Daughters of the Doge (7 page)

Niccolò and Eckhardt had excused themselves on the grounds that, being regular travellers along this route, they had close friends nearby whom they must visit during their short stay. Thomas, His Grace and I therefore found ourselves seated at a groaning table in the first-floor bay window of a large medieval house, whose wooden walls, doors, windows and ceilings encased us like some mighty ship.

Roast goose was the centrepiece of the traditional fare, and if England was suffering from famine this year, there was no sign of it here in Würtemberg, a city whose people’s pleasure in rich food, served with abundance and generosity, was legendary.

‘To the perfect environment for a perfect Christmas. Health and long life to our host and his charming wife.’ The earl raised his glass and we drank the toast. This environment saw him at his best; after years of imprisonment, he enjoyed company, and the warmth of the family atmosphere made us all feel secure.

His Grace was right about the city It was an ideal resting-place during the festivities. The previous evening we had wandered round the huge marketplace, lit entirely with rushes and candles, and sampled food and wine from the many stalls. Then we had ambled beside the river, along Gartenstrasse, a wide walkway between quiet gardens and a favourite place for townspeople to walk. Already we could feel our energies being restored and our courage for the journey ahead fortified.

Thomas, most of all, seemed in his element. He had invited me to join him in a number of fascinating discussions with Professor Fuchs, who proved easily able to match his reputation for erudition. Thomas told me the professor’s background. At the age of twenty-three he had graduated from the university of Ingolstadt both as Master of Arts and Doctor of Medicine, and pursued the study of medicine for many years thereafter. He had, in the process, become concerned that many physicians were woefully ignorant of both the medicines they prescribed and the plants from which those medicines were derived, and he had committed himself to rectifying this.

De Historia Stirpium
was his contribution: a book on herbs and herbal medicines, in which the illustrations, created and printed from woodblocks, were of such importance that he named and thanked the painter, the draughtsman and the woodcutter who were responsible for their creation. This was one of the books that Thomas had planned to purchase in Basel, where originally it had been printed in 1542, and so he was speechless with pleasure when the great man presented him with a signed copy.

Like Thomas, Fuchs was a believer in the pragmatic research of Vesalius and, like him, was unwilling to follow Galen and others in accepting the information found in old books unless he had personally satisfied himself of its truth, by observation and analysis. His book demonstrated how carefully he had observed his subjects.

He was explaining his approach, using the phrase ‘Observe, interpret, draw, attach notes,’ when both Thomas and I began to grin. The professor could not see the funny side, especially when I made an aside to Thomas that his approach was ‘more complicated than yours’. Thomas had to explain that ‘observe, draw, attach notes’ was a much-repeated maxim between us, and that we were therefore surprised to hear it used so far from home. Fuchs was not at all surprised, for, as he said, ‘Vesalius used that phrase, and I learned it from him on a visit to Padua. I believe you also were there for some time.’

Thomas confirmed that he was, but asked why Fuchs had added a further word of his own.

‘ “Interpret”? Yes, I added that word. I felt it was necessary when talking to my students to get them to think about what they were seeing before drawing it. We must ask ourselves not only what the form is, but what purpose that form supports, and why God made it that way.’

Thomas and I looked at each other and nodded. We immediately agreed to adopt the additional word and Professor Fuchs smiled benignly at us. We had learned a good lesson and made a good friend.

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December the 30th 1555 – Augsburg, Bavaria

We left Tübingen with heavy hearts on December the 28th and crossed into Bavaria. Leonhard Fuchs had made us so welcome during our stay that we found it hard to drag ourselves away from him, but as soon as Eckhardt and Niccolò rejoined us, we knew it was time to move on.

Our guides now began to make us nervous, for not only did they take pleasure in reminding us how enormous were the mountains we would have to cross, they also kept telling us that we were in for a surprise, while refusing steadfastly to give us any clue as to what it was. Perhaps we should have been warned by our company on the roads as we approached Augsburg: with each hour, the number of travellers around us increased, and although we were in what was usually considered the quiet period between Christmas and New Year’s Day, the roads were almost crowded.

Our first thought was that our fellow travellers must be pilgrims, but that idea was quickly refuted by their manner. These were no pious or poor pilgrims; these were tough, experienced travellers, who knew the road and showed a sense of urgency not usually seen amongst the religious travellers. It did not take long for the truth to dawn, for we were approaching Augsburg, one of the great cities of Europe, named after Caesar Augustus, who had founded it in the year 15BC, as one of the northernmost limits of the Roman Empire.

Now the Free Imperial City had a new purpose, for as the home of the three great merchant families of Fugger, Rem and Welser, it had become the banking centre of southern Europe and financed trade and merchant activity from China and the East Indies to the province of Caracas in Venezuela and across Europe as far as London. We were entering the world of the wealthiest men in Europe, and now, and only now, our guides revealed their secret.

Far from being a remote and tiny mountain path to be travelled with only their guidance, our way forward over the Brenner Pass into the Italian States was a great trade highway – a huge road, busier and more important by far than the Silk Road about which so many romantic stories had been told, for it carried into northern Europe nearly all of the silks, spices and other exotic products that were brought along the Silk Road as well as those that arrived through the Byzantine empire by ship into Venice.

Although it was late in the evening when we arrived, the city was packed with people of all nationalities and we struggled through the crowds to find some poor accommodation. Not that it mattered, for the sights, sounds and smells of the city were so exciting that none of us wanted to go to his bed until very late; we could always sleep in the cart tomorrow

We woke early, wanting to see more of Augsburg before we embarked on the next stage of our journey The city was truly amazing: in addition to the merchants and traders, the streets were full of diplomats and clerics, both Catholic and Lutheran, many of whom had apparently been there since the previous February in attendance at the Imperial Diet. This had met to address the growing rift between the two religious groups which had finally reached such a crescendo that the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V had called the sides together to make a peace agreement. They had argued and fought over every word for months, but in the end had signed the Peace of Augsburg, on September the 25th 1555. Since then there had been continuing arguments over the interpretation of the peace agreement; judging by the number of interested parties still present, the arguments would continue for some time.

Eckhardt explained to me the significance of the agreement. It formally recognized only two religious authorities, he said: Catholic and Lutheran; and it laid down the terms under which they would coexist in peace.

A fine theory. In practice, only one denomination was to be officially recognized in each imperial state, and the religion of the respective prince’s choice was thus made obligatory for his subjects. The peace, Eckhardt said, was holding throughout most of the German-speaking states, but it was a brittle peace.

As always, it seemed, there was one law for the poor and another for the rich. Here, as in other free imperial cities, citizens were, in theory, allowed to exercise their religion as they pleased. The reality was different. In Augsburg, the power and wealth of the great Catholic families was so great that they rode roughshod over the agreement while the ink was still wet, and Lutherans were once again being hounded out. Despite its money and power, it was not altogether a happy city.

I shook my head. ‘What a world. Why can men not find a way to exist peacefully beside their fellow men, tolerating their religious opinions and agreeing to differ, while continuing to work together?’

Eckhardt agreed. It was hard to understand and even harder to accept. ‘In Venice they have a more casual approach, which you may find more to your liking.’

Looking back at the ‘Free’ Imperial City as we departed, I certainly hoped that was true. I would soon know.

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