed arch are the figures of the Madonna and Child and of
St. Sebald with his pilgrim's staff and a model of the Sebalduskirche in
his hands. The ten intercolumniated statues on the inside walls of the
porch represent the five wise and the five foolish virgins (at present
being restored). Within the entrance appear Adam and Eve with a
half-length Christ above them, and the snake and apple-tree of Eden.

On the buttresses of the east choir are some sculptures in half-relief,
representing the Passion, and at the east end, facing the Rathaus, is
the Schreyer Monument (Schreyer's Begräbnuss), a high relief by Adam
Krafft (1492). Nobly conceived and nobly executed, these representations
of the Passion and Burial of Christ are among the most noteworthy of the
master's works. Especially beautiful in grouping and in feeling is the
Grablegung--the Laying in the Grave. Sebald Schreyer, who died in 1520,
was a keen patron of art and, as churchwarden of St. Sebald's, devoted
to the interests of his church. In recognition of his services, and as
he was the last of his family, the rule which had lately come into force
that all citizens except the clergy must be buried in St. John's
Churchyard, was set aside in his case, and he was buried in the east
choir of the church to which he had devoted his life and fortune. For
the Begräbnuss of Adam Krafft and Vischer's Sebaldusgrab owed their
existence chiefly to Schreyer's care and encouragement.

The animals on the capitals of the door of the south aisle are full of
characteristic humour. One may trace here some of that mockery of the
monks in which the mediæval masons not infrequently indulged, and of
which there is a famous example at Strasburg. St. Peter with his key and
a crowned Saint with a sword are on either side of the door itself. A
partly gilded Last Judgment occupies the space above the arch. It will
be found interesting to compare the numerous figures of it with those on
the main entrance of the Lorenzkirche, to which they are strikingly
akin.

Above the door called the Schautthüre (show-door) on the S.E. side of
the church, near the guard-house, is a Last Judgment (1485), probably by
Adam Krafft (see p. 200). It is a fine and interesting work. At the
top, beneath four hovering angels and between twelve Apostles, Christ
sits on a rainbow to judge the world. The earth is his footstool. Mary
and John Baptist (the figures remind us of those in the Rosenkranztafel
in the Museum) intercede for the poor souls who are rising from their
graves. On one side they are conducted (with crowns of glory on their
heads) by an Angel to the gates of Paradise, over which waves the
triumphant banner of Christ. On the other side the Devil, who is also
similar to the Devil in the Rosenkranz, with the head of a cock, drags
his prey into the jaws of hell. The figures are all strong and full of
animation. In the midst of the group of those rising from the dead,
between the kneeling figure of the founder, Hartmann Schedel, and his
arms, is a Latin inscription which gives us to understand that Hartmann
Schedel, to whose memory this relief was erected, died Dec. 4, 1485.

For admittance to the church we must knock at the Anschreibethüre, the
portal on the N.W. side.[56]

This Anschreibethüre--so called because it was customary to enter the
names of the dead on a register kept here for that purpose--was renewed
in 1345. It is adorned on either side with the figures of Gabriel and
Mary (Annunciation), and above with a relief of the Death, Burial (the
unbelieving Jews falling prostrate before the coffin) and Crowning of
Mary. Note the figures of female saints on the capitals.

On entering, our first impression is one of disappointment. A vile
whitewash disfigures the walls, whilst the fact that the church has not
been designed by one hand as a complete whole deprives us of that
satisfied sense of perfect proportion for which we are forever hoping
but so often in vain. But as we grow more familiar with the details of
this church the feeling of disappointment vanishes and we are left
grateful if not completely satisfied.

On our right is the St. Peter's or Löffelholz Chapel, and we notice that
this, which forms the western end of the church, has been altered from a
Romanesque into a polygonal apse. The pointed cells of the vaulting make
up five-eighths of an octopartite compartment. Thus the old double-apse
arrangement of Romanesque buildings is retained at St. Sebald's; but the
west end is in the transitional, the east in the pure German Gothic
style. By introducing this pointed vaulting into the older Romanesque
shell of the St. Peter's Chapel, the Engelschor above it, or Angels'
Choir as it is called, has been concealed from view. But we can easily
see where it springs from the apex of the great arch which forms the
entrance to the Chapel.

The lofty central nave is, as we have already said, a good example of
the transition to Gothic architecture in German churches, when the
horizontal lines of the Romanesque style were giving place to the
upright and upward tendency of the Gothic. The sexpartite vaulting, the
broad but pointed arches, the substitution of rolls for the flat and
square-edged vaulting ribs, the clustering of the shafts and the
flanking by shafts of pointed windows are all eloquent of this tendency.
The pillars, too, begin to be prolonged in extent and diminished in
thickness, and the line is no longer interrupted by the rectangular
effect of square capitals. The varied patterns (flowers, pearl strings,
etc.) of the capitals here should be noted.

The walls beneath the clerestory are relieved by a triforium, which had
no place in the conceptions of the original Romanesque architects. There
is here no gallery set apart for the young men, as there frequently is
in the triforium of an early German church. This triforium consists
only of a row of low, pointed openings supported by short pillars,
variously ornamented.

The east choir (1361-1377) is a building of the same period as the
Frauenkirche. Compared with the rest of the church its dimensions are a
good deal exaggerated. Nor is it placed symmetrically as regards the
axis of the older part; for it inclines considerably to the north.
Regarded in itself, however, it must be admitted to be a splendid
building, the lofty and airy effect of which is greatly enhanced by the
single row of tall windows. The light streams in through beautiful
stained glass. The windows, however, are really too tall in proportion
to their breadth (50 feet by 8). The mullions, too, nearly 40 feet in
height, are more interesting as triumphs of masonic skill than admirable
as features of architectural design.

Contenting ourselves with these general observations as to the building
itself, we will here add a list of the principal objects of art which
will catch the attention of the visitor to the church.

In the Löffelholz Chapel stands conspicuous the highly decorated bronze
font wherein the Emperor Wenzel was baptized (1361, see p. 42). At the
base are statuettes of the four Evangelists. It is said to be the oldest
existing product of the Nuremberg foundries.

The altar-piece in memory of Kunigunde Wilhelm Löffelholz (1453) is by
an unknown painter. Scenes from the life of St. Catherine are depicted
on a plain gold background. It is the earliest Nuremberg work to show
any trace of the Netherland influence: but, unfortunately, it has been
painted over at least once. There are three other pictures in this
chapel, of an earlier date, by unknown artists.

The two-winged Haller Altar-piece (N. near the Anschreibethüre) may very
likely be an early work of the Master of the High Altar-piece in the
Frauenkirche. The background is of gold: the subject is Christ on the
Cross between Mary and John; on the wings, the Mount of Olives and SS.
Catherine and Barbara.

In this picture the cramping of the figures and the crude drawing of the
hands and feet are noticeable, but in the modelling of the heads there
is much that is very noble and very beautiful.

On the pillar next to (S.) the Haller Altar is a relief, "Carrying the
Cross," by Adam Krafft, 1496.

Later and more vigorous works by the same master are the Last Supper,
Mount of Olives and Betrayal (1501), reliefs 5 feet high by 5 feet broad
on the E. wall of the Choir. The Betrayal is distinctly the best
composed and most telling of the three. The Last Supper, the arrangement
of which is somewhat crowded and confused, has the interest of
exhibiting in the Apostles portraits of some members of the Council. The
Apostle with the goblet is said to be Paul Volkamer (the founder) and he
with the small cap Adam Krafft himself, or, it may be, Veit Stoss, to
whom the sculptures, on the strength of the monogram V.S. on them, are
now usually attributed.

We need not stay long over the Tucher Altar with its ever-burning lamp,
founded by the first baron Tucher, 1326, and its seventeenth-century
altar-piece, or the painting by Joh. Franz Ermel (1663) of the
Resurrection, over the Muffels Altar next the Schauthüre, or the new
pulpit (1859) by Heideloff and Rotermundt. The choir-stalls and the Pix
(N.), with its old sculptures, dating from the second half of the
fourteenth century, are worth examining, as also are the numerous
reliefs on the pillars of the choir. The Crowning of Mary on the first
choir pillar on the north side is attributed to V. Stoss. On a column to
the right of the pulpit hangs a copy of Durer's _Interment of Christ_,
with the armorial bearings of the Holzschuhers, and opposite, beneath a
copy of Rubens' Day of Judgment, is another painting by Durer, little
worthy of him, in which figure the Imhoff family, Willibald Pirkheimer
and the artist himself (on the right).

The Carrying of the Cross (Tucherische Kreuztragung), on the column next
to the Sebaldusgrab, can only doubtfully be attributed to Wolgemut
(1485).

The Madonna and Child on the next column was cast by Peter Vischer's
son.

The great Crucifix, with SS. Mary and John, of the High Altar was
executed by Veit Stoss in 1526, when he was now in his eightieth year.
The head of the Christ is a masterpiece of expression. The lower part of
the High Altar is modern, and was carved by Rotermundt after the designs
of C. Heideloff (1821).

In the choir also (N. wall), we find a good example of the work of Hans
von Kulmbach, who passed from the school of Jacopo dei Barbari (Jakob
Walch) to that of Durer. The Tucherische Tafel (1513) shows the
influence of the latter in a very marked manner: Durer may, in fact,
have supplied the designs for it. In the centre of the triptych is Mary
enthroned, crowned by two angels. The holy Child on her knee is trying
to seize an apple from the Mother's left hand: but both Mother and Child
are looking out of the picture. The five Bellinesque angels, who, clad
in brightly coloured garments, and playing various musical instruments,
stand at Mary's feet, are altogether charming. On either side of the
throne are SS. Catherine and Barbara, whilst on the right wing are SS.
Peter and Lawrence, presenting the founder, Provost Lorenz Tucher, to
Mary, and on the left are St. John Baptist and St. Jerome. A mountain
scene forms the background of the picture, which for all that it owes
much to Durer owes much also to the individuality of Kulmbach.

Near this is a commemorative escutcheon of the Tucher family, by
Holbein, and below it a small wood carving, said to be by Albert Durer.

The Adam and Eve in Paradise over the Schauthüre is by Joh. Creuzfelder
(1603), and was placed there by members of the Behaim family.

One of the chief features of interest in the Sebalduskirche is the
stained glass. The Tucher and Schürstab windows, according to Rettberg,
contain some late fourteenth-century glass, but would seem to have been
much restored. The Fürer window was first set up in 1325 (Christ before
Pilate). In the Bishop of Bamberg window (Wolf Katzheimer, 1493?) are
the portraits of Kaiser Heinrich, Kunigunde, Otto, Peter, Paul and
Georg, and in the corners four Bishops, and over all four Gothic
canopies.

The Maximilian window is by Veit Hirschvogel (1514). The Emperors
Maximilian and Charles V. stand on a ground of white tracery, with their
consorts, patron saints, and arms.

The Margrave's Window is by the same artist, after the designs of Hans
von Kulmbach. It was only completed after Hirschvogel's death (1527),
and has quite recently been restored. The single figures of the Margrave
Friedrich von Ansbach and Baireuth, and of his wife and eight sons, are
on a white ground. SS. Mary and John the Evangelist above, and the
Margrave's arms on the sides. In the foreground, an inscription and an
architectural substructure in the shape of a temple, according to the
fashion of stained glass at this period.

       *       *       *       *       *

Finer, better designed and considerably larger than St. Sebald's is the
_Church of St. Lawrence_. It is one of the best examples of pure German
Gothic. Outside and inside, in form and in detail, it exhibits both the
beauties and the defects of the German style when pointed architecture
was developed according to the taste and feelings of the Germans,
uninfluenced by French inspiration.

With regard to detail, amid so much that is admirable, now and again the
besetting sin of German art makes itself felt--that lack of
self-restraint, that prodigality and extravagance, one may almost call
it, of ornament, by which the effect of gorgeous richness is obtained
indeed, but at the sacrifice of distinctness. Even in the beautiful
windows this is the case. The multiplicity and intersection of the lines
tend to blur the "dry light" of the dry beauty of a perfect design.

With regard to form, viewed from the exterior, two features strike the
eye and remain in the memory. On the one hand, the enormously high and
grossly ugly roof of the choir which overwhelms the building produces
the ludicrous effect of a camel's hump. It is unrelieved by pinnacles or
even by the flying buttresses which seem to lift the soaring Gothic
naves of France into a world beyond our ken. Once again, as in St.
Sebald's, the notes of symmetry and proportion are lacking. Some flying
buttresses do indeed figure in the nave where the side-aisles are not,
as in the choir, of the same height as the central nave. These
buttresses, however, are decidedly clumsy. On the other hand, the richly
decorated western front, with its towers, rose window, open parapet and
light gallery connecting the towers, is a pure and pleasing specimen of
German art.

According to tradition the St. Lorenzkirche stands on the site of an
older, Romanesque chapel which bore the name of "zum heiligen Grab"
(Holy Sepulchre) and was erected for the spiritual needs of the
inhabitants when houses first began to be built on this side of the
Pegnitz.

[Illustration: ST. LORENZKIRCHE, FROM THE RIVER]

As it now stands the church dates almost entirely from the latter part
of the middle ages. Begun in 1278 it was not completed till 1477. Of the
two towers (250 feet in height) that to the north was built in 1283, the
other about 1400. The square portion of each and the elevation of the
gable between them are crowned by a light and beautiful open parapet.
The north tower, with its roof of gilded metal, was burned down some
thirty years ago, but has been carefully rebuilt. The towers terminate
in octagonal storeys and spires. At the top of the square portions are
wide openings, divided by many mullions, suggesting the gridiron on
which St. Lawrence was broiled. Why the church was dedicated to this
Spanish saint I have not been able to discover. The stately portal (25
feet wide and 42 feet high), and the rose window (33 feet in diameter),
recently much restored, belong to the fourteenth century. During the
fifteenth century the church was repeatedly enlarged, and, in 1439, the
foundation-stone of the lofty choir was laid. The plans were designed by
Konrad Roritzer, who came here from Rothenburg.

At the laying of the foundation-stone a miracle occurred. The pulley
which was to raise the stone broke. The workmen then broke the stone, so
heavy was it and impossible to raise. And when they had done so, they
found inside a hewn cross. Probably, says the sceptical German
historian, this was all arranged in order to stir the enthusiasm and to
promote the generosity of the people on behalf of the new church.

The figures of Adam and Eve and of the prophets, etc. on the
_Hauptthor_, the Grand Portal, are the earliest specimens we have of
Nuremberg sculpture. They date from the fourteenth century. The reliefs
of the scenes from the Life of Christ and the Last Judgment are later,
like the reliefs on St. Sebald's and the Bride's Door.

[Illustration: HAUPTTHOR (ST. LORENZKIRCHE)]

A central pillar divides the Hauptthor into two halves, and bears a
Madonna and Child. The arches above the two doors, which are separated
by this pillar, contain high reliefs of the Birth of the Saviour and
Adoration of the Magi (left), and The Slaughter of the Innocents and
Flight into Egypt, and the Presentation in the Temple (right). In the
spandrels of these arches are four prophets.

In the upper half of the great arch are represented the Crucifixion, and
on the right side Christ before Pilate and Christ bearing the Cross; on
the left the Burial and Resurrection of Christ. These scenes correspond
to those depicted on the sides of the entrance hall.

The remaining space in the tympanum of the arch deals with the Last
Judgment. Two angels blowing the last trump, and two others (restored)
holding the instruments of the passion, surround the Judge, whose feet
are set upon the Sun and Moon, and He judges the just and the unjust. At
His side SS. Mary and John kneel and intercede. The inner curve of the
arch contains the twelve Apostles and the outer the twelve Prophets.
Below are the above-mentioned life-size statues of Adam and Eve, next to
whom two other figures stand, the Scripture in their hands, expounding,
one may fancy, to the parents of mankind the story of the Redemption,
which the reliefs of the gateway have thus told in stone.

Similar in workmanship to the figures of this portal is the statue of
Christ, with flowing beard and folded hands, which is near the door on
the south-west side. This in its turn will remind us of a statue of
Christ, with hands pointing to the wound in His side, in the St.
Jakobskirche. The Brautthüre or Bridal Door on the north side of the
church was built in 1520, but it shows little trace of the Renaissance
spirit. (Recently restored.)

Of the fine though crumbling old piece of sculpture--Gethsemane--near
this door, I can find no history at all.

High up on the roof of the choir outside rises a pole with a hat upon
it. Two choir-boys (the story runs) who were playing marbles in the
church fell to quarrelling, and one of them who held the two marbles in
his hand, maintained his rights with the exclamation, "Devil take me!"
Thereupon the Devil immediately appeared and wrung the boy's neck. At
the corner of the St. Lawrence schoolhouse, on the pedestal of St.
Lawrence, you may see carved in the stone the head as it was twisted on
the trunk. The hat on the pole on the choir is that of the unfortunate
chorister.

[Illustration: ST. LORENZKIRCHE (N.)]

Entering the church by the north-west door, near the Tugendbrunnen (see
Ch. X.), we notice that the nave is twice as high and broad as the
aisles which are thus subordinated to it. But, as in St. Sebald's, the
three aisles of the choir are of equal height. Here there are two
stories of windows, instead of a single row of tall ones. Two visits
should be paid to St. Lawrence's in order to see the full effects of
this church--one in the morning when the sun is shining through the
windows of the polygonal east end, and one in the afternoon when the
light streams through the glorious rose window in the west.

Plain, slender pillars carry the vaulting of the choir with its flat
spidery network. A gallery which runs round the whole choir is reached
by a staircase next the sacristy (_s_). The sacristy should be looked
into both for the sake of its own beauty and for the sake of the choral
books, illuminated by Jakob Elssner(?) (d. 1546), and a baptismal basin
by Endterlein (d. 1633).[57]

The east end of the choir contains splendid windows (see p. 213). The
subject of the first, on the north side, behind the altar of St. John,
is the wanderings of the children of Israel; of the second the Passion,
of the third the Transfiguration, of the fourth the donor, Emperor
Frederic III. and his consort, of the fifth, Saints and Fathers of the
Church.

But far the finest and most famous of the windows is the sixth, the
Volkamer window. It is a "Jesse" window, displaying the genealogical
tree of Christ, and, below, the founder and his family. The seventh, or
Schlüssfelder window, represents the holy mill and the four Evangelists
with the four Apostles, after Durer, beneath. All these belong to the
last half of the fifteenth century; but the eighth is a modern one
(1881), commemorating the re-establishment of the German Empire. The
Tucher window next the sacristy was painted by Springlin, 1451, and
contains beautiful red glass in the early Renaissance style.

Another noticeable window is that on the south side, exhibiting the arms
of the Schmidmayer family. The designs are attributed to Durer.

Near this stands one of the old carved chairs, in which the Masters of
the Guilds once sat in turn to receive alms.

Of the chief treasures of the St. Lorenzkirche we have already dealt
sufficiently with two--the Pix or Ciborium, the Weihbrodgehäuse or
Sacramentshaüslein or whatever name we choose to give to Adam Krafft's
masterpiece[58]--

                   "A piece of sculpture rare,
    Like a foamy sheet of fountains rising thro' the painted air,"

and the Angels' Greeting, and the still finer wood-gilt crucifix of the
High Altar, by Veit Stoss.[59] The six angels in bronze bearing the
candles are by Burgschmiet (b. 1796). Anton Tucher dedicated the Angels'
Greeting and also the great bronze chandelier, which may contain the
handiwork of both Veit Stoss and Peter Vischer. The handsome modern
pulpit is by Rotermundt and Heideloff (1839). There is also in the choir
some beautiful tapestry (1375?) with figures of the twelve apostles who
stand in a scroll-work of wise sayings for our instruction, such as Pis.
maister. deiner. zung. dez. ist. dir. not. oder. si. werdint. dir. den.
ewigen. dot., and so forth.

The Church of St. Lawrence is rich in examples of the memorial tablets
or epitaphs on which the skill of the early painters was chiefly
exercised. The altar-pieces and epitaphs founded in memory of some
member or another of the great burgher families form a complete gallery
of early Nuremberg art and provide moreover a perfect feast for the
enthusiastic herald.

We have already spoken of the general tendencies of the Nuremberg
artists in the seventh chapter of this little book. Perhaps, therefore,
the most interesting way to treat of the pictures in St. Lawrence's will
be to mention them in chronological order.

1. Epitaph of Paul Stromer, 1406--next the Rochus Altar, on west wall of
the Sacristy. The Redeemer throned on the clouds, surrounded by angels
bearing the instruments of the Passion. SS. Mary and John kneel in
intercession before Him, and underneath is the family of the founder.

The drawing throughout is strong but severe, and there is considerable
harshness in the contours.

2. Epitaph of Frau Kunigunde Kunz Rymensnyderin, 1409. Body of Christ
supported by SS. Mary and John. Figures of the founders on either side
of the napkin.

3. Wolfgang's Altar (1416?). Resurrection of Christ. SS. Conrad and
Wolfgang on the inside of the wings (No. 17, north wall).

4. _The celebrated Imhoff Altar-piece_ in the Imhoff Gallery (north
transept). This picture, dedicated by Kunz Imhoff, was painted 1418-22,
and is counted the finest achievement of mediæval painting in Nuremberg.
In the centre Christ is crowning Mary; on the wings two apostles, at
whose feet kneel the founder and his three first wives.

The burial of Christ, with SS. Mary and John, which formed originally
the reverse of this altar-piece, is now in the German Museum (No. 87).

A deep love of nature, which reveals itself in the vigorous, homely
conception of the forms, is here combined with that spiritual reverence
of treatment which inspired the first works of Christian art. In the
earnest faces of SS. Peter and Paul we see not merely a reproduction of
the traditional types, but faces full of character and originality. They
have been carefully thought out as well as carefully carried out. There
is individuality again in the sympathetic, the winsome beauty of the
countenance of Mary; whilst the countenance of Christ seems to tell us
both of the thoughtful earnestness and the gentle dignity of the
Saviour.

Notwithstanding their slimness, the figures in the picture are somewhat
crowded. The shoulders and necks are powerful, and the hands evince
remarkable carefulness in execution. The folds of the drapery, in spite
of the simplicity and clearness of them, are by no means monotonous in
design. The harmony of colours (green, red, and blue, on a gold
background) is strong and happily attuned.

The artist is unknown, but, whoever he was, he had looked upon Nature
with loving eyes and worshipped her; and this love of Nature, purified
by his deep religious feeling, he had brought to the service of his
living faith. Frequently we shall observe in the old Nuremberg artists
that this mixture of naivete and reverence in the conception of
religious subjects produces too commonplace a representation of them.
But here the result is not commonplace, only just towards Nature. The
picture, says Dr Janitschek,[60] is like the most beautiful bloom of a
period just drawing to a close and already bearing in itself flowers of
a more dazzling development.

The Imhoff picture (see below, No. 9) shows similar handling and similar
freedom from Flemish influence in the full, soft beauty of the forms.
And yet the mastery of Nature displayed in the portraits of the founders
reveals to us an artist who was following the same paths as those of the
Flemish painters.

5. Epitaph of Agnes Hans Glockengiesserin, 1433. The death of Mary as
she knelt in prayer, and portrait of founder. A picture full of tender
feeling (No. 11, south side).

6. Theokars Altar (Deocarus Altar, No. 19, north side) 1437, founded by
Andreas Volkamer. Christ between six apostles, and below, St. Deocarus
between the other six apostles, carved in wood. Below a life-sized
painting of the saint.

The wings of the picture, which represent the Transfiguration, the
Miraculous Draught of Fishes, the Last Supper, and the Resurrection, and
four scenes from the life of St. Deocarus (kneeling before a chapel,
healing a blind man, confessing Charlemagne, and on his death-bed),
should be compared with the Haller altar-piece of St. Sebald's and the
High altar-piece of the Frauenkirche. Though very nearly contemporary
with the latter works, this painting is representative of the old
school. It exhibits, indeed, great dramatic spirit, though the movements
are often awkward, and the

[Illustration: ST. LORENZKIRCHE (INTERIOR)]

colouring lacks the strength and brilliancy of the Frauenkirche picture.

7 and 8. A saint in armour, and a suffering Christ with gold background
and the Saints Henry, Kunigunde, and Lawrence (with the gridiron), are
also probably of the same date.

9. Margaret and Anton Imhoff memorial (1446) (numbered 16, on the north
wall of the church). Madonna and Child and four angels, and the
founder's family--the father with eight sons, and the mother with four
daughters.

The further development of the Nuremberg school of painting, as I have
sketched it above (pp. 181-4), may be observed in the following memorial
pictures in this church:--

     H. Gärtner epitaph, 1462, Madonna and Child, SS. Bartholomew and
     Barbara (south, near doorway).

     Erhard Schon epitaph, 1464, St. Wolfgang and other saints.

     Friedrich Schon epitaph, 1464, Birth of Christ, Aaron, Moses, etc.

     Hans Lechner epitaph, 1466, Death of Mary (south).

     Hans Meyer epitaph, 1473, St. Gregory (No. 13, north side).

     Berthold Kraft epitaph, 1475, St. Dionisius (opposite Rochus Altar,
     south).

     Hans Schmidmayer epitaph, 1476, Adoration of the Magi (over stairs
     leading to Schmidmayer oratory, south).

     Leonhard Spengler epitaph, 1488, Christ between SS. Philip and
     James (No. 15, north side).

     Stör Family epitaph, 1479, Christ treading Blood, and Four
     Evangelists, etc. (north-west).

     The Rochus Altar, triptych with scenes from the life of St. Rochus,
     dedicated by six Imhoff brothers, 1499 (No. 7, west of Sacristy),

and the Krellsche Altar, 1483, which may perhaps be by Wolgemut. It is
beneath the Frederick window in the choir, and contains a Madonna and
Child and various saints, apostles, etc. The background of this picture
represents the town of Nuremberg as it was before the last extension of
the walls. (Chap. V.)

By Wolgemut and his school there are several characteristic pictures, of
which I may mention here the Burial of Christ (No. 2), the Ascension
(No. 3), and the Praying Priests (No. 4). The right wing of the St.
Catherine altar-piece (No. 8) is by Wolgemut, and the two pictures of
St. Vitus, with his parents and denouncing the idol, are signed by R.
F., a painter whose touch is visible in part of the Peringsdörffer
masterpiece (see p. 287). The Adoration of the Magi (No. 20) is a fine
picture: the Angels bringing the child Jesus to the Virgin (No. 1) bears
Durer's monogram.

Lastly, the wings of the Nikolaus (No. 6) and of the Annen--or
Marien--Altar are by Hans von Kulmbach, 1520(?) (next to the Passion
window in the choir).

FRAUENKIRCHE

_(Marienkirche, Marienhall)_

The Frauenkirche, which occupies the east end of the Haupt Markt, was
built, as we have seen (p. 37), under somewhat discreditable
circumstances on the site of the old Jewish Synagogue (1355-1361).

The brothers Georg and Friedrich Ruprecht are mentioned as the
architects, and the sculptor, Sebald Schonhofer, is responsible for the
rich ornamentation of the vestibule. This vestibule (restored with the
rest of the church some twenty years ago) is unique of its kind. It is
conjectured that this part of the church was intended to serve as a
kind of treasure-house for the Imperial Crown jewels and relics, which
in the year 1361 were certainly shown, as an object of veneration, from
the gallery above the main entrance of the church.

[Illustration: WEST DOOR,

FRAUENKIRCHE]

The plan of the west gate is borrowed in the main from the St. Lorenz
portal. There the life and work of Christ, here the life and work of
Mary are set forth. Many of the figures strongly recall those of the St.
Lorenz statues. At the corners of the vestibule are statues of Karl IV.
and his consort, and SS. Lorenz and Sebald.

Above the rich and massive portal with its fine iron railings is the
Chapel of St. Michael, whereon is to be seen an extraordinary old clock
known to young and old in Nuremberg by the name of "Männleinlaufen." The
chronicles relate that Karl IV., in memory of the "Golden Bull" (p. 39),
which was drawn up in Nuremberg in 1356, and recorded what honours and
reverences the electors of the Empire were to pay to the Emperor, caused
an ingenious clockwork to be mounted over the portal of the church. The
mechanism was so contrived that the seven electors passed at noon before
the Emperor, who sat upon a throne and received their reverent homage as
they passed. The clock was renewed in 1509 by Georg Heuss (even since
then it has twice been restored), and the figures were cast by the
coppersmith, Sebastian Lindenast. Still, at the stroke of noon, much as
in the old mediæval days, the heralds blow their trumpets, the Emperor
raises his sceptre, and out from their gloomy chamber the electors file
forth and bow low in reverence to the dead representative of an empire
which has ceased to exist. And they revive in our hearts something of
the child-like pleasure which the Middle Ages took in these elaborate
toys.[61]

But a sturdy English Protestant who lived in Nuremberg some forty years
ago, took another view of the matter.

     "It is generally said to represent the Pope," he writes, "who,
     seated in a comfortable sort of arm-chair, was formerly accustomed
     at a certain hour to raise his sceptre and summon the
     representative figures of the twelve apostles, who accordingly used
     to make their appearance and do obeisance. That time, however,
     seems to be gone by. The latter after a while became tired of the
     ceremony, refused their mechanical homage, and St. Peter himself,
     it is said, setting the irreverent example, they began to reject
     the uniformity required in their evolutions." The clock was at that
     time out of repair.

The subject of clocks leads me to mention what is perhaps not generally
known, that as Nuremberg was the inventor of the watch (Nuremberg Eggs,
shown in the Museum and the Castle), so also she invented a system of
time peculiar to herself. To-day we have the Central Europe system (our
12-hour system), and the Italian or 24-hour system. But at the close of
the Middle Ages the Nurembergers, the great clockmakers, had a third
plan of dividing the day, called the Nuremberg great hour (Grosse Uhr),
for which Regiomontanus drew out elaborate tables. Briefly the plan was
this. At the equinox the night was assumed to begin directly after
sunset, and day began twelve hours after sunset. This arbitrary "dawn"
(_Garaus_) was sounded by the clock. To this day it is announced by
ringing of bells from the principal churches. With the progress of the
year, as the days after the equinox lengthened or decreased, time was
added to or subtracted from the night or day. For instance, on the
shortest day there would be 16 hours night and 8 hours day, and on the
longest day 16 hours day and 8 hours night. Again, when the sun set at
6, the "Great Clock would strike 8 at 2 A.M., because 8 hours had passed
since sunset. Seasons of the year were, in common parlance, denoted in
accordance with this system. "At the time of year when the day strikes
13" would fix a date. The system, it will be seen, was almost as
involved as the sentences of a modern German historian. But with all its
drawbacks it lasted on, along with the Central Europe system, till 1806.
Owing to the great elaboration of machinery required, the hours were
usually struck by bell-ringers. But the clock of the Frauenkirche, owing
to the additional mechanism needed for its toy-work, probably had to be
fitted with the "little hour" from the first.

Besides some old painted glass in the nave (coats of arms of Nuremberg
patricians) and some carvings by Veit Stoss, the only works of art in
the Frauenkirche that need detain us are the Pergenstorfer tomb (1499),
at the end of the north wall of the nave, by Adam Krafft, and close to
it the side altar-piece[62] (1440), which was originally the Tuchersche
High Altar in the Church of the Carthusian Monastery. We have already
had occasion to note more than once how the early Nuremberg painters,
before Wolgemut, were struggling to achieve the simple portrayal of
Nature and to combine it with the expression of their deep religious
emotion. The picture before us is a very good example of this simple and
yet sympathetic realism. Let us add that this quality, or combination of
qualities, is not borrowed. For the Nuremberg School of Painting remains
distinct and peculiar, with very little trace of foreign influence, long
after the school of Van Eyck had made itself felt in the regions of the
Lower and the Upper Rhine.

In the centre of the picture are the Crucifixion (SS. Mary and John by
the Cross, and at the feet of Mary a skull), the Annunciation and
Resurrection; on the wings the Birth of Christ and Apostles.

There is a rare conjunction of dignity and life and truth to Nature in
these pieces--an individuality too. The Mary is portrayed in the same
spiritual mood as that of the Imhoff Altar-piece, but generally the
figures are more full of vigour and the countenances more full of
expression than in that picture. In depicting the body of Christ, which
is carefully proportioned and in which the muscle-play is planned with
evident care, the artist, we can see, has wrestled with Nature, and not
failed altogether in his attempt to gain the mastery over her. The
figures of the Apostles are sturdy, thick-set, and in their faces is an
expression of concentrated power. The drapery falls in broad,
well-arranged masses. The colouring is deep and clear, and the rich
harmony of strong red, blue and yellow (gold background) is happily
supplemented by a luscious green.


                           ST. ÆGIDIENKIRCHE

The Church of St. Ægidius, or St. Giles[63] (Ægidienplatz) was founded
originally by Conrad III., it is said, for some Scotch benedictine
monks. But, with the exception of the side chapels, which still remain
and are in the highest degree interesting, it was burnt down in 1696,
and rebuilt 1711-18 in the debased, and to Nuremberg utterly
inappropriate, style of that period. The High Altar-piece is a _Pietà_
by Vandyck (nineteenth-century angels above). Behind this are two bronze
reliefs, one, the beautiful "Entombment," is by Peter Vischer the
younger, the other by his brother Hans. The eighteenth-century
paintings on the ceiling are by J. D. Preisler.

But apart from the Vandyck, the Ægidien Church is well worth a visit for
the sake of the Eucharius, the Tetzel and the Wolfgang's Chapels. The
first of these is much the oldest (1140), and is in the late romanesque
or transitional style. The Roman vaulting, such as we have seen in the
chapels at the Castle, is combined with a mixture of round and pointed
arches. The pillars are slender, with broad capitals. The capitals of
the centre pillars distinctly suggest Byzantine influence. The two
altars here are by Veit Stoss.

The St. Wolfgang's Chapel dates from the end of the fourteenth century.
There are here two pictures (1462 and 1463) and a piece of sculpture
(1446), Grablegung Christi, by Hans Decker, which cannot by any stretch
of the imagination be called a spirited work. The chapel is disfigured
by a hideous gallery which has been run round it, but the roof is, as
they say, _sehr interessant_.

The Tetzel Chapel (1345) contains a Coronation of Mary, by Adam Krafft,
unfortunately much damaged. In the centre Mary is being crowned by two
angels. On either side of her are noble figures of God the Father and
Christ. Beneath Mary is a group of angels, and beneath God and Christ
stand many suppliants. An older and very interesting stone-relief is to
be seen on the south-west wall. Some old glass and over seventy coats of
arms of the Tetzel family are also placed in this chapel.

There are many other churches in Nuremberg, and several of them have a
distinctive charm of their own. But I must content myself with a bare
sketch of the chief treasures they possess. Only let me add that any
lover of Nuremberg who has time to spare will be rewarded by the
discovery of many characteristic details in the minor churches. The
richest in works of art is the


                           ST. JAKOBSKIRCHE.

Chief among these is a Pietà, by the unknown master of the Madonna in
the Museum (see p. 278), and the old glass of the windows. The high
altarpiece has the distinction of being the earliest specimen of
Nuremberg painting. There are, besides, various early reliefs and
carvings by Veit Stoss.

The church itself, which was restored in 1824, belongs in its present
form to the beginning of the fifteenth century. It was, however, in
existence in the twelfth century, for the Emperor Otto presented it and
all its property in 1209 to the "Hospital der heiligen Maria der
Deutschherrren zu Jerusalem," an order which had long had a firm
foothold in Nuremberg, and came, there is evidence to show, continually
into conflict with the Council. After the Jakobskirche was handed over
to the Protestants in 1634 by Gustavus Adolphus, the Deutschherren held
their Roman Catholic services in the Elizabethkapelle, which was
completed in its present shape, as the


                            ELIZABETHKIRCHE

with its mighty Italian dome in 1885.


                        THE MARTHAKIRCHE (1365),

right of the Königstrasse as you come from the Frauen Thor, contains
little of interest. Like the chapel "Zum Heiligen Kreuz," north-west of
the town on the road to St. John's Churchyard, it was founded as the
chapel of a pilgrims' hospital, wherein "all poor strange persons,
whencesoever they come, are to be harboured for one or two days and
provided with food and drink free of charge." Almost facing it is the


                          KLARAKIRCHE (1430).

Here there are some good windows and an altar by Veit Stoss (?), also an
OElberg, an early Mount of Olives by Adam Krafft. Opposite St.
Sebald's, on the north side, lies the


                           ST. MORITZKAPELLE.

Built originally on the present Hauptmarkt, it was removed in 1313 to a
site upon what was then St. Sebald's Churchyard. It was restored by
Heideloff in 1829 and used, till 1882, as a gallery for some of the
pictures now in the German Museum. In the Spital Platz is


              THE HOSPITAL AND SPITAL KIRCHE (HEILIGGEIST
                               KIRCHE),

founded by Konrad Gross, which we have already mentioned (p. 30). In the
courtyard of the hospital may be seen the chapel founded by Georg Ketzel
after the great epidemic in 1437. It is built in imitation of the chapel
of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. East of the Spital Kirche stands the
handsome


                           MOORISH SYNAGOGUE

                              by Wolf.

Since Nuremberg was from early days both pious and comparatively secure,
she was naturally one of the first places in Germany where the mendicant
friars settled and founded monasteries. The earliest of these was the
Augustiner Kloster (beginning of the thirteenth century). The Franciscan
Monastery, or Barfüsser Kloster, was built somewhere about 1210, where
now the house of the Museum Club and the buildings of the Industrial
Museum stand. The Dominican Monastery, built a little later, is now used
as the Public Library and Record Office (No. 4 Burgstrasse, Mon. Wed.
Fri., 9-12 A.M.). Thanks chiefly to the efforts of Hieronymus
Paumgärtner and Erasmus Ebner the Council formed a fine collection from
the treasures--mainly manuscript--of the libraries of the various
monasteries. This was placed together with the library, which the
Council had itself been founding for over a hundred years, first of all
in the Monastery of St. Giles, and then in 1538 in its present home.
Among the MSS. are a fragment of Durer's work on the "Proportions of the
Human Figure," some poems of Hans Sachs, and autograph letters of
Gustavus Adolphus, Melanchthon, Luther, Lazarus Spengler, Regiomontanus,
etc., besides an amusing one from Ulrich von Hutten, the Knight and
Reformer, who herein congratulates an abbot on having renounced celibacy
and taken unto himself a wife.

But the most valuable MS. is the almost unique Hebrew _Machsor_ (1331)
written on vellum. Its 1100 pages comprise a full collection of Jewish
prayers, hymns, and ceremonies up to the thirteenth century.

Amongst other drawings, portraits, prints, and curiosities in the
library are a black silk cap worn by Luther and a drinking cup given by
him to his friend Dr Justus Jonas. The portraits of the two friends
adorn the cup, together with the following inscription:--

    _Dat vitrum vitreo Jonæ vitrum ipse Lutherus_
    _Ut vitro fragili similem se noscat uterque._

Then, beautifully written and illuminated, there is a breviary (1350?)
of an English Queen with the inscription:--

    La Liver du Roy de France Charles
    Done a Madame la Roigne D'engleterre.

Among the early printed books is a copy of the "Rationale Durandi"
(1459, Mainz), of "Boccaccio" (1472, Mantoni), and of the "Florentine
Homer" (1488).

Matthäus Landauer's Almshouse--Landauer'sche Zwölfbrüderhaus (east end
of Ægidien Platz) has frequently been mentioned. The almshouse has now
been turned into a school of technical design, but the chapel (1502)
will repay a visit. The roof, supported by two spiral columns, has the
cone-shaped pendants of the contemporary English style, very exceptional
in Germany. It was for this church that Durer painted his All Saints'
picture, now at Vienna.

There were many foundations, in the old days, for the relief of the sick
and needy. Amongst others were two houses for waifs and strays, founded
no one knows by whom. They were transferred later to the Barfüsser
Kloster. In connection with this institution a charming annual
procession takes place. One charitable lady, Elizabetha Krauss, left in
1639 a sum of money to provide the children with a good dinner on St.
John's Day. In grateful memory the children always go on that occasion
to the St. Rochus Churchyard. On their way they must pass the corner
house near the Karlsbrücke. On that house is the statue of a youth,
busily engaged in pounding with pestle and mortar. People say this
figure represents the apprentice of an apothecary who once lived there.
And because the apprentice ran away from his work to gaze at the
procession of children, who clad in red and white, and, roses
themselves, crowned with garlands of roses were wending their way hand
in hand to the tomb of their benefactress, his master grew so angry that
he killed the lad.

It is in the churchyard of


                               ST. ROCHUS

that Peter Vischer (90) lies buried (Rothenburger Strasse). In the
church itself are some paintings after Durer, some altar-pieces by Veit
Stoss (?), and some glass by Veit Hirschvogel. But the chief
burial-place of Nuremberg from the sixteenth century, and one of the
most peculiar and impressive spots of the town, is the _Churchyard of
St. John_. For this has been the burial-place of the Nuremberg
patricians from generation unto generation, ever since in 1517 the
Council decreed that everybody, with the exception of the clergy, must
be buried in St. John's Churchyard, and no longer in the churches within
the town. Such a wise measure of compulsory extramural interment must
have been almost without parallel at that time.

The route to this churchyard the reader already knows, for it lies along
Burgschmietstrasse, along that road to Calvary marked by Ketzel's pious
Stations of the Cross (see p. 200).

A low walk and pillared gateway, over whose broken pediment the willow
bends mournfully, mark this place of tombs. The churchyard is sprinkled
with trees: to the south, the shadows of a thicker fringe of branches
deepen the natural solemnity of the place. It is here that the mighty
dead of the White City are sleeping the sleep that knows no waking; but,
as we seek the graves of Durer, Sachs, or Pirkheimer, we pass along the
rows of flat tombstones quietly, with hushed voices and reverent steps,
as if dreading to disturb even the silence of their inviolable
repose.[64] On every side of us are emblems of the past glory and pride
of Nuremberg. There are no headstones to the tombs, but every slab, in
high relief of imperishable bronze fashioned by the skill of the most
distinguished artists,[65] bears the coats-of-arms and devices of the
civic noble who moulders beneath. What pomp of funeral processions must
have ascended the steep from the city, year by year, through that
gateway, to convey another, and yet another, wealthy burgher from the
busy scenes of commerce and office, to the silent abodes of the dead!
Poets and artists, too, as well as patricians, lie here; and the
indistinguishable dust of the famous and infamous, of rich and poor,
known and unknown, old and young mingles in this still churchyard of St.
John.

    "Golden lads and girls all must,
     As chimney-sweepers, come to dust."

We feel the pathos, the pity of it, as we stand here and read the
message of the tombstones; but even more clearly does St. John's
Churchyard suggest that other mood:--

    "Hark! how the sacred calm that breathes around
       Bids ev'ry fierce tumultuous passion cease;
     In still small accents whispering from the ground
       A grateful earnest of eternal peace."




CHAPTER X

_The Houses, Wells, and Bridges_


Every other house in Nuremberg, whether in the narrow and crooked side
streets, or in the busy thoroughfares, is, as it were, a leaf from some
mediæval chronicle. Here, in the Hirschelgasse or the Ægidien Platz, we
read the story of some rich merchant prince, returning from Venice or
from Palestine, eager to spend some of the fruits of his emprise in the
decoration of his house, according to the style of the country which had
fascinated him in his travels. There, in the Tetzel-or the Schild-Gasse,
we read in the overhanging upper stories the desire of the architect in
this crowded mediæval city to utilise every foot of available space, and
the device is revealed to us which he adopted when the Council forbade
the projection of the ground floor into the street. And those statues of
Saints and Madonnas, which still stand in their niches at the corners of
so many houses, those reliefs by Adam Krafft or other artists, which
adorn the mansions of the great with the story of Christ and His
followers, are they not eloquent, in the very lack of variety displayed
in the choice of subjects, of the simple child-like faith of the Middle
Ages, ever ready to hear once more the story of the Redeemer's suffering
for the sake of man who had sinned?

From the varying height, breadth, and styles of the houses the streets
of Nuremberg gain the mediæval charm of irregularity. There is the usual
happy

[Illustration: HOUSE ON THE PEGNITZ]

avoidance of the straight lines which render modern towns so
unattractive. The general character of the red-tiled houses here is
lofty, with high-peaked gables and frequently with oriel windows. The
ornamentation is lavish and smacks of the Renaissance. Especially is
this noticeable in the courts within. For even where the front of a
house may seem narrow and almost insignificant, on entering it you
frequently find a large quadrangle, with open winding staircases and
broad, projecting balconies, highly ornamented, which carry back to the
street behind.

I mention here a few of the more notable houses, to some of which
reference has already been made.

     Albrecht Dürer Haus, corner of Albrecht Dürer Strasse.

     Albrecht Dürer Birthplace, 20 Winklerstrasse.

     Anton Koberger Haus, Ægidien Platz. Opposite the statue of
     Melanchthon.

     Martin Behaim Haus, next door to the above. Here the famous globe
     of the navigator is kept.

     Peller (now Fuchs) Haus, Ægidien Platz. Recently restored.

     Willibald Pirkheimer, 35 Ægidien Platz.

     Hans Sachs Haus, Hans Sachs Gasse.

     Hieronymus Paumgärtner Haus, 23 Theresien Strasse. The relief, St.
     George and the dragon, is probably an early work by Adam Krafft.

     Krafft (formerly Pfinzing) Haus, 7 Theresien Strasse.

     Fembo Haus, Burgstrasse. (Opposite the Library.)

     Scheurl Haus, Burgstrasse. This house contains the room in which
     Maximilian I. stayed, carefully preserved.

     Topler, now Petersen Haus, Panierplatz.

     Tucher Haus, 9 Hirschelgasse.

     Rupprecht Haus, next to the above.

     Volkamer Haus, 19 Hauptmarkt.

     Grundherr (Zum goldenen Schild) Haus, Schildgasse. Where the Golden
     Bull was drawn up.

     Nassauer Haus, corner of Karolinenstrasse.

     Peter Vischer Haus, Peter Vischer Strasse.

     Palm Haus, 29 Winklerstrasse. This is the house of the bookseller
     Palm, who was shot by Bonaparte for publishing a pamphlet against
     him.

     Imhoff Haus, Tucherstrasse.

     Ketzel Haus (Pilatushaus), Thiergärtnerthorplatz.

     Glossner Haus, Adlerstrasse.

     Grundherr Haus, 1585 (now the Bairischer Hof Karlsstrasse).

       *       *       *       *       *

    "Manch edles Brünnlein strömt darin
     Aus goldnen Röhren schnell dahin."

So wrote Hans Sachs in his poem in praise of his native town. And indeed
the wells and fountains here are as characteristic though not of course
so beautiful as the well-heads of Venice. Far the most important of them
is the so-called Beautiful Fountain (Der Schöne Brunnen) in the corner
of the Haupt Markt, near the Rathaus. It is in the shape of an octagonal
Gothic spire. The construction of it is usually spoken of as
contemporaneous with that of the Frauenkirche and the design is likewise
attributed to Sebald Schonhofer. But recent researches have shown that
it was not built till the years 1385-1396, and that one Heinrich der
Palier, or der Parlierer, as he is commonly named in the City Accounts,
had the building of it. No doubt he was very much under the influence of
Schonhofer, and very likely he may have been his pupil. So much may be
gathered from the similarity of the ornamentation on the Frauenkirche
and the Beautiful Fountain. In old days, as we have seen, the well was
richly painted and gilded. But this is no longer the case. It was
carefully restored in great part in 1824 and again at this moment
further restoration is in contemplation.

The iron railing which surrounds the fountain was made by Paul Köhn
(1586). Curious funnels on levers are used for drawing the water, and
they remind one irresistibly of that _reductio ad absurdum_ of the
Meistersingers' Guilds, Harsdörfer's "Nuremberg funnel" for pouring in
poetry (p. 218).

[Illustration: FLEISCHBRÜCKE]

The Beautiful Fountain is a niched and tabernacled monument of stone,
over 60 feet high, tapering at intervals to a pinnacle. The niches in
the pillars of the lower compartment contain statues of the seven
Electors and of nine heroes, the Christian Charlemagne, Godfrey of
Bouillon and Cloris, the Jewish Judas Maccabæus, Joshua and David, and
the Pagan Julius Cæsar, Alexander the Great and Hector. Above, in the
second division, are Moses and the seven Prophets.

The water of this well has the reputation of being remarkably good.
Formerly, even more than at present, the Beautiful Fountain was the very
centre of Nuremberg life. At the well, as in the days of Abraham, lovers
met and the gossips talked, waiting their turn to fill their long,
copper pitchers. To-day, too, the Beautiful Fountain is a household
word, and parents explain to their too inquisitive children, when they
ask how their new baby brother arrived--"Es ist ein Geschenk von dem
Schönen Brunnen!"

Of the other fountains we may enumerate the "Gänsemännchen" in the
Obstmarkt and the dainty well in the Town Hall courtyard by Pankraz
Labenwolf (1553). The son-in-law of Labenwolf, Benedict Wurzelbauer
designed the Tugend Brunnen, or Virtue Fountain, which stands at the
north-west corner of the St. Lorenzkirche. This was in 1589 when German
art was already becoming decadent and mannered. Then in 1687, to
celebrate the victory over the Turks at Siklos the "Wasserspeier" was
erected in the Maxplatz. It was copied by Bromig from Bernini's original
at Rome. Lastly in the Plärrer, opposite the Spittler Thor, is the
"Kunstbrunnen"--which commemorates the opening of the first railway in
Germany, between Nuremberg and Fürth.

The bridges, of which over a dozen span the Pegnitz in its course
through the town, must once have added greatly to the picturesqueness
of the place. But the Pegnitz is liable to sudden and violent spates
which have continually swept away the old bridges. The modern ones
cannot boast of any great inherent beauty. The Fleischbrücke, indeed,
was built by Peter Carl it is said on the model of the Rialto. But it
requires a kindly imagination or a bad memory to admit any comparison
between the two.

Over a gateway near this bridge will be found the figure of a large
bull, with the inscription--

    "Omnia habent ortus suaque incrementa, sed, ecce!
         Quem cernis numquam bos fuit hic vitulus."

Town mottoes of this kind were common enough in the old days. A quaint
example is that which was inscribed over an entrance of the city of
Arras in Belgium. Originally it ran--_Les François prendront Arras,
lorsque ce chat prendra le rat_. When the French had taken the town in
1640 they erased the letter _p_ in _prendront_ and thus cunningly caused
the inscription to read in their favour.




CHAPTER XI

_German Museum_

     (Entrance in the Vordere Karthäusergasse. Open 10-1 A.M. and 2-4.30
     P.M. summer, 2-4 P.M. winter. Fee, 1 mark. Free Sundays, and in
     winter also on Wednesdays. Sticks, etc., must be left in the
     entrance hall (10 pfennige). Full catalogue (German) 50 pfennige.
     Certain sections of the Museum, including the collections of
     prints, seals, medals, tapestry, records and the Library, are
     reserved for the use of students and artists. The visitor who
     wishes to study any of these magnificent collections must apply to
     the director of the particular department.)


The Museum, which owes its inception to the generosity of Freiherr Hans
von Aufsess, and its development to the imperial and municipal
co-operation of united Germany, has found a home in the old Carthusian
Monastery and Church.

It was in 1380 that Marquard Mendel, a scion of a rich and distinguished
Nuremberg patrician family, founded a monastery for the most severe of
the ecclesiastical orders on a spot outside the then town-wall. The
foundation stone of the Carthusian Church, was laid in the presence of
King Wenzel in the following year.

The pious founder took the vows of the order he had thus encouraged, and
he lived in a cell of the monastery. The services in the church were so
popular that to accommodate the crowds of people who thronged there
Konrad Mendel, brother of Marquard, founded an additional chapel--the
Mendel Chapel, in 1387. It is now used as a fire-station. Opposite this
chapel Konrad also founded an almshouse for twelve destitute citizens.
It is still marked by the statue of one of the former inmates.

The prior and most of the monks adopted the Evangelical creed in 1525
and the rich monastery became the property of the town. Both the church
and the monastery were for a long while used for very profane purposes
until at last in 1856 they were utilised as a storehouse for the Museum.
Then in 1873 the old Augustinian Monastery was removed and re-erected as
an additional part of the Museum.

So vast and varied is the collection of interesting objects here and so
careful and elaborate is the German catalogue that it is at once
impossible and unnecessary for me to give an exhaustive account.

The following notes are intended to serve rather as an index than as a
complete guide to the treasures of the Museum; but they make more
particular mention of things that may prove interesting to those who
care for the "Story of Nuremberg."

     The various sections of the Museum though called after their
     original architectural purpose--Saal, Halle, Kreuzgang, Kirche,
     Lichthofgang, etc., are usually numbered consecutively as if they
     were all rooms of the same type.

     The entrance hall leads into the cloisters of the old monastery
     (walls decorated with Nuremberg heraldry). The first portion of the
     cloister contains an historical collection of monuments (mostly
     casts) arranged chronologically.


                    ROOM 1 (on left).

     Ceiling ornamented with the arms of the towns which under the old
     Empire belonged to princes and bishops. Weapons and implements of
     the stone age.


                         ROOM 2.

     Bronze weapons and implements. Coins.


                       ROOMS 3-7.

     Roman antiquities found in Germany and German antiquities from
     fourth to tenth centuries. The exquisite German gold and metal-work
     of the Charlemagne period seems to foreshadow the work of the great
     Nuremberg goldsmiths.


                         ROOM 8.

     Latest acquisitions of the Museum.


                      ROOMS 10-13.

     A very fine collection of characteristic stoves and tiles. The
     latter, used for covering the walls and floors, took the place of
     mosaics and are ornamented with leaf-work, stars, rosettes,
     coats-of-arms or grotesques. The tiles of the stoves, which should
     be compared with those in the Castle and the Rathaus, were made, in
     the fifteenth century, to represent chiefly mythological subjects,
     whilst the seventeenth-century ones betray, as we should expect,
     Italian influence. A green stove with concave plates (Room 12) and
     an eighteenth-century rococco specimen (Room 13), from the house of
     the Löffelholz family are remarkable.


                      ROOMS 14, 15.

     contain some beautiful examples of the locksmith's art; locks,
     keys, hinges, knockers, and knocker plates, exquisite in
     workmanship and in design. We have here a real lesson in ironwork,
     a perfect education in hinges.


                        ROOM 16.

     is the Wilhelms-halle, so-called after Emperor Wilhelm I. It
     contains a window given by him in 1860, when he was still only King
     of Prussia. Passing by this and the Hohenzollern-halle opposite and
     going down the Ludwigsgang, built by the aid of Ludwig of Bavaria
     (1870) we come to the Reichs-hof, a court (left) in which stands a
     gigantic cast of the Roland in the market-place of Bremen. Rooms
     18-25 are called the Victoria and Friedrich Wilhelm buildings.
     (More tombs and casts.) On the right of the corridor (Room 26)
     there now begins a very interesting collection of stained glass
     which is arranged chronologically. (Twelfth to sixteenth-century
     glass here.)


                      ROOMS 27, 28.

     The old Refectory of the monks serves now as the home for a
     collection of German and Italian pottery, majolica and faience,
     porcelain, glass and stoneware. (German faience, first half of
     sixteenth century. Augustin Hirschvogel and Nuremberg work, Room
     27, cabinets 9 and 16.) Pewter work, end of sixteenth century, by
     Kaspar Endterlein (Room 28, cabinets 4, 5). English Wedgewood
     (cabinet 6).


                   ROOM 29 (Cloister).

     Bronze epitaphs from Nuremberg tombstones (_cf._ St. John's
     Churchyard).


                    ROOM 32 (Kirche)

     is the old monastic church. It is filled with mediæval church
     utensils (ninth to fifteenth century), amongst which we may mention
     the silver casket in which the Imperial insignia used (p. 51) to be
     hung in the Spital-kirche, and with 150 original examples of
     plastic work, carvings and sculptures (thirteenth to sixteenth
     century). The majority of these have no great artistic merit though
     they have great interest for the student of German art. They
     represent the period when painting was not yet regarded as a
     separate art but as the accessory, the handmaiden of sculpture. In
     the beginning images of Madonnas and Saints were carved and
     painted; then, first of all on the wings of altar-pieces, and
     afterwards throughout, the painter took the place of the carver or
     sculptor. The process is clearly demonstrated in this collection.

     I can only call attention to the following:--Cabinet 6, six
     apostles in a sitting posture, excellent examples of Nuremberg
     plastic work (burnt clay) at the end of the fourteenth century.

     Over the north-west door St. Anna, Madonna and Child, by Michel
     Wolgemut (1510?). The Nuremberg landscape background is noteworthy.
     The picture has the appearance of having been recently retouched.
     Various works of the Nuremberg School and the Pacher School of
     carving (late fifteenth century), are ranged along the south and
     north walls. The large fresco Visit of Emperor Otho III. to the
     tomb of Charlemagne, is by W. von Kaulbach, and was bequeathed by
     that painter to the Museum. But the gem of the whole collection is
     the


                           NUREMBERG MADONNA.

     It stands at the back of an early sixteenth-century altar-piece of
     the Swabian School, facing the tombstone (1592) of Georg Ludwig von
     Seinsheim. No second glance is required to assure us that we have
     here not only the _chef d'æuvre_ of

[Illustration: NUREMBERG MADONNA]

     Nuremberg carving, but also one of the works of art of all time.
     And yet the name of the master is unknown, and the very date of the
     work is a matter of dispute. Clearly the beautiful female figure of
     this sorrowing Mary, this praying Madonna, as she is called
     (trauende, betende Maria), once formed one of a group, and stood
     facing St. John at the foot of the Cross, gazing upwards in that
     bitter grief which is beyond the expression and abandonment of
     tears. Who can that artist have been who could select that pose of
     the head, that poise of the limbs, who could carve those robes,
     which in purity and flow have never been surpassed in German art,
     and who could express in the suppliant hands such poignant emotion?
     _Man weiss nicht!_ And whose touch was so delicate, that with his
     chisel he could stamp on the upturned face those mingled feelings
     of sorrow so supreme, yearning so intense, love so human, hope so
     divine? For all this we can read there still, even through the
     grey-green coat of paint which certainly had no place in the
     original intentions of the artist. _Man weiss nicht!_ But this much
     one may hazard--that it was some German artist, touched by the
     spirit of the Italian Renaissance till he rose to heights of
     artistic performance elsewhere never attained by him, and scarcely
     ever approached by his fellows.[67]

     At the end of the choir is the High Altar-piece from Hersbruck,
     with figures of Mary and the four Fathers of the Church, from the
     workshop of Wolgemut, who painted the wings once attached to it.
     This is a good example of Nuremberg work of the kind, with its good
     and bad points, towards the end of the fifteenth century. On the
     reverse of this altar-piece is a sadly-faded church banner, richly
     painted. Figures of Christ, SS. Peter, and Sebald, in a rich
     Renaissance border, attributed to Albert Durer.


                    ROOM 33 (Kapelle)

     is the old Sacristy on the north side of the church. There are
     several interesting carvings here, chief of which is the ROSARY
     (Rosenkranztafel), Judgment-scene, and crowning of Mary, attributed
     to Veit Stoss. Amongst other important works attributed to, or
     actually by him, is the frame of Durer's great Allerheiligen
     picture (see p. 193).

     There is also here the original wood model of Labenwolf's familiar
     "Gooseman" fountain, and a picture of a meeting of the
     Meistersingers (with Hans Sachs). Winding steps lead up from this
     chapel to the Volkamer Chapel above.


                         ROOM 34

     is the chapel on the south side of the church. Church utensils,
     etc., and in the choir arch an iron painted chandelier, dedicated
     by the son of Martin Behaim, the navigator, in memory of his
     father.


                        ROOM 35.

     Mediæval furniture, household articles, beds, and doors with
     splendid ironwork and hinges. Turn (left) down corridor 26 till you
     come to (right)


                        ROOM 36.

     The coloured portal is a remarkable piece of late romanesque work,
     and was once the doorway of the Refectory of the monastery at
     Heilsbronn. More stoves and furniture.


                      ROOMS 37-45.

     Carved woodwork. Room 45, cabinets and tapestry. Goldsmiths' works.
     Magnificent bedstead of ebony and alabaster (Nuremberg). Turn
     (left) down corridors 46-48. Historical collection of tombs and
     stained glass continued.


              ROOMS 49-51, and 52 (above).

     Guns and weapons from eleventh century. Chased armour.


                    ROOM 53 (above).

     Costumes. Heraldic ceiling.

     Hence down the open spiral staircase, past the bear-pit, to


                        ROOM 54.

     Cannons, fourteenth to nineteenth century.


                        ROOM 55.

     Torture instruments and guillotine (end of eighteenth century).

     From this point a small staircase in the corner of the cloisters
     (Room 55) leads to Room 56, containing some interesting examples of
     early book-bindings. Passing through this room, and turning to the
     left, we arrive at


                      ROOMS 57-58,

     where we have before our eyes the development of manuscripts,
     engraving and printing from the beginning of the eighth century.
     The first room contains many documents and charters, manuscripts,
     autographs, and illuminations. Besides these there are many
     sketches, architectural drawings and designs, chiefly heraldic, for
     works of art. Here, too, is a noticeable collection of
     wood-engravings, including many fine leaves by Durer (Apocalypse,
     Passions, Life of Mary), Lucas Cranach, Hans Burgkmair, Grien,
     Schäuffelein, etc., and of copper-engravings[68] by Durer, Lucas
     van Leyden, Aldegrever, Altdorfer, Augustin Hirschvogel, etc.

     In the next room we enter the region of printed books, and find a
     well-arranged and delightful collection. In case i., among other
     examples of the early "Block books" (books printed wholly from
     carved blocks of wood, from which undoubtedly the idea of moveable
     type arose), we note the _Ars Moriendi_ and the _Kalendar of Ludwig
     von Basel_ (1460?). Of Block books at Nuremberg, we may note that
     Hans Sporer produced here an edition of the _Endkrist_ (1472), of
     the _Ars Moriendi_, 1473, and of the _Biblia Pauperum_ (1475).

     The first two books to be printed from moveable type were two Latin
     Bibles (_circ._ 1453). Of these, one is known as the thirty-six
     line, or Bamberg Bible. It was printed by Gutenberg, and is
     represented in the Museum by two leaves only (case i.). The other
     is known as the Forty-two line, or Mazarine Bible. It was printed
     by Gutenberg, in partnership with Fust and Schöffer, and is
     represented here by one leaf (case ii.). One leaf, too, is all
     there is here to tell of the 1457 _Psalter_, with the wonderful
     capital letters printed by Fust and Schöffer. The extraordinary
     beauty and perfection of printing in its infancy can never fail to
     arrest attention. The explanation is obvious. It was not till the
     scribes, with whom printers had at first to compete in the
     multiplication of books, had ceased to exist that printers could
     afford to be careless in their work and indifferent in their choice
     of types.

     Then there are the three books ascribed to Gutenberg's press about
     the year 1460--

     (1) The _Tractatus racionis et conscientiæ_ of Matthæus de
     Cracovia;

     (2) The _Summa de articulis fidei_ of Thomas Aquinas; and

     (3) The _Catholicon_.

The _Catholicon_ type appears again in the Latin-German dictionary known
as the _Vocabularius ex quo_, the second edition of which, published by
Nikolaus Bechtermünze at Eltvil, is here represented.

Copies of the first fourteen German Bibles (1466, etc.), with the
exception of the second and seventh, will be found in the various cases
(iv., v., vii., ix., etc.), and the original editions of Luther's Bible
(1523-4) and other writings of his in case xxii. The first German Bible
to be printed in Nuremberg (actually the fourth German Bible) was
published by Frisner and Sensenschmid, 1473(?), case vii. Illustrations,
it will be observed, are introduced into the large initial letters. It
was Johann Sensenschmid ("the type-cutter") who, with the aid of
Heinrich Keffer of Mainz, a pupil of Gutenberg, first introduced the art
of printing into the town (Franciscus de Retza, _Comestorium vitiorium_,
1470, case vii.). Then in 1471 Johann Müller, or Regiomontanus, as he
called himself, came with the object of establishing a private printing
press, in order to issue his own works here. He printed his German and
Latin Calendar from blocks, and various mathematical works from moveable
types. But Anton Koberger[69] (1473-1513) was the greatest printer of
Nuremberg. To the zeal with which he produced woodcut illustrations for
his great works, the _Schatzbehalter_ and the _Hartmann Schedels
Weltchronik_ (cases xiii., xiv.), the growth of the Nuremberg school of
engraving is due. Another famous Nuremberg printer closely connected in
business with Koberger[70] was Friedrich Creussner, who printed the
first German edition of "Marcho Polo, das puch von mangerley wunder der
landt vnd lewt" in 1477 (case xii.). In case xix. we find a unique copy
of Hans Schmuttermeyer von Nürnberg, _Fialenbüchlein_, and also the
_Nürnberger Heiligtumsbüchlein_, published by Hans Mair, 1493. The
_Quatuor libri amorum_ of Conrad Celtes, poet and humanist, was
published at Nuremberg, 1502, with woodcuts after Durer (case xxi.).
Durer's writings on the _Proportions of the Human Frame_, on
_Perspective_, _Measurements_ and _Fortification_ figure in case xxiii.,
in which also the large coloured woodcuts of the "_Abbildung der
dreiundzwanzig vom schwäbischen Bunde im Jahre 1523 verbrannten
fränkischen Raubschlösser_," published at Nuremberg by Hans Wandereisen,
are conspicuous. To Nuremberg also was vouchsafed the honour of
publishing Melchior Pfinzing's _Theuerdank_ (1517),[71] although it
would appear to have been printed by Hans Schönsperger at Augsburg from
the handsome type (scarcely improved by the tremendous flourishes)
specially cut by Jost Dienecker of Antwerp. It was adorned with over a
hundred illustrations--hunting scenes and knightly conflicts--by Hans
Schäuffelein, Burgkmair and others. A copy of the second, 1519, edition
may be seen in case xxii.

After the death of Koberger, illustrated books in Nuremberg came chiefly
from the presses of Jobst Gutknecht and Peypus. Other printers here
were:--

  Conrad Zeninger, 1480-1482.
  Fratres Vitæ Communis, 1479-1491.
  Georg Stuchs, 1484-1515.
  Johann Petrejus, 1526-1550.
  Alexander Kaufmann (Greek types).
  Konrad Bauer, 1601. _Polyglot Bible._
  Leonhard Heussler, 1596. Joachim Lochner's _Chronicle_.
  Endter, 1668. Fugger's _Österreichischer Ehrenspiegel_ (case xxviii.).

In this case also is Grimmelshausen's _Simplicissimus_ (Nuremberg,
1685). In the next case (xxix.) is a copy of the pamphlet "_Deutschland
in seiner tiefen Erniederung_," 1806, which occasioned the execution of
the publisher Palm (see p. 269), "who fell a victim to the tyranny of
Napoleon."

Near this case are two old printing presses, and in case xxx. are the
bust, some manuscripts, and the collected works of Hans Sachs the
cobbler-poet.


                        ROOM 59.

     Ship models, etc.


            ROOM 60 (gallery of the Church).

     Old weights and scales.


                        ROOM 61.

     Scientific instruments, dials, early watches and watch-cocks.
     Durer's Reissfeder. Regiomontanus' astronomical instruments.

                      ROOMS 62-66.

     Old drugs and drug-stores, etc. The old apothecary's shop,
     decorated with crocodiles and so forth, suggests the familiar scene
     in Romeo and Juliet.


                      ROOMS 67-68.

     Technical models, globes, maps, etc.


                        ROOM 70.

     Banners of old Nuremberg guilds, signs of inns, trade-marks, etc.


                        ROOM 70A.

     Early Nuremberg toys, dolls' houses, etc. We now come to the


                            PICTURE GALLERY,

     which, if not of great size or of first-rate importance, is
     eminently interesting to those who care to study the development of
     Nuremberg art. The pictures are unfortunately numbered and arranged
     in a somewhat eccentric fashion.

     In the small room on the right, as we enter Room 71, are some early
     pictures which would seem to be the forerunners of the system of
     epitaphs which obtained so largely in the later Middle Ages.
     Besides these there are two Byzantine pictures.

     The first two sections of Room 71 are taken up with some examples
     of the Rhenish and old Netherland School up to the end of the
     sixteenth century.

     To Meister Wilhelm of Cologne is attributed the charming Madonna
     with the pea-blossom (No. 7). Of the same school are Nos. 9, 10,
     and 17.

     Stephan Lockner, Nos. 11, 12, 13, 14, 15.

     Rogier van der Weyden (copy), No. 20.

     Hugo van der Goes. Cardinal Bourbon. No. 19.

     The "Master of the Life of Mary." Nos. 24, 25, 26.

     Jan Scorel. Two portraits. Nos. 50, 51.

     The "Master of the Death of Mary." Nos. 63, 64, 65.

     Bartholomew Bruyns. No. 72.

     With the third section of this room begins the collection of
     Franconian and Nuremberg paintings. As I have already on more than
     one occasion sketched the characteristics of this school, it would
     be superfluous to add anything here. But perhaps one may be allowed
     to express the conviction that no one who studies these pictures
     will fail to be impressed by the comparative merits of Wolgemut, or
     go away without ranking the master of Durer higher in his
     estimation than he was wont to do before he came.

     The scenes from the Passion (No. 87), 1400, may be taken to
     represent the beginnings of the Franconian School of painting. No.
     96 is the reverse of that Imhoff altar-piece in the Lorenzkirche
     with which we have already dealt at some length (p. 249). No.
     95--from the Frauenkirche--is an important picture of the same date
     (1430-40).

     The workshop of Pleydenwurff and Wolgemut is very well represented
     here. The admirable portrait of Kanonikus Schönborn (101), whose
     figure appears again in the Crucifixion (100) painted for him by
     the master, and SS. Thomas Aquinas and Dominicus (102, 103) are
     good examples of Hans Pleydenwurff at his best. Of the numerous
     pictures by Michel Wolgemut it will suffice to mention in
     particular the two portraits of old men so full of individuality
     (Hans Perckmeister and another, 119, 119A), and the Hallersche
     Epitaph (115), besides his masterpiece, the


                       PERINGSDÖRFFER ALTAR-PIECE

     (107-110, Room 73; 113 and 114, Room 71, SS. Cosmos Damian,
     Magdalena, and Lucia). We have seen how Wolgemut usually allowed
     his assistants to help him in his pictures. The Peringsdörffer
     masterpiece (1488) was no exception; but in this at any rate the
     master's own share was very considerable.

     The outer sides of the altar contain four pairs of Saints, male and
     female, standing on Gothic brackets--SS. Catherine and Barbara,
     Rosalia and Margaret, George and Sebald, John the Baptist and
     Nicholas. Here we have the most animated of Wolgemut's female
     figures, the most vigorous and life-like of his men. The most
     notable faces,--finer even than that of the St. Sebald who stands
     like some great architect holding the model of his Church, or of
     the St. Nicholas, with his refined and critical countenance, are
     those of SS. John and George. The former turns upon us his keen and
     spiritual gaze, so that his great brown eyes seem to pierce the
     veil that bounds our earthly vision and to penetrate into the
     hidden depths of futurity; whilst the latter stands rigid, his
     every feature--powerful nose, firmly closed mouth, thin but not
     sunken cheeks--eloquent of a bold and earnest resolution.

     Incidents from the life of St. Vitus (Veit) and other saints form
     the subjects of the inner sides of the picture. Here again there is
     an inequality both of style and of excellence. The simple
     countenance of Mary, who holds on her knee a very animated Child,
     represents a type halfway between that of Rogier and that of
     Schongauer. The St. Luke, the character of whose head is well
     worked out, is attractive through his expression of earnestness.
     But there is far more dramatic power and "soul" in the scene from
     the legend of St. Bernard, according to which Christ came down
     from the Cross to his ardent worshipper. There the countenance of
     St. Bernard is made to exhibit a depth of feeling rarely to be
     found in Wolgemut; as if the artist's imagination had indeed been
     lit by something of the glow of the Saint's adoration.

     The St. Christopher, who is walking through the stream with the
     Christ-child on his shoulder, is rough to the point of ugliness,
     whilst in the landscape, which is beautifully executed, there is a
     most intimate charm.

     In the martyrdom of St. Sebastian, the Saint wears that almost
     inane expression which often does duty, however unintentionally,
     for the look of deep suffering in Wolgemut's work. The guard,
     however, are pleasingly and vividly portrayed. Evidently they are
     akin to the rabble which is found in the scenes of the Passion in
     Schongauer's works.

     But it is when we come to the scenes from the legend of St. Vitus
     that we seem to trace only the faintest signs of Wolgemut's style.
     The composition here bears only a distant resemblance to his, and
     in the execution the assistant employed must surely have been he
     who painted the scene of St. Vitus denouncing the idols in the
     Lorenzkirche (see p. 254), and whose initials are R. F.

     The pictures by Albrecht Durer in the Museum we have already
     mentioned (pp. 188, 193-9).

  (1) Hercules and the Stymphalian Birds,  205 Room 72
  (2) Kaiser Maximilian,                   209   "   "
  (3) Pietà--Mourning over Christ's Body,  206   "  73
  (4) Charlemagne,                         207   "   "
  (5) Kaiser Sigismund,                    208   "   "

     Besides these originals there are several copies of the master's
     works, including the excellent copies of the Four Apostles (283,
     284) by Johann Georg Fischer. The original inscriptions are
     retained. The Allerheiligen or Trinity picture, No. 210, is a bad
     copy in a worse frame.

     Among other works by contemporaries or followers of Durer are:--

  Bartholomew Zeitblom of Ulm,           {145 Room 73
                                         {178    " 73
  Bernhard Strigel,                 {179, 181    " 71
                                    {185, 186    " 72
  Martin Schwarz of Rothenburg,      130, 133    " 71
  Hans Holbein the Elder,           {164, 167    " 71
                                    {162, 163    " 72
  Hans Friess of Freiburg,                           Room 71, 71
  Hans Leonhard Schäuffelein,      { 221, 223, 225 }   "  73
                                   { 226, etc.     }
  Hans von Kulmbach,               { 212               "  71
                                   { 213, 214, 216     "  73
  Albrecht Altdorfer,                     245, 248     "  71, 72
  Mathias Grünewald,                           253     "  71
  Hans Baldung Grien,                      194-196     "  72
  Lucas Cranach,                             { 259     "  72
                                             { 262
  Martin Schaffner,                       191, 192     "  72
  Hans Burgkmair,                        {171          "  72
                                         {168-170      "  73
  Georg Pencz,                           272, 273      "  74

     In the following rooms the decline of German art is historically
     well represented. But in room 78, which is devoted mainly to
     painters of the Dutch School of the seventeenth century, mention
     should be made of the interior by Peter de Hooch (330) and an early
     portrait of Rembrandt by himself (325) and his powerful St. Paul
     (326). Johann Kupetzky is also well represented (371-378).


                      ROOMS 81, 82.

     Models of cannons and weapons.


                        ROOM 83.

     A collection of musical instruments: some very rare and costly, but
     mostly of recent date. There are few from mediæval times.
     Engravings and miniatures will tell us most about these. But the
     history of the development of the lute and violin, the clarionet
     and the piano, can here be traced. Of the early Nuremberg makers,
     whose instruments are preserved, the chief are--

  Conrad Gerler and Melchior Neuziedler (lutes and violins).
  Hans Meuschen (wind instruments).
  Sigmund Schnitzer (whistles).
  Pachelbel (organs).

The Bavarian Industrial Museum (Königstrasse) contains a collection of
patterns and samples, ancient and modern, and a good technical library.




CHAPTER XII

_The Arms of Nuremberg_

    "Da sass ein Vogel wunderschön,
    Wie ein Adler war er anzusehn
    Kohlschwarz, der hatt' allda gehecket.
    Seine linke Seit' war ihm bedecket
    Mit lichten Rosen, roth und weiss,
    Fein abgetheilt mit allem Fleiss." ...
              HANS SACHS.


Nuremberg is a happy hunting ground for the herald. The hatchments in
the churches and the houses, and the arms in the stained glass windows
are very noteworthy.

The arms of the city may be seen carved over the north and south main
entrances to the Rathaus. You will also find them roughly painted on a
little money-box in Albert Durer's house. Durer, as was natural in an
engraver, was fond of heraldic drawing. His engravings of the "Armorial
Bearings of the Durer Family," and of "The Coat of Arms, with a Cock,"
and of the "Arms of Nuremberg," are good examples of his work in this
_genre_, whilst his last piece of pure etching was "The Great Cannon,"
with the arms of Nuremberg upon it. I take the following account of the
seals and arms of Nuremberg from Dr Reicke and Mummenhoff.

     It was one of the privileges of the Council to have a seal of its
     own. Both Mayor and Council had their own seals. The Mayor's seal,
     known to have existed from A.D. 1225 onwards, was of red wax
     bearing the Imperial Eagle originally looking to

     [Illustration: SEALS OF NUREMBURG]

     the sinister but afterwards to the dexter, with the legend
     _Sigillum Sculteti de Nuremberg_ (seal of the Mayor of Nuremberg)
     which subsequently became _Sigillum Judicii de Nurenberch_ (seal of
     the Court of Nuremberg). The Council's seal (which first appears on
     documents of 1243) bore an eagle closely feathered up to the neck,
     with a human head surrounded by flowing locks and wearing a crown.
     This town-seal usually bears the legend _Sigillum Universitatis
     civium de Nurenberch_ (_i.e._ seal of the community of the citizens
     of Nuremberg) or even _civitatis Norimbergue_ (of the city of
     Nuremberg). Somewhat later than the middle of the fourteenth
     century it had a black letter N for counter-seal, and bore the
     following legend in abbreviated writing, _Sigillum secretum
     Nurembergense_, _i.e._ Nuremberg secret _or_ privy seal. A little
     later it bore for its counter-seal the proper arms of the city, of
     which we must shortly speak. Towards the end of the fourteenth
     century (in 1386) a smaller privy seal appears, similar in form,
     and bearing the legend _Secretum civium de Nuremberch_. This was
     always used as a privy seal for letters of importance. Before this
     seal came into use the city seal was used for all purposes, and
     even appended (for greater security) to private documents such as
     contracts of sale, entailing deeds, testaments and jointures. At a
     later date this seal was chiefly appended to testaments.

     The seals, both of the Mayor and of the Council, though not arms,
     were used as such; however, their real character was well
     understood. Even in 1477 the Council decreed that the window which
     the city proposed to place in the choir of St. Lawrence's Church
     should be adorned "with the arms of the Council and the privy and
     common arms of the city." Here a distinction is expressly made
     between the seal and the arms.

     However, the proper arms of the town were--Bendy of six Gules and
     Argent impaling Or an Imperial eagle dimidiated, sable. The dexter
     side of the shield is often incorrectly represented as Gules, three
     bendlets argent. It is also wrong to describe it (as many writers
     have done), as Barry of six, gules and argent.

     Meisterlin applies to the dexter side the term Field of Swabia,
     which we only mention here because it is still occasionally
     employed. He gives the same name to the district in which Nuremberg
     lies (apparently by confusion with the "Gau" of Sualafeld).
     Nuremberg has accordingly nothing to do with Swabia, as was
     probably inferred centuries ago. The origin of the arms is obscure.
     It is however worth mentioning that the Burggraves of Nuremberg
     bore this "Field of Swabia" as a bordure on their arms. These arms,
     as we said before, have been used since the second half of the
     fourteenth century as the counter-seal of the city seal above
     mentioned, as also on stamped parchment and stamped paper (only
     introduced towards the end of the seventeenth century), on coins
     struck at Nuremberg, on public buildings, etc.

     The human head on the eagle of the privy seal, afterwards called
     the "Eagle-Maiden," is explained by Mummenhoff as the face of an
     emperor with long flowing locks and the Imperial crown on his head.
     It retains this character throughout the Middle Ages both on the
     seal, and also when the seal was used as a coat-of-arms. Mummenhoff
     instances in particular the fine eagle on the town side of the
     upper story of the Thiergärtner-Gate-Tower. With Albert Durer,
     however, begins the quite unhistorical transfiguration of this
     eagle. The emperor's face was no longer understood and was mistaken
     for a female face; and thus in course of time a series of
     unjustifiable embellishments produced a coat-of-arms bearing a
     maiden, described by even a modern historian as an "Eagle-Maiden."
     In quite recent times a mural crown has been set upon her head. We
     will pass over the jesting explanations formerly given for this
     seeming Eagle-Maiden, which would be untenable, were they even
     serious. We need only mention that when the arms are set out in
     colours the eagle is Or and the field Azure (and very often Vert).
     These three coats-of-arms (counting the seals as coats) arranged in
     different ways were employed on public monuments, buildings and
     coins, and afterwards on all publications, commissions, ordinances,
     etc., issued by the Council. Usually the simple eagle is at the
     top, the so-called Eagle-Maiden below on the right, and the Bends
     impaling the dimidiated eagle on the left. Frequently, especially
     on the coins, only the eagle-maiden and the dimidiated eagle
     appear. Sometimes also we find the Imperial eagle without the
     shield surmounting the two lower coats, and, as it were, protecting
     them with its wings.

     The double-headed crowned eagle also frequently occurs, for example
     on the old Fünferhaus (now the Post-Office) with the date 1521.
     Here it appears alone, whereas on the Tugendbrunnen it is
     associated with the eagle-maiden and the impaled dimidiated eagle.
     It was also employed on the eastern part of the city wall, both on
     the bastion near the Wöhrderthürlein (pulled down in 1871) and on
     the line of wall. A really handsome example of this double-headed
     eagle is to be seen on the entrance to the new Rathaus building
     from the Fünferplatz. This eagle dates from the seventeenth century
     and was formerly placed on the arsenal, and consequently bears the
     inscription:--

    "Einst Wächter von Nürnbergs Waffen und Wehr
     Jetzt Hüter von Nürnbergs Wohlstand und Ehr."

    "Once guard over Nuremberg's weapons and steel
     Now keeper of Nuremberg's honour and weal."

     According to Lochner it appears to have been left to the taste of
     the artist whether in such combinations this the real Imperial
     eagle, or the one-headed, uncrowned eagle of the Mayor should be
     used.




CHAPTER XIII

_Itinerary, Places of Resort, Hotels_


The following scheme may perhaps prove of use to those who have but a
day or two to spend in Nuremberg and wish to glance at the chief places
of interest:--

     (1) Walk round the walls and visit the Castle (Ch. V.).

     (2) Going from the Frauenthor down the Königstrasse see St.
     Lorenzkirche (Ch. IX.), the Nassauer Haus (p. 22), and
     Tugendbrunnen (p. 273). Then crossing the Pegnitz by the
     Fleisch--or the Museums-brücke, arrive at the Haupt Markt and the
     Beautiful Fountain (p. 270). Visit the Frauenkirche (Ch. IX.) (r.),
     the Rathaus (Ch. VI.) and St. Sebalds, (Ch. IX.) and look at the
     Parsonage Window (p. 42), St. Moritzkirche (Ch. IX.) and the
     Bratwürstglöcklein (p. 198).

     (3) Albert Durer's House and Monument (Ch. VII.). St. Ægidienkirche
     (Ch. IX.) and the Pellerhaus (p. 90). St. John's Churchyard and the
     Adam Krafft Stations (Ch. IX. and VII.).

     (4) German Museum (Ch. XI.), Library (Ch. IX.).


                     WALKS OR DRIVES FROM THE TOWN.

     (1) To the Alte Veste. (Wallenstein's Camp, see Ch. IV.).

     (2) Castle of Lichtenhof. (Once the residence of Gustavus
     Adolphus.)

     (3) Dutzendteich.

     (4) Schmausenbuch.


                                HOTELS.

There are several first-class hotels in Nuremberg. The Württemberger Hof
has the advantage of being very close to the station and just outside
the old walls of the town. The management is excellent and I have met
with every comfort and courtesy there. Of the hotels within the walls
the Strauss ranks for comfort and cuisine among the best hotels in
Europe, whilst of the others the Bairischer Hof, the Goldner Adler and
the Wittelsbacher are recommended.

[Illustration: NUREMBERG]




INDEX

_Note_.--For particular Houses, Streets, Churches, etc., see under
general heading--Houses, Streets, Churches, etc.


A

ALTDORF, 78, 91, 92.

ALTDORFER, Albert, 198, 288.

ALTNÜRNBERG, 5, 119.

ALTE, VESTE, 98 _ff_.

ANGELIC GREETING, The (Stoss), 207, 247.

ANSCHREIBETHÜRE, 234.

ARMS, 291.

ART and Artists, 55-59, 171 _ff_.

ARTISANS, 31, 33, 37, 171.

ASTROLOGERS, 5.


B


BARBARI, Jacopo dei, 185, 208, 238.

BASTIONS, 84, 115, 142, 147, 168.

BATHS, Public, 153, 191.

BATTLE of Mühldorf, 25.

BAYREUTH, 1, 95.

BEHAIM, Sebald, 50.

---- Martin, 59.

---- Hans, 116, 133, 155.

---- Hans, Wilhelm, 155.

BELLINI, 185-6.

BERLICHINGEN, _see_ Götz von.

BERTHOLD, 182.

BETLÄUTEN. 85.

BOOKS, 73-75, 263, 264, 281-284.

BORKHARDT, 218.

BRANDENBURG, Markgraf of, 48, 61-7, 71, 86 _ff_, 105.

BRATWURSTGLÖCKLEIN, 198.

BRAUTTHÜRE, 154, 232, 245.

BREWERY, 134, 153.

BRIDGES, (Brücke)--

---- Barfüsser, 167, 273, 274.

---- Fleisch, 163, 274.

---- Hallerthor, 115.

---- Schuld, 133.

---- Vestner Thor, 138.

BRUNNEN (Wells)--

---- Apollo, 156.

---- Gänsemännchen, 212, 273.

---- Grübel, 224.

---- Kuntsbrunnen, 273.

---- Labenwolf, 156.

---- Schöner, 37, 55, 270-3.

---- Tiefer, 121, 123, 168.

---- Tugend, 246, 273, 293.

---- Wasserspeier, 273.

BURG, 3, 5-7, 13, 24, 30, 43, 115-129, 138, 159, 168.

BURGAMTMANNSWOHNUNG, 120, 121.

BURGGRAF, 6, 14, 15, 20, 24, 25, 29, 40-2, 47-9, 61,
   86, 105, 119-121, 138, 143.

BURGKMAIR, 128, 288.

BURGOMEISTER, 24, 33, 47, 122.

BURGSCHMIET, 59, 200, 248.


C

CAMERARIUS, Joachim, 91, 186.

CARLYLE, Thomas, 14, 18, 25, 49, 55, 61.

CARNIVAL, 38.

CASTLE, _see_ Burg.

CELTES, Conrad, 36, 74, 143, 144, 188, 230, 283.

CHARLEMAGNE, 3, 13.

CHARTERS, 11, 15, 19, 24, 26, 41, 47, 50, 122.

CHRONICLE, H. Schedel, 145, 184, 283.

CHRONICLERS, 2, 12, 21, 37, 42, 145, 228.

CHURCHES AND CHAPELS, 55 _ff_, 225-266.

---- Augustiner, 184, 276.

---- S. Ægidien, with Eucharius, Wolfgang, and Tetzel
   Chapels, 5, 78, 87, 259, 260.

---- S. Catherine, 85, 222.

---- S. Elizabeth, 261.

---- Frauen, with Michael Chapel, 23, 37, 42, 182,
   199, 202, 206, 236, 250, 254-9.

---- Heiliggeistspital, 30, 51, 262

---- Holzschuher Chapel, 202.

---- S. Jakobs, 51, 182, 183, 245, 261.

---- S. John's Church, 183, 202.

---- S. John's Churchyard, 123, 196, 200, 202, 224, 233, 265, 266.

---- Kaiserkapelle, 13, 124-129.

---- S. Katharinen, 85, 222.

---- Karthäuser, 275.

---- S. Klara, 262.

---- Landauer, 264.

---- S. Lorenz, 22, 30, 56, 181-183, 199, 200, 203,
   206, 213, 233, 239-254, 255.

---- Margaretenkapelle, 13, 124, 129.

---- S. Martha, 222, 261.

---- S. Martin, 13.

---- S. Moritz, 198, 262.

---- Otmarkapelle, 5.

---- S. Rochus, 212, 264, 265.

---- S. Sebald, with S. Peter's or Löffelholz
   Chapel, 3, 23, 30, 42, 51, 154, 181, 183, 198,
   200, 202, 209, 213, 218, 225-239, 250.

---- Synagogue, 23, 36, 132, 262.

---- Walpurgiskapelle, 5, 120, 121.

---- Zum Heiligen Kreuz, 261.

CLOCK, 132, 134, 208, 209, 256-8.

CONVENT, _see_ Kloster.

COUNCIL, _see_ Rat.

COUNCILHOUSE, _see_ Rathaus.

COURTSHIP, System of, 153.

CRANACH, Lucas, 125, 157, 288.

CRENELLES, 145-146.

CRUSADES, 35, 52, 73.


D

DIET of Worms, 75, 82, 83.

---- of Spires, 82, 83.

DITCH, Chap. v.

DOUBLE CHAPEL, 13, 124-129.

DURER, Albert, 56, 59, 72-77, 142,
   155, 156, 175-198, 205, 237-239,
   247, 254, 263, 266, 280, 283, 287, 290, 292.

DURER'S House, _see_ Haus.

DUTZENDTEICH, 168.


E

EBNER, 214, 263.

EDUCATION, 78.

EGER, Double Chapel, 13, 126.

EGGS (Watches), 214, 257.

EKKELEIN VON GAILINGEN, 43 _ff_, 119.

EMPERORS, _see_ Kaiser.

ENDTERLEIN, K., 213, 246.

EPITAPHS, 181, 182, 248-254, 266, 285.

ERASMUS, 74, 188.

ERLANGEN, University, 92.

ESSENWEIN, A. von, 156.


F

FAIR (Easter), 26.

FAZUNI, 115.

FISCHBACH, 138.

FIVE-CORNERED TOWER, 5, 6, 43, 116, 119, 120, 160 _ff_.

FORTIFICATIONS, 115-149.

FOUNTAINS, _see_ Brunnen.

FREIUNG, 120, 121.

FRIEDENSMAL, 102.

FÜRTH, 7, 53, 96, 98, 101, 105, 106.


G

GAILINGEN, Ekkelein von, 43 _ff_, 119.

GÄNSEMÄNNCHEN, 212, 273.

GATES, _see_ Thor.

GERMAN MUSEUM, _see_ Museum.

GLASS, 181, 212, 213, 239, 258, 277.

GOLDEN BULL, 31, 39, 69, 256.

GOLDMEYER, A., 5.

GÖTZ VON BERLICHINGEN, 43, 61 _ff_, 67-72, 81.

GROSS, Conrad, 29, 30.

GRÜBEL, J. K., 224, 266.

GUILDS, 31, 33, 151, 171 _ff_, 217-222.

GUILLOTINE, 157, 169.

GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, 94-101, 263.

GUTENBERG, 73, 283.


H

HALLER Altar piece, 236 _ff_, 250.

HANGMAN, 161 _ff_.

HAUS, 269 _ff_.

---- Durer, 116, 173, 175, 176, 193, 198, 269

---- Ketzel, or Pilatus, 201.

---- Krafft, 199.

---- Maut, 133.

HAUS, Nassauer, 22.

---- Palm, 269.

---- Peller, 90, 102, 269.

---- Pirkheimer, 188.

---- Sachs, 215.

---- Unschlitt, 134.

---- Waizenbräu, 134.

---- Zum Goldenen Schild, 39.

---- Zwölfbrüder, 132, 193, 212.

HAUSER, Kaspar, 107-113.

HEATHEN TOWER (Heidenthurm), _see under_ Thurm.

HENKERSTEG, 133-135, 165.

HENLEIN, P., 214.

HERALDRY, 152, 248, 258, 260, 276, 290.

HESSE, Eobanus, 188, 229.

HEUSS, Georg, 209, 256.

HIRSCHVOGEL, 125, 213, 239, 265, 278.

HOARDS, 146.

HOHENSTAUFEN, 12, 13, 18, 36, 125.

HOHENZOLLERN, 14, 15, 61.

HOLBEIN, 128, 239, 288.

HOLZSCHUHER, 137, 181, 238.

---- E. K., 155.

HOTELS, 295.

HOUSES, 267-270, and _see under_ Haus.

HUSS, John, 49.

HUSSITES, 50, 137.

HUTTEN, Ulrich von, 188, 263.


I

IMHOFF, 154, 181, 196, 203.

---- Altarpiece, 182, 249-251, 286.

INDULGENCES, 39, 52, 74.


J

JAMNITZER, W., 213, 266.

JEWS, 12, 23, 35-37, 46, 52-54, 164.

JEWISH MACHSOR, 263.

JUNGFRAU, _see_ Maiden.

JUVENELL, P., 158, 213.


K

KAISER--

---- Otho L, 3.

---- Conrad II., 5.

---- Henry III., 5, 7.

---- Frederick Barbarossa, 6, 13-15, 125.

KAISER, Henry IV., 7-11.

---- Henry V., 11, 12.

---- Lothar, 12.

---- Conrad (Hohenstaufen), 13.

---- Frederick II., 15.

---- Henry VI., 16.

---- Conradin, 18.

---- Rudolph von Hapsburg, 20, 21.

---- Adolph von Nassau, 22.

---- Albert, 23, 24.

---- Henry VII., 24.

---- Ludwig von Baiern, 25-30

---- Karl IV., 31 _ff_, 256.

---- Wenzel, 42-8, 275.

---- Ruprecht, 47.

---- Sigismund, 48-50, 122.

---- Frederick III., 51, 150.

---- Maximilian I., 53, 60-73, 188, 193.

---- Charles V., 75-89, 195.

---- Maximilian II., 90.

---- Ferdinand II., 94.

---- Francis, 106.

KAISERSTALLUNG, 6, 116.

KATZHEIMER, 2, 3, 239.

KERN, Leonhard, 156.

KETZEL, Georg, 30, 262.

---- Martin, 201.

KIRNBERGER, 213.

KLOSTER, 76, 77.

---- St. Ægidius, 13, 78, 259, 263.

---- Augustinen, 74, 262.

---- Dominican, 263.

---- Franciscan (Barfüsser), 262, 264.

---- Karthäuser, 136, 258, 275.

---- Katherinen, 136, 231.

---- Klara, 77, 136.

---- Landauer, 132, 193, 212, 264.

KOBERGER, A., 59, 74, 177, 184, 283.

KRAFFT, Adam, 56, 116, 128, 172, 175,
   199-205, 207, 208, 233, 237, 247, 258, 260, 262, 267.

KUHN, 69, 152.

KULMBACH, Haus von, 128, 198, 213, 238, 239, 254, 288.

KUNIGUNDE, Empress, 124.


L

LABENWOLF, Pankraz, 156, 212, 273.

LANDAUER, Matthäus, 193.

LANDGRABEN, 148.

LANDWEHR, 147.

LEAGUES, of Towns, etc., 19, 29, 39, 46, 71, 82, 84, 86-88, 93.

LEGENDS, 3, 21, 22, 25, 30, 42, 43 _ff_,
   102, 124, 127, 203, 226-228, 232, 243, 245, 264.

LEIHAUS, 53.

LINDENAST, Sebastian, 199, 208, 256.

LOCH, 158.

LÖFFELHOLZ, Altarpiece, 182, 236.

---- Chapel, 230, 235, 236.

LONGFELLOW, 1, 2, 171, 215, 217, 247.

LUGINSLAND, 6, 41, 116.

LUTHER, 74-85, 188, 263.


M

MACCHIAVELLI, 136.

MACHICOULIS TURRETS, 145.

MACHSOR, 263.

MADONNA, The Nuremberg, 206, 261, 278 _ff_.

MAIDEN, The Nuremberg, 116, 168-170.

---- Morton's, 157, 169.

MANTENGNA, 185.

MARKET PLACES--

---- Hauptmarkt, 37, 55, 215, 254, 270.

---- Obstmarkt, 37, 273.

---- Sau- or Trödel-markt, 134.

---- Gänsemarkt, 212.

---- Weinmarkt, 130.

MARKGRAFS of Brandenburg, 48, 50, 53, 61-7, 71, 86 _ff_, 105.

MART, 7, 26.

MEISSEN, Heinrich von, 217.

MEISTERSINGERS, 216, 222.

MELANCHTHON, 59, 73, 78, 91, 188, 263.

MENDEL, 275.

MINNESINGERS, 216-220.

MOAT, Chap. v.

MONASTERY, _see_ Kloster.

MONUMENTS--

---- Behaim, 59.

---- Durer, 175.

---- Grübel, 224.

---- Kunstbrunnen, 273.

---- Melanchthon, 59.

---- Sachs, 215.

---- Wasserspeier, 273.

---- Motto, 157, 274.

MOUNT OF OLIVES, 116.

MÜHLDORF, Battle of, 25.

MULLER, Johannes (Regiomontanus), 59, 74, 257, 263, 283.

MUSEUMS--

---- Bavarian Industrial, 263, 289

---- Five-Cornered Tower, _see_ F

---- German, 38, 45, 73, 136, 183,
   184, 188, 194, 198, 200, 214, 218,
   231, 234, 249, 275-288.

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS, 218, 288.


N

NASSAUERHAUS, 22.

NEUMARKT, K: von, 231.

NUREMBERG, charm of, 1;
  origin of, 2 _ff_;
  name, 3; Altnürnberg, 5;
  mixture of races at, 7;
  mart established at, 7;
  siege of, 11;
  charter, 11;
  burning of, 12;
  second siege, 12;
  Hohenstaufen, 13;
  Hohenzollern, 14;
  Reichstag and charter, 15;
  catastrophe at a royal wedding, 16;
  lawlessness, 17;
  third siege, 19;
  joins league, 19;
  Rudolf von Hapsburg at, 21;
  massacre of Jews, 23;
  charter, 24;
  supports Ludwig, 25;
  revolution, 31;
  council, 33, 150 _ff_;
  persecution of Jews, 35;
  joins Swabian League, 39;
  Golden Bull issued from, 39;
  quarrels with the Burggraff, 40;
  Heidelberg union, 46;
  supports Ruprecht, 47;
  loans exacted by Sigismund, 48;
  Hussites, 49;
  Frederick III. at, 51;
  religious feeling and expulsion of Jews, 52-54;
  "Capital of German art" under Maximilian, 55 _ff_;
  quarrels with the Burggraff, 61;
  Götz von Berlichingen, 62, 67-72;
  War of Bavarian Succession, 66;
  Renaissance, 73;
  Luther and the Reformation at, 74 _ff_;
  peasants' war, 78;
  school founded at, 78;
  war with Elector Albert, 86;
  founds University of Altdorf, 91;
  Catholic reaction, 85, 93 _ff_;
  Wallenstein and Gustavus Adolphus, 94 _ff_;
  celebrates treaty of Westphalia, 102;
  decline of, 103-106;
  Kaspar Hauser, 106-113;
  general view and topography of, 114;
  castle, walls and fortification, 115-130;
  tortures, 159-170;
  art and artists, 171-214;
  Meistersingers of, 215-224;
  churches of, 225-266;
  arms, 290 _ff_.

NUREMBERG Chronicle, 184.

---- Carnival, 38.

---- Eggs, 214, 257.

---- Grosse Uhr, 257.

---- Konkordienbuch, 91.

---- Lebkuchen, 214.

---- Madonna, 206, 261, 278 _ff_.

---- Maiden, 116, 168-170.

NUREMBERG, School of Painting, 181-185, 248-254, 258.

---- Spruchsprecher, 223.

---- Trichter, or Funnel, 218, 270.


O

OLIVES, Mount of, 116.

OSIANDER, 77, 83, 86, 207.


P

PAINTERS and Painting, 55-57, 125, 128,
   156-158, 181-185, 195, 248-254, 258, 278, 285-289.

PALM, 269, 284.

PANIERSBERG, 209.

PARSONAGE WINDOW, 42.

PASSAGES, 123, 167-169.

PATRICIANS, 151-153.

PAUMGÄRTNER, H., 78, 263.

PEGNITZ, 2, 75, 115, 131-134, 143, 188, 191, 273, 274.

PELLER Altarpiece, 198.

PELLERHOF, 90, 102.

PENCZ (Georg), 155, 157, 195, 198, 288.

PERGENSTORFER Relief, 242, 258.

PERINGSDÖRFFER Altarpiece, 184, 210, 254, 286, 287.

PFINZING, M., 42, 72, 283.

PICCOLOMINI, Octavio, 102.

PIRKHEIMER, Charitas, 77.

---- Willibald, 60, 72, 74, 75, 77, 81,
   186, 188, 193, 196, 198, 238, 266, 269.

PIX (Krafft's), 200, 203-205, 247.

PLATZ, Ægidien, 59, 87, 90, 259, 264, 269.

---- Albrecht Dürer, 168, 175.

---- Dötschmanns, 23, 36.

---- Lorenzer, 133.

---- Max, 37, 273.

PLATZ, Spital, 130, 132, 215, 262.

---- Theresien, 59, 130.

---- Thiergärtnerthor, 201.

---- Unschlitt, 134, 135.

---- Webers, 132.

PLEYDENWURF, Hans, 183, 286.

POETS, 224.

POPE, Gregory, II.

---- Leo X., 74, 82.

PRINTING, 73-75, 263, 264, 281-284.

PROTESTANTS, 83 _ff_.



R

RAT (Council), 8, 20, 23, 31-33, 46, 75-87,
   95, 104, 150 _ff_, 171, 172, 193, 195,
   197, 212, 222, 263, 291.

RATHAUS, 60, 69, 84, 91, 102, 123, 152, 154, 182, 195, 222, 293.

REFORMATION, 73 _ff_, 184, 191.

REGIOMONTANUS, _see_ Muller.

REICHSTAG, 15, 20, 60, 75, 83-85.

REMBRANDT, 288.

RENAISSANCE, 73.

RESTAURANTS, 22, 148, 198.

ROBBER Knights, 19, 28, 43, 47, 49, 68-72.

ROSENAU, 149.

ROSENKRANZTAFEL, 234, 280.

ROTERMUNDT, 207, 237, 238, 248.

ROTHENBURG, 1, 23, 29, 31, 48, 76, 81, 96.


S

SACHS, Hans, 76, 89, 114, 116, 150, 198, 215-225, 263, 266, 270, 290.

SAKRAMENTSHÄUSLEIN, 203-205, 247.

SANDRART, J. Von, 158.

SCHATZBEHALTER, 184, 283.

SCHÄUFFELEIN, Hans, 125, 198, 288.

SCHAUTTHÜRE, 200, 233, 239.

SCHEDEL, Hartmann, Chronicle, 145, 184, 234, 283.

SCHEMBARTLÄUFER, 38.

SCHEURL, Dr., 60, 74, 153.

SCHILLER, 97.

SCHONGAUER, M., 182, 185, 187, 285, 287.

SCHONHOFER, 254, 270.

SCHOOL, 78, 132, 134.

SCHREYER Tomb, 202, 233.

SCHÜTT Island, 132, 223.

SCHWEIGGER, Georg, 102, 266.

SCHWEPPERMANN, 25.

SEALS, 291.

SEBALD, S., 8, 51, 225-230.

SEBALDUSGRAB, 208-212, 229, 233.

SECRET Passages, 123, 167-169.

---- Tribunal, 167-168.

SENSENSCHMIDT, Johann, 73, 283.

SPENGLER, Lazarus, 74, 75, 78, 263, 266.

SPIRES, Diet of, 82, 83.

SPRINGLEN, 213, 247.

STATIONS (Krafft's), 200-202.

STOSS, Veit, 72, 128, 175, 206-208,
   237, 238, 247, 248, 258, 260-262, 265, 266, 280.

STOVES, 125, 158, 277.

STREETS (Strasse)--

---- Albrecht Dürer, 130, 135, 269.

---- Am Oelberg, 116.

---- Berg, 129.

---- Breitegasse, 134.

---- Burg, 84, 116, 129, 168, 177, 193.

---- Burgschmiets, 200, 265.

---- Carolinen, 22.

---- Dielingasse, 69.

---- Färbergasse, 133.

---- Frauengässlein, 133.

---- Fürther, 149.

---- Hans Sachs, 130, 215.

---- Heugässchen, 132.

---- Hirschel, 267.

---- Irrergasse, 135.

---- Karl, 135.

---- Königs, 133, 261, 289.

---- Lammsgasse, 135.

---- Ludwig, 134.

---- Neue, 130, 132.

---- Nonnen, 133.

---- Obere Schmiedgasse, 116.

---- Panier, 168.

---- Peter Vischer, 137.

---- Rathaus, 155.

---- Rothenburger, 265.

---- Schildgasse, 39, 267.

---- Schmied, 7.

---- Söldner, 7.

---- Tetzel, 130, 267.

---- Theater, 133.

---- Theresien, 199.

---- Tucher, 130.

---- Waisen, 134.

---- Weintraubengässlein, 135.

---- Winkler, 199, 202, 269.

---- Wolfs, 131.

---- Wunderburg, 202.

---- Zeilen, 132.

STRIGEL, 128.

STROMER, P., 182, 248.

---- Ulman, 37, 62.

SWEDISH CAMP, 97.

SYLVIUS, Æneas, 29.

SYNAGOGUE, 23, 36, 132, 262.


T

THEUERDANK, 42, 72. 283.

THOR, Frauen, 62, 65, 114, 115, 133, 138, 143, 146, 167.

---- Haller, 115, 147.

---- Hallerthürlein, 141.

---- Himmels, 116, 121.

---- Laufer, 138, 142, 143.

---- Maler, 130, 132.

---- Marien, 137.

---- Max, 131, 132, 137.

---- Morhen, 115, 137.

---- Neu, 107, 115, 138, 147.

---- Spittler, 51, 62, 96, 115, 134, 138, 144.

---- Stadt, 47.

---- Stern, 137, 138.

---- Thiergärtner, 116, 143, 175.

---- Vestner, 119, 138.

---- Walch, 146.

---- Wühderthürlein, 141.

THURM (Tower), Frauen, 141.

---- Frosch, 131, 132.

---- Fünfeckiger (Five-Cornered), 5, 6, 43, 116, 119, 120, 160 _ff_.

---- Heiden (Heathen), 3, 4, 124.

---- Laufer, 141.

---- Lauferschlag, 81, 132.

---- Luginsland, 6, 41, 116.

---- Romer, 130.

---- Schlayer, 143.

---- Schuld, 133.

---- Spittel, 141.

---- Thiergärtner, 135, 168, 292.

---- Vestner, 121, 122.

---- Wasser, 135.

---- Weiss (White), 13, 81, 131, 133, 134.

TILLY, 95, 96.

TORTURE, 69, 71, 116, 153, 158-170.

TOURNEYS, 60, 69, 152.

TOWER, _see_ Thurm.

---- Hangman's, _see_ Henkersteg.

TOWERS, 145-147.

TUCHER, 134, 137, 153, 154, 181, 209, 248.

TUCHER Altarpiece, 182, 258.

---- Lamp, etc., 237, 238.

---- Window, 213, 239, 247.


U

UNGER, Georg, 141, 157.


V

VANDYCK, 259.

VEHMEGERICHT, 167, 168.

VENICE, 1, 20, 103, 159, 185, 193.

VISCHER, Peter, etc., 56, 72, 156, 175,
   199, 208-212, 233, 248, 259, 265, 281.

VOGELWEIDE, W. von der, 217.

VOLKAMER, 69, 137, 237.

---- Altar, 250.

---- Window, 213, 247.


W

WAAGE, 53, 133, 199.

WAGNER, 171, 215, 219-221.

WALCH, _see_ Barbari.

WALLENSTEIN, 92, 94, 97-101.

WALLENSTEIN'S Camp, 98.

WALLS, 130 _ff_.

WATCHES, 214, 257.

WELLS, _see_ Brunnen.

WEYER, Gabriel, 157.

WINDOWS, 42, 212, 213, 239, 246, 247.

WITTELSBACH, Family of, 13, 25, 32, 33

WOLFF, Jakob, 90.

---- the younger, 91, 147.

WOLGEMUT, M., 56, 128, 181-5, 210, 238, 254, 278, 280, 285-7.

WORMS, Diet Of, 75, 82, 83.

WURZELBAUER, 273.


Z

ZWINGER, 84, 115, 142, 147, 149, 168.

ZWINGLE, 81.

                              PRINTED BY
                         TURNBULL AND SPEARS,
                               EDINBURGH

FOOTNOTES:

 [1] Kustos an der Stadtbibliothek und am städtischen Archiv in Nürnberg

 [2] Note that the Prussian Imperial House in 1866 stipulated for the
 possession of the Kaiserburg, as it was called later, on the ground
 that it was once the residence of their ancestors.

 [3] See Ch. V.

 [4] "Hist. Frederick the Great," vol. i., bk. ii., ch. v.

 [5] Baring Gould, _Germany_.

 [6] "This Karl IV. is the Kaiser who discovered the Well of Karlsbad
 known to tourists of this day: and made the Golden Bull, which I
 forbid all Englishmen to take for an agricultural prize animal, the
 thing being far other, as is known to several.--_Carlyle._

 [7] The new Council was to consist of eight artisans and thirty-four
 patricians. The artisans, however, only attended on special occasions.
 They had no real power. The Guilds were suppressed, and even such
 Unions as had existed before the Revolution were put under the control
 of the Council, who kept in their own hands the decision of even the
 smallest matters, which were wont to be decided in other towns by the
 Guilds.

 Members of the Council had to be fathers of families. Of the
 thirty-four patrician members twenty-six were eligible for the office
 of Burgomeister. Two by two, one old and the other young, they held
 office by turn for four weeks. One of the duties of the younger was to
 be present at the function of torturing prisoners. The elder had to
 perform the office of asking the opinion of the house.

 From the thirteen older men seven were chosen as a secret committee.
 From this committee three were chosen, and from this triumvirate two
 were chosen, the chief of whom was the first person in the town.

 There was another, or Great, Council which varied in numbers, and was
 elected by the smaller Council from the patrician and leading and
 even from the lower houses. Members were elected for life, and had
 no powers of importance. They were consulted on questions of war,
 and when the smaller Council was elected. Then they assembled in
 the Rathaus Hall, and chose two out of the old Committee of seven.
 The smaller Council (with the eight artisans) then nominated three
 out of the eight who made up the original thirty-four. These five
 nominees then chose the small Council for the ensuing year. None of
 these electors might elect two years running, and no two might be of
 the same family. Those who were not re-elected to the Council became
 ordinary citizens again. Re-election was not usual.

 [8] Ulman Stromer, the oldest of the Nuremberg chroniclers, died on
 April 1407. He was the first man to set up a paper mill (1390, at
 the entrance of the Pegnitz into the town, the first of the kind in
 Germany).

 [9] Rooms 14 and 15.

 [10] See pp. 6 and 116.

 [11] Facing the north side of St. Sebalduskirche.

 [12] In the Germanische Museum there is a very interesting and
 instructive collection of arms and weapons of all sorts. Rooms 49-52
 and 80 and 81. Note that the rich towns were able to afford the latest
 and best artillery and guns, whilst the knights had to be content with
 old-fashioned arms as a rule.

 [13] From Carlyle.

 [14] See Theodor Körner's well-known play on this subject.

 [15] Wurtel, _Histor. Nachrichten von der Judengemeinde der Reichstadt
 Nürnberg_.

 [16] See pp. 37 and 270.

 [17] See, for instance, the pictures in St. Lorenzkirche.

 [18] Janssen.

 [19] Carlyle.

 [20] Berthold Volkamer, who took part in it, had the great hall in
 his house in the Dielingasse decorated with a representation of this
 tournament painted on linen. The Council, in 1624, had the life-size
 stucco-relief on the ceiling of the upper corridor of the Rathaus,
 executed by Heinrich and Hans Kuhn, based on this.

 [21] Gardiner, "Thirty Years War."

 [22] "The Story of Kaspar Hauser." Macmillan, 1893.

 [23] Immediately after passing the arch labelled Vestnerthor, turn to
 the left. The open space of the plateau called the Freiung commands a
 very fine view of the city.

 [24] It was by the following charter of 1422 that King Sigmund gave
 the Reichsburg over to the Council:--

 "We hereby order and command the Burgomaster, Council, and citizens,
 as they are true and faithful subjects of us and of the Empire, that
 now and henceforth they shall build and fortify with gates, doors,
 walls, moats, and other buildings, this same fortress of us and the
 Empire, with its accessories within and without, and look after them
 without let or hindrance. Further, it is our will and pleasure as King
 of Rome that this same fortress of us and of the Empire, shall in no
 way be separated or divided from the town of Nuremberg. And when we
 ourselves or our successors are not residing in person at N., no one
 else shall inhabit the said castle, and we hereby decree that no one
 else shall command it save only the Council of the town of N., who
 shall keep it faithfully for our successors and the Empire, as the
 Emperor Charles our father of holy memory and likewise King Ruprecht
 of good memory wrote and ordered to our fore-fathers in the kingdom."

 [25] The original entrance to these passages cannot be determined
 now as the principal tower which might have been the last place of
 refuge and the extremest point of defence no longer exists. To-day the
 entrance is to be found in the Tower at the most westerly corner of
 the Castle grounds. We shall come to the subject of the subterranean
 passages in the next chapter.

 [26] The skeletons of (probably) two twelfth-century Burggrafs were
 discovered here in the course of the recent excavations. We know also
 that a few members, male and female, of Patrician families were buried
 here in the sixteenth century.

 [27] That at Eger is octagonal.

 [28] We shall do well enough if we work down Winklerstrasse, and then
 strike across (_l_) the Haupt Markt, pass through Hans Sachs Gasse,
 across the Spital Platz, up the Neue Gasse, crossing Tucher Strasse
 and the top of Theresien Platz. After which, short turns first to the
 left and then to the right bring us into Tetzel Gasse.

 [29] The Max-, Mohren-, Stern-, and Marien-gates are all quite modern.

 [30] See "Military Architecture," M. Viollet-Le-Duc.

 [31] A bit of this crenelation may be seen to the east of the Walch
 Thor.

 [32] The Brautthüre of St. Sebald's will occur to the reader in this
 connection.

 [33] 1532. After a drawing by Jacopo de' Barbari.

 [34] Ring the bell for the Hausmeister who lives to the right of the
 door of the Great Hall.

 [35] Note, pp. 69, 152.

 [36] The fee for showing the dungeons and the secret passages is a
 matter for arrangement before starting.

 [37] _Cf._ Arabian Nights. _Twenty-Ninth Night._

 [38] See Sir R. Burton's note on the Thirty-First Night, _Arabian
 Nights_, 1. 293.

 [39] The Iron Maiden is shown now in the Five-Cornered Tower. This is
 not, of course, its original position. Nor is it profitable to inquire
 how far the instruments shown are the actual original ones; for the
 collection of Torture Instruments, Rings, Pictures, Books, etc.; which
 used to be shown at Nuremberg, are now the property of the Earl of
 Shrewsbury.

 [40] _Cf._ Plautus, _Captivi_, 888. Boius est, Boiam terit.

 [41] It is interesting to note that most of the Nuremberg artists were
 essentially good men who drew their inspiration from religion--a fact
 that may afford food for reflection to those who nowadays declare so
 loudly that art has nothing to do with morals, that they incline to
 fall into the opposite error and suppose that it has everything to do
 with immorality.

 [42] "It appears to have been the ancient practice of those masters,
 who furnished designs for the wood-engravers to work from, carefully
 to avoid all cross-hatchings, which, it is probable, were considered
 as beyond the power of the Xylographist to represent. Wolgemut
 perceived that, though difficult, this was not impossible; and in
 the cuts of the Nuremberg Chronicle, the execution of which, besides
 furnishing the designs, he doubtless superintended, a successful
 attempt was first made to imitate the bold hatchings of a pen-drawing,
 crossing each other, as occasion prompted the designer, in various
 directions. To him belongs the praise of having been the first who
 duly appreciated the powers of this art, and it is more than probable
 that he proved with his own hand, to the subordinate artists employed
 under him, the practicability of that style of workmanship which he
 acquired."--Ottley, "History of Engraving."

 It should, however, be added that cross-hatching appears in Reuwick's
 illustrations to Breydenbach's "Pilgrimage" (1486).

 [43] See p. 72.

 [44] The originals of those which have been replaced are in the German
 Museum.

 [45] Some smaller bronze pieces by or attributed to him will be found
 in the German Museum. These and his other works and those of his sons
 are fully discussed in my monograph "Peter Vischer."

 [46] For the life and miracles of St. Sebald see Ch. IX.

 [47] Witz = skill in art.

 [48] Running east from the south-east corner of the Hauptmarkt. The
 house was called "Zum güldenen Bären" later.

 [49] P. 76.

 [50] Museum, room 33.

 [51] "Schriften und Dichtungen," vol. iv. p., 349 ff.

 [52] Cf. Acta St. Sebaldi, ab auctore incerto incertæ ætatis.

 [53] See the beautiful relief on the Sebaldusgrab (p. 210).

 [54] The feast of St. Sebald was celebrated August 19th. The following
 verses from the mass sung in the Cathedral on that day in honour of
 the Saint may be of interest.

      Hic de Francis genitus
    Propinquos postergat,
    Quamvis natus inclytus,
    Ne in nefas vergat.
      Merito Vincentiam
    Eremum elegit,
    Vincat ut malitiam
    Se Deo subegit.
      Paucos contubernio
    Eremo assumit,
    Vivit soli Domino
    Abs quo nil præsumit.
      Visitat miraculis
    Hunc Deus frequenter
    Notum fecit patulis
    Factis pertinenter.
      Famem patientibus
    Fert refectionem,
    Sitim sustinentibus
    Miram potionem.
      Aquam vertit in vinum
    Diu duraturum
    Panem opus alivinum
    Præstat opportunum.
      Mortuus deducitur
    Rudibus jumentis
    Nurnberg perducitur
    Divinis fomentis.
    Stant in loco humili
    Nec abinde cedant,
    Donec loci populi
    Locum sacrum edunt.
      Transferri se coeperat,
    Nil per hoc secutum,
    A Scotis redierat
    Corpus revolutum.
      Ad locum divinitus
    Primum vehebatur,
    Factum illud coelitus
    Cunctis propalatur.
      Illudentis facies
    In plaga notatur
    Mulieris species
    Passa commutatur.

 Or as Conrad Celtes has it in his hymn to the saint:--

    Cumque jam longo fueras labore
    Fessus, et sedes meritus beatas
    Te senem nostras Deus impetrabat
                    Linquere terras,
    Spiritus sanctos ubi liquit artus,
    Mox boves corpus tulerant agrestes
    Qua tuas sanctas modo personamus,
                    Carmine laudes.
    Ergo jam coelo merito locatus
    Hanc velis urbem, mediis arenis
    Conditam, sanctis precibus juvare
                    Sedulus orans. etc.


 [55] They and much of the rest of the church are now in course of
 restoration.

 [56] The Kirchner lives at No. 6 Burgstrasse.

 [57] These will be shown you if you ask for them.

 [58] See pp. 203-5. There is also a relief by Adam Krafft near the
 south-east door.

 [59] See p. 207.

 [60] Geschichte von Deutschen Malerei.

 [61] The clockworks at Prague, Strasburg and Wells tell the same tale.

 [62] Recently renovated.

 [63] The Kirchner (L. Burkman) lives in the far corner of the
 Gymnasium Hof, right of the church, in the house with a double flight
 of steps in front of it.

 [64] Durer's grave, No. 649 (see p. 196). W. Pirkheimer, 1414; Hans
 Sachs, 503; Veit Stoss, 268; Lazarus Spengler, 1320; Wenzel Jamnitzer,
 664; Konrad Grübel, 200.

 [65] The best of these epitaphia, or grave-plates, are by Georg
 Schweigger, _e.g._ No. 1484.

 [66] All things have their origin and increase, but lo! the bull you
 see never was a calf.

 [67] I am inclined now to agree with those who attribute it to Peter
 Vischer's son and namesake. See my monograph on Peter Vischer, or Dr
 Seeger's P. Vischer der Jungere.

 [68] To view a further collection apply to the Director.

 [69] See pp. 59, 74.

 [70] He occasionally used Koberger's type. "The Poggius of 1475 by
 Creussner and the Boethius of 1473 by Koberger are in the same type.
 Most of the early Nuremberg types are readily distinguished by the
 capital N, in which the cross stroke slants the wrong way."--Early
 Printed Books. E. Gordon Duff.

 [71] See pp. 42, 72.

       *       *       *       *       *

Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:

Sakramentshaüslein=> Sakramentshäuslein {pg xii}

Haupt Thor=> Hauptthor {pg xii}

Schlusselfelderische, Schlusselfelder=> Schlüsselfelderische,
Schlüsselfelder {pg 22}

Goethe's _Wilhelm Tell_=> Schiller's _Wilhelm Tell_ {pg 24}

Vasco di Gama=> Vasco da Gama {pg 59}

called _Betlaüten_=> called _Betläuten_ {pg 85}

Waizenbraühaus=> Waizenbräuhaus {pg 134}

Tannhaüser=> Tannhäuser {pg 217}

Karthaüsergasse=> Karthäusergasse {pg 275}

BETLAÜTEN. 85.=> BETLÄUTEN. 85. {pg 297}

BRATWURSTGLÖCKLSIN, 198.=> BRATWURSTGLÖCKLEIN, 198. {pg 297}

Karthaüser, 136, 258, 275.=> Karthäuser, 136, 258, 275. {pg 299}

Waizenbraü, 134.=> Waizenbräu, 134. {pg 303}

St gidius=> St. Ægidius {pg 299}

Grubel, 224.=> Grübel, 224. {pg 300}

Heidleberg union, 46;=> Heidelberg union, 46; {pg 300}







