When Death calls your name – a reflection on the Moritz Monument and a gagged lady

I was recently in Dresden, which has absolutely no connection to the books I am writing or planning to write. But sometimes, life invites you to stroll down an alternative path, which is why my friend Alison Morton and I took a long weekend in Saxony. Alison, of course, had a reason for wanting to visit: her latest release, Double Stakes, is to a large extent set in Dresden and in the beautiful landscape surrounding the city.

What did I know about Dresden prior to my visit? Well, seeing as I am Swedish, I had heard of Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony and deadly enemy of Karl XII of Sweden. Augustus has indirectly featured on my blog previously—the man was extremely promiscuous and had a string of official mistresses (and, I suppose, numerous one-night stands as he purportedly had over 300 children…) One of Augustus’ mistresses was Swedish—Aurora von Köningsmarck—and I dedicated a post to her some years ago, plus I also wrote about one of Augustus’ more unfortunate mistresses, Constantia von Brockdorff.

I also knew of the utter destruction inflicted on Dresden in 1945. Since then, the town has been rebuilt to its former 18^th century splendour, but here and there, blackened stone has been set in place as a reminder of that night when Dresden was bombed. The bombing of Dresden was a strategic initiative, driven both by a worry that there might be a Nazi rebound and by the concerns that Stalin’s Soviet troops might make too much of an inroad into German territory. In the event, the bombing of Dresden did nothing to stop Stalin—it was incorporated into DDR with most of East Germany.

In Dresden, there’s a rather impressive museum lodged in the former Electoral palace, Dresden Castle. It is primarily famous for the Green Vault, a collection of precious items in amber, ivory, gold, silver, all kinds of jewels. Interesting for sure, but I was more taken by the huge Moritz Monument.

The Moritz Monument is, obviously, dedicated to Moritz—Elector Moritz I of Saxony. First of the Albertine branch of the Witten family to claim the title of Elector (this after having allied himself with Holy Roman Emperor Charles V against the Protestant Elector of Saxony, John Fredrick I, and his own father-in-law, Philip of Hessen) he was to prove himself a staunch supporter of the Protestant faith (bar that initial alliance with Charles V). One of the leaders in the Princes’ War—the war the Protestant Princes waged against the Holy Roman Empire—he even succeeded in routing the imperial forces and forcing Charles V to flee hell for leather, leaving behind his extensive baggage train.

Some of you may wonder what an Elector was. The Prince-electors were seven men entrusted with selecting a new King of Romans upon the death of the Holy Roman Emperor. Once selected, the pope would then crown the King of Romans as emperor. Charles V was actually the last Holy Roman Emperor to be crowned, and at some point the electors no longer actively selected a king, they confirmed an existing heir as king. Charles V’s grandfather, Maximilian I, was recognised as King of the Romans already in 1486 and co-ruled with his father, Holy Roman Emperor Fredrick II, until he died, upon which Maximilian calmly announced he was now the new emperor, full stop.

Things were dicier for Charles. The religious divisions in Germany meant he needed to secure support also from electors who ruled predominantly Protestant areas—or do battle with them, defeat them, and replace them. He never managed to defeat Moritz, and in 1552 the Treaty of Passau recognised the rights of Protestants to worship according to their tenets of faith, these rights further reinforced by the Augsburg Settlement in 1555, where adherents of the Augsburg Confession (i.e. Protestants) were granted the right to retain land and the freedom to worship within the Holy Roman Empire.

Back to Moritz—who was dead by 1555, having suffered a fatal wound at a battle in 1553.He was only 32 years old when he died, and had been married since 1541 to Agnes of Hesse. Not an alliance that pleased his parents—Agnes came from a scandalous household in that her daddy, Philip of Hesse, had two wives. More on that in a future post—even less so given that Moritz had gone behind their backs and continued to court pretty Agnes when they’d said no. The Agnes-Moritz union was happy, but there was little pitter-patter of small feet. At the time of Moritz’ death, he had one surviving daughter, Anna, all of nine years old. Fortunately for Saxony, Moritz also had a brother, August.

On the Moritz monument—commissioned by August—we see Moritz handing over a sword to August, while death hovers in the background. Behind August, his wife, Anna of Denmark raises her eyes heavenward and clasps her hands, dressed in full court dress. Behind Moritz, his Agnes looks as if she’s been gagged and is already wearing the habit of a widow. I must say I was fascinated by the depiction of the two women: is it a gag, covering Agnes’ mouth or is it merely some sort of widow fashion statement? Anyone who knows, please comment! LATE ADD: Agnes is wearing a “grief bandage” see more HERE!  Thank you, Stanley Antonsson!

Anyway: Agnes was not long for this world either. Her health was already failing her, and some years after Moritz, she too died in childbed (she remarried two years or so after his death)

I do feel that Anna is overdoing her “oh, woe!” look. A Princess of Denmark likely much preferred being the wife of the Elector of Saxony to being the wife of the Elector’s brother. At the time of Moritz’ death, she and August had been married five years, and there had already been three babies of which two had died.

Anna was a remarkable woman, a scientist before there were scientists, an inventor and herbalist who created potions and medicines, distilled akvavit—an alcoholic beverage that was very popular in her home country—which she recommended as treatment for those suffering from heartbreak. She managed the Electoral household with a hands-on approach, fully capable of churning butter, of overseeing laundry, planning meals and developing the gardens. She was also an active proponent of better hygiene, held midwifery classes and treated the sick as well as pampering her husband when he needed it.

At times, Anna could be very unsympathetic—especially when it came to religious matters. She herself was a very orthodox Protestant and was less than thrilled when her hubby arranged a marriage for their eldest surviving daughter, Elisabeth, with John Casimir of the Palatinate, who adhered to a form of Calvinism. Mother and daughter corresponded in secret—John Casimir expected his wife to adhere to his faith—but when Elisabeth wrote to her mother, grieving the birth of a stillborn baby, Anna callously responded that better the baby be dead than raised as a Calvinist. Well . . .

Anna and Augustus had a very happy marriage, even if there were those who muttered that it was really Mother Anna who ruled the roost. Yes, she did try to influence her husband, but August was always his own (very successful) man, something he made clear on various occasions. Anna had been sixteen when she married Augustus, and they were to have a total of fifteen children of which only four would live to become adults.

Of these, two daughters were to be very unfortunate in their marriages: Elisabeth, mentioned above, would be accused of adultery and attempted murder by her Calvinist husband and imprisoned. Anna, the youngest, was to share a similar fate, having wed a man who was rarely at home, she entered into an illicit relationship and was condemned to death. Her husband divorced her and converted the death sentence to imprisonment, and despite Anna begging her family for help , none was forthcoming. She spent 20 years in confinement before she died.

By the time of her daughters’ misfortune, Anna was already dead. After thirty-seven years with August she expired of the plague in 1585. Her grief-struck hubby hastily arranged a new marriage, to the twelve-year-old Agnes Hedwig of Anhalt. He was sixty—but I suppose he was a tad stressed by the fact that there was only one surviving son. Still: there were to be no children in this second marriage, as August died six weeks later.

My takeaway from our short sejour in Dresden is that there is SO MUCH history left to discover! Bigamous marriages (condoned by Luther, no less!) unhappy marriages (yes, Moritz’ daughter had an extremely unhappy marriage) but also succesful marriages, succesful Electors–like Augustus teh Strong, who was born to Saxony but managed to become the elected King of Poland and Lithuania and survive Karl XII!