allied to them by marriage, he was not admitted to their relationship unless he were of noble race. Their children went about in tatters; their wives sometimes collected provisions from relations, and they themselves trotted over the stubble on shaggy horses, in old greatcoats, with a bit of carved wood instead of a second pistol in the old holster. Their usual place of rest was at the village tavern, or, if they came to a town, in the worst inn. Their language was coarse, full of stable expressions and oaths. They had adopted many of the usages of the rogues, both in language and habits; they smelt of "finckeljochen" (a bad kind of spirit) more than was agreeable to others. They were, indeed, ragamuffins; and, with all their pugnacity, without real courage. They were considered the pest of the country, and those who had anything to lose compared them to bluebottle-flies; more than once sharp decrees[51] were issued against them by the different rulers, and even from the Imperial court, but they were, notwithstanding, haughty and thoroughly aristocratic-minded fellows. Their genealogy, their escutcheons, and their family connection were to them the highest things upon earth. Unbounded was the hate and contempt with which they regarded the rich citizens; they were always ready to begin a quarrel with the newly ennobled, if they did not give them their full titles, or presumed to bear a coat of arms similar to their own.
The following account will make us better acquainted with these fellows, and their mode of intercourse. It carries us to the right bank of the Oder in Silesia, a corner of Germany where "Krippenreiterei" was particularly bad. There, according to an old popular jest, the devil burst the sack when he endeavoured to carry off in the air a number of "Krippenreiters," and thus emptied out the whole rubbish on this district.
The following description is taken from the narrative entitled "The Nobleman," written a few years before his death, by Paul Winckler, a Silesian, political agent and councillor at Breslau of the great Elector; he died 1686. The narrative was first published after his death in two editions, and finally at Nüremberg, 1697–8. There is no great skill or invention in it, but it is the more useful here on that account. Winckler was a well-educated man of the world, and an eminent jurist, and his numerous travels and alliances, and accurate knowledge of the condition of the German landed proprietors, made him particularly capable of forming a sound judgment. He possessed also qualities which are not rarely found in a Silesian; he knew how to accommodate himself easily to the world, was a cheerful companion, impartial in judgment, and a lively narrator. His being a member of the "Fruchtbringende," or literary society, probably contributed to keep alive his interest in German literature, and encouraged him to modest attempts at authorship. But he was too sensible a man not to regard with contempt the purist pedantry with which the associates of his society endeavoured to raise the German poetry. "They sit behind the kitchen of Parnassus, and satisfy themselves with the odour of the roast." He was about fifty when he wrote his narrative, confined to his room by the gout. His object was to point out by a portraiture, what a right sort of nobleman ought to be; for it had been his fate, throughout his whole life, to live in business relations and personal intercourse with the nobles of different provinces. His wife was a descendant of the poet Von Logau, and he himself was nephew of Andreas Gryphius. His own experience undoubtedly gave him a peculiarly sharp eye for the absurdities of the privileged classes, but he was the true son of his time, and preserved at heart a deep respect for genuine nobility. His narrative, therefore, is not by any means a satire, though it has indeed been called so, and the delineations here imparted give a peculiar impression of being accurate portraits. That which has been a hindrance to modern narrators who have a moral tendency, has indeed been the case with him. He has clearly depicted what the nobles ought not to be; but his good characters fail in sharp outline and colouring, nay, they become tedious, because he brings forward their education and principles in lengthy conversations. His narratives may be compared with the tale Simplicissimus, but in creative power, fancy, and fulness of detail the Silesian is incomparably inferior. Grimmelshausen, however, though possessing greater poetic talent, has an inclination for the strange and fantastic, which reminds one of the style of the romance writers, and leaves an impression that what is there represented is not a thoroughly true picture of the time. From this defect the Silesian is entirely free; he narrates, in a lively and frank style, what he has himself seen, not much, nothing particular, but plainly and precisely.
The events of the narrative are very simple. The Dutch then held in German society about the same position in the German courts that was accorded to Englishmen not long ago, the importance of their nation being almost equal to a letter of nobility. A rich young Dutchman comes to Breslau, becomes witness of a duel between one of the new nobles and a country Junker, hears from his landlord a description of country life, visits the house of an extravagant "Pfeffersack," is invited by a young Herr von K., an acquaintance of former times, to a country seat, gains thereby much knowledge of the "Krippenreiters" from personal observation, hears an account of an adventure of a Silesian with an English officer, and passes the rest of the time of his country visit, in grave but very prosy conversation (in which the author introduces much of his own views and learning), upon the education of the soldier, upon the nobles by birth and those risen from trade, upon the state of politics, and upon the culture of the ancients in comparison with that of the present day, &c. On his return to Breslau, the Dutchman learns that the rich merchant who had before invited him to dinner, had become bankrupt and secretly absconded; his life is then related, and the hero leaves Breslau. Thus the whole long narrative contains only five descriptions which would be interesting: two of them will be given. Some coarse expressions are softened; they are a little shortened, and the language, only where it appears indispensable, modernised. First the landlord relates how he studied as the son of a tailor, then married a wealthy "Kretschmerin" (or landlady), and after her death, from an unfortunate striving to become great, bought a patent of nobility in order to settle in the country. He then continues thus:--
"A not very trusty friend advised me to settle in a part of the country where certainly the noble estate was at a low price, but of which the income also was small; another friend, it is true, advised me against this, and pointed out to me what vexations and crosses I should be exposed to from the 'Krippenreiters;' but this did not disturb me, as I knew I was a match for them with the sword, so I dismissed the useful warning from my mind. In short, I bought an estate for 6000 thalers, but soon discovered that I had exposed myself to the lightning, in avoiding the thunder, and that my good friend with his prophecy had shot very near the mark. For when I had scarcely half settled myself, a certain Junker, Vogelbach, with a couple of his associates, were the first to victimise me, as they call it. He lived about half a mile off; not that he had any property of his own, for he only rented a peasant's farm worth about 100 Imperial thalers, and spent his life, like others of the same sort, in 'Krippenreiterei.' How he maintained his wife and child I know not, but only that I frequently saw his wife with a cart and two ragged children on the estate of opulent nobles, collecting corn, bread, cheese, butter, and the like. They generally came once a month to beg all such articles of me. This Vogelbach was, as has been mentioned, the first who, with two of his associates, came to have a 'housewarming.' The first and second time they behaved themselves with some degree of discretion, wherefore I put before them what was best in the house. But this, in their opinion, was abundantly balanced by the honour of the noble brotherhood into which they had admitted me, and at last they could no longer refrain from their shabby tricks. 'It would become you, brother Kretschmer,' he began one day that he had filled himself with beer and brandy up to the eyes. But I made him remember these words by an unexpected box on the ear in such a sort that the good fellow was tumbled over into the middle of the room with his stool. My groom, a robust man who had been a soldier, and whom I had taken chiefly as a guardian spirit for the like cases of need, when he saw this, seized the other Junker W. by the collar, so that he could not stir. 'What,' said he, 'you villain, is it not enough for you to come here so constantly, to fill your hungry body and to fatten your meagre carcass? Do you choose to give my master this Deo gratias? The devil take me if one of you stir; I will so trim his Junker jacket, that there shall be a blue fringe on his bare back for six weeks.' 'We have nothing to do with these quarrels,' answered the two; 'if brother Vogelbach has begun one, he will know how to carry it out like a true cavalier.' The latter had meanwhile picked himself up, and was about to seize his sword. 'Keep your miserable blood-drawer in its scabbard,' I said, 'or I will assuredly
