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nay, some say, were heard by the Elector himself: for example, That a man might have vengeance, if he could get nothing else; that an indigent, indignant fighting man, driven utterly desperate, would harry and destroy; would do this and also that, of a direful and dreadful nature. To which the Elector answered: "Don't burn the fishponds, at any rate; the poor fishes in their ponds!"—still farther angering Kunz. Kunz was then heard growling about “vengeance not on this unjust Elector's land and people, but on his flesh and blood;" in short, growing ever more intemperate, grim of humour, and violent of speech, Kunz was at last banished the country; ordered flatly to go about his business, and growl elsewhere. He went, with certain indigent followers of his, across into Bohemia; where, after groping about, he purchased an old castle, Isenburg the name of it; castle hanging somewhere on the western slopes of the Erzgebirge (Metal Mountains so-called), convenient for the Saxon frontier, and to be had cheap: this empty damp old castle of Isenburg Kunz bought; and lived there, in such humour as may be conceived. Revenge on this unjust Elector, and "not on his land and people, but on his flesh and blood," was now the one thought of Kunz.

Two Misnian squires, Mosen and Schönberg, former subalterns of his, I suppose, and equally disaffected as himself, were with him at Isenburg; besides these, whose connections and followers could assist with head or hand, there was in correspondence with him one Schwalbe, a Bohemian by birth, officiating now as cook (cook or scullion, I am uncertain which) in the electoral Castle itself at Altenburg; this Schwalbe, in the way of intelligence and help for plotting, was of course the most important of all. Intelligence enough from Schwalbe and his consorts; and schemes grounded thereon; first one scheme and then another in that hungry castle of Isenburg, we need not doubt. At length word came from Schwalbe, That on the 7th of July (1455) the Elector was to take a journey to Leipzig; Electress and two Princes (there were but two, still boys) to be left behind at Altenburg: whether anything could follow out of that? Most of the servants, Schwalbe added, were invited to a supper in the town, and would be absent drinking. Absent drinking; Princes left unguarded? Much can follow out of that! Wait for an opportunity till Doomsday, will there

ever come a better? Let this, in brief, be the basis of our grand scheme; and let all hands be busy upon it. Isenburg expects every man to do his duty !—Nor was Isenburg disappointed.

The venerable little Saxon town of Altenburg lies, among intricate woods and Metal-Mountain wildernesses, a good day's riding west from Isenburg: nevertheless, at the fit date, Isenburg has done its duty; and in spite of the intricacies and the hot weather, Kunz is on the ground in full readiness. Towards midnight, namely, on the 7th of July 1455, Kunz, with a party of thirty men, his two Misnian squires among them, wellmounted and armed, silently approaches the rendezvous under the Castle of Altenburg; softly announces himself, by whew of whistling, or some concerted signal, audible in the stillness of the ambrosial night. Cook Schwalbe is awake; Cook Schwalbe answers signal; flings him down a line, fixes his rope-ladders: Kunz, with his Misnian squires and a select few more, mounts aloft; leaving the rest below, to be vigilant, to seize the doors especially, when once we are masters of them from within.

Kunz, who had once been head chamberlain here, knows every room and passage of this royal Castle; probably his Misnians also know it, or a good deal of it, from of old. They first lock all the servants' doors; lock the Electress's door; walk then into the room where the two Princes sleep, in charge of their ancient governess, a feeble old lady, who can give no hindrance; they seize the two Princes, boys of twelve and fourteen; descend with them, by the great staircase, into the court of the Castle, successfully so far ;—or rather, not quite successfully, but with a mistake to mend. They find, when in the court of the Castle, that here indeed is Prince Ernst, the eldest boy, but that instead of Prince Albert we have brought his bedfellow, a young Count Barby, of no use to us. This was Mosen the Misnian's mistake; stupid Mosen! Kunz himself runs aloft again; finds now the real Albert, who had hid himself below the bed; descends with the real Albert. "To horse now, to horse, my men, without delay!" These noises had awakened the Electress; to what terrors and emotions we can fancy. Finding her door bolted, but learning gradually what is toward, she speaks or shrieks, from the window, a passionate prayer, in the name of earth and heaven, Not to take her chil

dren from her. "Whatsoever your demands are, I will see them granted, only leave my children !”—“Sorry we cannot, high Lady!" thought Kunz, and rode rapidly away; for all the Castle is now getting awake, and locks will not long keep every one imprisoned in his room.

Kunz, forth again into the ambrosial night, divides his party into two, one Prince with each; Kunz himself leading the one, Mosen to lead the other. They are to ride by two different roads towards Bohemia, that if one misluck, there may still be another to make terms. Kunz himself, with the little Albert he has got on hand (no time to change princes at present), takes the more northerly road; and both dive into the woods. Not a moment to be lost; for already the alarm-bell is out at Altenburg,—some servant having burst his door, and got clutch of it; the results of which will be manifold! Result first could not fail: The half-drunk servants, who are out at supper, come tumbling home; listen open-mouthed, then go tumbling back into the little town, and awaken its alarm-bell; which awakens, in the usual progression, all others whatsoever; so that Saxony at large, to the remotest village, from all its belfries, big and little, is ringing madly; and all day Kunz, at every thin place of the forest, hears a ding-dong of doom pronounced against him, and plunges deviously forward all the more intently.

A hot day, and a dreadful ride through boggy wastes and intricate mountain woods; with the alarm-bell, and shadow of the gallows, dogging one all the way. Here, however, we are now, within an hour of the Bohemian border ;-cheerily, my men, through these wild woods and hills! The young Prince, a boy of twelve, declares himself dying of thirst. Kunz, not without pity, not without anxiety on that head, bids his men ride on; all but himself and two squires shall ride on, get everything ready at Isenburg, whither we and his young Highness will soon follow. Kunz encourages the Prince; dismounts, he and his squires, to gather him some bilberries. Kunz is busy in that search,-when a black figure staggers-in upon the scene; a grimy Köhler, namely (Collier, Charcoal-burner), with a long poking-pole (what he calls schürbaum) in his hand : grimy Collier, just awakened from his after-dinner nap; somewhat astonished to find company in these solitudes. "How, what! Who is the young gentleman? What are my Herren pleased,

to be doing here?" inquired the Collier. " Pooh, a youth who has run away from his relations; who has fallen thirsty: do you know where bilberries are?—No?—Then why not walk on your way, my grim one?" The grim one has heard ringing o alarm-bells all day; is not quite in haste to go: Kunz, whirling round to make him go, is caught in the bushes by the spurs, falls flat on his face; the young Prince whispers eagerly, "I am Prince Albert, and am stolen!"-Whew-wew!-One of the squires aims a blow at the Prince, so it is said; perhaps it was at the Collier only: the Collier wards with his pokingpole, strikes fiercely with his poking-pole, fells down the squire, belabours Kunz himself. During which the Collier's dog lustily barks; and, behold, the Collier's Wife comes running on the scene, and with her shrieks brings a body of other colliers upon it: Kunz is evidently done!

He surrenders, with his squires and Prince; is led, by this black bodyguard, armed with axes, shovels, poking-poles, to the neighbouring monastery of Grünhain (Green Grove), and is there safe warded under lock-and-key. The afternoon of

July 8th, 1455; what a day for him and for others!—I remark, with certainty, that dusty riders, in rather unusual numbers, and of miscellaneous equipment, are also entering London City, far away, this very evening; a constitutional parliament having to take seat at Westminster, tomorrow, 9th July 1455, of all days and years, to settle what the battle of St. Albans, lately fought, will come to. For the rest, that the King of England has fallen imbecile, and his she-wolf of France is on flight; that probably York will be Protector again (till he lose his head),—and that the troubles of mankind are not limited to Saxony and its Metal Mountains, but that the Devil everywhere is busy, as usual!-This consideration will serve at least to date the affair of Kunz for us, and shall therefore stand unerased.

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From Grünhain Monastery the Electress, gladdest of Saxon mothers, gets back her younger boy to Altenburg, with hope of the other praised be heaven forever for it. And you, O Collier of a thousand! what is your wish, what is your want? -How dared you beard such a lion as that Kunz, you with your simple poking-pole, you Collier sent of heaven!"

2 Henry's History of Britain, vi. 108.

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dam, I drilled him soundly with my poking-pole (hab ihn weidlich getrillt);" at which they all laughed, and called the Collier der Triller, the Driller.

Meanwhile, Mosen the Misnian is also faring ill; with the alarm-bells all awake about him, and the country risen in hot chase. Six of his men have been caught; the rest are diving ever deeper into the thickets. In the end, they seek shelter in a cavern, stay there perdue for three days, not far from the castle of Steina, still within the Saxon border. Three days, while the debate of Westminster is prosperously proceeding, and imbecile Henry the Sixth takes his ease at Windsor,—these poor fellows lie quaking, hungry, in their cave; and dare not debate, except in whispers; very uncertain what the issue will be. The third day they hear from colliers or wandering woodmen, accidentally talking together in their neighbourhood, that Kunz is taken, tried, and most probably beheaded. Well-a-day! Well-a-day! Hereupon they open a correspondence with the nearest Amtmann, him of Zwickau : to the effect, That if free pardon is granted, they will at once restore Prince Ernst; if not, they will at once kill him. The Amtmann of Zwickau is thrown into excitement, it may well be supposed but what can the Amtmann or any official person do? Accede to their terms, since, as desperate men, they have the power of enforcing them. It is thought, had they even demanded Kunz's pardon, it must have been granted ; but they fancied Kunz already ended, and did not insist on this. Enough, on the 11th of the month, fourth day since the flight, third day in this hunger-cave of Steina, Prince Ernst was given up; and Mosen, Schönfels and Co., refreshed with food, fled swiftly, unharmed, and 'were never heard of more,' say my authorities.

Prince Ernst was received by his glad father at Chemnitz; soon carried to his glad mother and brother at Altenburg: upon which the whole court, with trembling joy, made a pilgrimage to Ebersdorf, a monastery and shrine in those parts. They gave pious thanks there, one and all; the mother giving suitable dotation furthermore; and, what is notable, hanging-up among her other votive gifts two coats (she, says rumour and prints; but I guess it was the lucrative showmen after her): the coat of Kunz, leather buff I suppose, and the

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