CHAPTER II.

Reigns of Albert I, Frederic, Albert and Otho.

From 1291 to 1347.

Anecdotes Of Rhodolph.—­His Desire For The Election Of His Son.—­His
Death.—­Albert.—­His Unpopularity.—­Conspiracy Of The Nobles.—­Their
Defeat.—­Adolphus Of Nassau Chosen Emperor.—­Albert’s Conspiracy.—­
Deposition Of Adolphus And Election Of Albert.—­Death Of Adolphus.—­The
Pope Defied.—­Annexation Of Bohemia.—­Assassination Of Albert.—­Avenging
Fury.—­The Hermit’s Direction.—­Frederic The Handsome.—­Election Of
Henry, Count Of Luxemburg.—­His Death.—­Election Of Louis Of
Bavaria.—­Capture Of Frederic.—­Remarkable Confidence Toward a
Prisoner.—­Death Of Frederic.—­An Early Engagement.—­Death Of
Louis.—­Accession Of Albert.

Rhodolph of Hapsburg was one of the most remarkable men of his own or of any age, and many anecdotes illustrative of his character, and of the rude times in which he lived, have been transmitted to us.  The Thuringian knight who speared the emperor’s horse in the bloody fight of Murchfield, was rescued by Rhodolph from those who would cut him down.

“I have witnessed,” said the emperor, “his intrepidity, and never could forgive myself if so courageous a knight should be put to death.”

During the war with Ottocar, on one occasion the army were nearly perishing of thirst.  A flagon of water was brought to him.  He declined it, saying,

“I can not drink alone, nor can I divide so small a quantity among all.  I do not thirst for myself, but for the whole army.”

By earnest endeavor he obtained the perfect control of his passions, naturally very violent.  “I have often,” said he, “repented of being passionate, but never of being mild and humane.”

One of his captains expressed dissatisfaction at a rich gift the emperor made to a literary man who presented him a manuscript describing the wars of the Romans.

“My good friend,” Rhodolph replied, “be contented that men of learning praise our actions, and thereby inspire us with additional courage in war.  I wish I could employ more time in reading, and could expend some of that money on learned men which I must throw away on so many illiterate knights.”

One cold morning at Metz, in the year 1288, he walked out dressed as usual in the plainest garb.  He strolled into a baker’s shop, as if to warm himself.  The baker’s termagant wife said to him, all unconscious who he was,

“Soldiers have no business to come into poor women’s houses.”

“True,” the emperor replied, “but do not be angry, my good woman; I am an old soldier who have spent all my fortune in the service of that rascal Rhodolph, and he suffers me to want, notwithstanding all his fine promises.”

“Good enough for you,” said the woman; “a man who will serve such a fellow, who is laying waste the whole earth, deserves nothing better.”