Shadows of My Father

by Christoph Werner

  Shortly afterward, a highwayman, Philipp Blass from Langensalza, was caught and taken to Dresden. He had a long criminal history of inflicting much damage in Erfurt. He had even taken an Erfurter prisoner and charged for his release a goodly sum of money. Duke Augustus of Saxony offered 1000 guldens as reward for his capture. Blass was seized in an inn in Mücheln and was brought first to Freiburg, then Leipzig, and finally to Dresden. He confessed, among other things, that Grumbach had promised him a rich reward if he would help clear the elector out of the way. Duke John Frederick had been aware of the plan.

  The duke was deeply hurt by the accusations and rejected them. He said he did not know the people at all. Also, Grumbach and his crony, Stein, proclaimed their innocence. Still Augustus of Saxony was not convinced, perhaps did not want to be, although obviously all was a matter of slander and lies forced from Blass and Böhm through hideous torture.

  On July 10th, 1566, under my medical supervision, Prince John Ernest was born. In his congratulatory letter, Elector Augustus once again admonished the duke to follow the emperor’s orders—without success.

  The bitterness grew on each side, and Grumbach was aware that his life was at stake. And so in desperation he looked to use every means without regard to their illegality or reprehensibility.

  Now emerged something that once again gave hope to myself and others who were devoted to our lord. Chancellor Brück fell into disfavor. There were too many complaints received about him, and his own father, Gregorius Brück, had said, “Woe to the prince who lets my haughty, arrogant, and proud son rule over him, and woe unto the land where he is chancellor and has power.” Likewise, the elector Frederick of the Palatinate had expressed the opinion that Chancellor Brück was not worthy to govern a bunch of pigs: Brück was corruptible, had succumbed to gluttony, had set the three ducal brothers against each other, had induced his lord to affiliate with Grumbach, had compared Duke John William with faithless Absalom, and in councils had never allowed the other councillors to utter their real opinions. Then constant entreaties from the duke’s father-in-law, Elector Frederick of the Palatinate, and his brother John William finally succeeded in removing Brück from the court. John William wanted the chancellor to be duly tried but found no legal counsel willing to be involved in this thing.

  But the duke, in the meantime, had been so ensnared by Grumbach and his cronies that Brück was soon again in favor and was reinstated as chancellor. A rescript from his master expressly commanded the councillors in Weimar that they should regard Chancellor Brück as never having been excluded from state affairs.

  Grumbach and Brück were now able to get the duke to strengthen his armament. He looked on all sides to make alliances, ordered all cavalry captains to refrain from going into foreign service, and enlisted new troops.

  On the 12th of December, 1566, Emperor Maximilian, who feared a longer delay would cause an uprising by the knights, declared from Vienna that Duke John Frederick was finally and with full legal force to be outlawed by imperial edict.

  On the following day, Elector Augustus, as the lieutenant of the Upper Saxon Circle, was requested to quickly execute the ban against John Frederick. He was in agreement with the brother of John Frederick to carry out the order.

  John Frederick had not expected such a quick enforcement of the ban. He was of the opinion that the imminent war against the Turks would postpone it, and Grumbach had strengthened him in this thought.

  Now the duke had to prepare himself for an attack. He ordered the bailiffs of the castles to provision their forts with beer, grain, butter, cheese, and other necessities. In particular, the duke reckoned on the assistance of the discontented German knighthood, also with France and Sweden, where Grumbach had forged links and where one of his cronies, Mandelsloe, had been sent as an emissary. King Eric XIV of Sweden, however, terminated the alliance when the emperor wrote him that Grumbach had been declared an outlaw.

  Chapter 19

  . . . is introduced for clarity and continues the previous chapter.

  At year’s end AD 1566, the duke had approximately three thousand riders and foot soldiers assembled, among them armed citizens and other subjects willing or obligated to fight for him.

  How precarious everything was and how reluctantly people now obeyed the duke was demonstrated by the fact that the majority of vassals summoned to Gotha failed to appear. Only about twenty obeyed. The greater number refused the order, because according to the contract between the two ducal brothers of February 21st, 1566, one brother alone did not have the right to convene the vassals, and when they asked Duke John William how they should respond to the order, the answer was, of course, not to obey. It is obvious they were happy to use this as a pretext for sending regrets, because to assist in the face of the imperial ban could quickly lead to disaster.

  The duke’s small force had to face the much superior power of the empire, and it is indeed astonishing that in the face of this imbalance the duke decided to fight. But one can imagine that Grumbach, for whom it was a matter of life and death, did everything he could to bolster the fighting spirit of his protector. And in all probability he had told the duke that he ultimately did not have to fear for life and limb, having seen the fate of his father, who, though sentenced to death after the battle of Mühlberg in the year of 1547, died peacefully in Weimar.

  The duke, who was well secured behind the solid walls of the city and Grimmenstein Castle and well supplied with firepower, was confronted by the emperor’s war general, Augustus of Saxony, who commanded almost ten thousand foot soldiers and about forty-six hundred riders. As the reports of the approaching enemy and its strength became increasingly credible, the citizens of Gotha, as well as I, felt great distress. It was clear to me that the duke’s cause was lost, and I had to find a way to come out of this without injury. Then, as good luck would have it, my former famulus, Thomas, reappeared. After intense but not painful interrogation, and due to the intervention of my lord, he had been set free. Later I discovered that Grumbach and Brück were probably still reluctant to offend the son of Martin Luther and the duke’s personal physician by harming his servant. This was to alter quickly, as we will see.

  Now I had my reliable helper and friend back. I drafted a letter to Elector Augustus in which I told him that, though I remained true to my lord John Frederick and thus the House of Wettin, I loathed the actions of Grumbach and his comrades as well as Chancellor Brück, and I requested mercy for myself and my family. Also, as personal physician, I had no possibility and no call to advise the duke. That was, I admit, a certain stretching of the truth, but perhaps it would help me later. This letter I wrote with a sympathetic ink, made from euphorbia or spurge, which Thomas knew how to make visible. The letter was addressed with normal ink to my wife in Weimar so that Thomas could be dispatched with it safely.

  Still, I hesitated to send it when, at the end of the year 1566, the order came from Grimmenstein Castle that the townsmen must without delay send their wives and children out of the city. Citizens and council implored the order to be withdrawn because of the cruelty of the measure at this time of year and the proximity of the enemy. But it did not help. On New Year’s Day, 1567, the women and children, with little money and clothing, were forced to leave in the bitter cold. I was happy to know that my family was safe in Weimar, although as the family of a court official, they would hardly have been affected.

  Grumbach and Brück urgently advised the duke to ensure the loyalty of the city. So he ordered on the 5th of January, 1567, all the citizens and country folk within the city’s boundaries to be called to the market square, some of them actually driven there into a circle, surrounded by his riders and arquebusiers. Into this circle he rode with Grumbach, Brück, and entourage and had them swear a renewed oath of allegiance. I could luckily claim illness as an excuse, because some of those who were at the duke’s side were soon to suffer a terrible fate.

  The people, so obviously threatened by superior forces, and in view of the treatm
ent of some who did not want to swear and said so loudly and were ripped out from the crowd and arrested, finally in fear did as ordered. Thomas, under the roof of the Inn Zum Riesen observed the gathering and said to me that he had clearly seen that many of the people held their left hand behind their backs with three outstretched fingers in order to negate the oath.

  When I saw to what measures the duke felt driven, it was clear to me that he could not much longer endure. On the same evening, I gave the letter to Thomas, sat him on a horse, and sent him through the still-passable Erfurter Gate to Elector Augustus in one of the blockhouses that had been erected for his general staff after the completion of the trenches that faced the city. I gave Thomas strict orders in no case to return to the city before he had heard from me and was told to return.

  There began now a warlike and unhappy time.

  The enemy drew near to the city, shots were traded back and forth, and there were dead and wounded on both sides. A delegation from the elector and from Duke John William demanded once more the handing over of Grumbach and his companions as well as Chancellor Brück. In vain. However, the contents of the demand became known in the city, and it stirred great resentment, because the good city of Gotha and its people were caused to suffer for these few men.

  Many lost property because of the ruler’s order to destroy the suburbs so that the enemy could not settle there. The gardens before the city were laid waste, and the trees were cut down. He also ordered the mills around the city that had not been destroyed by the enemy to be burned down in order not to be available to the hostile forces. I believe, under the influence of Grumbach, he would have scorched the very earth.

  The worst, however, was that the besiegers destroyed the Leina Canal and most of the wells supplying the city with freshwater.

  That resulted in the city and the castle, despite a mighty cistern twenty-one feet deep and holding fifteen thousand barrels of water, having such a shortage that, other than the few remaining sweep wells for the maintenance of the people and the cattle and especially for the breweries, it became necessary to fetch water from the moat before the Brühler Gate.

  I expressly made my lord aware of the consequences, which followed immediately: There were numerous cases of dysentery and bowel bleeding and also cases of cholera, and many people, after having suffered, most painfully died.

  The town physician and I established a hospital under the walls of the Grimmenstein and attempted to bring as many of the sick as possible there in order to separate them from the healthy. The old infirmary, originally intended for lepers, lay accordingly outside the city walls by the Siebleber Gate and therefore was no longer accessible. In addition, I recommended the townsmen boil the water gotten from the moat, but this did not do much good. We were lucky that it was winter and we were spared the plague. Things were bad enough.

  An understanding with the besiegers became increasingly impossible because of the conduct of my lord, whose mind seemed now completely clouded, and Brück and Grumbach were the main causes.

  When the city was now completely closed off by the siege, John Frederick was foolish to the extreme and took the title of elector and the electoral coat of arms, made use of the same in official letters, on coins—the so-called klippes (for the young reader: these coins, often square, were originally issued under unfavorable conditions, for example, in a city under siege, as here in Gotha)—and on flags, and soon one could read on ducal decrees “Electoral-Saxon Chancellery.”

  His Ducal Grace must have realized that such action would drive Elector Augustus into a sharp rage. Also, it was completely contrary to the Naumburg Contract of 1554, which the duke had signed and which said that, with the exception of John Frederick I, no member of the Ernestinian line could call himself a born elector. I was now beginning to think the duke was suffering from megalomania, for which I had no effective remedy at hand. Under the pretext that it would give him pleasant dreams, I tried a betonica-nettle tea, but I already knew that this mild herb would be of little benefit. But it also could not do any harm.

  Still, during the siege, four thousand of the Grimmenstein gold klippes fell into the hands of the enemy, as they were to be secretly handed over to Mandelsloe, who was traveling at the request of the duke to recruit additional soldiers. And not only gold klippes, but also dispatches about the provisioning, the securing, and the arming of the Grimmenstein and the city of Gotha, and the recruitment of new troops as well as further this plan of the duke. Of course, the news was immediately conveyed to Elector Augustus and furthered John Frederick’s downfall.

  I had succeeded in my consultations with the duke by all sorts of linguistic circumlocutions not to address him as Your Electoral Grace. I mostly said Your Grace, while Brück and Grumbach and others deliberately used the new title in order to flatter the duke’s vanity. That helped me very much later, while for the others it did damage.

  The gold klippes, though, which toward the end of the siege were paid to me as my physician’s salary, I accepted and carefully preserved, then later I melted them down and used the metal during my attempts at making gold as a reference and auxiliary material.

  It was not only the city of Gotha that suffered during this truly unchristian war. The unrestraint of the foreign soldiers around Gotha knew no bounds. Far into the surrounding lands they plundered and robbed, and many localities had such significant damage that many years were to pass before the poor folks were able to recover. Especially bad was the behavior of the Franconian troops. They stole grain; broke windows in cloisters and pulled out the lead; tore up documents and letters; chopped up cabinets, beds, implements, boards, and timber from floors; tore up sheds, stalls, and houses; and carried with them as much as they could. There was some improvement, although not much, when on the 8th of January, 1567, Elector Augustus and three imperial commissioners, Eberstein, Schönaich, and Carlowitz, appeared in camp and threatened corporal punishment for further violations.

  For better protection of the lands, Duke John William had set up three roaming patrols stationed in Rinkleben, Ichtershausen, and Eisenach, although they were also of little help.

  Now discontent began to grow also among the troops in the city and castle. It is true that the defenders of the castle, unlike those in the city, had enough to eat; still, they had to live in hastily thrown up huts in the bailey, exposed to frost and smoke. Added to that was the considerable doubt that they felt about the cause of the siege. In order to counter that, the duke on the 5th of January, 1567, gathered together all the armed forces in the presence of Brück and Grumbach to demonstrate that Elector Augustus, seduced by the priests of Baal, wanted to suppress the Evangelical religion and lusted for the little piece of land that was left over for the duke after the Wittenberg Capitulation. He admonished the troops to be obedient, recalled them to their oath, warned against mutiny, and consoled them with the promise of imminent help.

  Hereupon Grumbach spoke and declared that the strange rumor that war was being waged for his and his followers’ sake was fabricated and false. He was instead an old, spent, and weak seventy-year-old man (who nevertheless sat firm and upright in the saddle). He was not the one for whom the duke’s army was fighting; they fought rather for the duke himself in order to defend him against the elector of Saxony, who through hatred and envy thirsted for the little piece of land still remaining to their lord under the appearance of following orders of the emperor.

  These lies, or half truths, of the duke and Grumbach were soon exposed, as the besiegers shot notices into the city on which the true reasons for the ban and siege were listed. In addition, soldiers before the wall called scornfully to the defenders about the reprehensible, lost cause for which they were willing to sacrifice themselves.

  On the 25th of January, 1567, two trumpeters presented the castle guard with a note of request to the vassals, citizens, and subjects of the city of Gotha.

  The elector’s note, which through numerous copies soon became known, urged the knights, townspeople,
and peasantry to follow only the imperial orders. This they could do rightfully, because on the last territorial diet at Saalfeld the emperor had ordered all subjects to be dispensed from all their oaths and duties toward Duke John Frederick. Their lord now was solely John Frederick’s brother, John William. They also should surrender the castle to the emperor and turn over the outlaws for punishment. Should they go on following their old ways, they would lose honor, life, and limb and all their belongings. If they failed to comply with this, they would, like the duke and Grumbach, fall under the ban and become subject to the same penalties. It had been determined to take the city by force. Elector Augustus’s army would proceed with fire and sword against all the stubborn and exiled outlaws, against the wanton rebels and peace breakers.

  The men of the city, naturally, feared for their lives. Presentations were made to the duke that he might renounce Grumbach and his consorts and make peace with the emperor. They would have the same obligations to John William as they had to John Frederick. All was in vain. Whoever contradicted Grumbach was despised and persecuted. Even the superintendent, Melchior Weidemann, employed in Gotha since 1562, who had strongly preached against Grumbach’s schemes, was told he should, like others, fear the wheel and the gallows.

  To dissatisfaction were added evil omens.

  On the 5th of February, when the troops in Gotha had fired a piece of heavy artillery toward Sundhausen, a cannon called the Breme—a gift from the city of Bremen to Duke John Frederick I—exploded into pieces and smashed all windows in the duke’s chambers.