Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg Castle

Transcriber's notes:
Transcriber's Note: Page scan source: http://www.archive.org/details/klytiastoryofhei00hausuoft
At a time when in our fatherland a cold raw wind made its presence felt, and the sharp frost at night checked the growth of the early bud, the Rhine valley between the Bergstrasse and Hardtgebirge had revelled for many weeks in the timely spring, the especial privilege of this garden of Germany. Even three hundred years ago at the time of our narrative the Neckar valley shimmered with the white and red blossoms of the various fruit-trees and yellow fields of rape, as if spring had wished to see how an illumination looked by day. The Jettenbühl above Heidelberg which to-day resembles a green velvet pillow, on which the ruins of the castle stand out like an offering to some Deity, was at that date but a bare glacis, surmounted by massive turrets and angular fortresses, the palace of the Kurfürsts of the Palatinate looming out severe and threatening over the smiling valley of Heidelberg, as does at the present time the gloomy residence of the Popes over Avignon, or the menacing Ehrenbreitstein over the green Rhine. Between the octagonal belfry and the thick Tower of which at the present time only the inner walls are visible, the gorgeous palaces of Frederic IV. and Frederic V. did not exist, but on the right the peaky gables of the Chapel and of the roof of the old castle reared above the scarped fortress wall; the new court, erected by Frederic II., was built against the octagonal tower.
In the low but spacious halls of the building which by its mixture of the Gothic and Renaissance schools recalls to the memory the Flemish architecture of the period, a numerous throng crowded together seeking an audience of the Kurfürst, in the latter part of a spring afternoon of the year 1570. Before the door of the Prince stood the portly court-servant Bachmann, attired in the resplendent livery of a Heiduck of the Pfalz, his jovial expression forming a pleasing contrast to the grim heraldic lions ornamenting his breast. Solemnly did he call out the names of those to whom an audience was granted. Huguenots from France begging for aid. Theologians warmly recommended to the notice of the Kurfürst, wandering Scots eager for service, Italian artists who had obtained commissions were received in order, and dismissed. Finally, there remained but two couples, widely differing in appearance, representatives of the two classes which everywhere throng the ante-chambers of sovereigns, resembling in their demeanour Grief and Hope.