Before the city hall of the city of Muenster, many citizens were
collected, and many were continually arriving, bearing rich bronzes,
and chests of treasure, which they were hoping to save for themselves
by placing them under the direct protection of the city. The invading
hosts of John's army filled all with fear. No one was more furious
against the Prophet than Bertha, who, being in Muenster, had no thought
that the Prophet who had laid waste the whole country could be her
beloved sweetheart.
The public square before the city hall was soon invaded by the
soldiers of John, who were crying, "Long live the Prophet!" while
answering cries of "Down with him! down with thy Prophet!" were
courageously shouted by the people of Muenster.
"This Prophet who is to be crowned King of the Anabaptists; he is of
Satan and not of Heaven!" The whole city was full of despair.
While all was in confusion, Faith, John's mother, was seen to wander
in and kneel in prayer.
"What art thou doing there, mother?" one of the crowd questioned.
"I am praying for my son. I am begging for money that I may buy masses
for his soul. I am hungry and cold. I am alone in the world. All the
world seems buried in grief. I pray. There is no other hope save in
prayer!" she moaned, little thinking that it was her son who had
brought upon a nation so much desolation, and who at the same time was
about to be crowned by the revolutionists. As people passed, they
dropped money into her hand, and some led her a little way to a seat
where she could rest her weary body. She had become very old and
trembling since that night when she had last seen her son. She had
wandered from the old inn in search of him, and had never found him;
and she had no sooner left the old home than Bertha, saved from
Oberthal, had flown to the inn again, to throw herself into the strong
arms of her lover. She had found the place closed, for Faith and John
had gone, no one knew where.
After begging and praying in the public square, Faith found herself
near a sick and almost helpless man, close to the palace toward which
she had wandered. Many people were about. The Prophet was going to be
crowned, so it was rumoured. Among others, Bertha had wandered near.
"Thou poor, helpless brother," said Faith. "Let me, out of my poverty,
help thee a little." At the sound of that voice Bertha paused, turned,
and nearly shrieked. She had wandered alone and hopeless; and there
stood Faith, her lover's mother.
"Oh, dear mother!" she cried, and they threw themselves into each
other's arms.
"Oh, mother! How I sought for thee!" she sobbed. "Since you were not
to be found in Leyden, I turned myself toward Muenster, hoping against
hope to find you or John. Now take me to him. Let us go quickly!" she
urged, but old Faith held back.
"My child, he is dead. I heard a voice declare to me that I should see
him no more. It was an unseen voice. He is dead." Whereupon, both
women fell to weeping in each other's arms.
"It has to do with these wicked men who have brought ruin upon
Germany!--these Anabaptists!" Bertha cried. "Oh, John, if thou couldst
rise from thy grave and help me now. Thy courage and goodness would
raise up men to drive back these who do bad deeds in the name of God."
She cursed the famous Prophet, neither of them dreaming who he might
be, and that desolation had come because the man whom they loved best
had sought revenge for the wrongs done to them. With those curses in
their hearts, the forlorn women wandered on with the crowd toward the
cathedral where the Prophet was to be crowned.
Some of his suite had already gone into the church, but many were
arriving in a grand procession. The appearance of the Prophet's guard
aroused great indignation among the citizens, who were compelled to
look on helplessly.
Then came the Prophet himself, garbed all in white, from head to foot,
and a wonderful march was being played, while the spectacle grew each
moment more and more magnificent.
[Music]
As John the Prophet passed, the revolutionary crowd threw themselves
at his feet; young girls strewed flowers in his path, the choir
chanted. Then, the Anabaptists having deposed the Elector Princes,
were to take their places. The Prophet was anointed with holy oil, a
great and impressive ceremony took place, and all the city rang with
the cries that proclaimed him king. Faith and Bertha could not see the
new king, but they were in the crowd, and they cursed this Prophet
again--none so vigorously as Bertha, while Faith hailed her as a new
Judith. After a time, all being prostrate upon their knees awaiting
the reentrance of the Prophet from the church, John appeared upon the
great staircase which led from the cathedral. As he stood there
looking unhappily upon all of those abased people who seemed to be
worshipping him, he thought he heard the voice of his dream of long
ago. "Woe through thee! Let him be accursed!" Overcome by the memory,
he uttered those words aloud. Faith heard the voice and screamed:
"My son! my son!" John of Leyden trembled and started toward her, his
arms outstretched, but Mathison, knowing the disastrous effect such
an acknowledgment would have upon the crowd who believed him of holy
origin, said in a low voice to John:
"Speak! reply to her, and she shall die, instantly! Deny thy mother,
or she shall be killed before thine eyes." The Anabaptists had no mind
to lose all they had risked so much for, when it was just within their
grasp. John looked at his mother, in agony and then he regained his
self-possession.
"Who is this woman?" he asked: it was to save her life that he did it.
At that cold denial of her, Faith clasped her hands and wept. Then she
became enraged at his ingratitude, and began to upbraid him.
"This poor wretch is mad," he said, but by that time the crowd was
beginning to murmur against him.
"He said he was the son of God! He is an impostor." The Anabaptists
seeing how fatal the effect of Faith's words was going to be, spoke
menacingly to John. Then John cried, as Jonas raised his sword to
strike the old mother down:
"Hold! respect the day! I, thy Prophet, hath to-day received His
crown. No bloodshed. This poor creature is demented. A miracle alone
can restore her reason," and he went toward Faith. "Woman, to thy
knees!" he said, but she made a gesture of indignation. He continued
to go toward her, then laying his hands lovingly upon her head he
looked meaningly into her eyes.
"To thy knees." His voice was soft and gentle, and slowly Faith fell
upon her knees, half comprehending that he was acting as fate
compelled him.
"Put up thy swords!" he commanded the people who had drawn them. Then
to Faith: "Thou wert wrong, good mother!" She looked at him a moment
longer.
"Yes!--wrong," she said, and bowed her head. At that the people burst
into cries of enthusiasm.
"Is he thy child?" Jonas asked loudly, placing his sword-point upon
her breast.
"Alas! No, he is not my son!" she answered in a weak voice.
"A miracle! A miracle!" all cried, and then the Prophet passed on,
Faith looking after him without following, the people again acclaiming
him with joyous shouts.