Chapter 25

Before the city hall of the city of Muenster, many citizens were collected, and many were continually arriving, bearing rich bronzes, and chests of treasure, which they were hoping to save for themselves by placing them under the direct protection of the city. The invading hosts of John's army filled all with fear. No one was more furious against the Prophet than Bertha, who, being in Muenster, had no thought that the Prophet who had laid waste the whole country could be her beloved sweetheart.

The public square before the city hall was soon invaded by the soldiers of John, who were crying, "Long live the Prophet!" while answering cries of "Down with him! down with thy Prophet!" were courageously shouted by the people of Muenster.

"This Prophet who is to be crowned King of the Anabaptists; he is of Satan and not of Heaven!" The whole city was full of despair.

While all was in confusion, Faith, John's mother, was seen to wander in and kneel in prayer.

"What art thou doing there, mother?" one of the crowd questioned.

"I am praying for my son. I am begging for money that I may buy masses for his soul. I am hungry and cold. I am alone in the world. All the world seems buried in grief. I pray. There is no other hope save in prayer!" she moaned, little thinking that it was her son who had brought upon a nation so much desolation, and who at the same time was about to be crowned by the revolutionists. As people passed, they dropped money into her hand, and some led her a little way to a seat where she could rest her weary body. She had become very old and trembling since that night when she had last seen her son. She had wandered from the old inn in search of him, and had never found him; and she had no sooner left the old home than Bertha, saved from Oberthal, had flown to the inn again, to throw herself into the strong arms of her lover. She had found the place closed, for Faith and John had gone, no one knew where.

After begging and praying in the public square, Faith found herself near a sick and almost helpless man, close to the palace toward which she had wandered. Many people were about. The Prophet was going to be crowned, so it was rumoured. Among others, Bertha had wandered near.

"Thou poor, helpless brother," said Faith. "Let me, out of my poverty, help thee a little." At the sound of that voice Bertha paused, turned, and nearly shrieked. She had wandered alone and hopeless; and there stood Faith, her lover's mother.

"Oh, dear mother!" she cried, and they threw themselves into each other's arms.

"Oh, mother! How I sought for thee!" she sobbed. "Since you were not to be found in Leyden, I turned myself toward Muenster, hoping against hope to find you or John. Now take me to him. Let us go quickly!" she urged, but old Faith held back.

"My child, he is dead. I heard a voice declare to me that I should see him no more. It was an unseen voice. He is dead." Whereupon, both women fell to weeping in each other's arms.

"It has to do with these wicked men who have brought ruin upon Germany!--these Anabaptists!" Bertha cried. "Oh, John, if thou couldst rise from thy grave and help me now. Thy courage and goodness would raise up men to drive back these who do bad deeds in the name of God."

She cursed the famous Prophet, neither of them dreaming who he might be, and that desolation had come because the man whom they loved best had sought revenge for the wrongs done to them. With those curses in their hearts, the forlorn women wandered on with the crowd toward the cathedral where the Prophet was to be crowned.

Some of his suite had already gone into the church, but many were arriving in a grand procession. The appearance of the Prophet's guard aroused great indignation among the citizens, who were compelled to look on helplessly.

Then came the Prophet himself, garbed all in white, from head to foot, and a wonderful march was being played, while the spectacle grew each moment more and more magnificent.

[Music]

As John the Prophet passed, the revolutionary crowd threw themselves at his feet; young girls strewed flowers in his path, the choir chanted. Then, the Anabaptists having deposed the Elector Princes, were to take their places. The Prophet was anointed with holy oil, a great and impressive ceremony took place, and all the city rang with the cries that proclaimed him king. Faith and Bertha could not see the new king, but they were in the crowd, and they cursed this Prophet again--none so vigorously as Bertha, while Faith hailed her as a new Judith. After a time, all being prostrate upon their knees awaiting the reentrance of the Prophet from the church, John appeared upon the great staircase which led from the cathedral. As he stood there looking unhappily upon all of those abased people who seemed to be worshipping him, he thought he heard the voice of his dream of long ago. "Woe through thee! Let him be accursed!" Overcome by the memory, he uttered those words aloud. Faith heard the voice and screamed:

"My son! my son!" John of Leyden trembled and started toward her, his arms outstretched, but Mathison, knowing the disastrous effect such an acknowledgment would have upon the crowd who believed him of holy origin, said in a low voice to John:

"Speak! reply to her, and she shall die, instantly! Deny thy mother, or she shall be killed before thine eyes." The Anabaptists had no mind to lose all they had risked so much for, when it was just within their grasp. John looked at his mother, in agony and then he regained his self-possession.

"Who is this woman?" he asked: it was to save her life that he did it.

At that cold denial of her, Faith clasped her hands and wept. Then she became enraged at his ingratitude, and began to upbraid him.

"This poor wretch is mad," he said, but by that time the crowd was beginning to murmur against him.

"He said he was the son of God! He is an impostor." The Anabaptists seeing how fatal the effect of Faith's words was going to be, spoke menacingly to John. Then John cried, as Jonas raised his sword to strike the old mother down:

"Hold! respect the day! I, thy Prophet, hath to-day received His crown. No bloodshed. This poor creature is demented. A miracle alone can restore her reason," and he went toward Faith. "Woman, to thy knees!" he said, but she made a gesture of indignation. He continued to go toward her, then laying his hands lovingly upon her head he looked meaningly into her eyes.

"To thy knees." His voice was soft and gentle, and slowly Faith fell upon her knees, half comprehending that he was acting as fate compelled him.

"Put up thy swords!" he commanded the people who had drawn them. Then to Faith: "Thou wert wrong, good mother!" She looked at him a moment longer.

"Yes!--wrong," she said, and bowed her head. At that the people burst into cries of enthusiasm.

"Is he thy child?" Jonas asked loudly, placing his sword-point upon her breast.

"Alas! No, he is not my son!" she answered in a weak voice.

"A miracle! A miracle!" all cried, and then the Prophet passed on, Faith looking after him without following, the people again acclaiming him with joyous shouts.