Though his table was always magnificently served, he himself was extremely temperate, both in food and drink. Indeed, his strong detestation of drunkenness forms a pleasant contrast to the opinions and practice of his courtiers and even of the great princes of the Empire. His moderation and healthy diet gave added strength to a frame which was naturally robust and untiring. He could endure with ease the extremes of heat and cold, prolonged journeys and want of sleep, and even privations in food and drink. His strong constitution was united to a pleasing countenance, which seldom failed to prepossess in his favour. A prominent nose and well-defined features, together with the lightning glances of his eye, imparted to him a searching look, which seemed to pierce through men and read their very souls. Withal, he was fully endowed with that genial and gracious manner which veils its condescension under a mingling of good humour and perfect tactfulness. In conversation he exercised a fascination which was not without its effect even upon his sternest opponents; while the whole-hearted and friendly spirit with which he threw himself into the amusements and sports of the common people won for him an even wider respect and love than his passion for the chase and his intimate relations with the Tyrolese mountaineers. He frequently took his place in a village dance, or competed with the peasants in their shooting matches; and he recommended the chase to his descendants not merely for those delights which none knew better than himself, but also because of the opportunities which it offered to princes of coming into contact with their subjects, of learning their wishes and helping them in their difficulties. His fresh joyous nature showed itself in a thousand little touches, but perhaps in none more vividly than in his ardent love of music and in the delight which he took in the presence of singing-birds in the palace of Innsbruck. Thus whether fraternizing with the peasants of his beloved Tyrol, clad in a hunting suit of simple grey, or affably conversing with the burghers and ladies of Frankfort or Augsburg, he awoke in all hearts an involuntary feeling of admiration.
Before all, Maximilian was a German of the Germans. As he was the last representative of the dying mediaeval chivalry, and the last monarch of the ancient German stamp, so also he was the first German patriot-king of modern times; and herein lies the secret of the love and admiration which his contemporaries poured so fully upon him. The proud and royal motto to which he gave utterance, "My honour is German honour, and German honour mine," graphically reminds us that he identified himself with the joys and sorrows, the glories and the failures of the German race. It is neglect of this fact, and want of sympathy with German thought and ideals, that are responsible for the indiscriminating criticisms of several modern historians—criticisms which would often be bestowed with greater justice upon the constitution of the Empire than upon the Emperor himself. And the motto has been realized in a further sense. For the feeling of Germany, turning from the weaknesses and failures which mar the fullness of Maximilian's glory, has reciprocated the loyalty which he expressed towards his people, and has elevated the chivalrous Emperor into one of the national heroes, worthy to rank with Hermann and Barbarossa. For Maximilian, in no uncertain sense, personified the dreams, the aspirations, the strugglings of the Fatherland. The nation, chastened and revivified by a new birth of patriotism, sought an object on whom to fix its affections and its hopes. It turned naturally to the Emperor, the heir of so many splendid traditions, and it was met on his side by the ardent devotion of a whole lifetime. In a word, he and his people had realized—incompletely it may be, yet in a very genuine sense—the true relations of a monarch and his subjects, and, linked to one another by ties of mutual sympathy, handed down the happy tradition as an example to their remote posterity. "Kaiser Max" (as his people fondly called him) was not a great man, in the strictest sense of the word; yet all lovers of large-hearted and human characters must ever treasure his memory in their hearts.
And here let us take our leave of Maximilian, in the kindly words of a contemporary—
Du hattest wenig ru in dysem leben,
Darumb dir Got yetz ewig freud hat geben.
Here upon earth small rest to thee was given,
Now God hath granted thee the joy of Heaven.
[[138]] Archivio Storico Ital. vii. 2. 763, quoted Ulmann, i. 196.
[[139]] Opere iv. 174. See also dissertation by Rösemeier, Machiavelli's Erste Legation zum K. Maximilian I., mid seine drei Schriften über Deutschland. In the main, Machiavelli blames Maximilian, 1st, for his openhandedness; and, as undecided, credulous, and all the more dependent on others, in that he tries not to be. But he qualifies his strictures by saying, "the Emperor is a great general; he bears fatigue like the most hardened soldiers; he is brave in danger and just in governing. When he grants an audience, he is patient and gracious, and is a pattern of many princely virtues." Vettori is not quite so severe—"none can deny," he says, "that he (Max) is wise and circumspect, skilful and untiring in war, and widely experienced. He possesses the confidence of the nation more than any of his predecessors for more than a hundred years; but he is so amiable and kind-hearted, that it makes him yielding and credulous"—quoted Janssen, i. 595. Ludovico Ticiano is less critical when he declares, that "on no general can the soldier rely more implicitly, from none can he expect more boldness in the courting of perils and more skill in meeting them; nor can the burgher wish for any juster or milder prince, or one in whom justness and mildness are so equally poised"—quoted Geiger, p. 346.
[[140]] See Ulmann, i. 200.
[[141]] Despatch of Cornero to Venice, 1508—quoted Huber, iii. 328.
[[142]] Albèri, Relazioni degli Ambasciatori Veneti, Serie I., vi. 27.