at least one instance;
for on that occasion he quarreled with the Enemy, and intrepidly
threw his inkstand at him, and there, upon the wall of his study
was the black splotch where it struck and broke. The same was
claimed for Luther, but no one believed it, for he was a heretic and
liar. This was so, for the Pope himself said that Luther had lied
about it.
The priest that we all loved best and were sorriest for, was Father Peter. But the Bishop suspended him for talking around in conversation that God was all goodness and would find a way to save all
his poor human children. It was a horrible thing to say, but there
was never any absolute proof that Father Peter said it; and it was
out of character for him to say it, too, for he was always good and
gentle and truthful, and a good Catholic, and always teaching in
the pulpit just what the Church required, and nothing else. But
there it was, you see: he wasn't charged with saying it in the pulpit,
where all the congregation could hear and testify, but only outside,
in talk; and it is easy for enemies to manufacture that. Father Peter
denied it; but no matter, Father Adolf wanted his place, and he told
the Bishop, and swore to it, that he overheard Father Peter say it;
heard Father Peter say it to his niece, when Father Adolf was
behind the door listening-for he was suspicious of Father Peter's
soundness, he said, and the interests of religion required that he be
watched.
The niece, Marget, denied it, and implored the Bishop to believe
her and spare her old uncle from poverty and disgrace; but Father
Adolf had been poisoning the Bishop against the old man a long
time privately, and he wouldn't listen; for he had a deep admiration
of Father Adolf's bravery toward the Devil, and an awe of him on
account of his having met the Devil face to face; and so he was a
slave to Father Adolf's influence. He suspended Father Peter, indefinitely, though he wouldn't go so far as to excommunicate him
on the evidence of only one witness; and now Father Peter had
been out a couple of years, and Father Adolf had his flock.
Those had been hard years for the old priest and Marget. They
had been favorites, but of course that changed when they came
under the shadow of the Bishop's frown. Many of their friends fell
away entirely, and the rest became cool and distant. Marget was a
lovely girl of eighteen, when the trouble came, and she had the best
head in the village, and the most in it. She taught the spinet, and
earned all her clothes and pocket money by her own industry. But
her scholars fell off one by one, now; she was forgotten when there
were dances and parties among the youth of the village; the young
fellows stopped coming to the house, all except Wilhelm Meidling -and he could have been spared; she and her uncle were sad and
forlorn in their neglect and disgrace, and the sunshine was gone out
of their lives. Matters went worse and worse, all through the two
years. Clothes were wearing out, bread was harder and harder to
get. And now at last, the very end was come. Solomon Isaacs had
lent all the money he was willing to put on the house, and gave
notice that to-morrow he should foreclose.
Chapter 2
T1REE of us boys were always together, and had been so from
the cradle, being fond of each other from the beginning, and this
affection deepening as the years went on-Nikolaus Baumann, son
of the principal judge of the local court; Seppi Wohlmeyer, son of
the keeper of the principal inn, the "Golden Stag," which had a
nice garden, with shade trees, reaching down to the river-side, and
pleasure-boats for hire; and I was the third-Theodor Fischer, son
of the church organist, who was also leader of the village band,
teacher of the violin, composer, tax collector of the commune,
sexton, and in other ways a useful citizen and respected by all. We
knew the hills and the woods as well as the birds knew them; for
we were always roaming them when we
for on that occasion he quarreled with the Enemy, and intrepidly
threw his inkstand at him, and there, upon the wall of his study
was the black splotch where it struck and broke. The same was
claimed for Luther, but no one believed it, for he was a heretic and
liar. This was so, for the Pope himself said that Luther had lied
about it.
The priest that we all loved best and were sorriest for, was Father Peter. But the Bishop suspended him for talking around in conversation that God was all goodness and would find a way to save all
his poor human children. It was a horrible thing to say, but there
was never any absolute proof that Father Peter said it; and it was
out of character for him to say it, too, for he was always good and
gentle and truthful, and a good Catholic, and always teaching in
the pulpit just what the Church required, and nothing else. But
there it was, you see: he wasn't charged with saying it in the pulpit,
where all the congregation could hear and testify, but only outside,
in talk; and it is easy for enemies to manufacture that. Father Peter
denied it; but no matter, Father Adolf wanted his place, and he told
the Bishop, and swore to it, that he overheard Father Peter say it;
heard Father Peter say it to his niece, when Father Adolf was
behind the door listening-for he was suspicious of Father Peter's
soundness, he said, and the interests of religion required that he be
watched.
The niece, Marget, denied it, and implored the Bishop to believe
her and spare her old uncle from poverty and disgrace; but Father
Adolf had been poisoning the Bishop against the old man a long
time privately, and he wouldn't listen; for he had a deep admiration
of Father Adolf's bravery toward the Devil, and an awe of him on
account of his having met the Devil face to face; and so he was a
slave to Father Adolf's influence. He suspended Father Peter, indefinitely, though he wouldn't go so far as to excommunicate him
on the evidence of only one witness; and now Father Peter had
been out a couple of years, and Father Adolf had his flock.
Those had been hard years for the old priest and Marget. They
had been favorites, but of course that changed when they came
under the shadow of the Bishop's frown. Many of their friends fell
away entirely, and the rest became cool and distant. Marget was a
lovely girl of eighteen, when the trouble came, and she had the best
head in the village, and the most in it. She taught the spinet, and
earned all her clothes and pocket money by her own industry. But
her scholars fell off one by one, now; she was forgotten when there
were dances and parties among the youth of the village; the young
fellows stopped coming to the house, all except Wilhelm Meidling -and he could have been spared; she and her uncle were sad and
forlorn in their neglect and disgrace, and the sunshine was gone out
of their lives. Matters went worse and worse, all through the two
years. Clothes were wearing out, bread was harder and harder to
get. And now at last, the very end was come. Solomon Isaacs had
lent all the money he was willing to put on the house, and gave
notice that to-morrow he should foreclose.
Chapter 2
T1REE of us boys were always together, and had been so from
the cradle, being fond of each other from the beginning, and this
affection deepening as the years went on-Nikolaus Baumann, son
of the principal judge of the local court; Seppi Wohlmeyer, son of
the keeper of the principal inn, the "Golden Stag," which had a
nice garden, with shade trees, reaching down to the river-side, and
pleasure-boats for hire; and I was the third-Theodor Fischer, son
of the church organist, who was also leader of the village band,
teacher of the violin, composer, tax collector of the commune,
sexton, and in other ways a useful citizen and respected by all. We
knew the hills and the woods as well as the birds knew them; for
we were always roaming them when we
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