At last all matters of dispute were settled, all difficulties smoothed over. King Wladislaus of Poland had declared himself ready to receive the oath of allegiance from his vassal the Elector of Brandenburg, and to invest him with the duchy of Prussia. Hard conditions, truly, were those imposed upon the young Elector, and heavy the sacrifices which the King and, more pressingly yet, the members of the Polish Diet required. That the Elector should pay a yearly tribute of thirty thousand florins, besides a hundred thousand florins from the naval taxes, was a condition to which he had agreed without a struggle; but much severer and more humbling compliances he had to make.

They wished to make him feel that the King of Poland was still lord paramount of Prussia, and that the Elector must give way to him. The nobility of Prussia were therefore to have the right, in all civil and difficult cases, to appeal from the decision of the Elector to that of the King. On the other hand, the Elector was not, without the King’s express permission, to occupy a neutral position with regard to any enemy of Poland; he was to receive the King’s commissioners whenever it pleased the latter to send them to inspect the fortresses of Memel and Pillau. But the hardest thing was, that the Elector must pledge himself to protect and exalt the Roman Catholic worship in Prussia with all his might, and to do nothing for the further spread of the Reformed Church in Prussia. He was to build up the decaying Catholic Church at Koenigsberg, and, besides that, have a new one built. The Catholics were to be protected in the free exercise of their worship, and guarded against every attack of the Protestant preachers.

Hard and degrading were these conditions, but the Elector had accepted them. He had bowed his proud heart and constrained it to be humble. Tears of indignation had stood in his eyes as they handed him the document on which were inscribed all these conditions; his hand had trembled when he took the pen, but still he had appended his signature, and none but Burgsdorf had seen the tears which fell from Frederick William’s eyes upon his hand as he signed.

“Burgsdorf,” he said, pointing to his signature, “do you know what I have written there?”

“No, your highness, that I do not. I am not stupid enough to give myself much trouble deciphering the scratches of a pen. But I know and have read what is written upon your face, sir.”

“Well, and what stands written there, old friend?”

“Most gracious sir, it is written there that you suffer now, but will be revenged hereafter. It says that you now in a submissive manner offer your hand to the insolent, cursed Pole, but that on some future day you will shake your fist in his face, and amply requite his haughty arrogance.”

“Well done; you have read correctly,” exclaimed the Elector, laughing. “You have divined my most secret thoughts.”

“And may a good God only deign to grant me this one favor, that I may live long enough to see your thoughts put in action, gracious sir! May he preserve me from gout and paralysis, that I too, may have a hand in the deeds of that blessed day, and strike a few well-aimed blows.”

“Well, it is to hoped that not many years will elapse ere the dawning of that day,” said the Elector. “I shall not know ease or rest until it is here, and I can have my revenge. Let us think of this, old friend, and be meekly patient and wear a placid mien on our way to Warsaw, to humble ourselves. You know a man must sometimes swallow bitter medicine when he is sick and faint, and the bitterest will appear sweet if he drinks it in order to imbibe new life and health. My poor country is, indeed, sick unto death, and therefore I go to Warsaw to swallow a bitter pill for the health and salvation of my land. But we go on crutches, two hard crutches.”

“I know the names of those crutches, your highness,” said Burgsdorf. “One crutch is called ‘Imperial,’ the other ‘Polish.’”

“You have guessed correctly, old friend,” answered the Elector. “But some day we will throw aside the crutches on which we must now lean, and Prussia shall be the sword which we shall unsheathe and draw against all our foes. I must now submit to having a lord over me, but the time will come when the Prussian black eagle will feel itself strong enough to do battle against the white eagle of Poland, and soar aloft on bold, strong wing. Once more I tell you, old friend, think of that, if we do go now to Warsaw! You are to accompany me, and when you ride into Warsaw at the head of my soldiers, as their colonel and chief, show a smiling visage to the fair Polish women and enchant them by your grace.”

“I will so enchant them, your highness,” laughed Burgsdorf, “that for rapture at sight of me they will not look at you, and not even make an attempt to win your heart.”

“My heart, Burgsdorf?” said the Elector. “I have no heart, at least no personal one. My thoughts and feelings belong only to my country, my ambition, and my future. I now go to Warsaw and bow my head in the dust, that at a later period I may lift it up the more proudly and independently.”

And on the 7th of October, 1641, Elector Frederick William of Brandenburg made his entry into Warsaw. At the head of his splendidly equipped regiment rode old Conrad von Burgsdorf, his broad, bloated face flushed crimson, and, as he stroked his long, light moustache, he bowed right and left, saluting the fair ladies, who looked down upon the glittering procession from windows hung with tapestry and decorated with flowers and ribbons. But the fair ladies took but little notice of old Burgsdorf. Their bright eyes were all turned to the handsome young nobleman, who, quite alone, followed the regiment of soldiers. Behind him was seen a brilliant array of gentlemen in handsome uniforms; but all this vanished unnoticed. Only upon him, yon youth who rides his horse so proudly and so gracefully, upon him alone were all eyes fixed. How finely his figure was outlined in that closely fitted velvet coat, trimmed with golden “Brandenburgs,” and crossed by the golden shoulder belt from which hung his German broadsword. How gracefully fell his long brown hair over his shoulders, how boldly sat upon his head the cocked felt hat, with its crest of black and white ostrich plumes! How fiery and penetrating the glance of those dark-blue eyes, and how sweet and captivating the smile of those full, fresh lips.

Oh, King’s daughter, King’s daughter, shield your heart, lest it glow with love for the handsome stranger who now draws near, and whom they call the young Elector of Brandenburg! He looks not at you, he thinks not of you. But you you look at him and think of him. They have told you that they will wed you to him, that the little Elector will esteem it a great honor to become the husband of a daughter of the King of Poland. Why, she is a princess of imperial blood, for her mother is an archduchess of Austria, a daughter of Emperor Ferdinand I! It will, indeed, be a great honor to the little Elector, if they bestow upon him the hand of a king’s daughter, an emperor’s grandchild, and happy will he be to be allowed to receive it, and to become great by means of his great connections!

Look closely at him, Princess Hildegarde; look at him with your heart and soul, rejoice in his youth, beauty, and proud bearing, for he is to be your husband! Your father will do him the honor to receive him as his son-in-law, and the Emperor will condescendingly admit him to his relationship! See now he has approached quite near the throne which has been erected upon the square fronting the palace. On the throne sits King Wladislaus in the rich national costume. Beside him stands his brother, Prince Casimir, while to the right and left on the steps of the throne stand the magnates with their insignia of rank, the bishops and prelates. Close behind the throne is the kingly palace, and there, upon a balcony hung with gold brocade, stands the Queen; to the right and left of her the two royal Princesses, both so lovely to look upon in their picturesque Polish garb, their raven tresses surmounted by the Polish cap with its heron’s plumes.

Oh, King’s daughter, King’s daughter, you need not fear, you are so charming, so attractive; surely you will win his heart, and he will woo you not merely from political motives, but from love!

Does he see you, and is he looking up at you? No, he only looks up at the King as he now stands at the foot of the throne, beside that magnificent cushion studded with emeralds and pearls. His knights and bodyguard range themselves to the right and left of the throne, and reserve a small open space in the midst of the broad square, which is densely thronged by masses of people behind the closed ranks of the soldiers. In this small vacant space stands he, the young Elector of Brandenburg!

High is his head, radiant the glance which he now lifts higher than the King’s throne. Looks he at you, Princess Hildegarde, gazes he upon you, fair maiden of a royal line?

No, his glance mounts higher; to heaven itself he raises both eye and thought! He communes with God and the forefathers of his house, who once, like him, stood at the foot of that throne. And he vows before God and his ancestors that he will be the last Hohenzollern to submit to such humiliation and bend the knee as vassal to the Polish King. He will free his land and crown, and be the vassal of none but God alone!

So swore the Elector Frederick William as he stood at the foot of the throne on which sat the Polish King, resplendent with his crown and scepter, and this oath made his countenance beam with joy and his eyes flame with energy and spirit.

Now is heard the flourish of trumpets and kettledrums, and the bell of every tower in Warsaw rings, for the solemn act begins: the Duke of Prussia is to swear allegiance to the King of Poland!

Three cannon thunder from the ramparts! The bells grow dumb, the trumpets and drums are silent! A breathless stillness pervades that spacious square. The people with dark, flashing eyes gaze curiously upon the heretic, the unbeliever, who is to swear fealty to his Catholic Majesty. The Polish deputies look threateningly upon the bold duke, who dared to enter upon the government of Prussia before he had given his oath of allegiance; the papal nuncio turns his head aside with sorrowful looks, and can not bear to see a heretic, an apostate, invested with authority over a Catholic country.

The King, however, smiles good-naturedly, and the ladies from the balcony in the rear kindly incline their heads and blushingly greet the young Elector, who, doffing his plumed hat, gracefully salutes them.

Three senators approach the Elector. One holds out to him the red feudal banner, which the Elector grasps firmly in his right hand. The second offers him the Juramentum fidelitatis (oath of fidelity), on which the young Prince is to lay his hands and swear. The third holds in his hand the parchment on which is inscribed the feudal oath. The high chancellor now descends from the steps of the throne and takes the parchment out of the senator’s hands. The Elector bends his knee upon the richly embroidered cushion, a crimson glow flushes his cheeks, and deep in his soul he repeats: “I shall be the last Hohenzollern to submit to such humiliation and bow in the dust before another Prince. I shall make my Prussia and Brandenburg great. I shall free them from Emperor and King, and shall own no superior but God! To that end, O Lord, grant me thy blessing, and hear the vow my heart utters while my lips are speaking other words!”

The King waves his golden scepter and the lord chancellor begins with resonant voice to read off the oath of allegiance couched in the Latin tongue.

Loud and clearly the Elector speaks each word after him, loud and clearly his lips pronounce words of which his heart knows nothing. To be a submissive vassal, his lips swear to fulfill faithfully and obediently all the obligations due from him as Duke of Prussia to the King, as is written in the oath of fealty subscribed by him. How full and strong is his voice, sounding distinctly over all the square, and yet how sweet and harmonious every tone!

Oh, King’s daughter, King’s daughter, shield your heart! Look not down upon his lustrous eyes, heed not his voice, though it ring like music in your ear! Beware of loving him, for you know not whether his heart inclines toward you!

God be praised! The formula of the oath is ended. The Elector may rise from his knees, and, as he does so, he says to himself: “Never again shall this knee bend to man! Never again shall I endure what I have endured to-day!”

But his countenance betrays nothing of the emotions of his soul, and with a smile upon his lips he ascends the steps of the throne, and takes his place upon a seat at the left hand of the King.

And again are heard the ringing of bells and nourishing of trumpets, as they announce to the city of Warsaw, that the Elector Frederick William has just sworn allegiance to the King of Poland. The solemnity is over, and the King, the Elector, and the nobles of his realm, repair to the palace to partake of a banquet which has been prepared there for them.

A sumptuous banquet! The tables glitter with gold and silver plate, around which are ranged the nobles in their striking national costumes. The Brandenburg officers are arrayed in gold-laced uniforms, and between them sit the beautiful Polish ladies, richly adorned with flowers and sparkling gems, themselves the fairest flowers and their eyes the most brilliant gems. Between the King and Queen sits the young Elector, opposite him the two Princesses.

Oh, King’s daughter, shield your heart. He talks with you, indeed, and smiles upon you, and sweet words flutter like butterflies across! Butterflies take speedy flight, sweet words are scattered to the wind! Nothing remains of them but a painful memory! If it should be so with you, King’s daughter!

The Elector is no longer the humble vassal with serious face and melancholy mien; he is the young ruler, the hero of the future. His eyes glisten, his lips smile, witticisms drop from his mouth, his countenance beams with merriment and youthful joy. Not merely are the ladies delighted with him, but the men also, and the royal pair are glad of heart, for well pleased are they to present such a husband to their amiable daughter.

Not until late at night is the fête concluded, and when the Elector goes home to the Brandenburg Palace, all the nobility attend him with torches in their hands a long procession of five thousand torches! Like a golden flood it streams through the streets of Warsaw, flashes in at all the windows, and inscribes on every wall in shining characters, “The Elector of Brandenburg, Duke of Prussia, has given the oath of vassalage to the King of Poland!”

The fête is over, but the next morning ushers in new festivities! To-day the Elector gives a splendid entertainment to the royal family and the chief nobility. At table the Queen sits on his right hand, on his left Princess Hildegarde, the King’s daughter.

The Elector is cheerful and unembarrassed in manner; she is thoughtful, reserved, and silent. She is wont to be so lively and talkative in her girlish innocence. The Elector, however, knows not that her manner is changed. His heart is a stranger to her, and his glances say no more to her than to all other pretty women! In the evening he dances with her at the Queen’s ball that is to say, the Elector dances with the King’s daughter, but not the young man with the beautiful young girl.

Will he not propose? The Queen hints at the great honor which they destine for him; the King says tenderly to him that he would esteem himself happy, if he could call so noble a young Prince his son. But the Elector understands neither the Queen nor the King, he is silent and does not propose. He is so modest and diffident perhaps he dare not. They must wait awhile. If he has not declared himself on the last day of his visit, they must take the initiative and woo him, since he will not woo.

On this last day it is the Princesses who give a ball to the Elector a splendid masquerade, for which they have been preparing three months, arranging costumes and practicing dances. A half mask is to-day well chosen for the Princess Hildegarde, for it conceals her agitated features, her anxious countenance. She knows that to-day her fate is to be decided! She knows that at the close of this fête she is to be betrothed to the Elector of Brandenburg.

Yes, since he will not woo, he must be wooed! The King’s daughter, the Emperor’s grandchild, is exalted so high over the little Elector, the powerless duke, that he actually can not venture to sue for her hand, but must have his good fortune announced to him.

Count Gerhard von Doenhof is selected by the King to execute this delicate commission, and doubts not that his proposition will be auspiciously received.

He requests of the Elector an interview in the little Chinese pavilion near the conservatory, and with smiling, free, and cordial manner tells him how much the Queen and King love him.

“And I reciprocate their feelings with all my heart,” answers the Elector. “These delightful days, like brilliant stars, will ever live in my remembrance. Tell their Majesties so.”

“Your highness should carry home with you a lasting memento of these days,” whispered the courtier.

“What mean you, Count Doenhof?”

“I believe that if you were to ask the hand of Princess Hildegarde, their Majesties would cheerfully grant you their consent and bestow upon you a royal bride.”

Gravely the Elector shook his head. “No,” he said solemnly “no, Count Doenhof, so long as I can not govern my land in peace, I dare seek no other bride than my own good sword.”

And smilingly, as if he had heard nothing, as if nothing uncommon had happened, the Elector returns to the conservatory.

The Princess Hildegarde also smiles, looks cheerful and happy, and dances with all the cavaliers. But not with the Elector! He does not approach her again.

She seems not to perceive this, and maintains her cheerfulness, even when at last he approaches the Princesses to take leave of them.

“Farewell, Sir Elector! May you have a prosperous journey home and be happy!” So say her lips. What says her heart?

That nobody knows. The Princess has a tender but proud heart! Only at night was heard a low sobbing and wailing in the Princess’s chamber. When morning broke though it was hushed. That is the deepest grief which must shun the light of day, and only find vent and expression in the curtained darkness of night.

Poor Hildegarde! Poor King’s daughter! Scorned! The Emperor’s grandchild scorned by the little Elector of Brandenburg!

He has returned home; he has shaken from his feet the dust of that humbling pilgrimage. The States of the duchy of Prussia had long delayed swearing allegiance to the Elector, feeling that they had been aggrieved as to their rights and privileges. Now at last all difficulties had been adjusted and the deputies of Prussia were ready to do homage to their Duke. Upon an open tribune before the palace stood the Elector, with bared head and radiant countenance, and in front of him at the foot of the throne the deputies from his duchy. They swore faithfulness and devotion, and, as in Warsaw, so in Koenigsberg the bells rang, and trumpets and drums sent forth triumphant sounds. The roar of cannon announced to Koenigsberg and all Prussia that to-day the Duke and his States were joined in a compact of concord, love, and unity!

“Leuchtmar,” said the Elector, inclining toward the friend whom he had summoned from Sweden, on purpose to be present at this festivity “Leuchtmar, in this hour the first germ of my future has put forth buds!”

“And a great forest will grow therefrom, a forest of myrtle and laurel, your highness!”

“Leave the myrtle to grow and bloom, Leuchtmar. I care not for that! But I want a rapid growth of laurel! I long for action; and one thing I will tell you, friend: to-day marks a new era of my life. Until now I have been forced to bear and temporize, to bow my head, and patiently accommodate myself to the arrogance and caprices of others. I was so small and all about me so great. I was nothing, they were everything! I must become a diplomatist in order to gain even ground enough on which to stand.”

“And now you have gained ground. One title, at least, you have substantiated, and may now claim to be veritably Duke of Prussia. You have now won your position; and my Elector never recedes he always moves forward!”

“Yes, from this day he moves forward!” cried the Elector, with enthusiasm. “Forward in the path of glory and renown! Hear you the ringing of bells and thundering of cannon! God bless Prussia, my Prussia of the future my great, strong, mighty Prussia, as I feel she will become. To her I dedicate my life. Not in pride and vain ambition, but in genuine humility and devotion to my duty and my calling. I will have nothing for myself, all for my people, for the honor of my God and the good of my country! In the discharge of my princely functions I shall be ever mindful that I guard not my own, but my people’s interests. And this thought will give me strength and joy! This be the device of my whole future: Pro deo et populo! For God and the people!”

“God save our Duke!” cried and shouted the people, as the Elector now descended the steps of the throne in order to return to the palace. “Blessings on our Duke!” cried also the representatives and deputies from the Prussian towns and provinces.

The Elector bowed to right and left, smilingly acknowledging their salutations. His heart swelled with joy and love as he saw all these glad, happy faces, the faces of his own people; and in the recesses of his soul he repeated his oath, to devote his whole life and being to his country Pro deo et populo! For God and the people!”