In the Park
In the vicinity of Arnheim, at Rehnen, dwelt the clever and once so
beautiful Elizabeth, daughter of King James the First of England, who
still called herself Queen of Bohemia and Electoress of the Palatinate.
Her country house stood in a handsome park. The last hopes of her
husband, Frederick the Fifth, disappeared with the death of Gustavus
Adolphus. Shortly after the news came he was stricken down with an
illness which proved fatal. Both the oldest sons of the Electoress, the
Prince, subsequently the Elector Carl Ludwig, and Prince Rupert, who was
a year older than the Electoral Prince Frederick William, had been
fellow-students with him at Leyden and in daily intercourse with him.
They were now spending a short time with their mother in Rehnen. Besides
these, the Electoress had a younger son, Prince Moritz, and two
daughters, Princess Henrietta, who was so well educated that in her
nineteenth year she engaged in arguments with Dutch scholars, and
Princess Louise, who was sprightlier by nature and had a special talent
in painting.
While the Prince was living in Arnheim it was his custom to ride over to
Rehnen every afternoon and make a call of a few hours, returning at
dusk. One day, as he approached Rehnen, he was informed by the porter to
whom he gave his horse that he would find the Electoress with the
princes and princesses in the pavilion at the lower end of the park. In
the middle of the park he reached a garden ornamented with marble
statuary. From this point he saw his princely relatives. The green doors
and windows of the pavilion in which they were sitting were open, so
that the sunshine and perfume of the garden found their way into it. His
cousins saw him coming and advanced to meet him, and the Electoress and
princesses greeted him affectionately upon the estrade.
The time passed in animated conversation. It was the dearest wish of the
Electoress to secure the heir of Brandenburg for her son-in-law. The
pleasure of the conversation, however, was soon seriously marred. The
Princess Henrietta asked if Wallenstein had not actually attempted to
secure the crown of Bohemia. The Princess Louise maintained that he had.
"I look with a shudder," said she, "into the dark, bottomless abyss of
that man's soul. Despicable ambitions rage there. Selfishness
characterizes every mortal more or less, but he had no other impelling
motive. All love in his nature was destroyed by it, and where there is
no love one becomes a fiend. What were Luther, the Pope, or Calvin to
him! He made no account of them. His own person was all he cared for.
Many a time I have said 'He is Satan incarnate!'"
"And yet," remarked the Electoress, "his faith in the stars--"
"Superstition," replied the Princess.
"I will not dispute with you about the word," replied the Electoral
Prince. "But you must concede one thing: He sought to read his fate in
the position of the stars. He believed that everything which happened to
him was written there, and he tried to read the writing. To that extent
he acknowledged the power which governs the stars."
"Then in reality his superstition was an evidence of his faith," said
the Electoress. "Then if he sometimes fell into a fanaticism, which
sprung from his belief in his favorite science, we are bound to excuse
him. Do you mean that?"
"Not entirely," replied Frederick William. "In part he was a fanatic;
but besides this there was much of evil in him, and when that evil took
possession of his nature it destroyed everything before it."
The Princess Henrietta replied: "There is nothing upon earth which
interests me so much as the human soul. The famous botanist Kluit at
Leyden analyzes an object and examines its organism and structure with
the microscope. I would like to have an instrument which would so
disclose the soul of Wallenstein that I might look into its lowest
depths. What a picture it would reveal to my gaze!"
"Sister," said the Princess Louise, "I agree with you. Many years have
passed, but I clearly remember that for a long time I could not rid
myself of the picture of the dying Wallenstein by day or night. The door
is burst open by the hired assassin. There he stands in the middle of
his chamber, an apparition in his white night-dress. The assassin
trembles for an instant. Then plucking up courage he rushes upon
Wallenstein and pierces him with his knife. Silently and with
outstretched arms he receives his death-wound. Not a word! not a sound!
He expires in silence! What a monstrous spectacle! But I will desist,
for our Rupert is again growing angry."
It was true, but Rupert only said: "Not yet, sister! But I think you
ought not to make such an ado about a murderous soul. In the end you may
sympathize with that wretch as well as with Maximilian, who took away
our inheritance without a sting of conscience."
The Electoress grew visibly pale. It was always so when she heard the
name of the man who had defeated her husband's army at Prague.
The oldest Prince, desirous of pacifying his brother, who was somewhat
impetuous and outbreaking, said: "Now I will say a word for the sisters
who have often expressed themselves as to Maximilian. I may not repeat
what they said here, but I remember it. Believe me as to one thing. Had
no battle been fought at Prague and had not Maximilian usurped our
birthright, I should still have despised him from the bottom of my soul
and ranked him far below Wallenstein. How basely he acted! He first
suggested his removal. Then when Gustavus Adolphus had driven him into
straits, he whined like a dog at Wallenstein's door and begged for
protection and assistance. But hardly is Gustavus Adolphus gone when he
again begins his machinations, and continues them until Wallenstein is
killed by an assassin."
"Do you seriously mean, cousin," said the Electoral Prince, "that
Maximilian was the only cause of Wallenstein's murder?"
"Not the only one, but the principal one."
Prince Ludwig now spoke: "I do not believe it. Maximilian had a hand in
the game, but the Emperor is mainly responsible. What a weak successor
the Emperor's oldest son will prove!"
"He is only nominally commander-in-chief of the army. The real leader is
Gallas, and he has learned from his great predecessors. It almost seemed
as if Tilly or Pappenheim were again leading the Imperialists, so
bravely did they fight at Nordlingen, where Marshal Franz Horn was
captured."
"This is also an inestimable loss for our side," said the Electoress
with a sigh. "With my own ears I have heard Gustavus Adolphus call him
his right hand. As long as the Swedes had a Marshal Franz Horn and a
Chancellor Oxenstjern they decided to continue the war against the
Emperor and the League. But Horn has been languishing in prison for
several years."
"Twenty years," began Prince Ludwig, "the war has already lasted. If the
Elector of Saxony did not continually temporize, possibly some
settlement might be reached, but that vacillating gentleman thinks only
of his own advantage. The Protestant cause has been left in the lurch.
He does not consider our rights in treaties of peace with the Emperor.
But the enraged Swedes now in his country will pay him off."
The Electoress folded her hands. "May the Almighty," she sighed, "soon
bring peace to the German Empire and restore us our rights!"
Prince Ludwig replied: "Mother, we three must also play some part upon
the stage of war. There is still much remaining to be done."
The wild Rupert exclaimed: "Even if peace could be made, I would not
have it so until I have done something in the field."
The Electoral Prince said nothing, but his look and manner showed how
ardently he longed to take part in the struggle.
The Elector of Brandenburg had agreed to the treaty of peace which had
been concluded between the Emperor and the Elector of Saxony. That the
Electoress of the Palatinate as well as her sons and daughters were
dissatisfied may well be imagined. But up to this time nothing had been
said of his father's politics in the presence of the Electoral Prince.
But now Prince Rupert broke out: "The Electors by this treaty with the
Emperor have proved traitors to a good cause."
The Electoral Prince rose and with flashing eyes passionately exclaimed:
"Cousin, woe to you or me, if I have heard aright!"
The rest of the company were alarmed. They were familiar with Rupert's
wildness and impetuosity, but now they had experienced Frederick
William's resoluteness and passionate sense of honor.
"Dear cousin," said Ludwig, "our brother only refers to the Elector of
Saxony."
The mother and the princesses confirmed the statement and demanded of
Prince Rupert by look and action that he should agree with them.
He remained silent, and his manner caused the apprehension that he was
disinclined to answer his cousin. His mother's look, however, had such
power over him that he overmastered his furious temper. He said: "Far be
it from me to tarnish your father's honor with a breath from my mouth."
The Prince was outwardly satisfied with the explanation. Political
conversation was dropped, and they talked about The Hague, which the
Electoral Prince was going to visit during the next few days.
In the bright moonlight Frederick William rode back to Arnheim.