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.
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—”