After having gone up the Rhine as far as Mayence, I took the coach to Spires.
In June 1549 King Philip, the emperor's son, came to Spires with a numerous suite. His father had appointed the cardinal of Trent, a Seigneur de Madrutz, as his marshal. The king was then about twenty-two years of age, my junior by seven. His far from intellectual face gave little hope of his equalling his father one day. The Elector of Heidelberg, the other counts palatine, the ecclesiastical electors, all of them in their state carriages, attended on him when he went to church. Well, I often saw his father under similar circumstances. When he came out of his apartments and mounted his horse in the courtyard, where princes and electors already in the saddle awaited him, he was the first to take his hat off. If it happened to rain, so much the worse. He remained bare-headed, and was not the less affable either in speech or gesture. He held out his hand to everybody, and did the same when he came back. When, at the foot of the staircase, he turned out, faced his escort, took off his hat, and bade them farewell in a gracious manner.
King Philip, on the contrary, was most exacting with the electors and the princes, though many of them were old men. While the latter dismounted at the door of the church, Philip went in without troubling about them, making signs behind his back with his hands for them to march by his side, but they merely followed him. After the service they accompanied the king back to the palace. He jumped down, and went up the stairs without a look or a word of farewell. His marshal had, nevertheless, told him that there was a great difference between Spanish and German princes. As a proof of this, he quoted to him the paternal example, as typified by the consideration shown to the German nobles by the emperor, but Philip answered: "Between myself and my father, the difference is as great, for he is only the son of a king; I am the son of an emperor." After having officially made their appearance, the princes promptly left for their own States. Philip spent a few more days hunting and going about, his suite being reduced to fourteen or twelve horses, and then the Duke of Aarschot came for him, by order of the emperor, to take him with a magnificent escort to Brussels.
Notwithstanding my constant reminders to them of the mortal danger of delay, the Stettin authorities were terribly slow in sending me the most indispensable documents for the serious lawsuit against the town of Stolpe. As some people, moreover, were attempting to discredit me with Duke Barnim, I wrote to Chancellor Falck, who answered me: "You do not deserve the slightest reproach. All the neglect is on this side; but, in truth, the whole of your letter is so much Arabic to me, because I have not the faintest idea of the lawsuit itself." That is how things are managed at courts.
On the banks of the Rhine it is the custom to organize at twelfth night a complete court--king, marshal, steward, cup-bearer, etc. As a matter of course, the court fool is indispensable. The charges are drawn for by lot; each pays part of the expenses; alone the fool is exempt. In 1550 there gathered round our table a young baron from the Low Countries, a bright young fellow, with considerable experience of the world, also several persons of consideration who were detained at Spires by their law business. It fell to my lot to be king, with the baron for my marshal. As for the fool, chance had picked out our host, the priest, and nature seemed really to have created him for the part. In my capacity of king I had a many-coloured hooded cloak of English linen made for him. When we had visitors, and, thanks to the gay baron, this happened frequently, our host put on his cloak and took our guests to task. We shook with laughter, but he himself fared very well by it, for his buffoonery brought him many silver and even gold pieces. He bought himself silver bells for his cap, and his cloak became spangled with gold and silver coins.
This went on until "kingdom" time, which is celebrated one Sunday evening between twelfth night and Shrovetide. There are three or four kingdoms each Sunday, and the masked people of both sexes go from one gathering to another in fancy dress and accompanied by musicians. They have the right of three dances with those who give the entertainments. All this afforded capital opportunities for every kind of dissipation and debauch. One evening, for instance, it happened that a husband and his wife, after having danced together, divided for the second dance and came together for the third, without, however, recognizing each other. Side by side they went to another house, and having understood each other's desires by the pressure of their hands, they indulged their sudden fancy on their way in the penumbra of a clothworker's shop in the market place, and never did the hallowed joys of matrimony taste like the forbidden fruit of infidelity; at any rate, so each imagined. Being anxious to know who was his partner, the swain cut a snippet from her dress and, moreover, made her a present of a gold piece, then both joined the rest of the company. The husband was a chamois-leather dresser, and next morning some one came to buy a skin, and tendered a large coin. As he had no change himself, he took his wife's satchel and found the golden piece, which he recognized at once. When the customer was gone, the dame had to show the gown she wore on the previous evening, the husband confronted her with the abstracted piece of stuff. Denial was impossible, but the one happened to be as guilty as the other.
We gave our fool ample opportunity to adorn his dress. At the carnival he made himself conspicuous by many pleasant quips and pranks; the marshal also did wonders, standing erect before his Majesty, and zealously attending upon him by bringing up the dishes, carving the viands, and cleaning the table with many genuflections and kissing of hands. The king paid very dearly for his three or four hours' reign.
Our host was a careless, irresponsible creature, more fit for the life of camps or of courts than for the priesthood; a gambler, a rogue, a boaster, a drunkard, a brawler, and an adept at jesting and practical joking. He did not care whether his boarders were papists or evangelicals. He was one of the three who celebrated early mass at the cathedral. His young boarders, the graduates, were fond of cards, and clever gamblers. They thought that a seasoned gamester like their host must necessarily be a valuable adviser, so they spent their night round the board. About three in the morning their landlord cried: "Brothers, don't you move; I am going to say mass. But it will be short and sweet; just long enough to blow the dust off the altar, and I'll be back." And he was as good as his word.
It was a custom to place, during the night of Good Friday, a crucifix in one of the lateral chapels, and the three priests who said early mass were deputed to watch over it. Long files of matrons prostrated themselves, face downward, and deposited their offerings. On one occasion, towards three in the morning, the reverend guardians who no longer expected contributors, divided the receipts and began to gamble. Thanks to his long practice, our host won every penny to the annoyance of his colleagues. A quarrel ensued at the foot of the cross, followed by blows; our man being the strongest, the victory and the money remained with him.
In "Rogation Week" the clergy in their richest vestments, and carrying crosses, banners, and relics, perambulate the fields, followed by crowds of men and women. A young priest, thinking this a propitious time for an assignation, left the procession, and disappeared among the standing corn, whither a young damsel went after him. Two workmen, though, had noticed the manoeuvre; they watched for the opportune moment, surprised the couple, and only left the "black beetle" after having stripped him of his gown and surplice, both which "proofs positive" they brought to the dean of the chapter.