Count Ulrich of Lindburg: A Tale of the Reformation in Germany

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Nine.

It was at the eventful period described in the last chapter that the Count von Lindburg was first introduced to the reader, leaning on his elbow, with a book before him, in his turret-chamber. He had great cause for thoughtfulness. Eric and Albert had gone to Wittemburg. Ava and Beatrice had continued earnestly labouring among the surrounding peasantry, and the minds of the poor people had been awakened by Albert’s sermons with great success; Dame Margaret and Laneta continued wavering; and Father Nicholas, though he did not openly oppose the Gospel, persevered in all his old practices, and remained ready to take the winning side. Public events were one cause of the Knight’s anxiety, and, besides, it was rumoured that insurgents were appearing in his neighbourhood, threatening to attack his, among other surrounding castles. It would be wrong to deny that the Reformation was not in a certain degree connected with the rebellion of the peasants, but in this manner: the liberty which the Gospel demands for all men when the spirit of that Gospel is received into their hearts, makes them ready to submit to rulers and endure persecutions patiently; but when, though men know its truths, their hearts have not been regenerated, they being aware of their rights as men appeal to the sword to obtain them.

Certain fanatics, also, had appeared, who, though professing to found their doctrines on the Bible, were greatly opposed to the principles of the Gospel. The most notorious of these was Thomas Munzer, pastor of Alstadt, in Thuringia; another was John Muller, of Bulgenbach, in the Black Forest, the inhabitants of which he rallied round him, and raised the standard of rebellion. Here the insurrection began. On the 19th of July, 1524, some Thurgovian peasants rose against the Abbot of Reichenau, who would not accord them an evangelical preacher. Ere long thousands were collected round the small town of Tengen, to liberate an ecclesiastic who was there imprisoned. The revolt spread rapidly, from Swabia as far as the Rhenish Provinces, Franconia, Thuringia, and Saxony. At Weinsberg, Count Louis, of Holfenstein, and seventy men under his orders, were condemned to death by the rebels. A body of peasants drew up with their pikes lowered, whilst others drove the Count and his soldiers against this wall of steel. At the approach of the peasants, the cities that were unable to resist them opened their gates and joined them. Wherever they appeared they pulled down the images and broke the crucifixes. Many nobles, some through fear and others from ambition, joined them.

In vain Luther wrote to them, “Rebellion never produces the amelioration we desire, and God condemns it. What is it to rebel if it be not to avenge one’s self? The devil is striving to excite to revolt those who embrace the Gospel, in order to cover it with opprobrium; but those who have rightly understood my doctrine do not revolt.”

At length the princes threw off their lethargy; the imperial forces marched to encounter the peasants, and defeated them in every direction. The nobles were soon victorious, and retaliated with most terrible severity on the misguided men. The peasants were hung up by hundreds at the roadside, the eyes of numbers were put out, and some were burnt alive, and in all parts of the country the Romish style of worship was re-established. Still the rebellion was far from being stamped out, and large bodies of insurgents were in arms in different parts of the country besides those in the neighbourhood of the Castle of Lindburg. The Knight had done his best to put his Castle in a state of defence, and his own tenantry promised to come in and fight to the last gasp should it be attacked. Ava and Beatrice, notwithstanding the state of things, went about the country as before, fearless of danger. “We are doing our duty,” they answered, when Dame Margaret expostulated with them; “we are carrying out the work to which we devoted our lives, in helping our suffering fellow-creatures, in making known the love of God through His dear Son, and He will protect us.”

The Knight, as I have said, having done all that a man could do, sat down in his study, to quiet his mind by reading. He found it, however, a difficult task. Even when he managed to keep his eyes on the page, his mind let them labour alone, and refused to take in the matter they attempted to convey. It was a positive relief when he heard a horse’s hoofs clattering into the court-yard. He hurried down to hear the news brought by the horseman. It was truly alarming. The scout who had been sent out by the Knight to gain information, stated that a body of some thousand men were advancing, threatening to destroy all the Castles in the district, and that Lindburg was the first on their line of march. Not a moment was to be lost. He instantly sent out messengers, some to summon his retainers, and others to bring in provisions. The drawbridge was raised, the gates secured. Dame Margaret and Laneta were greatly alarmed. Father Nicholas, who had arrived with all the ornaments of the Church, and as much as his mule could carry, urged the ladies, and all he could get to listen to him, to invoke the protection of the saints. “These new-fangled doctrines brought about all these disorders; ergo, you must go back to the old system to avert them, if it is not already too late.”

The Knight advised him to talk sense or keep silence, but the time was opportune, he thought.

“Religion must be supported,” he answered, meaning the Romish system, “or we shall be undone.”

From the top of the watch-tower a cloud of dust was seen rising. It was caused by the insurgent peasants, horse and foot, approaching.

“Poor people, they have many real causes of complaint. I wish they had remained quiet, for their own sake, and allowed the law to right them,” observed the Knight.