The emperor, on the contrary, far from giving the smallest banquet, kept nobody near him; neither his sister, nor his brother, nor his nieces, nor the Duchess of Bavaria, nor the electors, nor any of the princes. After church, when he reached his apartments, he dismissed his courtiers, giving his hand to everybody. He had his meals by himself, without speaking a word to his attendants. One day, returning from church, he noticed the absence of Carlowitz. "Ubi est noster Carlovitius?" he asked of Duke Maurice. "Most gracious emperor," replied the latter, "he feels somewhat feeble." Immediately the emperor turned to his physician. "Vesalius, gy zult naar Carlowitz gaan, die zal iets wat ziek zyn, ziet dat gy hem helpt." (Anglicé, "You had better go and see Carlowitz. He is not well; you may be able to do something for him.")
I have often been present (at Spires, at Worms, at Augsburg, and at Brussels) at the emperor's dinner. He never invited his brother, the king. Young princes and counts served the repast. There were invariably four courses, consisting altogether of six dishes. After having placed the dishes on the table, these pages took the covers off. The emperor shook his head when he did not care for the particular dish; he bowed his head when it suited, and then drew it towards him. Enormous pasties, large pieces of game, and the most succulent dishes were carried away, while his Majesty ate a piece of roast, a slice of a calf's head, or something analogous. He had no one to carve for him; in fact, he made but a sparing use of the knife. He began by cutting his bread in pieces large enough for one mouthful, then attacked his dish. He stuck his knife anywhere, and often used his fingers while he held the plate under his chin with the other hand. He ate so naturally, and at the same time so cleanly, that it was a pleasure to watch him. When he felt thirsty, he only drank three draughts; he made a sign to the doctores medicinae standing by the table; thereupon they went to the sideboard for two silver flagons, and filled a crystal goblet which held about a measure and a half. The emperor drained it to the last drop, practically at one draught, though he took breath two or three times. He did, however, not utter a syllable, albeit that the jesters behind him were amusing. Now and again there was a faint smile at some more than ordinarily clever passage between them. He paid not the slightest attention to the crowd that came to watch the monarch eat. The numerous singers and musicians he kept performed in church, and never in his apartment. The dinner lasted less than an hour, at the termination of which, tables, seats, and everything else were removed, there remaining nothing but the four walls hung with magnificent tapestry. After grace they handed the emperor the quills of feathers wherewith to clean his teeth. He washed his hands and took his seat in one of the window recesses. There, everybody could go up and speak to him, or hand a petition, and argue a question. The emperor decided there and then. The future emperor Maximilian was more assiduously by the side of the emperor than by that of his father.
Duke Maurice soon made acquaintance with the Bavarian ladies, and at his own quarters melancholy found no place, for he lodged with a doctor of medicine who was the father of a girl named Jacqueline, a handsome creature if ever there was one. She and the duke bathed together and played cards every day with Margrave Albrecht.[[52]] One day, the latter, thinking he was going to have the best of the game, ventured several crowns. "Very well," answered the damsel; "equal stakes. Mine against yours." "Put down your money," retorted the margrave, "and the better player wins." All this in plain and good German, while Jacqueline gave him her most charming smile. Such was their daily mode of life. The town gossiped about it, but the devil himself was bursting with pleasure.
Clerics or laymen, every one among those notable personages did as he pleased. I myself have seen young Margrave Albrecht, as well as other young princes, drinking and playing "truc" with certain bishops of their own age, but of inferior birth.[[53]] At such moments they made very light of titles. The margrave cried abruptly; "Your turn, priest. I'll wager your stroke isn't worth a jot." The bishop was often still more coarse, inviting his opponent to accompany him outside to perform a natural want. The young princes squatted down by the side of the noblest dames on the floor itself, for there were neither forms nor chairs; merely a magnificent carpet in the middle of the room, exceedingly comfortable to stretch one's self at full length upon. One may easily imagine the kissing and cuddling that was going on.[[54]]
Both princes and princesses spent their incomes in banquets of unparalleled splendour. They arrived with their money caskets full to overflowing, but in a little while they were compelled to take many a humiliating step in order to obtain loans; the rates were ruinous, but anything, rather than leave Augsburg defeated and humbled in their love of display. Several sovereigns, among others the Duke of Bavaria, had received from their subjects thousands of dollars as "play money." They lost every penny of it.
Our ambassadors lived very retired. They neither invited nor were invited; nevertheless, when a visitor came, they were bound to offer a collation, and to amuse their guests. One day they entertained Jacob Sturm of Strasburg.[[55]] During dinner the conversation turned on Cammin. Sturm gave us the history of that bishopric, of its foundation, of its expansion. Then he told us of the ancient prerogatives of the Dukes of Pomerania; of the negotiations set on foot seven years before at the diet of Ratisbon. In short, it was as lucid, as complete, and as accurate a summary of the subject as if he had just finished studying it. Our counsellors greatly admired his wonderful memory. Verily, he was a superior, experienced, eloquent, and prudent man, who had had his share in many memorable days from an Imperial as well as from a provincial view; for, in spite of his heresy, the emperor had at various times entrusted him with important missions. Without him, Sleidan could have never written his History. He avows it frankly, and renders homage to Sturm in many passages of his Commentaries. Nobody throughout the empire realized to the same degree as he the motto: "Usus me genuit, mater me peperit memoria." A person of note having asked him if the towns of the League of Schmalkalden were all at peace with the emperor, he answered: "Constantia tantum desideratur."[[56]] It would be impossible better to express both the isolation of Constance and the mistake to which the Protestants owed their reverses. Should my children have a desire to know what Sturm was like facially, they will only have to look at my portrait, which bears such a remarkable resemblance to him as to have baffled Apelles to improve upon it.[[57]] Our ambassadors also received the visits of Musculus and Lepusculus, but each came by himself. The moment for serious debate had struck, for the Interim was being gradually drawn up. The time for jesting had gone by; the only thing to do was to get at the root of matters.[[58]]
I sometimes brought my countryman, friend, and co-temporary Valerius Krakow home with me. He was secretary to Carlowitz, and, excluded as they were from all negotiations, our counsellors were glad to learn from his lips what was being plotted. During the campaign he had not stirred from the side of Carlowitz, who, in reward for his services, had got him into the chancellerie of Prince Maurice. Another countryman of mine who came to see us was the traban Simon Plate, one of my old acquaintances, for we had pursued our studies together more or less usefully at Greifswald, under George Normann. The counsellors did not care for him, for he was of no earthly use to them. The trabans had some respectable, honest, well set-up and plucky fellows in their ranks, and enjoyed a certain amount of consideration. The emperor was particular about their dress; they wore black velvet doublets, cloaks with large bands of velvet, and the Spanish head-dress of the same material.
Plate was never tired of praising his fellow-soldier sleeping next to him, and the ambassadors gave him leave to bring his friend. He wore a most beautiful golden chain. Plate had not exaggerated. Finally he even took umbrage at the favour shown to the new comer, so that one day he exclaimed: "No doubt he is very upright and honest. He has shown his courage, consequently he pleases the emperor. It is a pity, though, that he is not a gentleman by birth." The remark, I am bound to say, displeased our ambassadors greatly, and above all Chancellor Citzewitz; but let my children look to it. I have heard many Pomeranian nobles hold the same language. According to them, intelligence, sound judgment and ability were the exclusive appanage of birth.
Plate showed himself in a better light on another occasion. Our counsellors had received several visits, and some flagons had been joyously emptied. When our guests were gone, Moritz Damis, captain of Ukermünde, a rollicking, lively creature, suddenly took a fancy to go to the court ball which was taking place that evening, not in the apartments of the emperor, but in those of his sister and niece, who likewise occupied the Fugger mansion in the wine market. His colleagues, who had not forgotten the emperor's threat to the landgrave, "I'll teach you to laugh," were afraid of a scandal, and pointed out that our princes were in disgrace; but Damitz got angry. "Our princes will give me money, but they cannot give me health," he exclaimed. "What am I doing here? Why should I deny myself the sight of such rejoicings? How am I to keep alive? I may as well make up my mind never to cast eyes on Pomerania again." Saying which, he rushed down the stairs; a counsellor tried to hold him back by his golden chain, the links of which, however, broke, and our captain ran to the ball.
Simon Plate had remained perfectly cool, and they asked him to follow the madcap. There was no difficulty for Plate to get inside the ball-room, and the first person of note of whom he caught sight was the puissant and renowned warrior-chief, Johannes Walther von Hirnheim,[[59]] moodily walking to and fro at the lower end of the room. Damitz had noticed standing close by the dancers a handsome woman gorgeously dressed and glittering with jewels, and in less time than it takes to tell he had addressed her: "Charming creature," he said, "are you not going to dance?" "Oh no, sir," was the answer; "dancing is only fit for young people, and I am an old woman." "What, are you married?" asked the captain. "I could have sworn that you were only a girl, and if I were told to choose with the most beautiful woman here, my choice would fall upon you." "Ah, sir, you are merely jesting." "And what is your husband's name?" the captain went on unabashed. "Johannes Walther von Hirnheim." "Johannes Walther? Oh, I know him well." The husband, somewhat curious with regard to the captain's conversation, had drawn near, though still continuing to walk up and down in silence. Damitz, though, taking no notice of either him or Simon Plate, continued his interrogatory. "Have you any children?" "No; God has ordained it otherwise." "Ah, if I had such a wife, I know what I am. God would soon grant us children." This incursion of the captain into the physical domain induced Simon Plate to interfere, to turn the conversation, and to take Damitz back to his domicile.