It was indeed true that the ponderous weapon of the headsman had lain for two-and-twenty years rusting in its scabbard; nor without reason. At that period a criminal stood convicted and condemned to death. The law gave little mercy in those days, and there was no hesitation in carrying the sentence into effect. But an unexpected difficulty arose; the old headsman was but lately dead, and his son, a fine stalwart young man, was, from inexperience, considered unequal to the task. A crowd of eager competitors proffered their services in this emergency, but the ancient city of Hamburg, like some other ancient cities, was hampered with antiquated usages. Its profits and other advantages were tied up into little knots of monopoly, in various shapes of privileges and hereditary rights. The young headsman claimed his office on the latter ground; to the surprise of all, his mother, the wife of the old headsman, not merely supported him in his claim, but persisted, with a spirit that might have become a Roman matron but certainly no one else, that if her son were incapable, she herself was responsible for the performance of her husband’s duty, and would execute it. The Senate was in consternation, for this assertion of hereditary right was unanswerable; and while they courteously declined the offer of the chivalrous mother, they felt constrained to accept the services of her son.
The fatal morning came; the scaffold stood erected; and pressing closely around the wooden barriers, stood the anxious crowd awaiting the execution. The culprit knelt with head erect, his neck and shoulders bared for the stroke, while the young headsman stood by his side armed with the double-handed sword, the weapon of his office. At a sign given, he swung the tremendous blade in the air, and aimed a fearful blow at the neck of the condemned; but his skilless hand sloped the broad blade as it fell, and it struck deeply into the victim’s breast. Amid a cry of terror he raised his sword again; again it whirled through the air, and again it failed to do its deadly work. The miserable wretch still lived; and a third stroke was necessary to complete the task so dreadfully began. Who can wonder that that fearful weapon had for years long rested from its service?
