Bartholomew Sastrow: Being the Memoirs of a German Burgomaster

by Bartholomäus Sastrow

A Twelve Months' Stay at Augsburg during the Diet--Something about the Emperor and Princes--Sebastian Vogelsberg--Concerning the Interim--Journey to Cologne

On July 27, 1547, I dismounted at an inn in the wine market at Augsburg. The host was a person of consideration, and endowed with good sense; he was a master of one of the corporations. The latter had administered the city's affairs for more than a century. During a similar number of years the corporations of Nuremberg had ceded their power in that respect to the patricians. The Augsburg corporations, being Evangelicals, had sided against the emperor; consequently His Imperial Majesty proposed to exclude them at the forthcoming Diet from the government, in favour of the aristocracy, which had remained faithful to the ancient faith.

I took two rooms (each with an alcove, or sleeping closet, attached to it), of which the host had no need for his travelling patrons. The ambassadors settled in one; the other was set apart for their administration, which was composed of Jacob Citzewitz, chancellor; two secretaries of Duke Barnim, and myself. I sold my horse with its equipment, which was not worth much. I took what I could get for it; fodder was very dear, and the animal was no longer of the least use to me.

The emperor and his army arrived at the end of July. The landgrave remained behind at Donauwerth, under the guard of a Spanish detachment, while the elector, brought to Augsburg, took up his quarters with the Welsers, two houses away from the Imperial residence, and on the other side of a kind of alley by the side of my inn. A passage made between these two houses by means of a bridge thrown over the alley provided communication between the apartments of his Imperial Majesty and those of the elector. The captive prince had his own kitchens. His chancellor, Von Monkwitz, was always near him; he was served by his own attendants, so that the Spaniards had no pretext to enter his room or his sleeping closet. The Duke of Alva and other gentlemen of the Imperial suite constantly kept him company; the time was spent in pleasant conversations and equally agreeable recreations. They had arranged a list for the jousts in the courtyard of the dwelling, which was as superb a mansion as any royal one. The elector went out on horseback to the beautiful sites and spots of the town, namely, the various gardens, cultivated with much art. He had been very fond from his youth of swordplay, and while he remained well and active he indulged in all kinds of martial exercise. They therefore left him to superintend the assaults at arms, but he did not stir without an escort of Spanish soldiers. He was left free to read what he pleased, except in the latter days, namely, after his refusal to accept the Interim.

At Donauwerth, on the other hand, the landgrave had a guard even in his own apartment. If he looked out of the window two Spaniards craned their necks by his side. Drums and fifes told him of the guard coming on duty and of the guard that was being relieved. Armed sentries watched in the prisoner's room; they were relieved once during the night, and when those coming on duty entered the room, the others, when the shrill music had ceased, drew the curtains of the bed aside, saying: "We commit him to your care. Keep a good watch." The emperor's words to the landgrave, "I'll teach you to laugh," were not an empty threat.

Before retiring to rest, his Imperial Majesty, to the terror of many, had a gibbet erected in front of the town hall; by the side of the gibbet, the strapado, and, facing it, a scaffold at about an ordinary man's height from the ground. This was intended to hold the rack, and the beheading, the strangulating, the quartering, and kindred operations were to be carried out on it.

The emperor had sent to Spain for his secretary, a grandee, it will be seen directly, who stood high in his favour. As the said secretary sailed down the Elbe, coming from Torgau, a faithful subject of the captive elector hid himself in a wood on the bank of the stream. He was a skilful arquebusier, and when the craft was well within range, he fired a shot. They brought the emperor a corpse. The mortal remains of the secretary were taken to Spain in a handsome coffin; the murderer fled across Hungary in the direction of Turkey, but active pursuit resulted in his capture, and he was dispatched to Augsburg. He was driven in an open cart from St. Ulrich to the town hall, by way of the wine market. Hence, the elector had the extreme annoyance of seeing him pass under his windows. The condemned man had between his knees a pole, to which his right hand was tied as high as possible. In the midst of the drive, the sword severed the wrist from the arm; hemorrhage was prevented by dressing the wound, and the hand was nailed to a post put up in the street for the purpose. In front of the town hall the poor wretch was taken from the cart and was put on the rack.

The landsknechten quartered at Augsburg had not received their pay for several months. It was to come out of the fines imposed upon the landgrave and the towns. The rumour ran that the fines had been paid, but that the Duke of Alva had lost the money gaming with the elector, so that the troops were still waiting.

In the thick of all this, a number of soldiers made their way into the rooms of the ensigns, carrying off three standards, unfurling them, and marching in battle array to the wine market. Near the spot where the arquebusier had had his hand severed from his wrist, a proud Spaniard, impelled by the mad hope of securing the Imperial favour by rendering his name for ever glorious, flung himself into the advancing ranks and tried to get hold of a standard; behind it, however, marched three men with big swords, and one of these split the intruder in two just as he would have split a turnip. "Qui amat periculum, peribit in eo." Thus it is written.

Roused to great excitement by the coming of the column, the Spanish soldiers promptly occupied the streets adjoining the market. The elector was transferred to the Imperial quarters, lest he should be carried off. The population were getting afraid of being pillaged in case the idea of paying themselves should present itself to the landsknechten. The tradesmen were more uneasy than the rest, for in expectation of the coming Diet their shops were crammed with precious wares, rich silk stuffs, golden and silvern objects, diamonds and pearls. There was an indescribable tumult to the accompaniment of cries and people foregathering in knots, though most of them barricaded themselves in their houses and armed themselves with pikes, muskets, or anything they could lay hands on. In short, as Sleidan expresses it, "the day bade fair to be spent in armed alarm."