An Unquiet Night
The sixteenth of February, 1620, was an important day for Prussia, for
between three and four o'clock on the afternoon of that day, a son was
born to the Electoress, Frederick William, the future "Great Elector."
It is remarkable that the heir who fought so many battles should have
been disturbed even in his cradle by warlike tumult. Upon the evening of
the twentieth of May the nurse and chambermaid were together in the
Prince's apartment which the Electoress had left to get some rest. The
child was sleeping quietly in his handsomely decorated cradle. The two
watched him a little while with pleasure, then seated themselves at a
table upon which a wax light burned behind a screen, and began to spin.
When they were fairly at work, the nurse said: "Our Princess little
recks of the evil doings which are endangering our peace."
"The Princess was anxious enough," replied the chambermaid, "when she
saw the people collecting in crowds in the streets, but the castellan
has reassured her."
"What were the people excited about?"
"They were alarmed because two thousand Englishmen, sent by King James,
arrived yesterday at Potsdam."
"Will they enter Berlin?"
"God forbid! They are going in a few days still farther, to Bohemia.
They are auxiliaries sent to the Elector of the Palatinate who has been
crowned at Prague. But our people were apprehensive that they had come
here because of the uprising six years ago. They have a guilty
conscience."
"Uprising? here in Berlin?"
"Nurse, how little you know about things. I will explain. The blessed
Elector about that time went over from the Lutheran to the Reformed
Church. The people of Coln[2] and Berlin were greatly incensed. They are
nearly all Lutherans, and there was a great uproar. The governor,
Margrave Johann George, had to clear the streets to silence the tumult,
and was severely injured by a stone thrown at him. The crowd then
attacked and demolished the house of Fussell, the Reformed preacher."
Extreme surprise was visible upon the nurse's countenance. "Have such
things happened here?" said she.
"Yes. They have happened here," replied the maid; "and worse yet, they
happened without investigation or punishment. The Lutherans are in the
ascendant and they are making the lives of Reformers wretched to-day in
the city and country. Perhaps now you understand what I meant when I
said 'the people have a guilty conscience.'"
"Yes; now I understand. The people are afraid that these two thousand
Englishmen are going to occupy the city."
"Yes, and would that it were true. It would serve the people right. They
would quickly settle matters. But I know it will not happen. Our Elector
is much too gentle to adopt harsh measures."
Hardly were these words uttered, when they heard a great noise in the
vicinity of St. George's, now King street.
"What is that!" exclaimed the frightened nurse, rushing to the door.
The maid stopped her, saying, "You must not go there. Open the window in
the room on the riverside and look out. But no, you had better not. It
will cool off the room and may make the child ill. No; you stay here and
I will look myself."
Thereupon she went to the room, closing the door behind her, opened the
tall shutters, and looked out. A great crowd of people was crossing the
long bridge, led by several torch-bearers and drummers.
When she returned the nurse asked her what was going on.
"You need have no fear," she replied, though the expression on her face
showed that she was alarmed herself. "It is just as I told you. It is
only the panic which the English have caused among the people."
"But if they should really come, and the people should resist them, and
there should be cutting and stabbing and bullets were flying, we might
be hurt ourselves."
The maid sought to calm the nurse although the increasing din around the
castle and in the neighboring streets made her own alarm more and more
perceptible. To allay their fears, they talked about casual things. One
said to the other: "Our young master in the cradle is three months old
and has not yet been christened. Alas! how times have changed since the
christening of the Margrave Sigismund in the nineties! That was a
festival indeed! I remember it as distinctly as if it were but
yesterday."
"Oh! tell me something about it."
"Since you desire it, nurse, I will. Now pay attention. There were so
many princes, counts, and nobles assembled that the castle could not
accommodate them all. The people of both cities took part in it. It was
December and the snow-covered houses were decorated with fir and pine
branches, which gave them a welcoming appearance. In front of the castle
were five arches similarly decorated with wreaths and pictures. On one
arch hung a ring and over it a crown. It also was surmounted by a figure
of Fortune, poised upon a sphere, holding a red banner upon which was
inscribed in gold letters the word 'Victory.' On the third day there
were fireworks. Have you ever seen them? No? How well I remember them!
But how could you ever know of such things in Ukermark? They were
displayed on the evenings of the festival. About eight o'clock an
attendant entered and said: 'Just now the Elector called from the
balcony, "Master Hans, when I give the signal, by word or whistle, set
them off!"' We put kerchiefs on our heads and went to the open windows.
We had not to wait long when a cannon sounded. Then we saw fiery devices
of every kind, serpentine balls, set pieces, bombs, showers of stars,
and many hundred rockets, until at last it seemed as if all the stars in
the sky were dancing around us. When they were all discharged, fifteen
mortars thundered. The ground shook; several hundred panes were broken
in the castle, the cathedral, and other buildings near by. So much snow
fell from the castle roof that the kettledrummers and trumpeters,
stationed on an upper balcony, had to stop playing for a long time. You
would have imagined that great alarm might have ensued, but it all went
off well and not a person was injured. Oh, but it was not much like the
times nowadays. Where can we get the money for such a celebration now?"
The nurse suddenly sprang from her seat. A shot was heard. "Oh dear!"
cried she. "The English are entering the city, and it means fighting."
The maid assumed an air of confidence but wished in her heart that the
night were well over. The cathedral bell struck one. After a little she
rose from her seat and paced the room to and fro. As she was thus
engaged she noticed a book, bound in red morocco, lying upon a table
near the door. As she picked it up, she saw the nurse looking at it
curiously, and said to her: "Why, nurse, is this your book? Can you
read?"
"I wish I could," answered the nurse. "Surely our gracious Electoress
must have forgotten the book when she came in to see and kiss her little
son before he went to sleep. Yes, now I remember, she had such a book in
her hand."
"Let us take a look at it," said the maid, seating herself at a table
and opening the volume. "It was printed last year," she said. "It reads,
'at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, by Michael Kochen, 1619.'" After she had
examined the title-page, which was ornamented with red and black
lettering, she lightly turned over some of its leaves. The nurse looked
at her like a hungry person gazing upon another at a bountiful repast.
At last the maid noticed her eager look and said: "Shall I read you some
of it?"
"I should be delighted to have you do so!"
"You must first know that a regular Francophobist wrote this book."
"Are there such people as Francopho--"
The maid was only restrained from a peal of laughter by fear of waking
the child. "Ah! You are still way back in Ukermark," she said.
"Francophobists is the name of persons who cannot abide anything that is
French." She turned the leaves once more and then said: "Listen to what
he has written." She read a long tirade against the French and their
influence upon German life, habits, literature, music, and attire. "What
does this man know of our attire?" said she.
The nurse meanwhile sat staring at the maid's head-dress. The latter was
irritated and said: "What are you looking at, you marigold of Ukermark,
with your taffeta head ribbon? You would gladly dress like me if there
were no regular style of dress prescribed for you."
They would have resumed their casual talk had not the tumult increased
around the castle and in the streets near by. The maid immediately
betook herself to the dark room and looked out of the window. Armed men
were rushing about excitedly. She saw military officers and heard wild
cries and curses, shouts and laughter. Now and then a shot was fired.
The maid returned and said: "The little Prince will be scared to death
by this noise." She had hardly spoken when firing was resumed near the
castle. The child started up and opened his eyes, but immediately closed
them again. "Ah!" said the nurse in a low tone, "see how he doubles up
his little fist and how impatiently he moves about. Just wait, you
people, wait till he is grown up."
"Yes," said a voice, "God grant he may live to grow up a bold, brave
man."
They turned in surprise and saw the Princess in the room.
The tumult lasted all night, sometimes dying away, again breaking out.
About midnight there was an excited gathering in front of the house of
Minister Schwarzenberg. The Count at last met the people and assured
them that their fears about the English were groundless. He said he had
further taken the precaution to send out patrols to confirm the truth of
his statements and they had nowhere encountered the dreaded English. In
the morning good news came from all sides, whereupon the people quietly
returned to their homes.
It was not until the thirtieth of July that the christening of the
Prince took place, for up to that time they had not succeeded in raising
the necessary money. They had also vainly awaited the return of the
Elector. Affairs in Prussia were in such confusion that he could not
think of leaving for a long time. The witnesses of the christening were
the young Prince's grandmother, Electoress Anna (widow of Elector Johann
Sigismund), Princess Marie Eleonore, subsequently Queen of Sweden,
Katherine, who later married the Transylvanian, Prince Betler Gabor,
both sisters of the Elector George William, and lastly, the Brandenburg
nobility and representatives of cities on both sides of the Oder, who
were invited but could bring no other christening gift than the loyalty
they owed to the future master of their country.