The Dove in the Eagles Nest | Page 5

how could things go on with a rogue
like Alexander VI. at the head of the Church, and a mere huntsman like
himself at the head of the Empire." His bon- mots are numerous, all
thoroughly characteristic, and showing that brilliancy in conversation
must have been one of his greatest charms. It seems as if only
self-control and resolution were wanting to have made him a Charles,
or an Alfred, the Great.
The romance of his marriage with the heiress of Burgundy is one of the
best known parts of his life. He was scarcely two-and-twenty when he
lost her, who perhaps would have given him the stability he wanted;
but his tender hove for her endured through life. It is not improbable
that it was this still abiding attachment that made him slack in
overcoming difficulties in the way of other contracts, and that he may
have hoped that his engagement to Bianca Sforza would come to
nothing, like so many others.
The most curious record of him is, however, in two books, the
materials for which he furnished, and whose composition and
illustration he superintended, Der Weise King, and Theurdank, of both
of which he is well known to be the hero. The White, or the Wise King,
it is uncertain which, is a history of his education and exploits, in prose.
Every alternate page has its engraving, showing how the Young White
King obtains instruction in painting, architecture, language, and all arts
and sciences, the latter including magic--which he learns of an old
woman with a long-tailed demon sitting, like Mother Hubbard's cat, on
her shoulder--and astrology. In the illustration of this study an
extraordinary figure of a cross within a circle appears in the sky, which
probably has some connection with his scheme of nativity, for it also
appears on the breast of Ehrenhold, his constant companion in the
metrical history of his career, under the name of Theurdank.
The poetry of Theurdank was composed by Maximilian's old writing-
master, Melchior Pfinznig; but the adventures were the Kaisar's own,
communicated by himself, and he superintended the wood-cuts. The
name is explained to mean "craving glory,"--Gloriaememor. The

Germans laugh to scorn a French translator, who rendered it
"Chermerci." It was annotated very soon after its publication, and each
exploit explained and accounted for. It is remarkable and touching in a
man who married at eighteen, and was a widower at twenty-two, that,
in both books, the happy union with his lady love is placed at the
end--not at the beginning of the book; and in Theurdank, at least, the
eternal reunion is clearly meant.
In this curious book, Konig Romreich, by whom every contemporary
understood poor Charles of Burgundy--thus posthumously made King
of Rome by Maximilian, as the only honour in his power, betroths his
daughter Ehrenreich (rich in honour) to the Ritter Theurdank. Soon
after, by a most mild version of Duke Charles's frightful end, Konig
Romreich is seen on his back dying in a garden, and Ehrenreich (as
Mary really did) despatches a ring to summon her betrothed.
But here Theurdank returns for answer that he means first to win
honour by his exploits, and sets out with his comrade, Ehrenhold, in
search thereof. Ehrenhold never appears of the smallest use to him in
any of the dire adventures into which he falls, but only stands
complacently by, and in effect may represent Fame, or perhaps that
literary sage whom Don Quixote always supposed to be at hand to
record his deeds of prowess.
Next we are presented with the German impersonation of Satan as a
wise old magician, only with claws instead of feet, commissioning his
three captains (hauptleutern), Furwitz, Umfallo, and Neidelhard, to
beset and ruin Theurdank. They are interpreted as the dangers of youth,
middle life, and old age--Rashness, Disaster, and Distress (or Envy).
One at a time they encounter him,--not once, but again and again; and
he has ranged under each head, in entire contempt of real order of time,
the perils he thinks owing to each foe. Furwitz most justly gets the
credit of Maximilian's perils on the steeple of Ulm, though,
unfortunately, the artist has represented the daring climber as standing
not much above the shoulders of Furwitz and Ehrenhold; and although
the annotation tells us that his "hinder half foot" overhung the scaffold,
the danger in the print is not appalling. Furwitz likewise inveigles him
into putting the point (schnabel) of his shoe into the wheel of a mill for
turning stone balls, where he certainly hardly deserved to lose nothing
but the beak of his shoe. This enemy also brings him into numerous

unpleasant predicaments on precipices, where he hangs by one hand;
while the chamois stand delighted on every available peak, Furwitz
grins malevolently, and Ehrenhold stands pointing