Part 6 (1/2)
The May emperor was usually elected from among the town council. The one who had obtained the wreath during the previous year delivered it up at the beginning of May or at Whitsuntide. He would ride out into a neighbouring wood ”upon his good horse,” accompanied by all the councillors clad in armour, to the sound of martial music and with the town's flag flying. This was called ”going to fetch the May.” A beautiful boy generally headed the procession. What ceremonies went on in the wood is not known, but when the procession returned, leading in the new May emperor, the boy would bear a flowery wreath upon his long pole as token of victory; while all the councillors and the huge crowd that followed in their train were decked with green branches and boughs.
The newly-elected emperor was expected to treat the crowd. After a while this grew a heavy and serious expense, and we find it recorded that a certain burgher of Stralsund, who knew he would be elected to this honour, fled the city. He was, however, followed and brought back, made to accept the post and its expenses, and heavily fined into the bargain.
As in modern Switzerland, so in mediaeval Germany, crossbow shooting for prizes gave another occasion for public holiday, the different guilds turning out, with banner and music, to do honour to their various patron saints. In such wise all adult men were trained to warfare, though the armies of the Hansa usually consisted in great part of hired mercenaries, easily obtained for ready cash in those days, when fighting was held a pleasure far beyond legitimate work. Many records survive to attest that these Hansa merchants were skilled in the use of dagger and axe. One, for example, a peaceful citizen and trader, with his own hand killed a noted pirate who had long rendered the Baltic unsafe. The merchant went his road, as the saying was, trusting to G.o.d and his own right arm. ”Whosoever would be a good burgher at Danzig must be industrious both in commerce and arms,” runs an inscription on the house of the crossbow shooters of that city.
[Ill.u.s.tration: CHILDREN'S SPORTS.]
Later on, as the towns grew more aristocratic in character, the gilded youth of the day had games of their own, from partic.i.p.ation in which the artizan was excluded. These, in many cases, led to such riots and uprisings of the populace against the munic.i.p.ality as occasioned the ”unhansing” of Brunswick and other cities. Foremost among them were the so-called ”Popinjay a.s.sociations,” who met to shoot down from a pole these bright-coloured birds with which travellers had become acquainted in the market of Bruges. It was usual for the winner to treat his comrades to a barrel of beer and cakes.
Indeed, without touching upon the innumerable inst.i.tutions common to guilds, trades, patricians, and plebeians, a picture of those times would be imperfect. Some of these were inst.i.tuted for purely hilarious purposes, others combined charity and mutual support with carouse and license. Thus in Cologne there was a society which met to drink wine, and presented to every honoured guest a medal having the inscription, ”Bibite c.u.m hilaritate.” This society imposed on itself certain laws regarding the avoidance of bad language, of lawless living, of coa.r.s.e speech and action.
In the North beer was the chief beverage, many companies were dedicated to Gambrinus, the ”arch-king and inventor of brewing.” Here, too, quaint rules attest the rudeness of contemporary manners. It was customary to exact a monetary fine from those who spilt more beer than they could cover with their hand. It seems that even women were not excluded wholly from these revels. At least a princely guest, harboured by Lubeck, expressed his disapprobation at the presence in the cellar of the town hall of patrician ladies, who under cover of their veils, which formed for them an incognito, drank hard and enjoyed themselves grossly.
Endless are the rules and regulations of the various calends, ghostly brotherhoods, companies, and other names by which they styled themselves. Thus, for example, they were forbidden to take the food off each other's plates, to call each other certain most injurious names, to throw knives and plates at each other, to appear at solemn drinking bouts bare-footed, to roll in the mud, to retain arms, hat, and cloak when in company, to tap a fresh barrel without the presence of an elder, and so forth. Their duties to each other combined social and religious obligations. Thus they were often bound to pray for those who, absent on travels, could not attend at ma.s.s. They gave decent burial to their poorer comrades, nursed them when sick, helped them when distressed. A pound of wax, half a hundredweight of tallow, a barrel of beer, were not uncommon fines for dereliction of duty. Games of chance were universally forbidden. Dancing and song were common forms of diversion. The shoemakers and tailors of Lubeck were noted for their skill in the sword-dance, a dance probably not unlike the Highland reel executed to this day by Scotchmen.
[Ill.u.s.tration: DOMESTIC MUSIC.]
Wit, grace, imagination, were elements mostly absent from the lives of these rough Germans. This is nowhere more evident than in their amus.e.m.e.nts. The carnival practices furnished a notable example, practices so graceful, so pretty in the South, so rough and rude in the North. Two instances will suffice. At Stralsund it was customary to nail up a poor cat with which a man fought until he hit it to death, when he was mock-knighted by the burgomaster. In Cologne poor blind people were let loose in an enclosed s.p.a.ce to hit a pig, which should be the prize of the successful candidate. The joy of the spectators reached its height when the poor blind men struck each other in place of their victim. The practices at weddings were too rude for description.
Luxury in dress was most p.r.o.nounced, and sumptuary laws were repeatedly enacted. It seems strange that it was the men even more than the women who offended in these respects. Simple, nay, rude as the lives of these burghers were in their homes, out of doors they loved to make display, especially in the matter of costly weapons and brave horses. Young men returning from the wars or the great markets of London or Bruges, introduced new fas.h.i.+ons and fantasies which changed far more frequently than we are apt to suppose. The most conservative dress was the headgear of the patricians, the councillors and members of the munic.i.p.ality. This consisted for many ages in a long cap of cloth, trimmed with fine fur.
Before hats or caps came into fas.h.i.+on as coverings, the sight of these men in their long fur cloaks, with their heads enclosed in these curious hoods, must have had a stately, grave effect. So proud were the patricians of this dress that the councillors of Bremen actually forged a doc.u.ment early in the thirteenth century, according to which G.o.dfrey of Bouillon, accorded to them, during the first Crusade, the permission to wear fur and gold chains. The dress, clogging the free action of the legs, necessitated a stately slow walk, and its length would seem often to have inconvenienced them in those times of unpaved streets and mud-coated roads. A certain Evart von Huddessen, the representative of Stralsund at the Court of King Erik of Sweden, gained the special favour of the monarch on an occasion, when, invited by the king to visit with him his pleasure gardens outside the town, he quietly walked through the puddles after Erik's horse, instead of waiting like the other representatives for their servants to carry for them their trains, which they feared to spoil in the mud. ”Eh! what are we waiting for here?” he cried to his colleagues, ”shall his royal highness ride alone? I reckon my masters of Stralsund are rich enough that they can make good to me my new coat.”
Nor were they invariably simple in their homes, though usually so. A favourite German folk tale tells how Melchior, of Bremen, had his dining-room paved with silver dollars, and even if history or chronicle does not confirm this legend, it is thoroughly in keeping with Hanseatic modes of displaying wealth. There did exist, for instance, a certain Wulf Wulflam, of Stralsund, who sat upon a silver seat, and had his rooms hung with costly arras. When he married he, like a royal personage, caused the road from his house to the church to be overspread with a Flanders carpet, while musicians played day and night before his door. No doubt at his wedding appeared also the eighty dishes which at weddings was the highest limit allowed to burgher luxury by the Hanseatic by-laws.
It would seem, too, that the Hansa representatives when sent to ”Hansa days” (the meetings of the various cities in common council) after a while indulged in great display to impress beholders with the power and wealth of their respective cities. This, after a time, a.s.sumed such proportions that poorer or wiser communities refrained, whenever possible, from sending members to the ”Hansa days.”
Such were the habits and customs of these old burghers. As we see, it was a time when men were occupied with the material rather than the ideal side of life. A curious medley it presents of egotism and altruism, piety and license, love of individuality and strict regulation, roughness of living and unbridled luxury, boorishness and civilization.
A word must be said of that important inst.i.tution, the town council, to complete this sketch of the German towns during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Its const.i.tution varied somewhat of course, according to the size and wealth of the cities, but there were certain main resemblances. The number of aldermen varied from twelve to twenty-four. At their head were two or four burgomasters, who enjoyed no special privileges, except that in council they held the office of president. The appointment was for life, but they took it in turns to be on active duty. Certain limitations of choice as to aldermen existed.
Thus for long in Lubeck no one could hold that office who earned his bread by handicraft. This regulation however did not last. Still merchants throughout filled the chief places; as, being travelled men, and knowing the requirements of their fellows, they were considered the most fit. Next to these, brewers and tailors took a leading part. The general const.i.tution of the council may be regarded as in a fas.h.i.+on aristocratic, but it was checked in deliberations and decisions by a sort of second chamber, the common council. Under their rule the cities certainly flourished; the one chamber counselled, the other acted, and to be alderman was indeed no sinecure, but rather a post that imposed heavy labour. Honour it brought, but scanty remuneration.
[Ill.u.s.tration: MIDDLE-CLa.s.s OCCUPATIONS IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.]
_n.o.blesse oblige_ was the proud motto these men acted on. The church bells called them to their meetings, which at first were held in the munic.i.p.al church, later in the guildhalls. At Lubeck they always a.s.sembled first in their own chapel of Our Lady's Church, then went in procession to the town-hall. This was the centre of all national life.
The market-place was built before it, around it were the chief shops. In the market-place justice was administered, either in the open air or under the open porticos of the guildhall. Civic feasts were held here, foreign guests received at this spot. No wonder, then, that the burghers spent great sums upon the building and decoration of their town-halls and surroundings. They were to them the palladium of civic independence, whence law and order, merriment and feasting took their origin. To this day the cellars of the town-halls in Germany boast the best wines and choicest foods, and though now let out as restaurants they still, many of them, show in fresco and carving the remains of ancient splendour. In the town-halls were preserved the treasure, the civic doc.u.ments, and the great town books, called into requisition in all disputes. ”No witness goes beyond the Book” was the axiom of the day.
The market-place was always the largest open place in a city. The streets were narrow and tortuous. This was necessitated by the circ.u.mstance that all towns at that date were walled, and hence their extension circ.u.mscribed. Each cla.s.s of workmen lived together; shoemakers in one street, coopers in another, and so forth. Their houses being small, it was usual for them on fine days to do their work out of doors, which gave an animated appearance to the place. At night these streets were closed by iron chains drawn across them.
The town life was, in short, but the family life on an extended scale, and the munic.i.p.ality watched over the welfare of the inhabitants as a father over that of his household. To facilitate commerce and industry, and to look after roads and buildings, were among its chief cares. It is noteworthy that in some towns regulations existed compelling every one who had means to leave in his will a certain sum for repairing the highways and keeping the ports in good condition. Many fulfilled this provision, even without this order.
Another occupation of the aldermen was to superintend trade, and see it carried out on honest principles. Thus, at Novgorod, a bale of linen is discovered to be bad, so that ”no honourable and good man could be paid in such ware.” It is sent back to Riga, thence to Wisby, thence to Lubeck, where the aldermen had to find out who delivered these goods.
Punishment for such fraud followed inevitably, and was so heavy that, on the whole, few attempted to play these base tricks. We also come across complaints that barrels of herrings had been packed fraudulently, good and large fish being on the top; small and inferior and even stale ones filling the rest of the barrel. As such perishable goods could not be returned, the aldermen inst.i.tuted official herring packers, who were responsible for honest action.
In all difficult matters, the advice of the munic.i.p.ality was asked and given. It was held ”that they knew what others did not know.” Thus burgher and burgher ruler worked hand in hand, and each man felt himself a link of the whole chain. This feeling gave rise to an active patriotism, a warm love for their own town, of which instances abound in the mediaeval chronicles. Many tales are preserved of brawls arising in the towns through the vauntings of rival citizens. Thus a certain Lubecker meeting a Bremener in a Hamburg inn, boasted so greatly of his native town's advantages and made such fun of his companion's aldermen that they all but came to serious blows. ”You had better mind your words and drink your beer in peace,” was the friendly advice of a bystander.
Such were these burghs which had grown free and strong through burgher industry, and were kept powerful by burgher unity and honesty.
III.