When I went to see the elector, I remarked a company of foot soldiers with arquebuses in the yard of the residence lying around a number of fires. The guards at the gate and the entry to the residence were reinforced, and even before the rooms of the elector stood his guards. So much iron and so many weapons made me feel quite sick on my way to my lord.
When I stood before the elector, I felt like a defendant about to be questioned, though the prince had not yet uttered a word.
Then he began: “What, Dr. Luther, do you think about the Calvinists, Philippists, and the other people who do not strictly follow the teachings of your father? I know you had connections to Magister Philippus, and I have been informed about the intimacy between you and Chancellor Cracow, who at the moment sits in the Pleißenburg and is being interrogated. My agents told me that shortly before the detainment of Cracow, you paid him a visit. And let us say that after sufficient encouragement, he confirmed your visit.”
My heart stood still.
How was I to answer? It was clever of the elector to speak of the teachings of my father. With this, he called me not only to his but also to my father’s duty.
It was clear that for the elector I, too, was under suspicion. Now it was only me and my family that mattered. I must not even think of an intercession for the arrested, though I felt near to them or they were my friends. I would only harm myself. I was not sure about how I stood with the elector. Should I, despite everything, try to bring him around and ask him to go easy on my friends? I was the son of the famous reformer; this was not to be forgotten. But would that protect me sufficiently?
I saw my beautiful house in Dresden, my dear and still-attractive wife and lover, Anna, and my children before my mind’s eye. I thought of my lucrative position at court and the promising alchemical tests in the basement of the residence. But above all, I saw the instruments of the executioner, the red-hot irons, the thumbscrews, the Spanish boot, and the iron maiden.
No, I decided in my heart, Cracow and Peucer and the others had exposed themselves to danger on their own volition. Why had they not, when there was still time, endorsed the changed faith of the elector, which was easy to recognize, kept their mouths shut, and paid court to the electoress instead of using their conscience as an excuse for their Philippistic or even Calvinistic views? They then would still be in their old positions, enjoying courtly life. One could distinctly recognize that the elector, with his growing might and stronger position in the empire, would be less inclined to tolerate deviations from his own faith and political attitude. In the streets the people whispered to each other the saying: “The prince, the prince is always right . . .” and here they stopped, looking furtively around.
My heart raced when I now answered the prince. I must sidetrack him, must direct his interest to something else and make him forget his question. Perhaps that would help me to avoid a straightforward answer.
“Your Grace, may I first congratulate you?”
The elector asked, taken by surprise, “On what?”
Whereupon I said, “Yesterday we made an important step forward in our alchemy. I could reduce the amount of gold that incorporates the mercurium and still retain the solid form of the noble metal. Of course, further advances and constellations are now required to give the gold the chance to impart its properties indissolubly to the quicksilver.”
I must say here that my information to the elector was meant more to keep his good grace than it was a real research result; we had not, in the laboratory, come as far as I maintained.
His Grace was enthused. “Let’s have a look at once. And you must show me a sample of the—how shall I say—near gold so that I can show it to the electoress. Because then,” he added in a hushed voice, falling back into the old topic, “it will be easier to convince her of your indispensability as archiator and alchemist. But you must, before her, take an unequivocal position against the abuses of the Philippists and the hostile ideas of the Calvinists.”
So it happened, and the noble couple kept me at their court in honors and in the coming time displayed further and increasing goodwill, thanks to my persisting good behavior.
God forgive me that my own good was more important to me than that of others. But at home in the privacy of my room, I prayed for the hunted and above all for the tortured chancellor and also read in the prohibited books of Calvin. But at court I raised my voice a few times against deviators from the elector’s thinking.
Chapter 26
. . . depicts how the Devil tempted me.
I wish to point out to the reader how strong a power a woman can exert on a man if he does not protect himself sufficiently against such temptations.
The woman is a child of God like the man and yet different. God has endowed the woman with a power of seduction that is almost devilish, though I see that this is a contradictio in adjecto, yet not if one knows that the Devil, too, is God’s creature.
In one of the earlier chapters I mentioned that I have often succumbed to the allurement of women. One example may suffice, because these memoirs are meant not to induce the reader to try out what I will be describing but to protect him against such temptations by means of my bad example. One case, however, must be included because I want my memoirs to be as near to reality as is feasible.
As if I had not enough anxieties in Dresden, I found myself in the following predicament.
At the time of the elector’s conflict with Philippists and Calvinists, when my position at the electoral court had been somewhat consolidated, I met, in the summer of 1573, the wife of the captain of the castle guard, Bernhard von Greiffenhagen. Her name was Johanna von Greiffenhagen.
She was accompanied by her maid and, as I later learned, confidante, Magdalena Herfurth. Johanna was still young, eighteen years old, and had not long been married to Bernhard, an old war-scarred battle horse. He was ten years older than me, that is, fifty years old. She was distantly related to the electoress and despite her youth a friend of the forty-year-old Anna.
In passing we greeted each other in the castle court, when I heard hurried steps behind me. I stopped, turned, and saw the maid hurrying toward me. “Dr. Luther,” she said out of breath, her chest moving up and down, “my lady begs for a word with you.”
The lady had turned toward us and obviously expected me to come nearer to her. This I did.
“What can I do for you, My Lady?” I queried.
“Dear Doctor,” she addressed me confidingly, “I would like to ask you for an interview in a medical matter. Tomorrow after breakfast my husband will be away in the service of the elector in the hunting lodge of Dianenburg, and we can talk undisturbed.”
That the young woman wanted to talk to me in the absence of her husband stimulated my imagination. That she, moreover, suggested the morning, increased the stimulation. Did not my experiences and the teachings of Hippocrates and Galen tell me that in the morning the driving forces of the man are stronger than during the long and wilting day? Was it possible that Frau Johanna had heard, let alone experienced, this despite her youth?
Before I started next morning on my way to the castle, I had a thorough wash and also rubbed a small amount of patchouli on my chest. The latter I did, I admit, shortly before I left the house. I wanted to spare my wife unnecessary disquietude. As I loved her, I always tried to consider her feelings. The washing itself was not suspicious because I always took great pains to be fresh and clean before I went to the residence.
When I entered the domicile of the captain, Johanna’s confidante, Magdalena, received me and led me to the chamber of her lady and friend.
To my surprise, the latter was still in her nightgown, which was visible through the open morning gown. Magdalena left the room, though I was not sure that she did not stop to listen immediately behind the door.
“Dear Doctor,” Johanna commenced, “I have asked you here about a very delicate matter. It concerns my husband as well as myself. You know he was a widower when he married me last year. I will a
dmit that with this marriage I followed more the wishes of my parents and the encouragement of the electoress than my own inclinations. My experiences with men have been small—in fact, did not exist at all or were only gathered from books. The electoress alone advised me before the wedding night and told me not to be afraid. I was just to surrender to my husband, which meant lie still, open my legs a little, and wait for the thing to come. As it would be dark in the room, the sight of my husband need not frighten me.”
Here she paused and looked at me, obviously surprised somewhat herself by her openness. I was moved by the young woman, and nolens volens something else moved. I noted it with a measure of anxiety but could do nothing about it. A new and fresh young woman is like a spring for a thirsty man having lost his way in a forest, irresistible. Its bitter additive is only tasted later.
On her face while she was speaking, I could see a mixture of slight embarrassment and mischievous coquetry.
She went on: “When now my husband came to me and hoisted himself on me, I closed my eyes and wanted to let things take their natural course. But nothing happened. My husband, who, by the way, smelled strongly of the roast venison and wine from which he had generously eaten during the wedding dinner, fumbled about with his hand at his belly and moaned quietly, but nothing happened. He put his hands on my breasts and kissed them, but again everything remained as it was.
“I did not know what I had to do. Then he took my hand and moved it down until I felt something that I had seen once in an anatomy book. It must have been my husband’s private parts, or whatever they are called, at which I probed and felt, but again nothing moved. I knew at least that for a successful cohabitation, a certain size and form are required.
“At that moment he again heaved a sigh, turned to the side, and fell asleep.”
I was surprised by these revelations. The old fellow had a beautiful young and delicious woman in his bed and failed to enjoy her.
“Dear Frau Johanna,” I now began, “I assume that you want me to do something for your husband so that he in an orderly manner can fulfill his marriage obligations to you. This won’t be easy—in fact, it will be almost impossible. I confess that I have rarely seen as strong an aphrodisiac as you yourself. Even I . . .” Here I stopped. What went on in me? The young woman had looked at me in such an enchanting and needy way that I got quite warm around the loins.
“No, don’t misunderstand me, dear Doctor. I am not concerned with the implementation of my marriage with an old and scarred man.”
“But what then could you wish for?” asked I.
The young woman now truly blushed and did not know how to go on. She rang for her maid, Magdalena, and ordered a decanter of wine and two glasses. “I hope you won’t decline a glass of wine,” she said.
In the meantime, my suspicion of what she desired became a certainty. And I saw that she needed to fortify her courage for that. Every understanding reader knows that for a man, there is nothing better than to be seduced by a young woman, one who does this not for a living but out of an irresistible mental and physical need.
I succeeded in concentrating my thoughts on my duties as a physician, which are directed at the welfare of the patient and fulfillment of their wishes, which sometimes may include physical effort and dedication.
I observed how Frau Johanna added a few drops from a vial labeled Tinctura opii to her wine. This she did, not furtively, but quite openly and without any explanation or excuses. Her matter-of-fact attitude seemed to indicate that she was preparing herself for things to come.
“I don’t believe”—Frau von Greiffenhagen took up the interrupted thread of the conversation—“that my husband, even by such a high medical art as you are said to have at your disposal, can be brought to a stableness required for his married duties. As you know, I am not his first wife, and he had no children with his last one. He told me at the beginning of our marriage that it was his first wife that the Lord God had stricken with barrenness.”
“This, by the way,” I interjected, “is an excuse used by many men to hide their own infertility or incapability.”
Frau Johanna gave me a grateful look and took another few sips from her glass, which seemed to help, because she no longer appeared embarrassed but chatted on while looking me in the eyes.
“I am now,” she said, “coming to the core of my request to you as a physician. Help me so that I do not have to wither away as a virgin but can, by having children, lead a more fulfilled life. Be fruitful and multiply, the Bible says, but how can this happen under the circumstances I described?”
Now this I liked very much. She used for her charming desires God’s word, and in this way she demanded my duties not only medically, as it were, but also religiously. If I were to do as she wished, there had to be clarity between doctor and patient.
Therefore I asked her, “Would you, Frau Johanna, that I myself, with my own person, remedy your suffering or, let’s say, your matrimonial deficits?”
I thought it suitable to sustain an atmosphere of the right medical behavior by means of using scholarly words, though the talk and the things to come created in me such a blissful pleasant anticipation far beyond the normal work of a physician that I decided to drive our talk forward a bit and thus ease the situation for my patient.
Of course I saw that something extraordinary was developing, because a physician must have the gift of anticipation. And if now—rarely enough—work and pleasure turned out to be a unity, I could not, just to avoid a sin, leave a woman without assistance in her predicament.
And should I here really commit a sin, I had to regard this as a sacrifice for my profession. The Lord may forgive me as He forgave David when he, out of passion, allowed Uriah to be slain by the enemy. He not only forgave him but even let him become the father of the blessed King Solomon and ancestor of Jesus Christ. King David was driven by his carnal desire only but I by my desire and at the same time my duty as a doctor.
Johanna answered my question by taking my hand and leading me into her bedchamber. There she threw off her morning gown, took off her nightgown, and stood before me like the beautiful damsel Abishag, who was laid beside David so the king might get heat.
This I did not need. I got rid of my clothes, lauded secretly my precaution that I had washed and applied fragrant salve, and went to Johanna, who in the meantime had laid herself on the bed.
I went to work very tenderly because I did not want to frighten the maiden or even cause her pains. But lo! I did not meet with any resistance as I came in unto her.
My pleasure was so great that I for the moment was not surprised when the maiden from the start uttered short lustful sounds instead of tensing herself in expectation of pain. Nor did I wonder that I, though I did not look very thoroughly, could not detect any traces of blood on me or the bedsheet.
The surprise came after two days.
The electoress summoned me.
“Dr. Luther,” she said, “my maid and friend, the wife of Captain Bernhard von Greiffenhagen, has confided in me and told me what you have done, allegedly in the course of your medical duty. Witness to this is her chambermaid.”
I, of course, was utterly taken aback by this as well as apprehensive and not a little frightened.
The electoress regarded me rather coolly and went on: “Johanna told me that by your tender skill she rather enjoyed the act, which—as she is my friend—I count in your favor. Though it is true that her husband in certain decisive moments is a failure, the story of her virginity is an invention, which you should have noticed, being a skilled lover and a doctor. But we know that in such moments, generally head and reason do not rule a man but rather the member with which he sins.”
In the meantime I had regained some confidence and composure. The words of the electoress seemed to indicate that we could come to a mutual understanding, but for the time being I preferred to remain quiet.
She went on with decisiveness: “I will not talk about the affair, nor will my husband, the
elector, learn about it. I have ordered Johanna and her maid to keep their mouths shut, too.”
I summoned up courage and began to thank the electoress. Because imagine if the captain, who was known for his vengeful jealousy, or, even worse, Anna should learn about the expanded administration of my medical services. Or worse, if the elector, who was known to hold high moral standards—not so much for himself as for others—would be informed.
Amid my expression of gratitude, the electoress interrupted me. “I have not quite finished,” she said. “For my generosity I expect from you the strictest loyalty in all matters of the Lutheran doctrine, which means the faith of your father. This should not be very hard for you.”
“Your Grace,” I replied, “is very noble, and I will follow all Your Grace’s wishes as a matter of course.”
Now, reader, you know why I up to the death of the elector and his wife in the years 1586 and 1585 neither left the court nor deviated in any way from the faith of the court.
Circumstances in Dresden were not always untroubled, but I was forced to endure them. I could not seriously consider leaving (though I often thought about it), because the elector cast a long shadow, far beyond the borders of Saxony. So I humbled myself and tried to make the best out of my and my family’s life there. As I enjoyed the favor of the ruler and his consort, as mentioned above, life was tolerable, and I got used to hiding my true feelings, which I recommended to wife and children, too.
As I today lie here and with difficulty put pen to paper, I am still amazed at what intrigues women are capable of through the exploitation of their seductive powers and of the corresponding weakness and folly of men. At the time I swore a holy oath not to fall again into such a trap, but it did not help much.
Chapter 27
. . . describes how we fared further in Dresden.
If you, like my wife, I, and our children, obeyed the God-given regime and did not deviate from the views of the elector’s party, and if you did not audibly but only secretly praised the deviations of other people, you could live quite well and comfortably.
Shadows of My Father Page 30