Count Praschma remarks, in his private report to the emperor, that he believes "Prince Sobiesky places great reliance on the assistance proffered by the Roman Curia, on the good-will displayed by the regent of France, no less than on the guarantee ensured to him by Sweden and Prussia, and on the concurrence of Russia."
In the second document Prince Sobiesky displays far more energy and spirit in resisting the overbearing demands of King George, whom he persistently styles throughout the whole of this second paper "elector of Hanover." He not only condemns the king's intrigues as perfidious, but also asserts with much emphasis that the marriage between his daughter and the Pretender had been consummated and stood irrevocable. He trusts that His Majesty will decline to uphold any further these grossly unjust concessions which the elector and his government had dared to exact of a monarch who was famed for his justice and benignity. He humbly reminds the emperor, his exalted kinsman, that the great services which his (Sobiesky's) father had rendered to Christendom deserved worthier recognition than the open persecution to which he and his family were then subjected. He declares with some asperity that the elector of Hanover has no right whatever over his person, and that he, an independent prince, reserves to himself the power to dispose of his own flesh and blood. The threats of England would never frighten him into submission, especially as he is sure of the aid of several potentates—a circumstance which ensures to him the safety of his estates in Poland and France. "The marriage," says he, "is not opposed to the interest of Your Majesty in respect to your alliance with the elector, for the union does not enrich the Pretender either in money or in land. And were it possible that the marriage could be still prevented, the Pretender would assuredly turn to some more powerful court, able to supply him not only with a wife, but also with ample funds and troops." Sobiesky closed his missive with the request to His Majesty to take back the investiture of Ohlau, "a place which had become unbearable to him through the ignominious treatment to which he was constantly exposed, no less than by the endless trouble and pecuniary losses which the management of that imperial estate entailed upon him." He was desirous of removing to some distant and secluded spot, far away from Poland, where he could end his days in peace.
These two important missives were followed a few days later (17th and 19th of October) by two more letters from the prince to Chancellor Count Zinzendorf at Vienna. Of their contents—which are generally a repetition of the arguments contained in the first two—we need not speak, except in reference to one point, which was evidently the result of an after-thought that had rushed through the bewildered prince's head. The reader will have observed that Sobiesky, while using the name of almost every potentate of Europe to strengthen his arguments, omits to mention the Pope, the staunchest and most powerful partisan he had. This omission he seeks to repair in his letters to Zinzendorf, in which he endeavors to persuade the emperor that the marriage ceremony had really been performed, though only by proxy, and that hence it was a matrimonium ratum, which, according to the canon law, could not be dissolved without drawing upon the parties concerned in the act the just wrath of the pontiff and of every good Catholic.
These four letters, but chiefly the first two, had evidently some effect in making the emperor waver. This appears from one of the most striking sentences in a letter from the imperial court to Monsieur de Peutenrieder, imperial ambassador at the court of St. James, which runs as follows: "In the mean while I beg you to remember that we are very desirous of extricating ourselves from this dilemma honesto et licito modo. We were, and are still, quite willing and prepared to do everything in this delicate affair according to the wishes of the king, to convince him of our love and friendship.... The emperor wishes you to convince the king, as politely and delicately as possible, that we fear our measures in this marriage affair will prove abortive."
Politicians in England, less scrupulous than their confrères on the Continent, persisted in their demand that no concessions should be made to Prince Sobiesky until the betrothal, the work of Alberoni and the Roman Curia, was formally dissolved. In a formal protest which the English ambassador at the imperial court handed in (9th of December) stress is laid upon the fact that Prince Sobiesky was not an independent prince, but rather a subject of the emperor, and that hence his conduct, culpable in the extreme, deserved to be visited by the emperor with severity. It was alleged to be ridiculous that he held out against the express wish of the allies, well knowing how easy it would be for the king of England to ruin him entirely. Even Venice, whither it was said Prince Sobiesky wished to retire, would not receive him for fear of annoying England. The duke of Modena, prompted by sincere consideration for England, had broken off his engagement with the eldest daughter of Prince Sobiesky, and it was very probable that the duke of Guastalla would follow this example.
We should tire the reader were we to repeat all the arguments employed by statesmen in defence of the English policy. Untenable as most of them were, they sufficed to dispel such slight qualms of conscience as had arisen in Charles's mind. England's powerful fleet and beef-fed troops were then far more important to Charles than the empty thanks of a thriftless princeling.
While the father was thus being made the centre of political intrigues, the lives of his wife and daughter, on whose account the courts of Europe had been thrown into a state of commotion, flowed on in the same dull routine which had marked them from the very beginning. Four long months were thus spent, and the rigorous winter of Tyrol was at its height, when the guardians of the princesses, the worthy privy councillors, were suddenly startled from their lethargic repose by the news that the friends of their noble prisoners in the North and the South were on the move. On the 11th of February, 1719, it became known in Vienna that Prince Sobiesky had mysteriously left Ohlau, and that it was supposed he had repaired to Augsburg. Ten days later the governor of Mantua (then part of the empire) reported that the Pretender had turned his back on Rome on the 8th of February, and had posted to Florence. These two highly suspicious movements convinced the emperor that the Sobiesky party was bent upon rescuing Princess Clementina. Strict injunctions were therefore despatched to Innsbruck, enforcing redoubled precautions against a surprise, while the governors of Mantua and Trent were at the same time commanded to keep a watchful eye on all travellers that passed through those towns, and were supplied with minute instructions for their conduct should the Pretender visit either of them. Force was not to be used in ejecting the person of the Pretender, but he was to be told quite politely "that the emperor had given strict orders not to allow him to proceed on his journey toward Innsbruck, and that hence his further stay in the town was useless."
Politely as this imperial decree was framed, the Pretender did not give the authorities occasion to make use of it, for his journey had Spain, and not Innsbruck, for its goal. Ignorant of this circumstance, government continued to maintain its cautious attitude. A staff officer and a body of men were under a plausible pretext quartered in the house adjoining the Sobiesky palace, and the two spies in the retinue of the Princess Clementina were ordered "to make it a point to catch sight of her at least once in every twenty-four hours." The privy councillors, indeed, deemed all these precautions superfluous, for they placed full reliance on the barrier, seemingly insurmountable by a delicate young woman, with which Nature had surrounded the prisoner in the shape of a severe winter blocking up all the Alpine passes leading to the South; and they now reported to the emperor that they had done everything in their power to make escape or rescue impossible.
Nothing of importance occurred for the next two months, save that the princess-mother wrote to the emperor, and informed the Innsbruck government that she desired to return to Ohlau—a request which the emperor immediately granted, little thinking it to be a mere ruse on the part of the ladies to lull their watchful guardians.
The night of the 27th of April was at last to witness the triumph of the artful prisoners over their vigilant jailers.