One day at the end of December, 1631, the king gave a splendid banquet in Frankfurt on account of the queen's arrival. Great crowds of people filled the place outside the castle, the high Gothic windows at night shone bright as day. Ale and wines flowed constantly from big casks for the people's entertainment; around the tap-holes workmen and soldiers jostled each other, holding out tankards and goblets, which were quickly filled and as suddenly empty again. The good citizens of Frankfurt were beside themselves with admiration for the great king. From man to man, the famous tales of his justice and mildness circulated: now he had ordered a soldier to be hanged because he had taken with force a burgher's hen; now he had stopped in the streets and spoken familiarly with those whom he met. They imagined that they saw his shadow reflected by the small window-panes and wondered whether the German crown would not be placed upon that mighty head that very evening.
In the saloon of the castle a royal magnificence prevailed. Gustaf Adolf knew his consort's weakness for display, and probably wished to produce an effect on the assembled German nobility. The floor was covered with rich Flemish carpets, and over the windows were draperies of crimson velvet with tassels of gold; costly chandeliers, heavy with a thousand wax-lights, hung from the ceiling, which was adorned with arabesques.
They had just finished one of those measured and stately Spanish dances, which were at that time in vogue, and the heavy-footed Northmen had tried in vain to compete with the German and French aristocracy.
The king had offered his arm to the queen, and they made a promenade through the magnificent saloons. His tall and corpulent figure, and simple dignity of manner, which at once inspired reverence and love, seemed still more majestic by the side of the slender and delicate queen, who with sincere devotion leaned on his arm. Maria Elenora was then thirty-two years of age, and had retained a great portion of her beauty, which had gained her so many admirers in her youth. On her black hair, which was arranged in small curls about her snow-white temples, flashed a diadem of fabulous value, which was a recent gift from the king; her expressive blue eyes rested with indescribable affection upon her royal spouse; she seemed to forget herself, absorbed in the admiration which the king excited.
In the wake of the royal couple followed a crowd of all the illustrious personages of whom Protestant Germany could boast at that time.
One saw here the deposed King Frederick of Bohemia, the Duke of Weimar and Würtemberg, the Landgrave of Hesse, the Margrave of Baden Durlach, the Count of Wetterau, as well as other distinguished chevaliers; not less than twelve ambassadors from foreign courts had assembled here round the hero feared by all Europe. Of the king's own, Tott, Baner, and Gustaf Horn were occupied in other directions with affairs of war; but here at Gustaf Adolf's side, great as himself, even in outer form, was the gifted Oxenstjerna, and behind him the man with the pale, unpretending aspect, the calm, penetrating, and commanding look, Lennart Torstensson, as well as the proud Finn, Wittenberg, then colonel. Many of the Swedish generals, and almost all the Finns, Stälhandske, Ruuth, Forbus, and others, did not thrive well amidst the ceremonial of the royal saloon and amongst this haughty nobility whose court etiquette appeared to the stern warriors unbearably tedious, and had therefore withdrawn in good time to one of the smaller saloons, where pages in gold-embroidered velvet suits profusely poured the choicest Rhine wines into silver goblets.
Among this brilliant assemblage ought to be included the members of the common council of the city of Frankfurt, and many of its most prominent citizens, with their wives and daughters, as well as a large number of ladies, from the high-born duchess down to the scarcely less proud councillor's wife. Yes, and one saw here even a small number of Catholic prelates, easily recognisable by their bald heads; for the king wished to proclaim religious freedom by word and deed; the prelates, although in their hearts cursing the paltry rôle they played here, once invited, did not dare to stay away.
This scene was doubly gorgeous from the splendour of the attire. The king, however, wore a tight-fitting suit of black velvet stitched with silver, a Spanish cape of white satin, embroidered by the queen's hands, short yellow leather top-boots, and the broad lace collar which one sees in all his portraits, with the short hair and long goatee. The luxury-loving queen wore a richly jewelled dress of silver brocade with a short waist and half-bare arms; even the little white satin slippers glittered with brilliants.
The ladies of the aristocracy and the rich burghers' wives vied with each other in display; silver and gold fabrics, velvet, satin, and costly Brabant laces; also ribbons of all sorts of colours, buckles, rosettes, and long sashes, which, fluttering in the air, gave a picturesque effect. Princes and knights, some in wide German, others in close-fitting Spanish costumes, with their plumed hats under their arms, and attendant pages in silver and velvet, completed this bright scene in a time when uniforms were unknown. Flattery and admiration followed the king.
"Sire," said the artful king of Bohemia to him, "your Majesty can only be compared to Alexander of Macedon."