Electress Elizabeth of the Palatinate - part 3

But, like her husband, she soon found that heavy lies the head that wears a crown. She found it difficult to retain the adoration of the Bohemians. Her ignorance of the Bohemian language separated her from them as if by a Chinese wall. The customs of her court were so different from theirs. They were simple, rude country people, while her court had the levity of French manners. So social customs soon clashed. As an illustration of this, the story is told that soon after her arrival, the wives of some of the citizens of Prague presented her with a testimonial which consisted of some specimens of their baking, as cakes and bread. These they brought crammed rudely into a bag. The queen returned to them her thanks, but alas! her courtiers treated the kind givers with scant courtesy. A page mocked at the gift by seizing one of the loaves of bread and twisting it into fantastic shapes, and putting it on his head like a wreath. The rest followed his example, and the poor Bohemians went away with their feelings hurt. Her religious views also alienated some of them. Like the Reformed, she disliked crosses and crucifixes. Now the Bohemians had a great crucifix on the bridge over the Moldau, which they looked up to as a patron saint. She was charged with avoiding that bridge, so as not to pass the crucifix.

These troubles were but the preparation for darker days to follow. Her husband was called away to the army, which was to protect Prague. He soon saw the dangers that hovered over them, and wrote to her that if she felt afraid, she should leave Prague, but she nobly refused to leave him behind. Though heartsick and anxious, she had to preserve the mask of outward joy and pleasantry to her court and the people. Finally her husband's army was defeated on Sunday, November 8, 1621, just outside the city of Prague. She was attending church service, when the battle began, and the minister had just read, "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's." etc., when the thunder of the canon shook the church, and the minister left the pulpit and with the congregation rushed to the city walls to view the battle. Frederick hastily put her in a carriage and sent her to the citadel for safety. And now began her woes, that like wave upon wave went over her. The next morning at nine o'clock he brought her carriage, that she might escape. As she entered it, never again to return to Prague, one of her admirers, the young Count Thurm, offered to defend the citadel for a few days, in order that she might make good her escape. But she nobly forbade this, saying, "Never shall the son of our best friend hazard his life to spare my fears. Rather let me perish than be remembered as a curse to this city."

Over terrible roads Elizabeth and her husband fled to Breslau. Sometimes the road became impassable and she had to get out and ride on horseback in the cold, wintry weather. A terrible snow-storm came up. Finally they arrived safely at Breslau, but the reception by the inhabitants was as chilly as the weather. It was evident she could not stay there, but where should she go for safety? She wrote to her father, King James of England, begging him for help, saying that if he forsook her, they would all be ruined; but he would not help her, although the Puritans of England were strongly in favor of aiding her. Where could she go? She finally found a brief resting place at the fort of Custrin, where the Elector of Brandenburg, her brother-in-law, allowed her to stay, but refused her any money. There she bore a son. She then, forgotten by her father and cast out by her brother-in-law, travelled westward toward Holland. How different her journey now from her bridal trip a few years before. Then all was gladness, now all is sadness. The Dutch government, however, recieved her as a queen, and kindly allowed her a pension. Here at last she and her husband found an asylum during the awful years of the Thirty Years' War.