Project Gutenberg's The Youth of the Great Elector, by Ferdinand Schmidt This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: The Youth of the Great Elector Life Stories for Young People Author: Ferdinand Schmidt Translator: George P. Upton Release Date: July 17, 2019 [EBook #59929] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUTH OF THE GREAT ELECTOR *** Produced by D A Alexander, Stephen Hutcheson, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by the Library of Congress) The Youth of the Great Elector The Great Elector in his tenth year LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE THE YOUTH OF THE GREAT ELECTOR Translated from the German of Ferdinand Schmidt BY GEORGE P. UPTON Translator of “Memories,” “Immensee,” etc. WITH THREE ILLUSTRATIONS A · C · McCLURG CHICAGO A. C. McCLURG & CO. Chapter I In the Elector’s Castle II An Unquiet Night III In November of the Same Year IV Two Princesses V The Battle VI Baron and Chancellor VII The Departure VIII The Sixteenth of February IX The Runaway X The Hunting-Castle XI The Stag Hunt XII A Retrospect XIII The Imperial Soldiers XIV The Restitutions Edict XV Colonel von Burgsdorf XVI Gustavus Adolphus XVII In a Garden House at Berlin XVIII At Walgast XIX In Holland v vii 1909 COPYRIGHT A. C. MCCLURG & CO. 1909 Published August 21, 1909 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. Translator’s Preface The story of Frederick William, “The Great Elector,” as he is known in history, begins with his birth and closes with his accession to power upon the death of his father. It is the story of his youth only, but in the youth we find all the attributes which made him so great as an Elector and as a man. Its scenes are laid in the period of the terrible and devastating Thirty Years’ War, which had not yet come to a close when Frederick William became Elector of Brandenburg. Its characters, Ferdinand the Second, Frederick the Fifth, Christian of Denmark, Gustavus Adolphus, Wallenstein, Tilly, Maximilian of Bavaria, the Swedish Chancellor Oxenstjern, Count von Mansfeld, the Empress Elizabeth, the Elector of Brandenburg, his high-minded wife, and his great son, are world-famous. Its progress throws a strong light upon that memorable war of faiths, which lasted more than a generation, and which was characterized by bitter enmity and cruel atrocities on both sides, as has usually been the case in every religious struggle. It is a terrible picture of those days when Catholics and Protestants were struggling for the supremacy, but its dark and repellent details are rendered more endurable by the knowledge in this twentieth century that such wars and such cruelties in the name of religion are not likely to occur again. The world has advanced; freedom of thought and of conscience is everywhere recognized and conceded. Sects may still disagree in doctrine, but the old deadly hatreds are extinguished. The central figure in this stirring drama is Frederick William, who, as the curtain falls, enters upon his career as the Great Elector. G. P. U. CHICAGO, July 1, 1909. Contents PAGE 11 20 29 31 38 44 51 55 58 63 67 75 84 87 91 98 102 108 111 XX In the Park XXI Sweden’s Revenge XXII The Prince’s Flight XXIII The Message XXIV Mother and Son XXV The Great Elector Appendix The Great Elector in his tenth year In the dark days Soldiers at the time of the Thirty Years’ War ix 11 12 116 124 126 131 135 137 144 Illustrations PAGE Frontispiece 78 84 The Youth of the Great Elector Chapter I In the Elector’s Castle All golden flashes the princely crown, symbol of the highest earthly power, yet terrible, often crushing, is its burden. This was the experience of George William, Elector of Brandenburg, who ascended the throne of his father in 1619. The political sky was thick with gathering clouds, which now and then threatened to let loose the Thirty Years’ War. Hardly a ray of sunlight shone upon this sovereign during his twenty-one years’ reign. It was the year 1619. All were rejoicing in the Elector’s castle at Cologne, and the Electoress was the most joyous of all. Good news had come. The Protestant Bohemians had renounced allegiance to Catholic Ferdinand the Second and chosen the Elector Frederick the Fifth of the Palatinate as their King. Frederick was the brother of the Electoress. She already saw the crown gleaming upon Frederick’s head, its rays being reflected upon hers also. She had received a letter from her brother, in which he wrote: “Thankfully and with joyful tears the Bohemians have elected me their King. How can I disappoint them? At first I hesitated. But my high-minded consort said to me: ‘Will you refuse the outstretched hand of a King’s daughter?[1] Do you fear to mount a throne voluntarily offered you? I would rather eat bread at a King’s table than carouse at an Elector’s table.’ This decided me, and I communicated to the deputation my decision to accept the crown of Bohemia.” The reader is already acquainted with the effect of this news upon the Electoress. Before replying to her brother’s letter, however, she decided to consult her two chief advisers. She could not speak with the Elector, as he was absent on a visit to Prussia, whither he had been called by important affairs of State. These two distinguished statesmen, Count Adam Schwarzenberg and Chancellor Pruckmann, were summoned at once to the castle. Before they arrive, let us glance at the audience chamber where the interview is to take place. The walls are hung with damask tapestries and topped with broad, gilded cornices. The doors and windows are of white and gold, and gilded figures gleam on the ceiling. By the marble fireplace stand an antique vase of green porphyry and the candelabra, shaped like antique incense-burners, of gold bronze. The tables are of gray Silesian marble and rest upon feet of ebony, richly bronzed. The chairs have luxuriously cushioned seats and elegantly upholstered backs and their woodwork is elaborately carved. 13 14 15 16 The Electoress entered this room about four o’clock, accompanied by her brother-in-law, Margrave Sigismund. She wore a flowered silk dress with Brussels lace at the neck and upon the sleeves, and a diamond ornament flashed upon her breast. Margrave Sigismund, a young man of mild and genial appearance, was Governor of Brandenburg, but only so in name; the real representative of the Elector was the Minister, Count Schwarzenberg. The Electoress seated herself and the Margrave stood by her side, leaning against a marble table. At a signal to the halberdiers, standing by the door, Chancellor Pruckmann, a small, spare, elderly man, entered, bowed deferentially and approached the Electoress. The latter, holding her brother’s letter in her hand, acquainted him with what had occurred. As she continued speaking his countenance beamed with satisfaction. At last, he raised his hand, looked up and exclaimed: “Praise God for the victory our Protestant Church has won.” “But can it hold what it has secured without a struggle?” said the Electoress. “God, who has helped us now, will help us again,” he answered. “Certainly, if those who are attached to our side do all in their power also,” replied the Electoress. “But how do matters stand in our country? You know we can do nothing without its approval. My brother asks in this letter whether he can surely depend upon us for money or for troops if necessary. You certainly understand the importance of the question.” The Chancellor looked thoughtful. “It must be acknowledged,” he said, “we cannot return an absolutely definite answer. Alas! the unfortunate divisions in our own church! On the one hand, Lutherans! On the other, Reformers! But we may yet accomplish in State affairs much that seems impossible if only we begin aright. Much depends upon him out there [pointing to the antechamber]. He enjoys the confidence of our gracious Elector—if he—” “He is a Catholic,” suddenly interposed the Margrave. “You know that well enough. He has betrayed the confidence of my brother.” Pruckmann signified assent. The Electoress replied: “Dear brother-in-law, perhaps you are going too far. Schwarzenberg has administered the affairs of the country for years with great wisdom.” “Only the more completely to deceive,” said the Margrave. “Again, you are going too far,” said the Electoress, “but we will hear what he himself has to say.” Schwarzenberg entered. He was a man of tall, commanding figure. The pallor of his sunken cheeks and high forehead spoke of physical weakness, the fire in his large black eyes of abundant mental strength. Upon his dark cloak he wore the insignia of the Grand Master of the Knights of St. John. His sword also indicated that he belonged to the order. It was long and broad, while that worn by the Chancellor was short and narrow. The Electoress communicated to him the contents of her brother’s letter. He listened to her with a gravity which showed he was deeply interested. At last he said: “Bohemia is a volcano which has been emitting fire and flame these two hundred years, thereby causing widespread devastation. One of its eruptions once swept across the frontier of Brandenburg. The gallant Bernese quenched it with their blood.” Thereupon Margrave Sigismund answered: “But who aroused the Bohemians’ wrath at that time? Who took from them their noblest man, the pious Huss? While he lived peace prevailed in the land. It was his shameful death and the attacks upon his followers that 17 18 kindled Bohemian fury.” Schwarzenberg doubtless thought to himself that his death was the outcome of his heresy, but he made no allusion to Huss and his times. He replied: “They are behaving now in Bohemia as they did then. The twenty-third of May of last year, when at Prague they insolently rejected the counsels of the Emperor, was a ruinous day for that country. They have severed not only the ties which bound them to their lawful Prince, but those which bound them to the Mother Church. How can such things happen without producing bitter strife?” “Other consequences than you expect may happen,” replied the Margrave. “You are an able man, Schwarzenberg; and yet it will be difficult even for you to prove that the Bohemians are in the wrong. Was not the right of public service and open confession of faith granted to the Protestants in 1555? Has that agreement been kept? You well know where the fire against Protestantism was kindled and where the sign was given that faith need not be kept with heretics. The madness began in foreign countries, in Spain, in France, in the Netherlands. In the space of thirty years over 900,000 Protestant Christians of every condition and age were persecuted.” “My dear brother-in-law,” said the Electoress, “you are certainly going far away from the subject.” “I think not,” answered the Margrave. “It is the same condition of things now. Herr Minister, I ask you this. Did not Protestant doctrine spread all over Bohemia under the mild and benignant rule of Maximilian the Second?” “That it spread under the rule of the Emperor? Yes! That Maximilian was mild and benignant? No! I call him weak and indifferent as to the Catholic religion, otherwise he would not have left his successor so difficult a task.” “Why this discussion?” interrupted the Electoress. “Let us take up the matter in hand.” “Gracious sister-in-law, grant me a few minutes and you will understand how deeply I have this matter at heart,” replied the Margrave. He resumed: “Herr Minister, I would recall to you the son of Maximilian the Second, the Emperor Rudolph the Second. In a letter to the Bohemians he promised them the right of free worship. That promise is well known under the name of ‘His Majesty’s Letter.’ Can you deny this?” “No,” replied Schwarzenberg, “but the fact must be taken into account that this letter was extorted from the Emperor by force.” “Then, you mean that it has no value?” “Not any,” replied Schwarzenberg, calmly. Surprise was manifest upon the countenances of the Electoress, the Margrave, and the Chancellor. “Truly,” said the Margrave, “that is a convenient arrangement! Promise anything and whenever the most solemn promises are made then break them. You mean to say that if the promiser is weak, physically or mentally, and force is applied, his promise is of no account. This infernal method was also followed by the Emperor Matthias and the late Emperor Ferdinand. Whom can the Bohemians trust? Tell me, Herr Minister, is it not notorious that the Emperor has declared he will get the Bohemians back into the Catholic faith, if not by kindness, then by force?” “I have heard so, and I think he is sufficiently strong and determined to carry out his purpose,” replied Schwarzenberg. “Let this discussion be ended,” said the Electoress. “Herr Minister, 19 20 21 what would you advise my brother to do if he were standing here before you and asked, ‘Shall I accept the crown of Bohemia?’” Schwarzenberg replied: “I would implore him to decline it. A terrible struggle confronts your princely brother if he places Bohemia’s crown upon his head. He is a mild, peace-loving man and not capable of bringing that struggle to a favorable close. Once it breaks out, it will spread devastation far and wide, the end of which who can foresee?” The Electoress had heard enough. “I thank you, Schwarzenberg,” she said, at the same time giving him permission to retire. But when the door closed, she said: “Now I know where I am. Schwarzenberg has greatly weakened my confidence.” The Margrave and the Chancellor plucked up courage to address the Electoress once more. “Has the Protestant Union then been established for naught? Shall the princes who established it abandon it?” “God forbid,” replied the Electoress; “but look you. There stands opposed to the Protestant Union a union of Catholic princes. Schwarzenberg spoke of a bitter struggle which must ensue if my brother accepts the crown of Bohemia. Schwarzenberg’s religious convictions may be opposed to ours but you will not deny that he has very clear eyes.” Yes, clear eyes had Schwarzenberg. He saw in the events occurring in Bohemia the beginning of a mighty struggle. That it would last thirty years neither he nor any other could know, but he had the presentiment that he should not live to see its close. Chapter II An Unquiet Night The sixteenth of February, 1620, was an important day for Prussia, for between three and four o’clock on the afternoon of that day, a son was born to the Electoress, Frederick William, the future “Great Elector.” It is remarkable that the heir who fought so many battles should have been disturbed even in his cradle by warlike tumult. Upon the evening of the twentieth of May the nurse and chambermaid were together in the Prince’s apartment which the Electoress had left to get some rest. The child was sleeping quietly in his handsomely decorated cradle. The two watched him a little while with pleasure, then seated themselves at a table upon which a wax light burned behind a screen, and began to spin. When they were fairly at work, the nurse said: “Our Princess little recks of the evil doings which are endangering our peace.” “The Princess was anxious enough,” replied the chambermaid, “when she saw the people collecting in crowds in the streets, but the castellan has reassured her.” “What were the people excited about?” “They were alarmed because two thousand Englishmen, sent by King James, arrived yesterday at Potsdam.” “Will they enter Berlin?” “God forbid! They are going in a few days still farther, to Bohemia. They are auxiliaries sent to the Elector of the Palatinate who has been crowned at Prague. But our people were apprehensive that they had come here because of the uprising six years ago. They have a guilty conscience.” “Uprising? here in Berlin?” 22 23 24 “Nurse, how little you know about things. I will explain. The blessed Elector about that time went over from the Lutheran to the Reformed Church. The people of Cöln[2] and Berlin were greatly incensed. They are nearly all Lutherans, and there was a great uproar. The governor, Margrave Johann George, had to clear the streets to silence the tumult, and was severely injured by a stone thrown at him. The crowd then attacked and demolished the house of Füssell, the Reformed preacher.” Extreme surprise was visible upon the nurse’s countenance. “Have such things happened here?” said she. “Yes. They have happened here,” replied the maid; “and worse yet, they happened without investigation or punishment. The Lutherans are in the ascendant and they are making the lives of Reformers wretched to-day in the city and country. Perhaps now you understand what I meant when I said ‘the people have a guilty conscience.’” “Yes; now I understand. The people are afraid that these two thousand Englishmen are going to occupy the city.” “Yes, and would that it were true. It would serve the people right. They would quickly settle matters. But I know it will not happen. Our Elector is much too gentle to adopt harsh measures.” Hardly were these words uttered, when they heard a great noise in the vicinity of St. George’s, now King street. “What is that!” exclaimed the frightened nurse, rushing to the door. The maid stopped her, saying, “You must not go there. Open the window in the room on the riverside and look out. But no, you had better not. It will cool off the room and may make the child ill. No; you stay here and I will look myself.” Thereupon she went to the room, closing the door behind her, opened the tall shutters, and looked out. A great crowd of people was crossing the long bridge, led by several torch-bearers and drummers. When she returned the nurse asked her what was going on. “You need have no fear,” she replied, though the expression on her face showed that she was alarmed herself. “It is just as I told you. It is only the panic which the English have caused among the people.” “But if they should really come, and the people should resist them, and there should be cutting and stabbing and bullets were flying, we might be hurt ourselves.” The maid sought to calm the nurse although the increasing din around the castle and in the neighboring streets made her own alarm more and more perceptible. To allay their fears, they talked about casual things. One said to the other: “Our young master in the cradle is three months old and has not yet been christened. Alas! how times have changed since the christening of the Margrave Sigismund in the nineties! That was a festival indeed! I remember it as distinctly as if it were but yesterday.” “Oh! tell me something about it.” “Since you desire it, nurse, I will. Now pay attention. There were so many princes, counts, and nobles assembled that the castle could not accommodate them all. The people of both cities took part in it. It was December and the snow-covered houses were decorated with fir and pine branches, which gave them a welcoming appearance. In front of the castle were five arches similarly decorated with wreaths and pictures. On one arch hung a ring and over it a crown. It also was surmounted by a figure of Fortune, poised upon a sphere, holding a red banner upon which 25 26 27 was inscribed in gold letters the word ‘Victory.’ On the third day there were fireworks. Have you ever seen them? No? How well I remember them! But how could you ever know of such things in Ukermark? They were displayed on the evenings of the festival. About eight o’clock an attendant entered and said: ‘Just now the Elector called from the balcony, “Master Hans, when I give the signal, by word or whistle, set them off!”’ We put kerchiefs on our heads and went to the open windows. We had not to wait long when a cannon sounded. Then we saw fiery devices of every kind, serpentine balls, set pieces, bombs, showers of stars, and many hundred rockets, until at last it seemed as if all the stars in the sky were dancing around us. When they were all discharged, fifteen mortars thundered. The ground shook; several hundred panes were broken in the castle, the cathedral, and other buildings near by. So much snow fell from the castle roof that the kettledrummers and trumpeters, stationed on an upper balcony, had to stop playing for a long time. You would have imagined that great alarm might have ensued, but it all went off well and not a person was injured. Oh, but it was not much like the times nowadays. Where can we get the money for such a celebration now?” The nurse suddenly sprang from her seat. A shot was heard. “Oh dear!” cried she. “The English are entering the city, and it means fighting.” The maid assumed an air of confidence but wished in her heart that the night were well over. The cathedral bell struck one. After a little she rose from her seat and paced the room to and fro. As she was thus engaged she noticed a book, bound in red morocco, lying upon a table near the door. As she picked it up, she saw the nurse looking at it curiously, and said to her: “Why, nurse, is this your book? Can you read?” “I wish I could,” answered the nurse. “Surely our gracious Electoress must have forgotten the book when she came in to see and kiss her little son before he went to sleep. Yes, now I remember, she had such a book in her hand.” “Let us take a look at it,” said the maid, seating herself at a table and opening the volume. “It was printed last year,” she said. “It reads, ‘at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, by Michael Kochen, 1619.’” After she had examined the title-page, which was ornamented with red and black lettering, she lightly turned over some of its leaves. The nurse looked at her like a hungry person gazing upon another at a bountiful repast. At last the maid noticed her eager look and said: “Shall I read you some of it?” “I should be delighted to have you do so!” “You must first know that a regular Francophobist wrote this book.” “Are there such people as Francopho—” The maid was only restrained from a peal of laughter by fear of waking the child. “Ah! You are still way back in Ukermark,” she said. “Francophobists is the name of persons who cannot abide anything that is French.” She turned the leaves once more and then said: “Listen to what he has written.” She read a long tirade against the French and their influence upon German life, habits, literature, music, and attire. “What does this man know of our attire?” said she. The nurse meanwhile sat staring at the maid’s head-dress. The latter was irritated and said: “What are you looking at, you marigold of Ukermark, with your taffeta head ribbon? You would gladly dress like me if there were no regular style of dress prescribed for you.” They would have resumed their casual talk had not the tumult increased around the castle and in the streets near by. The maid 28 29 30 immediately betook herself to the dark room and looked out of the window. Armed men were rushing about excitedly. She saw military officers and heard wild cries and curses, shouts and laughter. Now and then a shot was fired. The maid returned and said: “The little Prince will be scared to death by this noise.” She had hardly spoken when firing was resumed near the castle. The child started up and opened his eyes, but immediately closed them again. “Ah!” said the nurse in a low tone, “see how he doubles up his little fist and how impatiently he moves about. Just wait, you people, wait till he is grown up.” “Yes,” said a voice, “God grant he may live to grow up a bold, brave man.” They turned in surprise and saw the Princess in the room. The tumult lasted all night, sometimes dying away, again breaking out. About midnight there was an excited gathering in front of the house of Minister Schwarzenberg. The Count at last met the people and assured them that their fears about the English were groundless. He said he had further taken the precaution to send out patrols to confirm the truth of his statements and they had nowhere encountered the dreaded English. In the morning good news came from all sides, whereupon the people quietly returned to their homes. It was not until the thirtieth of July that the christening of the Prince took place, for up to that time they had not succeeded in raising the necessary money. They had also vainly awaited the return of the Elector. Affairs in Prussia were in such confusion that he could not think of leaving for a long time. The witnesses of the christening were the young Prince’s grandmother, Electoress Anna (widow of Elector Johann Sigismund), Princess Marie Eleonore, subsequently Queen of Sweden, Katherine, who later married the Transylvanian, Prince Betler Gabor, both sisters of the Elector George William, and lastly, the Brandenburg nobility and representatives of cities on both sides of the Oder, who were invited but could bring no other christening gift than the loyalty they owed to the future master of their country. Chapter III In November of the Same Year Six months have passed since that unquiet night. The people of both cities were greatly excited during that time by some momentous events. To understand them, we must narrate some occurrences which happened in the Spring. About that time a Swedish captain appeared at the Elector’s court —a handsome man of kingly bearing. He remained in Cöln about fourteen days and was very often at the castle. It was universally supposed he was engaged upon a secret mission. This was actually the case, but the people were mistaken: they thought he was acting for others, while in reality he was acting for himself. This captain was no other than Gustavus Adolphus, the chivalrous King of Sweden. Reports of the beauty and goodness of the Princess Marie Eleonore, sister of the Elector, had drawn him to the Brandenburg court. He wished to ascertain by his own observation whether these reports were true. He found all that he wished—modesty, intelligence, personal charm. He made her acquaintance, pressed his suit, and she confidingly placed her destiny in his hands. Not long after this, Oxenstjern, the Swedish Chancellor, escorted the royal bride to Stockholm, where the marriage was to be 31 32 celebrated. The people then discovered for the first time that the Swedish captain, in whom they had been so deeply interested the past six months, and King Gustavus Adolphus were one and the same person. One may well imagine that the event was the subject of eager discourse for a long time, and that the union between Brandenburg and Sweden was hailed with rejoicing. The popular interest, however, was still greater in the future of Bohemia and its chosen ruler. The coronation of Frederick of the Palatinate was celebrated with brilliant ceremonies, the first act in a momentous drama. Bohemia was now the country in which the strength of Catholicism and that of Protestantism were to be measured for the first time. The Emperor was opposed to the Catholic union. The news reached Berlin and Cöln that a strong army was approaching the capital of Bohemia, led by Maximilian of Bavaria, whose prowess as a soldier had made his name one to be dreaded. What days, what nights, the Electoress passed, alternating between hope and anxiety! And more and more her hope grew fainter. Chapter IV Two Princesses As has already been related, the Electoress widow Anna, mother of the reigning Elector, was invited to act as godmother at the christening of the new-born Prince. She belonged to the Lutheran Confession, and her hatred of the Reformers was so intense that, while she was willing to enter her name as a witness in the church book she could not bring herself to attend the ceremonies in the cathedral. The Electoress made several ineffectual attempts to conciliate her mother-in-law. It may be well imagined that the incident greatly excited the people. The number of Reformers in the two cities, as has been said, was insignificant and nearly every one sided with the widowed Electoress. She was so ardent in her zeal that she even employed the Lutheran minister, Balthazar Meissner, to preach both the last Sundays of her stay in the large hall of the castle. She also invited many prominent citizens of both the cities to attend the service. As the people were leaving the castle on the last Sunday they met the Electoress coming out of the cathedral. She imagined that they did not greet her with their usual deference and even fancied that many of them showed signs of marked disrespect. On the following Monday the Electoress summoned the wife of a halberdier who had attended the castle service on the preceding day. The woman was much alarmed, fearing that the Electoress was going to rebuke her; but the latter reassured her. “As to this matter,” she said, “neither my husband nor I have any desire to prevent you from doing what your conscience approves, but I claim, and Sigismund also, that we shall have the same right and that we shall pray to our common Heavenly Father in the Reformed Church without being condemned for it.” Then she questioned the woman about Balthazar Meissner’s sermon, what he had said and whether he had bitterly attacked the Reformers. “Is it true,” she inquired, “that he assailed my brother and the Bohemians?” After some hesitation the woman replied: “Yes! He invoked the wrath of Heaven upon the Bohemians and also—upon their new King. He also implored divine help for the Catholics in their contest with the detested Reformers.” “Go on! Tell me all, conceal nothing.” 33 34 35 After some cross-questioning, the Electoress ascertained that Balthazar Meissner had stigmatized the Reformers as children of the devil and worse even than the Catholics, some of whom might expect the divine mercy. Furthermore he had said that whenever a country fell into the hands of a ruler who was one of these heretical Reformers, the devil erected an altar upon, which the salvation of his subjects was sacrificed. After the Electoress had dismissed the woman, she reflected for some time upon the course she should pursue. At last she decided to remonstrate with her mother-in-law so that such dangerous proceedings should not be repeated. She went at once to her apartments, sent in her name by a maid in waiting, and was admitted. Though both were under the same roof, the two ladies had not seen one another for several weeks. The manner of their meeting showed their alienation. The Electoress bowed low; her face was pale, and its expression that of one who was very ill. The Princess Anna stood erect and motionless some seconds and regarded her with piercing glances from her black eyes. Her gray locks shadowed a flushed face, the features of which revealed a crafty nature. Politely acknowledging her deference, she motioned the Electoress to be seated and then asked in a cutting tone: “What is it that has brought you to your mother-in-law? Surely something very extraordinary must have happened.” The reply came in a clear, firm voice. “Yes, something very extraordinary has happened. I, the Princess of the country, have been insulted under my own roof, by a priest—I and my husband and the government. And who has brought this shame upon us? My own mother-in-law, the mother of my dear husband! She protected this priest, she summoned him here, she invited citizens here to listen to insults of myself and assaults upon my religion, and to expose me to their hatred and derision. O my God! when ever before has a Princess been so treated?” She burst into tears. With the utmost coolness the other replied: “Nathan also went to the house of the King, and his words were a two-edged sword. He came to save David from destruction, and, lo, he succeeded; for David repented. The pious Balthazar came to this house and denounced the apostasy of those who are floundering about in the morasses of the heretical Reformed religion. Oh, that his words were a trumpet blast to rouse you from your sinful slumber and that you, like David, might repent and acknowledge your error.” The Electoress in the meantime had regained composure. “I have not come here,” said she, “to engage in useless dispute with you about the doctrines of the Lutheran and Reformed faiths, but I may remind you that if you assail us so shamefully you cannot blame the Catholics for assailing you. You call us apostates and you condemn the Catholics for their persecution of you, and yet in your heart you deny us in like manner the freedom of conscience!” “Well! when we see hearts in the power of Satan, should we not cry aloud?” “How can you be so bitterly unjust?” replied the Electoress. “Should you not hesitate before you insult a religion in which not only I but my husband, your son, believe—a religion indeed in which a man believed who for a long time was the nearest one to you on earth?” The other sprang from her seat and paced the room to and fro with eyes blazing with excitement. “My Sigismund!” she exclaimed at last with clasped hands and upturned eyes. “My Sigismund, that you also should have apostatized from the true faith! Was it the longing for those possessions on the frontier of Holland which you hoped to secure by your renunciation of your religion, that blinded you? Or, had the Evil One—” “Horrible!” said the Electoress. “You spare neither the dead nor 36 37 38 the living, neither friends nor kinsmen. How dare you assert that your husband went over to the Reformed Church for the sake of those possessions? I am as sure that was not the case, as I am that you are standing here.” “Sure,” said the Electoress Anna, “sure! tell me what grounds you have for your certainty.” “They are simple and, I think, convincing. Every one says that when your husband made the change, he intended if possible to acquire those possessions, but was conscious at the same time that he would lose Lutheran Brandenburg. On the one hand, a little gain; on the other, an immense loss. Had he been influenced by material considerations, do you suppose, does any one suppose, that he would not have decided to remain with the Lutherans and secure a great gain, rather than go over to the Reformers and incur a great loss? His action is conclusive proof that his renunciation was a matter of conscience, and conscience alone.” “You may be right,” exclaimed the Electoress Anna, with a sigh. “My husband has told me this and also my son, and yet, and yet —” After a pause she continued: “But grant it were so! Is the power of the Evil One so great that it can thus deceive the conscience?” “We think otherwise,” replied the Electoress. “We hope, if we strive to live rightfully and in accordance with our faith, to enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but we do not believe that its doors of mercy are closed against others. We tolerate other beliefs. We do not charge them with being heterodox.” The princely widow came close to the Electoress, looked at her fixedly, and said: “I will tell you just how you stand. You Reformers have a very small following in the country, therefore you are tolerant. Should your numbers increase, then—” “Then, do you mean we will be as intolerant as the Lutherans? Never!” The conversation had taken a turn which did not please the widowed Electoress. She could no longer talk reasonably or dispassionately. She turned suddenly and asked the following questions: “What was your real purpose in calling upon me? Tell me truly. Had you not rather I would leave the castle, the city, and the country? Place your hand upon your heart and tell me no untruth.” The Electoress replied: “God is my witness that I shall speak the truth. I take your hand, beloved Princess Mother, and implore you and yours to live in peace with us under this roof, to refrain from assailing the faith of others, and to prove the excellence of your belief by your conduct. Dear mother, let us set the country an example of the peace which we find in our common love of the Saviour.” “No! No! the serpent of Paradise is hidden in your words. No! a long-cherished thought impels me to instant decision. A few days hence I shall go from here, far from this wretched country to a land where genuine Lutherans may be found. Say no more. I wish to be alone.” A silent adieu and the Electoress left the apartment. Chapter V The Battle Chancellor Pruckmann went to the castle to seek an audience. He 39 40 entered in his usual deferential manner but the Electoress had not yet returned from the apartment of her mother-in-law. As he was traversing the corridor, he suddenly heard his name called behind him. He turned and beheld her. A look of distress came into his face and he bowed very low, perhaps to conceal his countenance from her gaze until he could master his emotions. His expression did not escape the sharp eyes of the Electoress, who was already filled with gloomy anticipations. Her presentiment as to the fate of her brother and Bohemia was confirmed by his looks, and she said in a tone of alarm: “Pruckmann, you are the bearer of evil tidings, are you not? Oh, God! What am I to hear next. Quick! follow me to my apartment.” When they were together there the Electoress paced up and down the room with clasped hands, trying to regain her composure. At last she seated herself and said to Pruckmann, who remained standing by the door like a statue, and looking down: “Now, Pruckmann, I am strong enough to hear whatever you have to say. Tell me briefly and quickly all that has happened.” It seemed as if the flowers on the carpet had riveted Pruckmann’s gaze. He did not look up, but after a little said in a hollow voice: “So be it. I will tell you briefly. Your brother is no longer King of Bohemia. He was defeated, and has had to fly.” Another pause ensued. As Pruckmann heard no sound from the Electoress he looked up. Her face alarmed him beyond all measure, for in reality she looked like a dead rather than a live person. She was barely able to gasp out: “Pruckmann, are you certain of this?” “Alas! as certain as I know that this hand is mine!” The Electoress’s head suddenly dropped upon the arm of her chair. Pruckmann rushed to an adjoining apartment and sent her maids to her. He remained there but had not waited long when he heard her voice, which had been silenced by her convulsive weeping. When at last he was summoned he found her remarkably composed. “Now, Pruckmann, give me, as far as you can, an exact account of what has occurred. Have you the news by word of mouth or by letter?” “I received this letter two hours ago.” “Leave it with me. I will read it later. Now tell me what you know.” “Gracious Princess, I should not merit your confidence did I not tell you the whole truth.” “Pruckmann, tell me everything, in the fewest words.” “Your princely brother lost the devotion of the Bohemians in many ways: he showed himself too fond of splendor; he offended the Bohemian leaders in the army by disregarding the movements of the German general; and, worse still, he embittered the Bohemian Lutherans by his unmistakable expressions of contempt for their faith. I have known these things for several weeks, and you know that as far as it was my duty, I gave you intimations of them.” “Yes; and I have not failed to communicate my opinions about these things to my brother freely, but as now appears in vain.” “Your princely brother deemed himself too secure. His advisers must have failed in their duty. He soon discovered, however, the weakness of his situation. The Catholic princes rallied promptly at the call of the Emperor, but none of the princes who had joined the Protestant Union came at the King’s summons. The Elector of Saxony—he belongs, you know, to the Lutheran confession—sent