Don't even youth return
To Swabia's land so dear?
J. Schwab.
The reader will have learned from the introductory preface the state of affairs. Duke Ulerich of Würtemberg had brought upon himself the bitter hatred of the Swabian League, by the obstinacy with which he braved so many confederated princes and knights, by the furious expression of his rage and threats of revenge, by the boldness with which he alone bid them defiance, and last of all by the sudden military occupation of the imperial town of Reutlingen. These were some of the principal circumstances which led to the rupture. Others of a more private nature fostered the bloody thoughts and thirst for revenge and plunder of those who made a plea of individual insult the cause of uniting their banners, for the downfall of the Duke and the partition of his possessions.
The principal officers of the Swabian League were the Duke of Bavaria, whose object was to procure satisfaction for the ill treatment of his sister Sabina, Ulerich's wife--the knights of the Huttens to revenge the supposed murder of the cousin of their ancestor--Dieterich von Spät and his companions to wash out the disgrace of family insult in Würtemberg's misfortunes--and to these were added the authorities of the towns and boroughs, who desired to recover Reutlingen again from the occupation of Duke Ulerich's troops. They headed the pompous entry into Ulm we have described in the foregoing pages, and arrived on the same day from Augsburg, where they had assembled. War was therefore now inevitable, for it was not to be supposed that they would propose terms of peace to the Duke, after having proceeded thus far.
But of a much more peaceable and cheerful cast were the ideas of Albert von Sturmfeder, that "courteous, polite cavalier," who had so highly awaken Marie's curiosity, and whose unexpected appearance had coloured the cheeks of Bertha with so deep a red. He scarcely knew himself how he came to take part in this campaign; for though he was acquainted with the use of arms, yet he had not been trained to them. Sprung from a poor but not obscure family of Franconia, he became an orphan at an early age, and was brought up by his father's brother. A learned education began even in those days to be considered an ornament to the nobility, and his uncle, therefore, chose the path of literature for him. It is not mentioned whether he made much progress in learning in the university of Tübingen, then in its infancy; thus much, however, is known, that he took a warmer interest in the daughter of the knight of Lichtenstein, who lived with her aunt in that town of the Muses, than in the lectures of the most celebrated doctors. It is also related that she resisted with pertinacious determination the different attacks with which many a young student assailed her heart. But although all kinds of manœuvres to conquer a hard heart were well understood in those days, (for the youth of ancient Tübingen had, perhaps, studied their Ovid better than those of the present), neither nocturnal love-complaints, nor yet furious encounters between rivals to gain possession of her, could soften the maiden's apparent obduracy. One only succeeded in winning this heart, and that one was Albert. The lovers, indeed, divulged to no one when and where the first ray of tender feeling dawned in their hearts, and far be it from us to wish to penetrate the veil of mystery of first love, or even to relate things which we cannot substantiate; we can nevertheless assert this much, that they had already reached to that degree of love, when true lovers swear eternal fidelity, amidst the interruptions of external circumstances, and which, in the painful hour of separation, proved their only consolation. Her much-loved aunt having died, the knight of Lichtenstein sent for his daughter to Ulm, for the purpose of finishing her education there, under the roof of a married sister. Bertha's nurse, old Rosel, remarked that the burning tears which she shed, and the longing eyes with which Bertha over and over again looked back as they left the town, could not have been given alone to the hilly country to which she was bidding adieu.
Shortly after Bertha's departure, Albert received a communication from his uncle, in which the question was put to him, whether after four years' study he was not now learned enough? He readily complied with this hint, and, without a moment's hesitation, prepared to quit the university; for since Bertha's absence, the lectures of the learned doctors, and even the charming valley of the Neckar, were become hateful to him.
The fresh air from the hills invigorated him with renewed force, as he rode through the gate of Tübingen towards his home, on a fine morning in February. In proportion as his bodily frame was braced by the freshness of the morning, so was his soul raised to that cheerful elevation of spirits so natural to his age. Youth vainly imagines itself capable, by its own powers, to bring about its most anxious wishes, and it is this reliance on self which inspires more confidence than assistance from others.
When Albert was left to his own thoughts as he paced his lonely way homewards, the contemplation of his future prospects were wrapped in mysterious uncertainty, which led his mind to compare his present position with the clear lake which reflects on its surface the cheerful objects rising around its banks, but veils the treacherous depth of its waters by its bright colours.
Such was the feeling of Albert von Sturmfeder as he rode through the beechwood forest towards his home. This road did not, indeed, lead him nearer to his beloved; neither could he properly call anything his own besides the horse which he bestrode, and the ruined castle of his ancestors. Upon this castle there was a popular joke, which ran thus:--