(1) The Death of Keeldar" appeared in "The Gem" of 1829. The editor, T. Hood, acknowledges it in these words in his preface:"To Sir W. Scott, not merely a literary feather in my cap, but a whole plume of them, I owe, and with the hand of my heart acknowledge, a deep obligation. A poem from his pen is likely to confer on the book that contains it, if not perpetuity, at least a very Mortality." Old 3 THE PRIVILEGES OF VIENNA. THE Austrian is an absolute monarchy, but not in our sense of the word, the exercise of the imperial power being checked and circumscribed, in almost every province, by a number of privileges enjoyed by the subjects, for the most part of great antiquity, which the good sense or good feeling of the government has hitherto uniformly respected. As King of Hungary, and Prince of Transylvania, the Emperor has to share the legislative and executive power with the Diets of both these countries. Every other province but Dalmatia has its particular assemblies, though the rights of those provincial assemblies greatly differ, and extend but a very little way. The principal cities, again, have their municipal privileges, some of them of great importance, and among these Vienna, the capital,has been especially favoured. With the single exception of the Emperor Rudolph, who generally lived at Prague, Vienna has at all times been the residence of the heads of the house of Habsburg, and the unshaken fidelity of its inhabitants has been rewarded by the steady favour of their sovereigns. Most of their municipal privileges date from signal acts of loyalty and devotion; and the most important were bestowed by Leopold I. in acknowledgment of the desperate heroism with which, in 1683, under the command of Stahremberg, they held out the city against the Turks, unassisted by regular troops, till relieved by the approach of Sobieski. The possession of these privileges, which are too numerous to be specified, combined with the opulence derived from the lavish expenditure of the great aristocratic families, have given the Viennese a degree of personal independence, and a disposition to act energetically when called upon, which is not equally characteristic of the lowland inhabitants of the hereditary states. The burgomaster, (burg-meister,) who is the head and representative of these wealthy citizens, in many respects resembles the Lord Mayor of London, and is in his own sphere even a more important person. His election, indeed, must be confirmed by the Emperor, which puts him much more than the English dignitary under the control of the government; but, on the other hand, when he is elected, his power is much greater. His office is for life, and he cannot be removed from it. He has the personal liberty of every citizen subject to him; the absolute command of the police; the colonelship of the city militia, which, by the bye, is the finest and best drilled force of the kind in Europe; and many potent offices besides. Prince Metternich himself is less than him in (at least nominal) dignity, so long as he remains at Vienna, and the Emperor alone can give him orders. The city privileges in their turn are curtailed and interrupted by others of an equally historical origin, attaching mostly to different military bodies. One of these, from the singularity of its observance, and of the incident with which it is connected, is deserving of more attention than it has met with hitherto. The Emperor Ferdinand II. had hardly seated himself on the throne of his predecessor, Matthias, when the religious storm which had been gathering over Germany, and which ended in the famous Thirty Years' War, burst on him at once. Bohemia, under the Count Thurn, the dissidents of Silesia and Moravia, those of Upper and Lower Austria,-nearly all his German subjects in short, either took up arms, or openly wavered in their fidelity. Bethlen Gabor and the Turks threatened him on the side of Hungary, and the Protestants of Carinthia and Carniola joined the insurgents. Alone amid enemies,-for the inhabitants of Vienna, at that time, were either Protestants or favourers of the reformed faith, the Emperor was at last fairly block aded in his palace, but remained unsubdued. He despatched his children to the Tyrol for safety, and remained himself with the famous Father Lamormain, his Confessor, waiting, to all appearance, till his insurgent subjects should formally come to take his crown. The Protestant barons, emboldened by the rapid prostroke, to bring the crisis to a conclusion. The towngress of their party in Bohemia, determined, by a bold guard consisted entirely of citizens, and made no difficulty about surrendering to them the charge of the Emperor's person. All the regiments which might have stood in their way were removed to posts at a distance, and, one by one, the counsellors in whom he had any confidence were withdrawn. Their purpose demands, which he had hitherto steadily refused. These was at once to compel Ferdinand by force to sign their demands embraced a national representation, absolute liberty of conscience, and equality of privileges for Catholics and Protestants in all matters civil and political. Not that they expected that the Emperor, knowing what his character was, would consent, but his refusal would give them a tangible pretext for effecting his deposition. Early one morning, when all was ready, the conspirators, sixteen in number, with Thouradl, the leader of the citizens, at their head, entered the imperial palace, and made their way without difficulty to the Emperor's chamber. Ferdinand was alone, but nothing could shake his determination not to sign the paper. Thouradl, at last, exasperated beyond patience, and fixed to stick at nothing in the execution of his purpose, seized the diminutive emperor by the collar of his dress, and shook him violently in his powerful hands." Little Ferdinand, wilt thou sign?" he said, in a voice half choked with fury,-"sign this moment, or, little as thou art, I will find means to shorten thee still." At this very moment, (the story here savours of the marvellous,) a blast of trumpets rose from the court below. All rushed to the windows, and there they beheld, drawn up in squadron, with their sabres bared, the cuirassiers of the Dampierre regiment, five hundred strong. The sight was the more unlooked-for, as these very men had, on account of their known loyalty, been sent only a few days before to Linz, more than a hundred miles off. Almost at the same instant, before they could conjecture even how the regiment could be there, when, only two days before, their agents had written them word that it was at Linz, three raps were heard at the door, announcing the arrival of some new actor in this extraordinary scene. The door opened, and the Marquis de St. Hilaire, the colonel of the cuirassiers, entered in complete armour. Bending reverentially to the Emperor, he inquired his orders. Ferdinand till now had been pale as ashes, but the colour now rushed to his cheeks. His eyes sparkled, and he commanded the sixteen conspirators to be seized on the spot. No sooner said than done,-twenty cuirassiers rushed up the staircase, and they, who five minutes before had been his masters, were now borne hurriedly away to execution. Thouradl, by some means or other, was lucky enough to escape, but the others all were hung the self-same day outside the town. A beautiful suburb since then has sprung up on the spot, the name of which, ("Herrnhals," Lords'-neck,) indirectly recalls the memory of this terrible act of retribution. Of the authenticity of this story there is no doubt, but nothing is known to account for its principal incident. When Ferdinand asked the Marquis de St. Hilaire from whom he had received his orders to march on Vienna, the brave soldier, greatly surprised at such a question from such a quarter, drew from under his cuirass a paper, bearing the seal of state, and the Emperor's signature. It was a letter ordering the colonel without delay to get hold of all the boats on the Danube he could find, and embark in them with as many of his men as could be got together on the spur of the moment, leaving word for the rest to follow in the shortest possible time." You will descend the river to Vienna," the instructions continued, "you will pass through the town as silently as possible, and draw up at the palace. When there, you will seek the Emperor without having yourself announced, and further act as he shall direct." Ferdinand, after reading the letter attentively through, was obliged to allow that the hand and seal were so perfectly imitated that they might well mislead, but denied having ever issued any orders of the kind, or even thought of so doing, as the watch kept over his slightest actions would have put it out of his power to communicate with his faithful subjects. His punctilious regard for truth was well known; and as his mysterious protector never came to light, the chroniclers are reduced to a variety of incongruous suppositions, some ascribing all to an actual interposition of Providence, and others to the jesuit Lamormain. That which is certain is, that this was the turning point of Ferdinand's eventful history. Henceforward everything went well with him. Boucquoi overthrew Count Mansfeldt, Prague surrendered, and the Bohemians were finally put down. Germany streamed with blood, but the imperial arms still conquered, and Tilly and Wallenstein entered upon that career which was destined to crown them with undying laurel. Upon his miraculous deliverance, Ferdinand, having good reason to distrust the citizens, kept the Dampierre regiment near him. For three successive days and nights, the men remained under arms in the palace court, and revelled at the Emperor's cost, while the Marquis de St. Hilaire was lodged in the Emperor's own apartments. Ever since, the same regiment has preserved the privilege, whenever its route lies through Vienna, of marching through the city, with trumpets sounding and flags displayed, to the imperial palace, where it remains in quarters three days and three nights, and feasts ad libitum at the Emperor's cost. The colonel dismounts, ascends the staircase without being announced, knocks three times, and inquires the Emperor's orders. As there are no more rebels to hang, these are limited to an invitation to the palace for three days. A room of state is assigned him. The standard of the regiment hangs over his door, and a sentinel stands before it as before that of the sovereign. BLACK FRITZ. AN EPISODE OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR.1 CHAP. I. Ir was on a gloomy autumnal evening of the year 1648, that Count Martinitz, with his niece Luitgarde, after a long absence, drove up to the castle of his ancestors. Many years before, in spite of the horrors of the Thirty Years' War, he had not been able to resolve on abandoning the residence of his affections; courageously he braved the first storms of the devastating inroads, the consequences of the battle of Prague, and many other untoward events. He hoped, as negotiations were already begun, to have reached the haven of repose in his native home, when, quite unexpectedly, Banner's and Torstenson's ferocious bands penetrated with fire and sword, and the irresistible wave rolled in the direction of his neighbourhood. Nothing now remained, therefore, but to fly with his wife and child, and to yield up his castle to the destroying hordes. 1 By the Author of " Quem tin Matsys," and founded, like it, on historical facts. At Prague, where he sought refuge, and not without difficulty found it, his beloved wife and youngest boy died from the effects of terror and fatigue. Overwhelmed with anguish, the count left Prague for Vienna, as the former city suggested only saddening recollections; in the latter, where many of his friends resided, his sorrows gradually died away in the circle of those dear relatives, and, when the ardently desired peace had assuaged the sufferings of the exhausted country, a calm but settled desire drew him to the forsaken place of his birth, to the tombs of his ancestors; and he proposed to celebrate there the marriage festival of his oldest and now only son. Count Frederick was an amiable young man, and united, to a graceful presence and agreeable accomplishments, the possession of large domains. He was a general favourite in society, and had many friends; he designed and painted, was successful in taking likenesses, and had thus a large volume of portraits of his acquaintances, executed during his travels. He had seen Paris, Madrid, and parts of Italy, and, for the time in which he lived, and for his position in the world, he was regarded as a kind of wonder. His father looked forward to his prospects with joy and pride, and what increased the gratifying anticipations of the old nobleman was the general opinion of his son's good morals, which he had, happily, on all occasions known how to preserve, and bring back uncorrupted to his native country. For a long time past, family arrangements and youthful inclinations had marked out Luitgarde and Count Frederick for each other. The old count did not simply love in his niece the faithful resemblance of a dear sister; he loved in her the innocent character, the calm good sense, which the stormy events of that period had developed earlier than years are accustomed to do. Her childhood and early youth were passed at Prague, and at Vienna, among her kindred;-Count Frederick's studies and travels had separated her for a long time from him, and she now looked forward with internal satisfaction to a meeting and a union with the playmate of her childhood, which, since the development of her intellect, she was accustomed to consider as the most agreeable epoch of her life. She clung with an infantine tenderness to her uncle, and willingly accepted his proposal to accompany him to Bohemia, and, in his society in his solitary castle, to await the arrival of Count Frederick. In sanguine anticipations of happier times did they travel, during an abundant harvest, through the golden fields of rich Austria. On the Bohemian frontiers the scene changed; the thirty years' suffering from a religious and social war had left inextinguishable traces on the amidst fallen half-consumed rafters,-pallid figures, from country-villages in which some poor huts began to rise whose eyes spake want and misery,-large extents of uncultivated land,-towns without trade and without provisions,-complaints of the brutality of the peasantry, of the insecurity of the roads,-bore a cruel testimony, everywhere, to its destructive consequences. Luitgarde's of thought she sat near her uncle, in whose soul the cheerful heart gradually sank within her : silent and full surrounding imagery of wretchedness seemed to call up heart-rending recollections. The clear autumnal weather gave place to dark foggy days; the gloomy envelope that covered the minds of Luitgarde and her uncle seemed to have extended itself over all nature; a misty rain conthe forest, and a chilling breeze chased the falling leaves tinually pattered through the brown-coloured foliage of into the waves of the Moldaw, which, with deep monotonous stream, flowed close to the road. At the nearest turning of the way the grey walls of a handsome castle presented themselves to view; the count first observed it, mund. and as he silently with his finger pointed it out, a deep | opinions, was taken and kept a prisoner by king Sigissigh escaped him. Luitgarde fully understood what was passing in her uncle's mind, at the sight of the wellknown walls; she too was silent, thus respecting his sorrows; and, oppressed by gloomy thoughts and painful sentiments, she for the first time entered the castle which was to be her future abode. But her clear good sense soon chased away those disheartening images, and, even when, in the large and half empty halls, in the lofty chambers, where here and there damaged furniture recalled the past devastations, a desponding tendency seemed to seize on her, she resisted it with energy; she took heart, and found occupation for herself; she solaced herself with the bright anticipations of a happy future, when the dear playfellow of her youth, and her future husband, whom she had not seen for so many years, should animate by his presence this deep solitude; and those wishes and hopes which often rose up in her mind would redeem and reconcile everything. Ah!" said the priest, "those times, like the present, were wicked times!" and, with a sigh, looked up to heaven. "Yes, indeed!" replied the count; and the two old men now got into deep conversation, upon what was the principal topic at that time, the sorrows and sufferings of their fatherland, and their unhappy consequences upon its children and children's children. The clergyman remarked, in the first place, the brutalization of the people, when pressing want stimulated to deeds of violence, and men's passions were held under no restraint by the fear of God. He spoke of bands of robbers assembled in the forests, consisting partly of deserters or discharged soldiers, that peace rendered no longer necessary, assisted by impoverished and helpless peasants; he knew a number of terrible stories of them. And the count, in whose bleeding heart those subjects found an echo, now reverted to the past, and related the sad events which had taken place in earlier years, from this cruel internecine war. "One of my friends has lost his only son, the heir of great possessions, and that noble house becomes extinct. Have you, sir, known Count Lansky?" 66 Lansky!" exclaimed Luitgarde, who listened attentively. But Count Frederick did not make his appearance. Affairs detained him at Vienna, where he arrived immediately after his father's departure, and where he proposed to arrange the important collections, the fruits of his travels, under the inspection of learned men, before giving himself up finally to his rural retirement. For this Luitgarde upbraided him in her letters, but she endeavoured to employ the time as well as possible; Yes," continued her uncle, "Count Lansky, the she undertook the management of all the household friend of my youth, who at one time was the intended affairs; gave the necessary directions for the works to be husband of your mother. Private reasons broke off that executed for the improvement of the devastated castle; plan; Lansky went to his possessions in Silesia, and I in fine weather she rode through the surrounding have scarcely ever seen him since. He married concountry, and in bad weather she was sedulously occupied formably to the wish of his father, and found his sole with her female household; and the evenings were passed consolation for that ill-sorted marriage in the birth of a at the friendly fireside, with her uncle and the clergyman. handsome, promising boy. Then the wave of devastating On one of the first days, while yet everything in the war rolled over these countries; the savage Mansfeldt, castle excited her curiosity, and neither furniture nor pursued by Wallenstein, marched with the remainder of painting attracted her observation, she discovered, in a his bandit troops, cutting his way through Silesia, in hall through which she was obliged to pass in going order to reach Bethlen Gabor, at the Siebenbürgen. All from her own apartments to those of her uncle, a portrait the horrors and devastations which accompany a flying of half-size, which strongly attracted her notice; and the army, destitute of everything for its support, visited the more she examined it, the more it fixed her attention. properties of my friend. Mansfeldt's troops carried fire It appeared to represent a subterranean prison, probably and sword into the villages; the castle was set on fire; a dungeon of ancient times. The foreground of the the plunderers broke into it; what the flames did not painting consisted of a retiring range of lofty arcades, consume fell into their hands, or under their swords. which deepened, in the distant background, into Thus was lost the son of my friend. In the chamber he terrific darkness; to the right hand of the beholder, had occupied was found the corpse of one of his attendant still in the foreground, there was, in the highest part, maids, half consumed by the fire; no one knew what one round opening, through which the light from the became of the child. Long had the unhappy father moon fell on the person of an imprisoned knight, who, cherished the hope that the child, a lovely boy of four laden with heavy chains, sat on his bed of straw. It years old, might still be found, because his body had was not possible to see his face, from the thick black not been discovered; but more than twenty years of locks of hair that fell on it, and because his head was useless expectation and fruitless researches have at turned away from the beholder; but the mournful posi-length convinced him that his son had fallen a prey to tion of the head, supported by one hand, whilst in the feeble grasp of the other were seen some tallies, on which notches had been made with a rusty nail that lay close by, probably the number of his days of confinement, indicated too clearly the sufferings of the prisoner. The general effect of the composition, seen by the faint light of the moon's rays, produced a painful impression, and filled Luitgarde with mysterious horror. Long did she stand before the painting, and it was with difficulty she could tear herself away; and afterwards, as often as she passed through the hall, she would stop to gaze on it, and to reflect on the sad scene, and the feelings of the forlorn captive, till at last, one evening, she ventured to question her uncle about the painting, and the history of the imprisoned knight. Count Martinitz had little information to impart on the subject; he said that very probably the whole composition was simply a fancy of the painter's, whose name he mentioned;-if, however, it had a foundation in history, as in his youth he had heard it related by his grand-aunt, who was the living chronicle of her house, the portrait represented one of her noble ancestors, who lived in the times of the wars of the Hussites, and who, on account of his religious the flames, and Lansky now lives without a child to inherit his large domains, which since then have never recovered those devastations." The pastor broke out into fresh complaints and anathemas against the war; a deep sigh rose from Luitgarde's breast; she raised her dark eyes with melancholy expression on her uncle, and said, "Was not the lost boy's name Victorin, uncle?" 'I believe so," replied he. "My beloved mother has often related to me," she continued, slightly blushing, "of a betrothing Count Martinitz took up the word, and said, "Quite right; you were the destined bride of this Victorin. Since his father could not possess your mother, this ardently desired union was to bring happiness to their children; however you were scarcely born, when heaven, as if to destroy every possibility of a union between our houses, snatched away by death your intended bridegroom." "Providence has richly repaid me for the loss," replied Luitgarde, with a blush, whilst she placed her uncle's hands to her lips. "Yes," said the old count, "my Frederick is a noble |