Master Spiesz, Ann’s father, had been bidden from Venice, where he had been in the service of the Mendel’s merchant house, to become head clerk in Nuremberg, first in the Chamber of Taxes, and then in the Chancery, a respectable post of much trust.  His father was, as Ursula Tetzel had said in the school, a luteplayer; but he had long been held the head and chief of teachers of the noble art of music, and was so greatly respected by the clergy and laity that he was made master and leader of the church choir, and even in the houses of the city nobles his teaching of the lute and of singing was deemed the best.  He was a right well-disposed and cheerful old man, of a rare good heart and temper, and of wondrous good devices.  When the worshipful town council bid his son Veit Spiesz come back to Nuremberg, the old man must need fit up a proper house for him, since he himself was content with a small chamber, and the scribe was by this time married to the fair Giovanna, the daughter of one of the Sensali or brokers of the German Fondaco, and must have a home and hearth of his own.

[Sensali—­Agents who conducted all matters of business between the German and Venetian merchants.  Not even the smallest affair was settled without their intervention, on account of the duties demanded by the Republic.  The Fondaco was the name of the great exchange established by the Republic itself for the German trade.]

The musician, who had as a student dwelt in Venice, hit on the fancy that he would give his daughter-in-law a home in Nuremberg like her father’s house, which stood on one of the canals in Venice; so he found a house with windows looking to the river, and which he therefore deemed fit to ease her homesickness.  And verily the Venetian lady was pleased with the placing of her house, and yet more with the old man’s loving care for her; although the house was over tall, and so narrow that there were but two windows on each floor.  Thus there was no manner of going to and fro in the Spiesz’s house, but only up and down.  Notwithstanding, the Venetian lady loved it, and I have heard her say that there was no spot so sweet in all Nuremberg as the window seat on the second story of her house.  There stood her spinning-wheel and sewing-box; and a bright Venice mirror, which, in jest, she would call “Dame Inquisitive,” showed her all that passed on the river and the Fleisch-brucke, for her house was not far from those which stood facing the Franciscan Friars.  There she ruled in peace and good order, in love and all sweetness, and her children throve even as the flowers did under her hand:  roses, auriculas, pinks and pansies; and whosoever went past the house in a boat could hear mirth within and the voice of song.  For the Spiesz children had a fine ear for music, both from their grandsire and their mother, and sweet, clear, bell-like voices.  My Ann was the queen of them all, and her nightingale’s throat drew even Herdegen to her with great power.