To day 'tis present, and to-morrow----where?
Schiller.
The path which the most celebrated novelists of our days generally tread, in their relation of events of ancient and modern times, may be found without the aid of any beacon, and has a direct and fixed limit:--it is the journey of a hero going to a wedding. Let the road be ever so rugged, let him even venture to loiter his time improvidently and inconsistently on his way, he will be induced in the end to hasten his steps so much more rapidly to redeem the lost ground; and so, when an author has at length conducted his reader to the bridal chamber, after having made his hero undergo all the necessary fatigues of his journey with becoming fortitude and resolution, he shuts the door in your face, and closes the book. We might in the same way have ended our story with the gay doings in the castle of Stuttgardt, or included the reader in the torchlight procession of the bridegroom, and conducted him out of our book; but the higher claims of truth and history, together with the interest we have taken in some of the leading characters, compel us to request the reader's patience to accompany us a few steps further, beyond the limit of the bridal-chamber. He will have to bewail with us the destiny of one, who, having begun his career in the midst of misfortune, progressively advanced towards the completion of his best wishes by the energy of his noble mind, until at length his impetuous spirit hurled him again into the depths of misery. His headstrong obstinacy had well nigh involved all his friends in his own sad fate: one alone of them, whose sense of gratitude had indissolubly attached him to the fortunes of his benefactor, preferred rather to risk his life in his service than to desert him in the hour of distress.
Nature's warning voice, which teaches us to be prepared against a reverse of fortune in our happiest days, runs through the world's history. It is acknowledged by the many, unheeded by the majority, and followed by the few. In all times a troubled spirit has pervaded the habitations of our earth; and, though its influence has been often felt, man has vainly thought to deaden it in the noise of mirth. Ulerich von Würtemberg had heard this warning voice many a night, when he lay on his couch sleepless from a troubled mind. Often times he had started up, thinking he heard the noise of armed men, or the heavy tread of an army approaching nearer and nearer the spot; and, though he convinced himself it was but the night breeze playing through the towers of his castle, a fearful impression still haunted his mind, that his fate was destined to some other awful change. The warnings of his old and tried friend Lichtenstein would often whisper its voice to his mind; in vain he sought to smother it by calling to his aid the artful advice of his chancellor, by which he tried to palliate his own conduct and quiet his conscience. But that faithful monitor upbraided him with having acted without due circumspection and caution since his return to his capital. His enemies, it was well known, had re-assembled a powerful force, with which they threatened the country, and were approaching into the heart of Würtemberg. The imperial town of Esslingen presented itself as a very favourable starting point for their undertakings; being but a short distance from the capital, nearly in the centre of the country: as soon, therefore, as the army of the League could open its communication with it, it became a formidable stronghold, to favour and cover their incursions into Würtemberg. The country people in many places received the Leaguists favourably, for the Duke, by his new regulations, which he had made them swear to, had rendered them distrustful of his intentions. The Würtembergers, from time immemorial, being attached to ancient customs and privileges, handed down through successive generations, regard their old laws and ordinances as so many golden words, though they may scarcely understand their import, or seldom consider whether some reform would not be advantageous.
The peaceable character of the peasant, generally so universal throughout the country, fostered by the tranquil occupations of domestic and agricultural affairs, would lead to a supposition that political strifes were subjects indifferent to their minds; but it was far otherwise: on the occasion of any change or reform in the usages of their ancient laws and customs, which interfered with their ideas of government, they manifested an obstinate caprice, with an ardour and enthusiasm quite out of keeping, and foreign to their ordinary inoffensive dispositions.
The Duke had experienced this love of old institutions in his people, when he some few years back, by the advice of his council, for the purpose of bettering his finances, made an alteration in the public weights and measures. An organised insurrection of peasants, entitled, "The League of Poor Conrad," had made him reflect, and caused the Tübingen compact, which restored the old law, to be introduced. This feeling of attachment to long standing habits was also manifested towards him personally in a very touching manner, when the League entered the country with the intention of expelling the head of the ancient house of their prince. Their fathers and grandfathers having lived under the sway of the Dukes and Counts of Würtemberg, they were filled with dismay and consternation, when a foreign army entered their country to deprive them of their hereditary prince. Their hatred and revenge was excited against the League and their governors; and, though they were compelled by force to submit to their rule, they proved their love to their Lord in many instances of violence towards his enemies.
When their hereditary prince, therefore, a Würtemberger, first returned from exile, the people flocked around him, under the impression that affairs would go on as heretofore. Under his sway they were willing to pay the taxes, to redeem all the state debts, and perform the service done in soccage. There was no murmuring about hard treatment, provided it was done according to ancient usage, and by their legitimate master. But now, the old laws having been expunged by the new oath of fidelity to which they were called upon to swear, the taxes being no longer levied according to old custom, and the whole system being changed, it was no wonder that the people looked upon the Duke as a new master, foreign to their habits, and loudly demanded a return to former rights. They consequently lost all faith in him; not because his hand lay heavier upon them than heretofore; not because he required considerably more from their purses than formerly, but because they regarded the new order of things with a suspicious eye.
A prince, particularly when he lends his ear to such a man as Ambrosius Bolland, seldom learns the true tone of public opinion, and therefore cannot judge whether the measures which his council place before him have been wisely considered. In the present instance, however, the discontent of his people did not escape the penetrating eye of the Duke. He remarked, that he could no more depend upon them, in the event of an extreme difficulty, than he could upon the nobility of the country, who, since his return, had remained neutral spectators of the state of affairs.
He endeavoured to screen from public notice the uneasiness which these observations caused him; and for this purpose he assumed an extravagant tone of gaiety, which often succeeded to blind himself, and make him forget the precipice upon which he stood: and for the sake of instilling confidence into the people, and into the army which he had assembled in and about Stuttgardt, he determined to revenge himself with double interest upon the League, for the depredations they had committed in excursions from Esslingen. He beat and repulsed them indeed, and wasted their territory; but when he returned in victory from his expedition, he could not conceal from himself, that, considering his own slender resources, the fortune of war might go against him, when once the army of his enemies should be brought into the field. His apprehensions were soon verified; for the rapid advance of the League's troops towards the capital threatened the stability of Ulerich's present doubtful position. Upon the turn of a battle, which now seemed inevitable, depended his very existence.
Little or nothing was known in Stuttgardt of a summons which had been sent to the Duke from the League. The court lived in its usual round of gaiety; tranquillity and joy reigned in the town; when all of a sudden, on the 12th, of October, the lansquenets which the Duke had encamped near Cannstadt, a short distance from the capital, came into the town in confusion, with the intelligence that they had been driven in by a large force of the League. The inhabitants of Stuttgardt were now convinced that an important crisis was at hand; they conjectured that the Duke must long since have been aware of this threatening attack, for he immediately assembled his officers, drew in his troops, which were scattered about in quarters in the villages surrounding the capital, passed his army in review, amounting to upwards of ten thousand men, on the same evening; and in the night marched with a large body of infantry, to reinforce the posts which a division of the lansquenet still occupied between Esslingen and Cannstadt.