us worthy of his confidence.  Many valuable privileges have revealed this.  To maintain this confidence, which is and will remain the source of the most important favours to Nuremberg, is enjoined upon us merchants by prudence, upon us directors of the city by regard for its prosperity.  But, my honourable friends, reluctantly as I do so, I must nevertheless remind you that this confidence, here and there, has already received a shock through the errors of individuals.  Who could have forgotten the tale of the beautiful cap of the unhappy Meister Mertein, who has preceded us into the other world?  Doubtless it concerned but one scabby sheep, yet it served to bring the whole flock into disrepute.  Perhaps the fact that it occurred so soon after Rudolph’s election to the sovereignty, during the early days of his residence in our goodly city, imprinted it so deeply upon our imperial master’s memory.  A few hours ago he asked for some information concerning the sad affair which now occupies our attention, and when I represented that the public spirit and honesty of my countrymen, fellow-citizens, and associate members of the Council would prevent it from injuring our trade at home or abroad, he alluded to that story, by no means in the jesting way with which he formerly mentioned the vexatious incident that redounded to the honour of no one more than that of his own shrewdness, which at that time—­seven years ago—­was so often blended with mirth.”

When the speaker began to allude to this much-discussed incident a smile had flitted over the features of his listeners, for they remembered it perfectly, and the story of Emperor Rudolph and the cap was still related to the honour of the presence of mind of the wise Hapsburg judge.

During the period of the assembly of the princes a Nuremberg citizen had taken charge of a bag containing two hundred florins for a foreign merchant who had lodged with him, but when he was asked for the property entrusted to him denied that he had received it.

This disgraceful occurrence was reported to the Emperor, but he apparently paid no heed to it, and received Master Mertein, amongst other citizens who wished to be presented to him.  The dishonest man appeared in a rich gala dress and as, embarrassed by the Emperor’s piercing gaze, he awkwardly twirled his cap—­a magnificent article bordered with costly fur; the sovereign took it from his hand, examined it admiringly and, with the remark that it would suit even a king, placed it on his own royal head.  Then he approached one after another to exchange a few words and, as if forgetting that he wore the head-gear, left the apartment to order a messenger to take the cap at once to its owner’s wife, show it to her as a guarantee of trustworthiness, and ask her to bring the bag which the foreign merchant had given him to the castle.  The woman did so and the cheat was unmasked.