The Entire Short Works of George Meredith | Page 2

when people asked Gottlieb how he had risen to such a
pinnacle of fortune, the old merchant screwed his eye into its wisest
corner, and answered slyly, 'Because I 've always been a student of the
heavenly bodies'; a communication which failed not to make the orbs
and systems objects of ardent popular worship in Cologne, where the
science was long since considered alchymic, and still may be.
Seldom could the Kaiser go to war on Welschland without first taking
earnest counsel of his Well-born son and Subject Gottlieb, and
lightening his chests. Indeed the imperial pastime must have ceased,
and the Kaiser had languished but for him. Cologne counted its
illustrious citizen something more than man. The burghers doffed when
he passed; and scampish leather-draggled urchins gazed after him with
praeternatural respect on their hanging chins, as if a gold-mine of great
girth had walked through the awe-struck game.

But, for the young men of Cologne he had a higher claim to reverence
as father of the fair Margarita, the White Rose of Germany; a noble
maiden, peerless, and a jewel for princes.
The devotion of these youths should give them a name in chivalry. In
her honour, daily and nightly, they earned among themselves black
bruises and paraded discoloured countenances, with the humble hope to
find it pleasing in her sight. The tender fanatics went in bands up and
down Rhineland, challenging wayfarers and the peasantry with staff
and beaker to acknowledge the supremacy of their mistress. Whoso of
them journeyed into foreign parts, wrote home boasting how many
times his head had been broken on behalf of the fair Margarita; and if
this happened very often, a spirit of envy was created, which compelled
him, when he returned, to verify his prowess on no less than a score of
his rivals. Not to possess a beauty-scar, as the wounds received in these
endless combats were called, became the sign of inferiority, so that
much voluntary maiming was conjectured to be going on; and to
obviate this piece of treachery, minutes of fights were taken and
attested, setting forth that a certain glorious cut or crack was
honourably won in fair field; on what occasion; and from whom; every
member of the White Rose Club keeping his particular scroll, and, on
days of festival and holiday, wearing it haughtily in his helm. Strangers
entering Cologne were astonished at the hideous appearance of the
striplings, and thought they never had observed so ugly a race; but they
were forced to admit the fine influence of beauty on commerce, seeing
that the consumption of beer increased almost hourly. All Bavaria
could not equal Cologne for quantity made away with.
The chief members of the White Rose Club were Berthold Schmidt, the
rich goldsmith's son; Dietrich Schill, son of the imperial saddler;
Heinrich Abt, Franz Endermann, and Ernst Geller, sons of chief
burghers, each of whom carried a yard-long scroll in his cap, and was
too disfigured in person for men to require an inspection of the
document. They were dangerous youths to meet, for the oaths,
ceremonies, and recantations they demanded from every wayfarer,
under the rank of baron, were what few might satisfactorily perform, if
lovers of woman other than the fair Margarita, or loyal husbands; and

what none save trained heads and stomachs could withstand, however
naturally manful. The captain of the Club was he who could drink most
beer without intermediate sighing, and whose face reckoned the
proudest number of slices and mixture of colours. The captaincy was
most in dispute between Dietrich Schill and Berthold Schmidt, who, in
the heat and constancy of contention, were gradually losing likeness to
man. 'Good coin,' they gloried to reflect, 'needs no stamp.'
One youth in Cologne held out against the standing tyranny, and chose
to do beauty homage in his own fashion, and at his leisure. It was
Farina, and oaths were registered against him over empty beer-barrels.
An axiom of the White Rose Club laid it down that everybody must be
enamoured of Margarita, and the conscience of the Club made them
trebly suspicious of those who were not members. They had the
consolation of knowing that Farina was poor, but then he was affirmed
a student of Black Arts, and from such a one the worst might
reasonably be feared. He might bewitch Margarita!
Dietrich Schill was deputed by the Club to sound the White Rose
herself on the subject of Farina, and one afternoon in the vintage season,
when she sat under the hot vine-poles among maiden friends, eating
ripe grapes, up sauntered Dietrich, smirking, cap in hand, with his
scroll trailed behind him.
'Wilt thou?' said Margarita, offering him a bunch.
'Unhappy villain that I am!' replied Dietrich, gesticulating fox-like
refusal; 'if I but accept a favour,