A Ruler's Consort in Early Modern Germany: Aemilia Juliana of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt [1 ed.] 1472423844, 9781472423849

Table of contents :
Contents
List of Figures
List of Abbreviations
Preface
1 Introduction
2 Becoming the Ruler’s Consort
3 Enthroned at the Court of the Muses
4 Partner in a State Marriage
5 Advocate for Women
6 The Ruler’s Consort Constructs Her Legacy
Appendix 1: Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt and its Neighbors ca. 1690
Appendix 2: Family Ties: An Abbreviated Genealogical Summary
Appendix 3: Donation Document
Bibliographies
Index

Citation preview

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany Aemilia Juliana of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt

JUDITH P. AIKIN

JUDITH P. AIKIN

Cover image: “Neu-entsprungene Wasserquelle...von dem Spaten,” 1674. (Signatur: AB 43 9/k, 3). Reproduced by permission of Univeritatsund-Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt.

A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

“Judith Aikin reveals the relatively unknown Aemilia Juliana of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, wife of the ruler of a petty Thuringian principality, as an exemplary Landesmutter —a truly evocative German term whose full meaning becomes evident only after reading this cross-disciplinary exploration. It considers topics as diverse as Lutheran theology in the age of early Pietism, inheritance, and dowry law in the Old Reich, Baroque court ceremonies, estate management, home economics, and folk medicine at the court of a mini-state. But Aikin never loses sight of her major argument: that writing prayers and hymns became the primary forms of self-expression for a privileged woman who was both exceptionally introspective and discreetly self-promoting.” — William Monter, Professor Emeritus of History, Northwestern University, USA

WOMEN AND GENDER IN THE EARLY MODERN WORLD

A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

Women and Gender in the Early Modern World Series Editors: Allyson Poska, The University of Mary Washington, USA Abby Zanger The study of women and gender offers some of the most vital and innovative challenges to current scholarship on the early modern period. For more than a decade now, “Women and Gender in the Early Modern World” has served as a forum for presenting fresh ideas and original approaches to the field. Interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary in scope, this Ashgate book series strives to reach beyond geographical limitations to explore the experiences of early modern women and the nature of gender in Europe, the Americas, Asia, and Africa. We welcome proposals for both single-author volumes and edited collections which expand and develop this continually evolving field of study. Titles in the series include: Crime and Punishment in Early Modern Germany Courts and Adjudicatory Practices in Frankfurt am Main, 1562–1696 Maria R. Boes Ways of Knowing in Early Modern Germany Johannes Praetorius as a Witness to his Time Gerhild Scholz Williams Isabella d’Este and Francesco Gonzaga Power Sharing at the Italian Renaissance Court Sarah D.P. Cockram Governing Masculinities in the Early Modern Period Regulating Selves and Others Edited by Susan Broomhall and Jacqueline Van Gent

A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

Aemilia Juliana of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt

Judith P. Aikin University of Iowa, USA

First published 2014 by Ashgate Publishing Published 2016 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017, USA Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business Copyright © 2014 Judith P. Aikin Judith P. Aikin has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows: Aikin, Judith Popovich, 1946– A ruler’s consort in early modern Germany : Aemilia Juliana of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt / by Judith P. Aikin. pages cm.—(Women and gender in the early modern world) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4724-2384-9 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, Aemilie Juliane, Gräfin von, 1637–1706. 2. SchwarzburgRudolstadt—Kings and rulers—Biography. 3. Sex role—Political aspects—Germany— History—17th century. 4. Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt—Politics and government—17th century. 5. Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt—History—17th century. 6. Nobility—Germany— History—17th century. I. Title. DD801.S65A37 2014 943’.222044092—dc23 [B] 2013036112 ISBN 9781472423849 (hbk)

Contents List of Figures   List of Abbreviations   Preface   1 Introduction  

vii xi xiii 1

2 Becoming the Ruler’s Consort  

19

3 Enthroned at the Court of the Muses  

57

4 Partner in a State Marriage  

101

5 Advocate for Women  

137

6 The Ruler’s Consort Constructs Her Legacy  

175

Appendix 1: Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt and its Neighbors ca. 1690  

207

Appendix 2: Family Ties: An Abbreviated Genealogical Summary  

211

Appendix 3: Donation Document  

215

Bibliographies 219 Index 233

Page Intentionally Left Blank

List of Figures

1.1

Aemilia Juliana, painted portrait by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1690. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

4

1.2

View of Rudolstadt with Heidecksburg palace, Stadtkirche (City Church), and Landschule (regional high school), frontispiece in Justus Söffing, Gottes-Bau, Kirchen- RegimentsSchul- und Wohn-Hause in dem HochGräfflichen Schwartzburg (Jena: Neuenhahn, 1699). Courtesy of Foto-Lösche, Rudolstadt. 

9

2.1 Title page, Stieler, Der Vermeinte Printz (Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1665). Courtesy of the Niedersächsische Staats und Universitätsbibliothek, Göttingen: 8 Poet. dram. III. 875. 

20

2.2 Portrait of Caspar Stieler, frontispiece in his Neuentsprungene Wasserquelle (Nuremberg: Hoffmann, 1674). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 43 9/k, 3. 

21

2.3 Interior of the Stadtkirche with Stammbaum (Family Tree) monument. Courtesy of Foto-Lösche. 

29

2.4

Pferdeschwemme (horse pool), courtyard of the Heidecksburg palace. Author’s photograph. 

45

3.1 Crucifixion with the Count and his Family, painting by an unknown artist, ca. 1668–1669. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg. 

60

3.2 Aemilia Juliana as Bride of Christ, painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1675. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg. 

63

3.3

Ludwig Friedrich with a Lamb, painting by an unknown artist, ca. 1674. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg. 

66

3.4

Ludaemilia Elisabeth as Summer, phototype engraving from J.T. Löschke, Denkschrift über Gräfin Ludoämilia Elisabetha (Leipzig, 1872), after a painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1670. Courtesy of Foto-Lösche. 

67

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

3.5

Allegory of the Five Senses, painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1670. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

68

3.6

Anna Sophia [Ludaemilia Elisabeth] at the Foot of the Cross, painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1692 [or ca. 1670]. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

70

3.7

Frontispiece and title page, Aemilia Juliana, Tägliches MorgenMittags- und AbendOpffer (Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 66044 (1). 

72

3.8 Frontispiece, Aemilia Juliana, Allerley Specerey (Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 66044 (2). 

73

3.9 Frontispiece, Aemilia Juliana, Kühlwasser des Creutzes (Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 66044 (3). 

74

4.1 Ludwig Friedrich as David, wall painting formerly in the King David room in the palace in Leutenberg, Seivert Lammers, ca. 1688. Courtesy of Foto-Lösche. 

102

4.2 The Partnership of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana, wall painting formerly in the King David room in the palace in Leutenberg, Seivert Lammers, ca. 1688. Courtesy of Foto-Lösche.

103

4.3 Frontispiece, Gesang-Büchlein (Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1688). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB B 3352. 

117

5.1 Engraving depicting a midwife with a birthing woman, from Johann Georg Sommer, Nohtwendiger Hebammen-Unterricht (Arnstadt: Meurer, 1676). Courtesy of the Niedersächsische Staats und Universitätsbibliothek, Göttingen: 8 Med. Chir. III, 61337. 

150

5.2 Title page from Aemilia Juliana, Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit (Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1683). Courtesy of the Herzog August Bibliothek: Tl 62. 

154

6.1

176

Frontispiece with Hannah in the Temple, from Aemilia Juliana, Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit (Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1683). Courtesy of the Herzog August Bibliothek: Tl 62. 

List of Figures

ix

6.2 Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1675. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

179

6.3 Frontispiece with Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, from Aemilia Juliana, Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (Rudolstadt: Gollner, 1714). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 71 B 1/d, 12. 

180

6.4

182

Frontispiece with Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, from Aemilia Juliana, Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1742). Courtesy of the Herzog August Bibliothek: Th 683 (1). 

6.5 Engraving of the funeral altar, from Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl (Rudolstadt: Urban, 1707). Courtesy of the Historische Bibliothek, Rudolstadt.

192

6.6 Engraving of the funeral decorations in the Stadtkirche, looking east, from Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl. Courtesy of the Historische Bibliothek, Rudolstadt. 

194



6.7 Engraving of the funeral decorations in the Stadtkirche, looking west, from Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl. Courtesy of the Historische Bibliothek, Rudolstadt. 

195

6.8 Engraving of the planned double sarcophagus (“Zwiefache Höhle”), from Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl. Courtesy of the Historische Bibliothek, Rudolstadt. 

196

A.1

“Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt and its Neighbors ca. 1690.” Map commissioned from Greg Cross of Cross Ink, Bend, Oregon.

209

A.2

“Family Ties. An Abbreviated Genealogical Summary.” Chart created by the author. 

213

Page Intentionally Left Blank

List of Abbreviations Libraries and Archives FB Gotha

Forschungsbibliothek Gotha (Universitäts- und Forschungsbibliothek Erfurt/Gotha)

HAB Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel HB Rudolstadt Historische Bibliothek in Rudolstadt NSSA Wolfenbüttel Niedersächsisches Staatsarchiv in Wolfenbüttel SASA Wernigerode Staatsarchiv Sachsen-Anhalt in Wernigerode TSAR Thüringer Staatsarchiv in Rudolstadt SUB Göttingen Niedersächsische Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek in Göttingen ULB Halle Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale) Major Published Sources of Aemilia Juliana’s Songs and Prayers CS 1770

Creutz-Schule und Todes-Betrachtungen (1770)

GBS 1714

Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (1714)

GBS 1742

Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (1742)

GWA 1683 Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit (1683) TO 1685

Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und Abend-Opffer (1685)

TO 1699

Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und Abend-Opffer (1699)

TU 1714

Täglicher Umgang mit Gott (1714)

TU 1742

Täglicher Umgang mit Gott (1742)

xii

A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

Aemilia Juliana’s Manuscripts M1 manuscript devotional book, TSAR Geheimes Archiv A.XIII.2, Nr. 1 M2

manuscript devotional book containing three separates sets of pagination (books), TSAR Geheimes Archiv A.XIII.2, Nr. 2 (1), (2), and (3)

M3 juvenile manuscript devotional book with title page dated 1652, TSAR Geheimes Archiv A.XIII.2, Nr. 3 Letter(s) TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A.III. 152

Preface On a sunny morning in May, 1979, I entered the Stadtbibliothek (City Library and Archive) in Rudolstadt, a small town in the German Democratic Republic, unsure of my reception. Repeated attempts to contact the library in order to obtain permission to use their holdings for my research project on the seventeenthcentury dramatist Caspar Stieler and his Rudolstadt patrons, Countess Aemilia Juliana and Count Albert Anton of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, had been met with silence. I gave my name and the purpose of my visit to the two women at the desk, and one of them ushered me into the office of the librarian to whom I had written letters of inquiry. He greeted me cordially but regretted that he could not permit me to use the collections. He was disturbed that I had not received his response and sorry that the desired authorization had not been issued. But it had not been permissible, he said, for him to respond to my letters directly, and he had responded through the Ministry of Culture, as he had been required to do. He then read aloud from the carbon copy of the letter he had sent to the Ministry, a six-page missive containing some of the information that I had requested. He told me that he had asked the Ministry to forward the letter to me and to consider granting me access to the collections. The notes I took based on that oral delivery of the letter were valuable for several projects, and I am still grateful to him for any risks he may have taken in sharing information, behind closed doors, with an American. But the politics of the twentieth century stood in the way of completing my analysis of the politics of the seventeenth century. In an article published in 1983, I was still forced to speculate, based on non-archival research, about the background of Aemilia Juliana as the bride honored by a comedy authored by Caspar Stieler and performed in her presence in 1665. The Berlin wall fell in 1989, but my return to Rudolstadt had to wait. I had in the meantime accepted administrative responsibilities at the University of Iowa, culminating in a five-year stint as Dean of the College of Liberal Arts. My research projects centered on Rudolstadt resumed in 1997, and the genesis of this book occurred that year, when I first explored the published devotional songs and books of Aemilia Juliana of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt in the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel. In 1998 I finally returned to Rudolstadt, where I was welcomed to the newly created Historische Bibliothek (Historical Library), Schloßbibliothek (Palace Library), and Thüringisches Staatsarchiv (Thuringian State Archive, Rudolstadt branch). This time I found librarians and archivists eager to foster my research in their collections, unimpeded by a restrictive and xenophobic government. Completion of this study has depended on having access to unique and rare materials in libraries, archives, and museums. In particular, I wish to acknowledge my dependence on the Rudolstadt collections of the Historische Bibliothek, Thüringisches Staatsarchiv, and Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg (Thuringian State Museum in the Heidecksburg); the Herzog August Bibliothek

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

in Wolfenbüttel; the university libraries in Halle an der Saale (Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt) and Göttingen (Niedersächsische Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek); and the Forschungsbibliothek in Gotha (a branch of the Universitäts- und Forschungsbibliothek Erfurt/Gotha). For purposes of this project I also made use of the collections of the Schloßbibliothek (Palace Library) and Kirchenbibliothek (Church Library) in Rudolstadt, the Bibliothek der Franckeschen Stiftungen (Library of the Francke Foundation) in Halle, and several other archives. In addition, I am very thankful for the availability of the excellent collections and services of the University of Iowa Library. The museum and many of these libraries and archives generously furnished me with photographs, photocopies, microfilms, and digital scans of items in their collections. The venerable photographic firm in Rudolstadt, Foto-Lösche, provided old photographs, some of them taken in the 1930s, that form the basis for a number of the illustrations. I am grateful to them all, both for generating the images on my behalf and for authorizing publication in this context. The source of each image is indicated in the List of Illustrations. Above all, I wish to acknowledge my debt of gratitude to the librarians, archivists, and museum curators in Rudolstadt who have given generously of their time and energy during and in between my sojourns there in 1998, 2000, 2001, 2002, and 2009. I am especially grateful to Michael Schütterle, head of the Historische Bibliothek, who has expended considerable effort locating items that might be of interest for my project, and who has always been ready to discuss the implications of the contents of the library’s collection with me, whether face-to-face or in correspondence. I am also grateful to the archivists and staff of the Thüringisches Staatsarchiv, especially Andrea Esche, who has also written about Aemilia Juliana. In addition, I wish to express my gratitude to Dr. Lutz Unbehaun, Curator and Director of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg. An art historian and scholar, Dr. Unbehaun has generously shared his time with me in discussions about paintings in the collection and provided me with access to several important paintings not on public display. I also wish to thank a number of scholars whose help and advice have contributed to this enterprise. These include Jill Bepler of the Herzog August Bibliothek, whose work often intersects with my own and who has always been more than willing to help out with information and discussion of my ideas; my Iowa colleague, Constance Berman, whose encouragement through the years of the genesis of this project has often sustained me; as well as a host of others, including Cornelia Niekus Moore, Anna Carrdus, Susan Karant-Nunn, Mara Wade, Barbara Becker-Cantarino, Gudrun Busch, Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly, Gabriele Ball, Ada Kadelbach, Susanne Schuster, and the anonymous readers of the book manuscript and of various preliminary and spin-off short studies submitted to journals. It is with sadness that I acknowledge the contributions of my longtime mentor and friend, Blake Lee Spahr. I miss his corrections and criticisms even more than his encouraging words. Successful completion of this project depended on the availability of institutional and financial support, for which I am very grateful. Much of this

Preface

xv

support came from my home university, the University of Iowa, which provided me with research and writing time, especially at the beginning of my project, and helped fund several of my research sojourns in Germany. One of my research trips was funded by a Study Visit Grant from the American Association of Teachers of German (AATG) and the Deutsche Akademische Austauschdienst (DAAD), making it possible for me to broaden and deepen my research at a crucial point in the project. The research institute associated with the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel provided material support in the form of affordable living quarters and an office during research visits there. This project is indebted to them all. And last but by no means least, my heartiest heartfelt thanks belong to my husband, Roger Aikin, who patiently listened to my enthusiasms and cooled his heels until I was finished working in the libraries and archives each day, who chauffeured me around “on location” from one relevant site to another, and who dissuaded me from the life of a hermit during several sojourns in Rudolstadt. Judith P. Aikin

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Chapter 1

Introduction The Ruler’s Consort In 1665, when Aemilia Juliana, Countess of Barby, married her cousin, Albert Anton, ruling Count of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, she assumed the role of ruler’s consort, a position she was to hold for over 40 years. As her activities are exceptionally well documented, examination of them can help to elucidate the dimensions of the role for other consorts of the period. But the case of Aemilia Juliana is also an extraordinary one, for her activities often appear to have exceeded the norm. This study will thus provide, in a detailed account of the activities of one exemplary consort, conclusions about the possibilities for action by noblewomen of the early modern period in Germany, in spite of all the restrictions imposed on women by their strongly patriarchal culture. Women who ruled kingdoms and principalities as queens and regents in early modern Europe, such as Elizabeth I of England and Christina of Sweden, Marie and Catherine de’ Medici in France, and Archduchess Maria Magdalena de’ Medici in Italy, have long attracted the attention of scholars. Their studies have in recent years often concentrated on the rich cultural outpouring in support of the woman’s reign, including the depiction or performance of the self-constructs of the woman ruler as powerful and capable.1 On the other hand, few rulers’ consorts have commanded such attention.2 The various small-scale studies about Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I of England, focus on her engagement in religious politics and do not attempt a broader view of her activities as consort.3 The scholarly treatments of early modern European queens, regents, and consorts nevertheless provide a useful background for research into the many women who served as regents or consorts in the numerous relatively small German principalities, for the most part governed by dukes, “princes” (Fürsten), and counts rather than kings. There is as yet no large-scale study of the dimensions of the role of the ruler’s consort in early modern Germany. Indeed, even such an important example as Sophie Elisabeth, second wife of Duke August of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, has been less studied than one might expect in her conduct as ruler’s consort; even her activities as author, composer, and producer of theatrical entertainments have not yet been fully interpreted in relation to fulfillment of her role as wife of the ruler. However, Heide Wunder’s pivotal book He is the Sun, She is the Moon: Women in Early Modern Germany (originally published in German in 1992), together with a series of more recent articles and chapters by other social historians, have paved the way towards understanding the phenomenon as it manifested itself in Germany’s Protestant north. Wunder defines the ruler’s consort as the female half of the ruling couple, which functions as a “working couple” overseeing the land in a manner

2

A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

analogous to that of the father and mother in the Lutheran household (German: Hausvater, Hausmutter).4 Wunder implies that the consort had an important role to play in running the household, the court, and the principality, but she does not yet discuss what activities that might include. Several scholars have provided partial answers. In a chapter titled “Hausmutter und Landesfürstin” (Housewife and Ruler’s Consort), Claudia Opitz indicates that it was the consort’s responsibility to bear a sufficient number of healthy male children to ensure continuity in the dynasty, to select and oversee the servants in the palace household, and to carry out representational duties, which she defines as dressing magnificently, receiving and paying visits, and attending the evening entertainments at the court or fostering cultured discourse and sociability at the more informal gatherings she hosted.5 In an article on imperial countesses in Germany, Johannes Arndt similarly finds that the consort’s primary duty was to produce an heir, but he goes on to conclude that it was not her responsibility to raise the children; that was left to nursemaids, governesses, and tutors. Like Opitz, Arndt finds that the consort was responsible for oversight of the work of the palace servants, and he explicitly adds policing the behavior of female servants and members of the court to her obligations. He does not mention the representational responsibilities that Opitz found so important, and although he sees poetic authorship as an activity of consorts (and mentions Aemilia Juliana in this context), he does not notice their hand in the artistic patronage that is a notable characteristic of most of the courts he studies. Arndt finds opportunities for hands-on activities related to governing primarily in the cases of those widows who became regents of the principality on behalf of their minor sons. Like Opitz, he appears to view the activities of the countesses he studies as strictly limited by the patriarchal society in which they lived and by the social class that confined them to a state of luxurious inactivity in relation to practical and political matters.6 In other words, these two studies do not provide the details or conclusions that would support Wunder’s assumptions. Various recent studies bring some of the needed details to light. Jill Bepler’s article on the leadership role played by the ruler’s consort in intercession with God on behalf of the principality and its inhabitants in times of crisis and in elevating the piety of her children, the members of the court, and the populace outlines several of the consort’s key responsibilities as partner of her husband. Bepler posits these activities as a sort of representation: the consort in her role as Betsäule (pillar of prayer) provides a publicly displayed metaphor for the pious basis of the rule of the princely couple.7 Bepler also mentions the responsibility of the consort to speak on behalf of petitioners protesting their treatment in the justice system. Katrin Keller’s chapter on the sixteenth-century Electress Anna of Saxony adds the dimension of active participation in times of confessional conflict, a theme that frequently surfaces during the early decades after the Reformation in the sixteenth century and again in the final decades of the seventeenth century as orthodox Lutherans fought against intermarriages with Reformed (Calvinist) and Catholic ruling dynasties and combatted the rise of Pietism.8 But Keller also augments our picture of the

Introduction

3

consort in her role as overseer of the household in its expanded sense, ranging from the court table and court pharmacy to the farms that produced the commodities. She also seconds many of the findings of others concerning the consort’s role in policing behavior and piety, raising the issues of petitioners with her husband, and representing the power and grandeur of the ruling dynasty through visiting and serving as hostess. To this list of activities she adds exchanging gifts, maintaining a useful network through correspondence with other women, and participating in baptisms and other dynastically important ceremonies. Her study, which is based on thousands of personal letters written by the Electress, is the first to offer such a broad view of one consort’s activities.9 The present study of Aemilia Juliana will confirm and expand on the findings of all of these scholars. Finally, this study of Aemilia Juliana will contribute to recent discussions of a household ordinance authored by Duke Ernst “the Pious” of Saxony-Gotha. Titled “Instruction vor eine Fürstin als Landesmutter” (Instructions for a Ruler’s Consort as Mother of the Country), it was originally designed to provide guidance and regulations his duchess was to follow in fulfillment of her role as consort. The Gotha “Instruction” emphasizes the consort’s responsibilities for oversight over the upbringing and education of the children, the Frauenzimmer (the female servants and members of the court), and the court pharmacy and kitchens. The document also makes it clear that she is responsible for leading the prayer hours and devotional sessions for the household and court, at least when her husband is unavailable for this duty. Roswitha Jacobsen has discussed the function of the “Instruction” in the context of Ernst’s regimentation of his family and court; as she shows, it demonstrates not only his desire to micromanage everything, but also his trust in his wife to take on responsibilities as his partner in governance of family, court, and principality.10 Helga Meise mentions the likely importance of this document for one of the daughters of Duke Ernst, whose marriage to the Landgrave of Hessen-Darmstadt in 1666 made her a ruler’s consort.11 The similar copy in the archive in Rudolstadt, apparently created for the use of Aemilia Juliana upon her marriage to Albert Anton, will provide a focus for discussion in Chapter 2 in the present study.12 Although the Thuringian principality of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt did not number among the largest or most powerful states in the Holy Roman Empire, its dynasty was well connected, its natural resources were abundant, and it had ambitions to rise in the hierarchy of the Empire. Such ambitions required significant contributions from the ruler’s consort, contributions that Aemilia Juliana was able to provide. Dynastic continuity was ensured when she produced a son, and the attention she lavished on his upbringing contributed to his development into a healthy, well-educated, and confident man capable of taking over for his father. But producing and raising an heir to the principality was just one of her many responsibilities. She also oversaw the immense household that made up the court, not just giving commands to others, but personally organizing and participating in the production and processing of foodstuffs for the court table and medicines for the court pharmacy. One of her responsibilities involved hosting

4

Fig. 1.1

A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

Aemilia Juliana, painted portrait by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1690. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

guests of high station, designing and overseeing the preparation of festive meals for their delectation, and entertaining them with musical, theatrical, and operatic performances that she commissioned. She interacted with painters concerning the iconographic scheme of the paintings and murals with which she decorated both public and private rooms in the various palaces under her supervision, and she designed the images that were to serve as engraved frontispieces for the published books she compiled, in large part consisting of her own writings. She sponsored and subvented the costs of these books, and she presented exemplars as gifts to various high-ranking personages. She also inscribed rhymed verses and songs inside the covers of these books or on single sheets that she presented as gifts to ruler’s consorts at courts they visited, as well as to her friends and members of her extended dynasty. Through hosting, visiting, and the presentation of such gifts, as

Introduction

5

well as through her correspondence, she participated in networks of women of the highest nobility, forging relationships that furthered the dynastic interests of her husband and son. Nor was this consort’s contribution limited to dynasty and court. Using the wealth she had inherited or received from her husband, she directly contributed to the revival of economic prosperity in the principality, purchasing productive estates and a copper mine, and investing in mills, a brewery, and a distillery. Her charity based on this wealth alleviated hardship for those in need in the principality. She sponsored schools and scholarships, and she was especially generous to schools for girls. In times of crisis she reportedly joined the Council of Ministers at her husband’s side, offering welcome advice. Equally valuable was her service as spiritual intercessor with God and Jesus on behalf of the principality and its subjects, resulting in her authorship of dozens of songs and prayers she designed for this purpose during specific crises. She also authored such texts for the use of the principality’s inhabitants and had them printed on single sheets and in pamphlets or books distributed to them. As overseer of the court household, she had responsibility for the pastoral care of the children, courtiers, and servants— especially females—under her oversight, and she extended this role to all of her subjects in the publication of several larger devotional handbooks she compiled and distributed for their use in private devotions. As in Gotha, the term used in Schwarzburg to describe Aemilia Juliana’s role as ruler’s consort was Landesmutter (Mother of the Country), parallel to that of her husband as Landesvater (Father of the Country). They were portrayed by their advocates as benevolent but stern parents, analogous to the patriarch and matriarch of the early modern Lutheran family, and they appear to have seen themselves in those roles. Aemilia Juliana not only used the term Landesmutter to identify herself as the author and sponsor of one of her books, but she also identified the intended readers, the adult women of the principality, as the Landeskinder (Children of the Country). The self-constructed persona she used in this context was one of many that she assumed in her role as ruler’s consort, and because such analogies carry traditional meanings that help to reveal Aemilia Juliana’s views of the various dimensions of her role, these self-constructs will provide a major focus for this treatment. The Subject of This Study Aemilia Juliana was born in 1637 in the midst of the Thirty Years’ War and died in 1706, at a time when the changes the eighteenth century would bring to German social and cultural life were just beginning to make themselves felt. Born into the class of imperial counts who ruled small principalities as near equals of the dukes, margraves, and landgraves around them, she and her three sisters experienced a loss of status early in life when they were orphaned due to the death of their father in 1641 and mother in 1642. Only the son and heir of the principality of Barby and Mühlingen was raised at the family estate, while the four daughters were separated

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

from their home and each other, each sent to a different paternal or maternal aunt. Aemilia Juliana was sent to Rudolstadt to be fostered by her maternal aunt Aemilia Antonia and her aunt’s husband, Ludwig Günther of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. She was raised in the Heidecksburg palace with their children Sophia Juliana, Ludaemilia Elisabeth, Christiana Magdalena, Maria Susanna, and Albert Anton. After her foster father died in 1647, she became the legal ward of her greatuncle, Duke August of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel (and, after her eldest sister married August’s eldest son in 1650, of her brother-in-law Rudolf August), but she remained in Rudolstadt in the care of her foster mother and aunt, Aemilia Antonia. Aemilia Antonia plays a key role in this study. A highly intelligent and capable woman into whose hands her husband’s last will and testament had placed full responsibility, she served after his death as Regent of the principality on behalf of their underage son. She appears to have been reasonably successful and even progressive as Regent, and she did an admirable job preparing the next generation for its responsibilities. When Aemilia Juliana’s brother died, Aemilia Antonia actively represented her interests and worked with Rudolf August to ensure her inheritance. After Albert Anton came of age, she arranged a marriage between her son and her newly wealthy foster daughter. Having made all of these provisions for the future of her principality and dynasty, Aemilia Antonia, apparently content to turn over the reins of government, moved in 1664 with her daughters to her dower palace in Leutenberg, some 30 kilometers from Rudolstadt. The betrothal took place in Leutenberg in April 1665, the wedding six weeks later in Rudolstadt. Judging from the timidity visible in the letters Aemilia Juliana wrote to the women in Leutenberg during the first few years of her marriage, when she refers to Aemilia Antonia as “Our Gracious Lady Mother” and obsequiously seeks her advice or approval, her foster mother must have been a formidable woman. However, Aemilia Juliana, empowered by giving birth to the Schwarzburg heir in 1667, soon overcame the emotional coolness and disparity in status that had characterized their relationship when she began to refer to her mother-in-law instead as “the dear Grandmama.” Despite her earlier stern demeanor, Aemilia Antonia, as head of the family and of the principality, served as a positive role model for the assertion of authority in public on the part of a woman. Although Aemilia Juliana could not model her activities as consort directly on those of her predecessor, having been a small child when Aemilia Antonia became regent, the experience of growing up in a household and principality headed by this woman would later encourage Aemilia Juliana to take action in the public arena. Aemilia Juliana’s activities as consort must be seen against the backdrop of the times in which she lived. The end of the Thirty Years’ War in 1648 marked the beginning of a time of economic and cultural recovery in the Protestant north, led by the rulers of the hundreds of micro-principalities that had emerged in the absence of laws of primogeniture. French Absolutism had yet to make major inroads, and many of the rulers subscribed to the ideal promoted by Duke Ernst “the Pious” of Saxony-Gotha and his political adviser, Veit Ludwig von Seckendorff, of a paternalistic sense of princely responsibility modeled on the Lutheran vision of the Hausvater (father of the household). The seventeenth century in northern

Introduction

7

Europe is often termed the Age of Confessionalism, a time when the Lutheran and Reformed (Calvinistic) churches asserted an increasingly rigid orthodoxy against the heterodoxy they saw in the two dominant religious revival movements, New Piety (Neue Frömmigkeit) and Pietism. Conflicts between orthodox Lutheranism and the more intense forms of private piety promoted by adherents of these movements emerge in Rudolstadt, as elsewhere in the region, especially during the period from 1670 to 1700. Aemilia Juliana considered herself to be an orthodox Lutheran, but her religious practices as reflected in her writings and publications show her proximity to both of the religious revival movements.13 Aemilia Juliana is best known today as an important author of devotional songs, two of which still have a place in the Lutheran hymnal. One of these texts, “Wer weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende” (Who knows how near my end may be), also forms the basis for chorales in several cantatas composed some 20 years after her death by Johann Sebastian Bach (BWV 27 and 84). She was in fact a prolific author, leaving us around 700 song texts and a similar number of rhymed and prose prayers on every imaginable topic. Many of these texts were published in Rudolstadt and at the courts of her relatives during her lifetime, and most of the remainder appeared in posthumous publications commissioned by her descendants during the eighteenth century. Wider dissemination of over 100 of her songs occurred in dozens of Lutheran and Pietist hymnals published outside her sphere of direct influence, beginning in the 1670s and extending well into the twentieth century, before dwindling to the two hymns in use today. The sources for this study of Aemilia Juliana as ruler’s consort are many and varied. Her devotional song and prayer texts, many of which relate to the practical concerns and situations of herself, her family members, and the inhabitants of Schwarzburg, constitute an unusual but invaluable source of information about her activities. Some of them appeared in the books she published, including pamphlets as well as book-length compilations and devotional programs. Many, including 58 original songs that never appeared in print, survive in her handwriting in Rudolstadt, entered by their author into bound devotional handbooks she devised for her own use. Both the published volumes and the manuscript books offer us a glimpse into the genesis and use to which such original song and prayer texts were put by their author. Other manuscript books in her handwriting provide insights into her practical activities. Surviving in the archive in Rudolstadt are several Arzneibüchlein (little pharmaceutical books) that collect recipes for remedies for various ailments—her own compilations created to supplement the standard printed pharmaceutical books used in the court pharmacy, an enterprise in which she avidly labored. For the court kitchens, other surviving manuscript books in her handwriting assemble recipes for preserves and confections (candies). One of those books starts with a short rhymed prayer that begins: “In the Name of Jesus: Help me God, as in all things, also to succeed in making preserves.” She signs the prayer as author and as the book’s primary user, “Aemilia Juliana g[räfin] z[u] s[chwarzburg] u[nd] h[ohnstein].14 Aemilia Juliana was also a prodigious correspondent who must have spent several hours each day keeping friends and relatives posted as well as responding

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

to the numerous letters she received. An estimate of 300 letters written per year for 50 years would be conservative, given what can be gleaned about her letter-writing habits from her own references to her correspondence. The ca. 430 surviving personal letters from her pen are limited in that nearly all address a single recipient over a relatively short time span of just six years early in her marriage.15 Still, they contain an amazing array of details from everyday life and constitute an important source for this study. A few official or ceremonial letters she wrote (or at least signed) during other periods in her life also survive. Each letter, whether private or official, begins with the phrase “Im Nahmen Jesu” (in the name of Jesus), often abbreviated “I.N.J.”, as a constant reminder of her orientation towards heavenly permanence even in the context of the most mundane and transient topics about which she communicated. The life Aemilia Juliana lived as ruler’s consort left its traces not only in texts she wrote herself, but also in documents created on her behalf. The archival record of the public, official, and legal life of this seventeenth-century countess contains much of interest for a study of the legal rights and activities of women of her class. These documents, archived in Rudolstadt, Wernigerode, and Wolfenbüttel, record the various changes in status she underwent during her lifetime, as well as her actions related to claims to, as well as acquisition and disposal of, real estate and inheritance. Given the fact that most changes of status are reflected in her songs and surviving letters, as well as in the funerary biography and other near contemporary biographies, the documents provide valuable corroboration. Conversely, major events mentioned in her songs, such as the catastrophic fire in Frankenhausen in 1687, find confirmation in archival documents. Many other artifacts of her life and context have survived the 300 years since her death. One might mention her personal notes in tabular form on her readings of a devotional handbook, her handwritten copies of devotional and theatrical texts written by others, or the monogrammed sled her small son enjoyed in the snowy winters, to name only a few. Much of the physical context of her life—including the palace and church in Rudolstadt, several other smaller palaces and hunting lodges, and the landscape through which she travelled—can still be visited in Thuringia today. A number of musical compositions, plays, operas, portraits, engravings, religious and historical paintings, and building and decorating projects that owe their impetus to her can still be examined in published books or in the museum housed in the palace that was once her home. Libraries in Rudolstadt, Gotha, Halle, and Wolfenbüttel have preserved, in addition to exemplars of her published works, numerous poems, sermons, and other texts that were products of her patronage or dedicated to her on auspicious occasions. In dozens of cases, pamphlets and books preserved in Rudolstadt or nearby Gotha contain her handwritten ownership mark or name, thus allowing a partial reconstruction of the contents of her personal library. The available materials are in fact so rich that they extend far beyond the narrow boundaries of a single book. I have of necessity had to select only those that best fulfill the purposes of this study, omitting and ignoring others just as fascinating and illuminating.

Introduction

Fig. 1.2

9

View of Rudolstadt with Heidecksburg palace, Stadtkirche (City Church), and Landschule (regional high school), frontispiece in Justus Söffing, Gottes-Bau, Kirchen- Regiments- Schul- und WohnHause in dem HochGräfflichen Schwartzburg (Jena: Neuenhahn, 1699). Courtesy of Foto-Lösche, Rudolstadt.

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

While most of the towns named in this study can be found on modern road maps, the locations and boundaries of the dozens of principalities mentioned here, all of which disappeared in 1918 when the princes of Germany abdicated, are a much more difficult proposition. Unable to locate a useful map, I commissioned one that shows the most important places mentioned in this study, “SchwarzburgRudolstadt and its Neighbors ca. 1690” (Appendix 1). Admittedly inexact, the map is sufficiently accurate for purposes of orienting the reader. Schwarzburg consisted of two non-contiguous territories, each about 300 square miles, one to the north and one to the south, with various Saxon duchies and the territory of Erfurt sandwiched in between them and bordering them, in equally discontinuous fashion, to the east and south. The division in the sixteenth century into SchwarzburgSondershausen and Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt made matters even more complex, for each political entity received approximately half of each piece of the already split territory. Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt also received a valuable smaller territory that was entirely separate, located to the south of the narrow ribbon of the duchy of Saxony-Saalfeld bordering the southern territory. I advise consulting the map. Because Aemilia Juliana was a member of the high nobility, her name consists solely of her two given names, as do those of her male and female counterparts. The remainder of her self-identification consists of her titles by marriage (Countess of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt) and birth (née Countess of Barby and Mühlingen), but these are not family names, and thus it is appropriate to refer to her as “Aemilia Juliana.” The German term for countess, Gräfin, is the feminine version of that for count, Graf. Her relatives and friends among the peerage also included duchesses and dukes (Herzogin, Herzog) and princesses and princes (Fürstin, Fürst), as well as landgravines and landgraves (Landgräfin, Landgraf), and margravines and margraves (Markgräfin, Markgraf). A genealogy chart, “Family Ties,” which depicts the most important familial relationships, may help with the confusing profusion of similar names (Appendix 2). A more comprehensive genealogy would be impossible to construct in two dimensions, given the many intermarriages over generations among the Lutheran ruling dynasties of northern and central Germany. Aemilia Juliana was related to nearly everyone. In order to identify her relatedness to individuals named in the study, especially women, I needed to consult over 50 genealogy charts in the standard multi-volume reference work, Stammtafeln zur Geschichte der europäischen Staaten.16 In writing about early modern individuals and quoting from texts handwritten or published during the period, decisions about spelling and punctuation are a necessity. Even names of historical personages provide a challenge. The woman who is the subject of this study spelled her name “Æmilia Juliana”; in writing about her, I have resolved the ligature into “Ae,” but retained the “a” at the end of each of her personal names, in spite of the fact that German scholars usually change them to “e.” But many other variants also exist in scholarship, including Emilie Juliane and Ämilie Juliane, and she herself occasionally employed an “E” rather than an “Æ” for her first initial, an “I” rather than a “J” for the second. Such variations also characterize the names of her contemporaries that appear in this

Introduction

11

study, and my reasons for choosing one or another vary, but I generally try to use the spelling preferred by the named individual. All transcriptions and translations of songs, letters, and other documentation are my own unless otherwise noted. If the original text was rhymed, or if my translation involves interpretation of the German wording, I include both English and German. For the early modern German quotations I generally follow the original in spelling, punctuation, and capitalization, not yet subject to standardized rules. However, for those words containing the interchangeable “i” and “j” or “u” and “v” I usually choose to use the modern spelling. In quoting from song texts published during Aemilia Juliana’s lifetime, I do not follow seventeenth-century typesetting practice that uses a second, smaller capital letter following the initial capital letter at the start of each verse strophe and in the various words for the deity (Gott, Jesus, Herr). On the other hand, in quotations (but not in titles referred to in the notes or bibliography) I follow her occasional use of all capital letters for God or Jesus, since she does so for emphasis. The old German hyphen resembles an equals sign, but I have used a modern hyphen instead. Early modern German printing used a slash (/) where we now use a comma, but Aemilia Juliana employed a comma in her manuscripts, and the complete works edition of 1742/1770 has already made the switch to modern typography. When quoting I follow my source. Early modern publications have different practices than those in use today regarding titles of song texts and titles of books. Aemilia Juliana’s devotional songs, like those of her contemporaries, do not possess titles, and the rubrics indicating the subject or occasion that are sometimes included do not constitute an identification. When referring to individual songs, I thus follow standard practice in hymnological studies and provide merely the incipit and a reference to the book where it appeared. The incipit will lead a user to the song in question, as an alphabetical index of incipits is a feature in each of Aemilia Juliana’s published books as well as in hymnals and songbooks compiled by others. On the other hand, seventeenth-century books have titles that are for the most part inordinately long, containing not only a double title that is half metaphorical, half informational, but also an extended explanation of the contents, purpose, and intended audience for which the book was written. Except when the long title is a necessary part of the documentation, both notes and bibliography will abbreviate these titles to the short form used in online library catalogues. Published works by Aemilia Juliana, Caspar Stieler, and a few other authors that are repeatedly mentioned and discussed in the text will not appear in the notes unless quoted. The bibliographic citations for these works are located in the Primary Bibliography. Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, like other Lutheran principalities in the seventeenth century, continued to use the flawed Julian calendar, rather than follow the lead of the Papacy with the revised Gregorian calendar. I do not attempt to correct the dates Aemilia Juliana provided for some songs and letters, or those that appear in documentation of her activities, but present them as recorded. In the early years of the new century, there are a few instances when both dates are provided, as in the honorific title which explicitly celebrated her birthday on August 19, 1700, by the old calendar, August 30 by the new.

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

Preliminary Remarks Aemilia Juliana’s devotional texts offer valuable insights into her activities, experiences, and feelings. The songs, for the most part addressed to Jesus or God in an intimate, prayer-like discourse, often contain a first-person account of her feelings and reactions that appears more intense and frank than the brief reports, jokes, and pious wishes expressed in the letters addressed to her sister-in-law and designed to be shared with her other female in-laws. Since she left no formal autobiography, the songs she wrote from the perspective of old age that look back on her life in autobiographical reflection are particularly valuable as a source of information about what she considered most important. Her reliance on devotional texts as a platform for self-expression and autobiography is not unique. For seventeenth-century Germany, surviving personal letters are neither as plentiful nor as self-expressive as in the epistolary-minded culture of the eighteenth, and the confessional autobiographies associated with adherents of Pietism, many of them women, only begin to appear after 1710.17 The dominant surviving form of self-expression for the period between 1600 and 1700, in particular for women, is in fact devotional literature, including both song texts and prayer texts. But the challenges modern scholars face when relying on such texts are immense. The difficulties encountered in studying women’s lives through their devotional poetry result in part from the fact that such texts reflect an aesthetic no longer appreciated or well understood. Devotional songs, in particular, depend inordinately, to our modern taste, on hackneyed phrases, for the most part gleaned from the Bible. They use acrostics, allusions, analogies, and structural mannerisms to convey covert messages. They often employ a heavy-handed approach to metaphors having to do with the worshiper’s relationship to Jesus, laden with sentiment and even sensuality, and sometimes utilize excruciatingly physical imagery from the Passion and crucifixion in accord with dogmas and approaches to faith no longer appreciated by modern Christians, let alone scholars and prospective readers from other faiths. In particular, the vivid depictions of the blood and wounds of Christ included in many of Aemilia Juliana’s songs and those of her contemporaries seem alien to our sensibilities today. The songs also defer to a set of now-archaic values that modern scholars, whether religious or not, often find incomprehensible. Social historians who work on the medieval period offer excellent models for the necessary approach, in particular Caroline Walker Bynum, who advises historians writing about a woman to “look with, not at her.”18 Among scholars of early modern Europe, both Lynn Hunt and Phyllis Mack have addressed this issue explicitly and have urged scholars neither to ignore devotional literature nor to disguise its contents by translation into modern sensibilities and categories of perception, such as psychological analysis, but to accept it as a reflection of the way life was structured and viewed at the time.19 In the case of Aemilia Juliana’s writings, everyday life enters devotional genres to an extraordinary extent. Thus the content has much to tell us about her activities and concerns. Many song texts are overtly autobiographical, a sort of diary without dates that places significant and everyday life events alike within the

Introduction

13

context of her understanding of her existence. Others are written to provide a voice for the everyday concerns and events in the lives of family members and friends. Many speak from the perspective of her persona as ruler’s consort, while others are designed to provide words for the inhabitants of the principality to sing. Large numbers of songs depict her relationship with her deity: with God the Father, with the Trinity, and above all with Jesus. These songs, as inscribed in her manuscript books and further organized in her published books, inhere in a framework of private devotional exercises and thus help us visualize the activities that occupied two, three, or—in her case in her later years—even four of the waking hours of each day. Because the ruler’s consort was expected to play the role of spiritual intercessor and even provide pastoral leadership, especially for her children and female subjects, publication of these devotional programs was an important element in the fulfillment of Aemilia Juliana’s responsibilities. The products of Aemilia Juliana’s patronage of the fine and performing arts, including both the works she commissioned and those dedicated to or directed at her, contributed even more than her own writings to the production and dissemination of the self-constructs that defined her role as consort. Scholarship on courtly patronage of the early modern period has both accelerated and deepened over the past three decades, progressing from identifying the iconographic programs designed by the artist to create meaning, to identification of the political ideology behind the artifacts, to examination of context and the intentions of the patron. Studies abound that treat paintings, plays, and other publicly displayed cultural products of courtly life as conveyors of the self-representation of the ruler, finding political, ideological, and dynastic meanings and purposes behind them. Such patronage has been seen to serve the political and dynastic aims of the ruler in various ways. Most obviously, the production of lavishly decorated palace buildings and large-scale sculptural and painting projects, as well as aweinspiring theatrical and operatic performances, makes a statement about the wealth and power of the patron. The ruler and his consort hope, through their patronage, to enhance their status as wise and cultured heads-of-state worthy of respect from their peers and their subjects alike. In recent years, attention has shifted to female patronage and the place of the ruler’s consort or widow in the Musenhof (court of the muses), where she figures both as inspiration and as primary sponsor. In addition to evoking admiration for the patron’s power, wealth, and magnanimity, the works that resulted from princely patronage often carried more specific messages, primarily through the use of analogies. A sculpture or painting of a biblical, mythological, or historical subject implied that the patron shared not only the good qualities of that subject, but also perhaps his or her purpose in the divine plan. Similarly, the admirable title character of a play or opera could represent the qualities of the ruler or his consort, and the plot could by analogy relate to current events of significance to the ruling dynasty. Thus cultural artifacts shared publicly with peers or subjects could serve as a covert and even subversive advocacy for the patron during times of conflict over power, inheritance, religious confession, or (in the case of queens, consorts, and regents) the rights and natural abilities of women. The extent to which the sponsor determined the content must

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

be seen as highly variable, and some works presented at court instead established a dialogue with the patron as intended audience, sometimes directing a private message at the ruler or his consort, as was the case for the plays of Caspar Stieler performed on festive occasions or the sermons of Michael Hörnlein presented during Aemilia Juliana’s birthday celebrations. In some cases this meaning is confirmed in a preface or dedicatory epistle introducing a published version, but in others the dialogue between the work and its intended audience must be reconstructed. Under Aemilia Juliana, yet another sort of patronage also manifested itself: the production of artworks for private and family consumption. In these works the constructed identities of the patron or members of her family function as exemplary models, as expressions of her aspirations for pious self-improvement, or as instructive allegories. In these instances, too, the use of the work must be reconstructed based on evidence in the work itself. Aemilia Juliana and her writings have been little studied until recently, although a number of scholars of women’s history, hymnologists, and literary historians working on seventeenth-century Germany had begun to become aware of the potential wealth of surviving material before I began research for this study in 1997. The political situation between 1945 and 1990, as well as the interruptions to scholarly life in Germany due to the two world wars, had relegated her works and activities to decades of near oblivion. Until very recently, all biographical accounts derived almost entirely from the biographies contained in the funerary commemorative volume of 1707 or prefacing the eighteenth-century editions of her works published by her descendants. One nineteenth-century scholar wrote a derivative “life and works” introduction to his selected works edition of many of her more influential songs,20 and another included a substantial section on her in his study of the various hymn writers from the Schwarzburg principalities, but without adding new research-based information.21 A series of short articles published in regional journals in Thuringia by one early twentieth-century scholar, who did read widely in the Rudolstadt archive as well as in her published books, remained until 1990 the only significant new scholarly resource on her life.22 An unpublished American dissertation on imagery in the songs of Aemilia Juliana and her sister-in-law Ludaemilia Elisabeth is the sole piece of literary scholarship predating reunification.23 Following reunification, revived interest in Aemilia Juliana and her life and works soon became apparent, initially in four short biographical pieces by German scholars from various fields. Two are based primarily on nineteenth-century accounts or on the funerary biography and contain few new insights about her biography or her works, but they have served to make her song-writing activities known within the context of studies about the modern Lutheran hymnal and the history of the Pietist movement.24 Two others bring in some new material, in particular Aemilia Juliana’s manuscript recipe books as well as a closer look at the biographical implications of several of the songs.25 My own series of articles, which rely not only on the older biographies, but also on her manuscript and published devotional books, her handwritten letters and recipe books, and archival materials, began to appear in 2001.26 The 2006 publication of a dissertation on

Introduction

15

Aemilia Juliana and Rudolstadt Court Adviser Ahasverus Fritsch as lay theologians provides both a new perspective and substantial revision of earlier scholarship.27 The present study will round out the picture by concentrating on Aemilia Juliana’s activities as ruler’s consort. In general, scholarship on various topics concerning the history, music history, and art history of early modern Rudolstadt, Schwarzburg, and Thuringia has accelerated since reunification. During the past several decades there has also been increasing interest paid to the activities of imperial counts and countesses across Germany, including those of Schwarzburg. Most important among these studies is Vinzenz Czech’s book on the self-representation of Thuringian counts, which contains helpful analyses of many of the same festivities, edifices, and other phenomena that I will be addressing.28 Even more importantly, the works of social historians, with their generalizations about the lives of women across the early modern period in Europe and particularly in Germany, provide a foundation that is for the most part only implicitly present and engaged in dialogue with this study. In particular, I am indebted to the studies of Heide Wunder, Merry Wiesner-Hanks, Susan Karant-Nunn, and Barbara Becker-Cantarino, whose foundational works are listed in the secondary bibliography. It is my hope that the web of details tied to the exceptionally well documented activities of a single ruler’s consort, who was both ordinary and extraordinary in her own way, will often support and sometimes challenge the generalizations of the social historians about the lives and possibilities for action of early modern women. Notes For example, the short studies collected in Queens & Power in Medieval and Early Modern England, ed. Carole Levin and Robert Bucholz (Lincoln, NE, 2009); and a monograph by Kelley Harness, Echoes of Women’s Voices. Music, Art, and Female Patronage in Early Modern Florence (Chicago, 2006). 2 An exception is Queenship in Europe 1660–1815: The Role of the Consort, ed. Clarissa Campbell Orr (Cambridge, 2004). This collection includes two useful articles on German-speaking territories: Charles Ingrao and Andrew Thomas, “Piety and Power: The Empresses-Consort of the High Baroque,” pp. 107–30; and Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly, “Religion and the Consort: Two Electresses of Saxony and Queens of Poland (1697–1757),” pp. 252–75. 3 Many of these are gathered in Henrietta Maria: Piety, Politics and Patronage, ed. Erin Griffey (Aldershot, 2008). 4 Heide Wunder, He is the Sun, She is the Moon: Women in Early Modern Germany, trans. Thomas Dunlap (Cambridge, MA, 1998); Wunder, ‘Er ist die Sonn’, sie ist der Mond.’ Frauen in der Frühen Neuzeit (Munich, 1992). The statement about the partnership of ruler and consort is even more explicit in Heide Wunder, Helga Zöttlein, and Barbara Hoffmann, “Konfession, Religiosität und politisches Handeln von Frauen vom ausgehenden 16. bis zum Beginn des 18. Jahrhunderts,” Zeitsprünge. Forschungen zur Frühen Neuzeit 1 (1997): 75–98, especially 87–8. 5 Claudia Opitz, “Hausmutter und Landesfürstin,” in: Der Mensch des Barock, ed. Rosario Villari (Frankfurt, 1997), pp. 344–94. 1

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16 6

Johannes Arndt, “Möglichkeiten und Grenzen weiblicher Selbstbehauptung gegenüber männlicher Dominanz im Reichsgrafenstand des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts,” Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte 77 (1990): 153–74. Arndt mentions Aemilia Juliana’s song authorship, p. 171. 7 Jill Bepler, “Die Fürstin als Betsäule—Anleitung und Praxis der Erbauung am Hof,” Morgen-Glantz. Zeitschrift der Christian Knorr von Rosenroth-Gesellschaft 12 (2002): 249–64. Bepler uses the term “Betsäule” and discusses its implications in a variety of other studies as well. 8 Katrin Keller, “Kurfürstin Anna von Sachsen (1532–1585). Von Möglichkeiten und Grenzen einer ‘Landesmutter’,” in: Das Frauenzimmer. Die Frau bei Hofe in Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, ed. Jan Hirschbiegel and Werner Paravicini (Stuttgart, 2000), pp. 263–85. This role of confessional advocacy in the German context is echoed by the two chapters from Queenship in Europe cited in note 2, above, and in several studies by Jill Bepler. 9 Pernille Arenfeldt is further investigating the consort’s multifaceted roles in the expanded household of the court and dynasty based on these same letters. See her study, “‘The Queen has Sent Nine Frisian Cows.’ Gender and Everyday Cultural Practices at the Courts in Sixteenth-Century Germany,” in: Der Hof. Ort kulturellen Handelns von Frauen in der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. Susanne Rode-Breymann and Antje Tumat (Cologne, 2013), pp. 116–31. 10 Roswitha Jacobsen, “Der Landesvater als Familienvater. Ernst der Fromme von Sachsen-Gotha-Altenburg und seine Verordnungen für die eigene Familie,” Gothaisches Museums-Jahrbuch (2009): 73–97, especially 84–7. As Jacobsen points out, the “Instruction” was published in an early eighteenth-century compilation of ordinances; a manuscript version, which is undated and may not be the original, survives in the Thüringisches Staatsarchiv Gotha, Geheimes Archiv, E III 2b. 11 Helga Meise, “Das Schloss als Handlungsspielraum: Landgräfin Elisabeth Dorothea von Hessen-Darmstadt, geb. Herzogin von Sachsen-Gotha (1640–1709),” in: Der Hof. Ort kulturellen Handelns von Frauen, p. 279. 12 In 2000 I found the Rudolstadt copy of the “Instruction” in a bundle of copies of Gotha ordinances created between 1662 and 1665 for Albert Anton (TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt A IX Nr. 96). 13 Most mentions in older scholarship call her a Pietist, but more recent historians have rethought and redefined the term, following the lead of Johannes Wallmann in his many studies. Wallmann’s adherents no longer include Aemilia Juliana and other Rudolstadt figures among Pietists. While I agree that care is needed, I believe that the evidence would show a strong connection to early Pietist Philipp Jacob Spener and his foundational proposals. However, as this debate is not crucial to the topic of this study of Aemilia Juliana’s activities as ruler’s consort, I plan to take it up in some other venue in the future. 14 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 14. 15 A total of 414 surviving letters are addressed to her sister-in-law Sophia Juliana. This correspondence is preserved in a large bundle in the archive (TSAR, Geheimes Archiv AXIII, 152). When referring to or quoting from an individual letter from this bundle, I will cite it as “Letter” plus a number. Someone has penciled in numbers for the first 21 letters, but the remainder are not designated in any way, and as they are not bound, they could easily get out of order. I have therefore put brackets around the numbers that I used in my transcriptions of Aemilia Juliana’s letters to designate individual sheets beyond the initial 21. The letters, for the most part undated, are preserved in no particular order. In some cases I have been able to offer an approximate date based on some detail in the letter, such as a

Introduction

17

princely wedding or birth. It is my intention to donate my transcriptions of the letters to the Thüringisches Staatsarchiv in Rudolstadt. 16 Wilhelm Karl Prinz von Isenburg, Stammtafeln zur Geschichte der europäischen Staaten, vol. 1: Die deutschen Staaten (Marburg, 1953); Neue Folge, ed. Detlev Schwennicke (Marburg, 1980 et al.), vols. I.3, IV, XII, and XVII. 17 With the exception of the initial version of the spiritual autobiography of Johanna Eleonora Petersen, “Eine kurtze Erzehlung/ Wie mich die leitende Hand Gottes bißher geführet/ und was sie bei meiner Seelen gethan hat,” which appeared as an appendix to her first devotional book, Gespräche des Hertzens mit Gott (Plön: Ripenau, 1689). 18 Caroline Walker Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval Religion (New York, 1991), p. 41. 19 Lynn Hunt, “The Challenge of Gender. Deconstruction of Categories and Reconstruction of Narratives in Gender History,” Geschlechtergeschichte und Allgemeine Geschichte. Herausforderungen und Perspektiven, ed. Hans Medick and Anne-Charlott Trepp (Göttingen, 1998), p. 95; Phyllis Mack, Visionary Women: Ecstatic Prophecy in Seventeenth-Century England (Berkeley, 1992), p. 7. 20 Julius Leopold Pasig, “Vorwort,” in Der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von SchwartzburgRudolstadt Geistliche Lieder in einer Auswahl nach dem Originaltext (Halle, 1855), pp. v–xxxiii. 21 Wilhelm Thilo, Schwarzburgisches Sion oder Schwarzburgs geistliche Liederdichter (Rudolstadt, 1857), pp. 41–51. This rare work is preserved in TSAR (Pl 25). 22 Bernhard Rein, “Ämilie Juliane, Gräfin, Gutsherrin und Dichterin,” Das Thüringer Fähnlein 6 (1937): 615–18, and other articles, preserved in TSAR, Nachlaß Dr. Bernhard Rein, Nr. 93 and 94. 23 Brigitte Archibald, “Ludämilia Elisabeth, Gräfin von Schwarzburg-Hohnstein, and Aemilia Juliane, Gräfin von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt: Two Poets of the Seventeenth Century,” Diss. Univ. of Tennessee, 1975. The dissertation relies on Pasig’s nineteenthcentury selected-works edition of Aemilia Juliana’s songs and on his introduction to the edition, as well as on a similar edition of songs by Ludaemilia Elisabeth. 24 Elisabeth Schneider-Böklen, “Ämilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt,” in Der Herr hat Großes mir getan. Frauen im Gesangbuch (Stuttgart, 1995), pp. 27–44; Martin H. Jung, “Ämilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt,” in Frauen des Pietismus. Zehn Porträts (Gütersloh, 1998), pp. 11–26. Unfortunately, both contain some errors and overgeneralizations. 25 Andrea Esche, “Das Kochbuch der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von SchwarzburgRudolstadt (1637–1706),” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 2 (1998): 89–100; and Elisabeth Schneider-Böklen, “‘Bis hierher hat mich Gott gebracht.’ Leben und Werk der Ämilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1637–1706),” Gottesdienst und Kirchenmusik 5 (1993): 126–35. Unfortunately, the latter author has allowed some errors to slip into the biographical summary. 26 See the bibliography for my preliminary studies and various offshoots of this larger research project. 27 Susanne Schuster, Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt und Ahasver Fritsch. Eine Untersuchung zur Jesusfrömmigkeit im späten 17. Jahrhundert (Leipzig, 2006). 28 Vinzenz Czech, Legitimation und Repräsentation. Zum Selbstverständnis thüringisch-sächsischer Reichsgrafen in der Frühen Neuzeit (Berlin, 2003). Czech concentrates on the Schwarzburg, Reuss, and Stolberg counts.

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Chapter 2

Becoming the Ruler’s Consort The consortship to be discussed here began on June 7, 1665, when Aemilia Juliana, Countess of Barby and Mühlingen, married Albert Anton, Count of SchwarzburgRudolstadt. The wedding celebration was a grand affair. The hundreds of invited guests, including representatives from most of the ruling families of central and northern Germany, were housed, fed, and entertained in the Heidecksburg palace in Rudolstadt. Various documents regarding the marriage settlements and wedding plans, along with the history of Aemilia Juliana’s dowry, survive in archives in Rudolstadt, Wolfenbüttel, and Wernigerode, and they provide insights into the financial and legal background of the union. The factual information they contain can be supplemented by perusal of the many celebratory texts printed in commemoration of the occasion, including the scripts of two full-length plays that were performed for the newly wedded couple and their guests. These literary offerings provide, through metaphor and analogy, a more nuanced perspective on issues surrounding the marriage. Some sketch the historical and dynastic background of the match, while others offer instruction to the bride on her new position. They variously emphasize the dynastic role the new consort is to play as future mother of an heir, the representational responsibilities she will have at court, or the leadership she will be able to exert as Mother of the Country. The plays, in particular, problematize the involvement of prospective brides in decisions resulting in state marriages and explore the legal limitations these women faced. An examination of these polemical texts designed to entertain and impress the wedding guests or to honor the bride, in juxtaposition with an exploration of the archived documents, will serve in this study to identify the criteria for selection of a marriage partner in a state marriage and to provide an initial definition of the consort’s role at court and in the principality. “The Assumed Prince” and the Passive Ward The centerpiece of courtly entertainment was provided by two plays that court secretary and prominent poet Caspar Stieler created for the occasion. The comedy Der Vermeinte Printz (The Assumed Prince) and the tragicomedy Ernelinde, oder die Viermahl Braut (Ernelinde, or the Four-time Betrothed) offered the traditional wedding fare of tales of romantic love along with sometimes racy dialogue, but in their teasing approach to serious subjects, they also provided commentary on the possibilities for female self-determination, the wardship of princely orphans, the practice of arranged marriages among the ruling dynasties, and the basis for this particular match in the laws of inheritance and succession of early modern Germany. These messages seem to be directed primarily at Aemilia Juliana.

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Fig. 2.1 Title page, Stieler, Der Vermeinte Printz (Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1665). Courtesy of the Niedersächsische Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Göttingen: 8 Poet. dram. III. 875. When the new consort sat down to enjoy the comedy Der Vermeinte Printz in the makeshift theatre in the Great Hall of the Heidecksburg palace, she was probably seated in the place of honor in the middle of the front row of chairs, between her new husband and the highest ranking wedding guest, Rudolf August, Duke of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, her eldest sister’s husband and her own official guardian until the exchange of wedding vows. Aemilia Juliana’s sisters Christiana Elisabeth, Justina Sophia, and Antonia Sibylla probably sat with them in the front row, along with Albert Anton’s mother and four sisters. As the stage directions in the printed commemorative edition recount, the play began when the curtained alcove at the back of the stage opened to a perspectival landscape with a burning volcano, setting the scene for the musical prologue. Aemilia Juliana and

Becoming the Ruler’s Consort

Fig. 2.2

21

Frontispiece portrait of Caspar Stieler, frontispiece in his Neuentsprungene Wasserquelle (Nuremberg: Hoffmann, 1674). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 43 9/k, 3.

the members of the audience would have been able to smell the burning pitch and hear a rumble of thunder as the actor playing Jupiter, seated on an enormous eagle, was hoisted down from the clouds erected above the stage. “I am Majesty,” he sang. “The lustful pleasures of blind love I despise. That I flew into Leda’s lap, in form a swan, or took Danaë’s virginity, or raped Europa—those are lies.” With this accusation against Ovid and his lurid tales of divine lust in his Metamorphoses, Stieler was teasing them with feigned circumspection. Stieler was the consummate courtier, suave, well-travelled, broadly educated, handsome and dashing, a master of languages and language, and Aemilia Juliana had probably enjoyed his blatant flattery and witty ripostes ever since his arrival in Rudolstadt some three years earlier.1

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But Jupiter’s rejection of love in the prologue soon showed itself to be part of the story: a king of Sicily had no son to inherit, just a daughter, who was barred from succession because of her gender. The wily king, who wanted her to inherit his kingdom, had her dressed and brought up as a boy. When, in a hilariously racy scene, the adolescent prince finally learned her true gender, her father informed her that the subterfuge had been necessary because of the Salic Law, which forbade female inheritance of lands and kingdoms. She agreed to cooperate in a continuation of the disguise, but despite Jupiter’s rejection of love in the prologue, she fell in love with a visiting prince, imperiling her father’s plans. In the end, she married her prince and kept her kingdom by devising a plot to have the law against female succession overturned. Aemilia Juliana and her sisters must have listened in astonishment, for the play was about their own loss more than five years earlier of the family holdings from which they had derived their now empty titles.2 The letter that had arrived in Rudolstadt from Duke Rudolf August announcing the untimely demise on October 17, 1659, of his ward, August Ludwig of Barby and Mühlingen, already pointed out that the death carried more than the usual significance. Aemilia Juliana’s 20-year-old brother, still in his minority, had been the last of the male line, and he had died without issue.3 The successors to the fiefdoms comprising Barby and Mühlingen had acted quickly; within seven days of August Ludwig’s death, both Johann, Prince of Anhalt, and August, Duke of Saxony-Weißenfels, wrote to the Barby chancellor staking their claims.4 Their letters contained copies of documents that guaranteed them the expectancies to the fiefdoms, should the liegeman’s house fail. The shock that this loss of the source of her identity occasioned would remain with Aemilia Juliana for the rest of her life, culminating in her authorship of the “Song of a Person who is the Last of her Family.”5 Indeed, it was probably at her behest that the inscription “ult. Com. Barb.” (last countess of Barby) was engraved on her sarcophagus. Although he apparently made no attempt to overturn the law of succession, Rudolph August, as husband of the eldest sister of the deceased and as formal guardian for the two unmarried sisters, asserted claims for all other assets on their behalf on November 10, 1659. Christiana Elisabeth wrote to her married sister, Justina Sophia, urging her involvement on behalf of herself and her daughters as well as her sisters and nieces. The disputants called for inventories, set their lawyers to work, and enlisted the high court administering Saxon law to make determinations. A letter from Rudolph August to the chancellery in Barby, admonishing the officials there to take good care of the property pertaining to the allodial inheritance for the four sisters, followed quickly upon his calls for an inventory to protect their interests. The result of the lawyers’ efforts and the court’s deliberations was the “Barbyscher Haupt Recess de Anno 1660 zwischen denen hochgräfflichen Barbyschen LandtErben unndt Fürstlichen Herren Lehens Successoren” (Barby Definitive Agreement of 1660 between the heirs of the House of Barby and the Princely Lord Successors to the Fiefdom), dated January 25, 1660.6 August of Saxony-Weißenfels obtained both Barby and Mühlingen, as he had demanded, and he immediately incorporated the titles into his own long list

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23

of honorific names. The principality ceased to exist as an independent entity. The Prince of Anhalt successfully claimed a smaller estate on his side of the Elbe river. The four sisters, although barred from succession to the fiefdom, did have an inheritance, as spelled out in the agreement. First, they would have their “Ehegelder” (marriage settlements) and “Alimenta” (support moneys) paid out of the former fiefdom’s income. This clause in the agreement reconfirmed the responsibility for continued annual payments to Christiana Elisabeth and Justina Sophia, already married, and promised similar dowries and lifelong support allowances for Aemilia Juliana and Antonia Sibylla. Secondly, the sisters were to receive all of the allodial inheritance: title to the smaller estates that were not part of the enfiefed lands, all livestock not owned by the fiefdom directly, and all furnishings and other movable property. The livestock enumerated in the inventory included the breeding stock of the Barby and Rosenburg stud farms, with particularly valuable horses being listed by color (breed) as well as their numbers. The very sizable numbers of cattle, sheep, and pigs on each holding were also established. The inventory showed that Rudolph August had been an excellent guardian for his wards.7 As a result, despite the fact that the dynasty had foundered and the principality had been incorporated into the territories of the feudal overlords, Aemilia Juliana was suddenly a considerable heiress. Until her brother’s death she could probably not have expected to marry, given the fact that Barby, although certainly more prosperous than at war’s end, was still a small, relatively impoverished principality unable to bear the encumbrance of additional dowries. Ruling families in the Protestant north with an overabundance of daughters usually allowed only the eldest one or two to marry, with the others either remaining at home with their mother or entering secular convents. She had not expected to marry, but now she was a good match for any prince.8 Aemilia Antonia, as co-guardian with Rudolf August, moved quickly to make certain Aemilia Juliana received her fair share, perhaps not altogether altruistically, for she also began working behind the scenes to prepare the agreements that would result in the betrothal and marriage in 1665 between Aemilia Juliana and Albert Anton. Few knew about the plans. Heinrich II Reuss of Gera, fellow guardian of Albert Anton along with Aemilia Antonia, must have been informed, and one official in Gera seems to have known already in 1662. The congratulatory poem penned on the occasion of Albert Anton’s attainment of his majority by Johann Sebastian Mitternacht, the Reuss-Gera adviser and school rector known for the excellence of his dramatic texts for schoolboys to perform, hinted that Aemilia Juliana was the intended bride.9 Perhaps he was jumping to an as yet unwarranted conclusion. Close examination of the numerous other public texts that appeared between 1660 and 1664 shows not a glimmer of an expectation in this direction on the part of anyone else, and the news seems to have come as a complete surprise in Rudolstadt in 1665. “That which was hidden is today come to fruition,” wrote Volckmar Happe, one of the foster mother’s advisers, in an honorific poem on the occasion of the marriage. Another, authored by Aemilia Antonia’s court

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preacher Johann Georg Roth, speaks of the interest in making a match between the two as being “recent.” In his lengthy poem, Roth contrasted their own lack of knowledge with the “playful foreknowledge of God.” The marriage was predestined, unbeknownst to its participants and beneficiaries, he claimed.10 Either these individuals close to Albert Anton’s mother did not know ahead of time what was being planned, or she was making an effort to make others believe that the decision was recent by having them include such statements. In fact, it was not until Albert Anton had returned from his cavalier’s tour, not until he had become established in his reign for several years after attaining his majority, that Aemilia Antonia worked with Rudolph August to draw up the formal marriage contract. In drafting it, she used her own contract from 1638 as a model, as can be seen by its presence in the archive bundle next to a draft of her son’s marriage contract of 1665.11 Duke August of Saxony-Weißenfels had no choice but to agree to the terms, as they had been prepared for in the agreement of 1660. There were 7,000 Reichsthaler (imperial gold dollars) in the dowry, in addition to annual “Aliment-Gelder” and the bride’s share of the allodial inheritance. It was a coup for the cash-poor coffers of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. And it was a coup for the orphan who had lost her patrimony, as well. Her new husband not only made her his consort, he also matched the dowry and support moneys with a marriage endowment and the traditional Morgengabe (morning-after gift), and he placed them under her direct control. The regional seat Stadt Ilm, with its small palace, farms, vineyards, and tax revenues, became hers for the remainder of her life and was to serve as her dower residence should she be widowed. In addition, she was to receive 350 Reichsthaler per year from her husband.12 Aemilia Juliana contemplated the abrupt change in her circumstances, a change that appears to have taken her by surprise, in two devotional songs, one “of a person formerly lowly, now elevated by God,” the other “of a high personage.”13 The unexpected legacy provided one explanation for how their marriage had come about, but it was not the publicly acclaimed story. The laudatory poems probably recited aloud in their honor prior to the theatrical performance had spoken of the growing love for her on Albert Anton’s part that had been noticed by his mother, who had then acted on his behalf to draw up the marriage agreements.14 And at play’s end, bridging from the imminent marriage in the play to the reality of the festive occasion, the epilogue singers Amor, Venus, and Hymen, divinities of love and marriage, glorified romantic love as the basis for the marriage of the newly wedded couple in the audience. Aemilia Juliana, who had dutifully loved Albert Anton as a cousin and foster brother, was now to love him as a husband. The wedding celebrations continued the next day with yet another play, Ernelinde, a tragicomedy about a woman with not just one arranged betrothal, but four. The title figure, an orphaned princess, has been made the ward of the newly crowned king Heinrich, and she catches his fancy. He decides to marry her, although his stepmother adamantly opposes the match for reasons she refuses to reveal. Other suitors for the princess’s hand also emerge: Filander, the king’s most powerful noble and advisor, and Ferramond, a disguised prince who accepts

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25

service as Ernelinde’s secretary. It quickly becomes obvious that it is the assumed secretary she prefers.15 But the play was not just a romantic comedy, suitable fare for a princely marriage. It opened with the starkest expression imaginable of a political power struggle, pitting the newly crowned king against his widowed stepmother.16 “I am king,” he announced, to which she replied, “I am queen.” “I can and will,” he said. “You must not and shall not,” was the response. The subject of the dispute, as soon became clear, was his desire to marry Ernelinde, but the play quickly took on the dimensions of a lesson in Christian politics, of a mirror for princes. A subsequent scene showed the king as feudal overlord accepting the obeisance of his powerful nobles and other applicants for his favor following his coronation. Unlike the tempered wisdom, dignity, and honorable behavior that Albert Anton was praised for three years earlier, when he had come of age and received the obeisances of the holders of fiefs from his hand, this king was abrupt, rude, tyrannical, cunning, and deceitful, whimsically generous only to turn on those whom he had briefly favored. His behavior served, in fact, as an exemplum ex negativo, a negative model for the behavior of a Christian prince. The behavior is soon punished by the angry divinity Nemesis. When Heinrich insists on marrying Ernelinde, his stepmother commits suicide, leaving a note divulging that she had slept with her 16-year-old stepson 18 years before, and that Ernelinde was actually their daughter. Incest narrowly averted, a horrified Heinrich immediately bestows her hand on the assumed secretary, only to find, on reading the remainder of the suicide note, that Ferramond was Ernelinde’s twin brother. Ferramond reels from the possibility that his love for Ernelinde is incestuous, while Filander, the new bridegroom, exults at his good fortune. The arrival of the Margrave Filibert, foster father of Ferramond and father of Filander, further confuses the mix. As it turns out, Filibert had switched the two boys at a young age, so that the one known as Filander was Ernelinde’s twin. The assumed secretary wins the woman he loves, becoming in his second betrothal of the day her fourth betrothed.17 Ernelinde, as royal ward, appears to have had little say in the matter. The king made each of the decisions, not consulting her wishes or even asking for her consent. And Ernelinde, unlike the assumed prince of the play performed the previous day, made no attempt to determine her own marital destiny. The metaphor for her passive behavior was very effective: instead of a miniature portrait of her beloved, she possessed a small mirror in which any suitor could see his own face depicted. A more striking difference between the two female protagonists can hardly be imagined. Perhaps each was presented as a provocation to the principal addressee and the audience as a whole to examine the role played by Aemilia Juliana and, by extension, any other female ward, in determining her own destiny. Indeed, the pair of plays depicting two different types of behavior on the part of a young woman in love call into question the very practice of arranged marriages that, despite poetic declarations to the contrary, had brought about the match being celebrated by the audience members. In her case, Aemilia Juliana probably had been neither a passive victim, nor an activist on her own account. She would have

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recognized the advantages of the match proposed by her foster mother, including perhaps above all the opportunity to return to or even exceed the status to which she had been born. She probably also recognized that Albert Anton would make an ideal husband, given the fact that his mother, as Regent of the principality throughout his childhood and youth, provided a role model for behavior that would allow his wife to fulfill her own aspirations and conduct her life in ways she could determine for herself. The marriage Aemilia Antonia had arranged between her foster daughter and her son was evidently a happy one. It lasted over 40 years, ending with Aemilia Juliana’s death. Her letters and songs containing expressions of concern for her husband’s health during his various ailments and for his safety during his many travels and hunting trips seem to reflect genuine feelings of strong affection for him. However, her mentions of him in her letters remain formal, as required by etiquette. The few surviving letters she wrote to Albert Anton, even though they address him with a French endearment as “Mon Coeur” (my heart), assiduously avoid any form of direct address, instead referring to him in the third person using the German endearment “mein Schatz” (my darling, literally “my treasure”). She closes one of these letters with the formal but oddly playful phrase “sage 1000 adieu und sterbe meines Schatzes Ewiggehorsamer Magd, Ae.J.” (I say 1000 adieus and die my darling’s eternally obedient maidservant, Ae.J.); the other closures are similar.18 In spite of the avoidance of direct address, these letters exude a tenderness that indicates that their marriage was based on mutual affection. This conclusion is echoed by their contemporaries. Her funerary biographer reported that, upon her death, Albert Anton had openly proclaimed his marriage to have been especially happy and blessed. His inconsolability after her death was pitied and praised at his own funeral some four years after hers.19 Insights into Aemilia Juliana’s view of their marriage can be gleaned from two anniversary songs, the first perhaps for the tenth wedding anniversary in 1675, the second for their thirtieth anniversary in 1695. In the earlier song, “Alle Welt die muß erfahren” (All the world must hear tell), she posits in their unitary voice a marital harmony that she finds admirable. This union is expressed using two techniques: intertwined acrostics that alternate letters from her initials with those of his, and progression from her solo voice in the initial strophes to a duet in the final segment. By the time she wrote the second song, “Gelobet seyst du, Gott! daß du mich wohl berathen” (Praise be to you, God, that you advised me well), she could state with joyful conviction that the husband God had selected for her had remained true to their union. He loves and values her, treats her as a rational being whose opinions deserve respect, and is tolerant of her lapses and inadequacies. Their marriage, as she portrays it, was a partnership in which she could thrive.20 The clever princess dressed as a man who devises a stratagem to retain her inheritance and bring about her marriage to the man she loved, the passive ward who sequentially accepts the various bridegrooms assigned to her without voicing her own preference: each of the theatrical constructs for Aemilia Juliana’s role as bride in a state marriage raises questions about the nature of arranged marriages

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among members of the ruling families. But her own words in her letters and anniversary songs make it clear that she accepted her life as wife and ruler’s consort without compunction. As an assertive woman like the assumed prince, she would claim her inheritance as a source of wealth with which she could serve the family into which she married. As a princely ward, she had no trouble accepting her foster mother’s suggestion that she marry Albert Anton; indeed, she appears to have welcomed the choice and found no reason in later years to regret it. “Aemilia shall be Mother of the Dynasty” At the end of the performance of Ernelinde, the epilogue singer Lucina, goddess of pregnancy and childbirth, introduced a new theme related to the rationale behind their marriage. After honoring the newly married pair in the audience with laudatory phrases, she proclaimed that their union would be fertile and that Aemilia Juliana would produce heirs who would carry on the line. The culminating message, with its significance for dynastic continuity and status within the network of Protestant ruling houses so richly represented in the audience, touched on the primary responsibility of the consort as partner in the ruling couple: the production of the (male) heir, or better still, the heir and a spare, not to mention their sisters, the little countesses who would need expensive dowries but who would thereby become the cement for relationships with their peers in the game of marital politics. An anonymous pamphlet presented to Aemilia Juliana and Albert Anton on the occasion of their marriage offers a genealogical perspective on their union. This tract, Derer Hoch-Gräflichen Häuser Schwartzburg und Barby, Durch Oldenburg nahe-Gesipte, Nun verneuerte Stamm-Verwandschafft (The Familial Relationship between the Noble Houses of Schwarzburg and Barby, already established through marriages with the House of Oldenburg, and now renewed), begins with genealogy charts outlining the illustrious family ties of their dynasties, already linked in previous generations, ties refreshed and strengthened by their marriage. Depictions of coats of arms and explanations of the honors associated with each of the noble titles accompanied the elaborate family trees. A poem at the end of the pamphlet proclaimed: “Emilie soll Stammens Mutter seyn” (Aemilia shall be Mother of the Dynasty). Her motherhood would be important to dynastic continuity, indeed crucial, as she had just united with the sole remaining male heir of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. In addition, the continuation of two defunct houses, Barby and Oldenburg (the dynasty of both their mothers), would depend on their reestablishment within the dynasty of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. She was the trunk of the family tree from which would grow the branches, twigs, and sprigs to guarantee dynastic continuity. In his poem in honor of the wedding, Die Spielende Weißheit Gottes, pastor Johann Georg Roth likewise uses a botanical metaphor when he expresses the hope that the defunct houses of Barby and Oldenburg will find new life in the marriage which grafts them onto the family tree of the Schwarzburgs:

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A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany Es sey auch Fruchtbarkeit bey Eurer Liebes-Flamme/ daß auß dem Rosen-Stock sich Zweige thun herfür/ Dadurch ersetzet werd bey dem Schwartzburger Stamme/ Was Barby eingebüst/ was/ Oldenburg/ auch dir zuletzt entgehen möcht.... [May your love’s flame be accompanied by fertility, that from the rosebush stalk twigs may issue forth, so that in the Schwarzburg tree replacements can grow for that which Barby has surrendered up, which Oldenburg, you too, must soon see slip away.]

Aemilia Juliana, represented as a branch of the Barby rosebush (a reference to the roses in the family coat of arms), had just been grafted onto the Schwarzburg family tree in this use of the metaphor, and her new subjects were eagerly waiting for twigs to sprout that would bring continuity both to the grafted branch and to the host tree. The traditional botanical metaphor of the family tree dominated the conception of dynasty and dynastic destiny held by Aemilia Juliana and others in Rudolstadt to a degree comprehensible only when one follows their footsteps into the Stadtkirche (City Church). There, still embellishing the Fürstenstand (princes’ loge) where the counts and later princes of Schwarzburg once sat, one finds an enormous sculptural monument called the Stammbaum (Family Tree), its branches holding the loge in its grasp, the twigs intertwining around the supports for the balconies (Figure 2.3).21 Stretching three stories upwards and totally enveloping those seated in the Fürstenstand, who were thus made into literal twigs on the tree, it contains the coats of arms of all the noble houses with which the Schwarzburg counts had intermarried over the centuries, arrayed on branches that emerge from the central trunk. At the bottom, at floor level, the trunk is flanked by the lifesize figures of Wild Man and Wild Woman, naked except for loincloths made of leaves. These figures attest to the validity of the hereditary claims of the House of Schwarzburg by pushing its ancestry back into the prehistory of the original inhabitants of the region.22 Below the Fürstenstand with its monumental family tree is the Fürstengruft, the family crypt of the House of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt that was filled with the sarcophagi of its deceased members, the figurative and literal roots of the family tree. This Family Tree monument, commissioned by Albert Anton’s father, would have been a physically present and even visually dominating feature during the dynastically significant ceremonies of princely weddings, baptisms, and funerals, as well as during Sunday services throughout the lives of his son and foster daughter. Given the fact that control over territory and the right to rule a principality were inherited, nearly always through the male line, it is not surprising that genealogy and dynastic identity were preoccupations for the nobility. Genealogy, ancestors, and descendants were primary subjects for the honorific and memorial publications associated with dynastic events—birthday celebrations as well as weddings and

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Fig. 2.3 Interior of the Stadtkirche with Stammbaum (Family Tree) monument. Courtesy of Foto-Lösche. funerals. Indeed, tracing the ancestry and noting the relationships by marriage of the deceased took up a major portion of each princely funerary biography, a practice that assured future continuity of dynastic lore. Such genealogies appear

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in the funerary memorials of Aemilia Juliana, Albert Anton, their infant daughter, Albertina Antonia, and the family matriarch, Aemilia Antonia, for example. The pride that the Schwarzburg family had in its ancestry and its relationships with other powerful dynasties was also apparent in products of their literary patronage, above all in a heroic poem and a play, both authored by Caspar Stieler. When Albert Anton had assumed his dignities upon coming of age in 1662, the young poet was looking for a lucrative and stable position that would allow him to marry. Instead of writing a letter applying for a position as court secretary or advocate (attorney) and listing his qualifications, he wrote a five-page genealogical poem in heroic alexandrine verse that demonstrated his talents as poet, his convivial wit, and his ability to contribute to the self-representation and glorification of a prince. He titled it Untertähniges Denkmahl/ Frolokken und Glükkswunsch (Commemoration, Celebration, and Felicitation from a Devoted Subject). His audacity was such that he had the poem printed at his own expense; the title page claims that he delivered it in person on the occasion of the Erbhuldigung (feudal ceremony reinstating fiefs at the hands of a new ruler) on September 3, 1662. Stieler’s poem recounts the legendary dynastic prehistory of the House of Schwarzburg, beginning with Charlemagne’s Saxon general Wittekind (whose baptized name was Ludwig) and continuing through Günther XXI of Schwarzburg, the historical personage who was elected and briefly served as Roman King in 1349. Each listed ancestor receives praise for his deeds and accomplishments. Then the poet skips to the nearer past, to Albert Anton’s father, Ludwig Günther, whose name and honors combine those of the first and last ancestors whose deeds had just been recounted. The dynastic history culminates in the newly installed Albert Anton. After praising him as a second Ludwig Günther, his father’s double, the poem ends with a flattering and prophetic wish: that Albert Anton’s heirs will sit on the thrones of princes (Fürsten, a step up in the hierarchy of the Holy Roman Empire). Stieler ends his poem with a plea for a position in the new bureaucracy Albert Anton was forming. His unorthodox application was successful. He was appointed to the position of court secretary beginning already that year and given a host of responsibilities ranging from legal and secretarial to pedagogical, musical, and poetical. One of Stieler’s responsibilities in Rudolstadt would be to write and produce plays for courtly festivities, including the two performed on the occasion of the wedding in 1665. The next year, when called upon to write a Singspiel (opera or musical play) for Albert Anton’s birthday, he continued the genealogical project, converting it into theatrically and musically effective forms and filling in the missing genealogical history. Titled Die Wittekinden (The Wittekinds), the opera glorified the Schwarzburg dynasty in positing the legendary Saxon hero of Carolingian times, Wittekind, as an ancestor of Albert Anton’s house. Against the backdrop of a romantic plot, complete with the comic character Scaramutza, the play depicts the miraculous conversion to Christianity of Wittekind’s sons. In a stand-alone series of tableaus that followed the final act, the subsequent historically based genealogy of the House of Schwarzburg is recounted in great detail, leading to its current representative Albert Anton, described as “a fresh twig” on the family tree.

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The names and dates of the illustrious ancestors appear in the left margin of the printed libretto, next to the poetic lines outlining their accomplishments, thus providing a scholarly apparatus for the text. The theatricality of the performance was exceptional, as Stieler had created a living “ancestor cabinet.”23 The effigies of 11 of Albert Anton’s forebears, played by the amateur actors that Stieler had at his disposal, were magically revealed when the personification of Fate spoke about each one. Much to his surprise (and probable delight), Albert Anton found himself playing himself when the narrator turned to the audience to display the twelfth and final effigy by pointing at the birthday honoree. Legendary and historical pasts merged at the end of the performance in the current living embodiment of the illustrious dynasty, even as theatrical representation merged with the reality of the glorified self-representation expected of the early modern ruler. But if the dynasty of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt was to continue, then Aemilia Juliana was going to have to produce a male heir. At the time of the performance of Die Wittekinden in early March 1666, nine months after the wedding, there were still no signs of pregnancy, a matter for concern. The wait was to continue for another year before her first pregnancy became manifest. In the meantime, she was constantly watched by her subjects and her family for signs and queried about any symptoms by those close to her and those rude enough to pry. In one letter she jokes about how she had warded off the impertinent queries of church superintendent Justus Söffing by turning the tables on him: “God grant whatever he has in store for me, I’m still not pregnant (noch zur Zeit ist keine Hoffnung); the Superintendent wished me well not long ago, and said that everybody in Rudolstadt thought that I would soon give birth (bald einkommen würde); and he wished, since their predictions hadn’t yet come true in the manner that Rudolstadt gossip was usually wont to do, that the advent of the happy event would soon be made known. I asked whether he would become a grandfather soon, and he responded that he didn’t yet have any hopes (noch keine Hoffnung hette).”24 At some point her sisters-in-law appear to have heard a rumor that she was pregnant and accused her of hiding her condition from them, as her response in another letter shows: “As far as my own condition is concerned, I wouldn’t dream of concealing any news from you, unlike the Counselor’s wife. But I have nothing to report. All the people who come up here want to know if what they hear is true, but I don’t sense anything yet. You surely don’t think that, if I were certain I was pregnant (wenn ich eine gewiße Hoffnung hette), I would refrain from writing to you to let you know. After all, I know very well that the news couldn’t make anybody in the world happier than it would make all of you. Perhaps God is treating me in a manner so contrary to my expectations in order to make me appreciate his fatherly affection all the more when I do have good reason to thank him. In the meantime, I will pray and steadfastly hope (fest hoffen).”25 Her wry jokes dependent on standard euphemisms for pregnancy constitute an attempt to treat the distressful topic lightly. Aemilia Juliana did pray to conceive, and she wrote down the prose prayers of supplication that she devised. She also constructed original song texts on the subject to use during her devotional hours, and she recorded them as well. The months

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stretched on. Impatient, as a prose prayer shows,26 but unwilling to give up hope, she began to cast her situation as parallel to that of the biblical Hannah, whose long barren marriage finally resulted in the birth of an heir. Indeed, the memory of that painful period, as well as the lasting barrenness that followed her second pregnancy, was one reason she chose a depiction of Hannah praying in the Temple as the frontispiece for her devotional handbook for pregnant and birthing women published in 1683, to be discussed in Chapter 5. The initial strophe of one of several songs praying for conception indicates that it probably derives from the first two years of marriage when her hopes alternately rose and fell: Aus tiefer Noth schrey ich zu dir/ Hilf Gott durch Jesus Wunden Mir armen Sündrin gnädig hir Aus meinen Trauer-Stunden/ Die dir und mir allein bewust/ und schencke mir doch diese Lust Daß ich auch Erben sehe.

From deepest need I cry to you, Help me, God, graciously through Jesus’s wounds [Rescue] me, poor sinner [kneeling] here, From my hours of desolation, which are known only to you and me, and grant me this joy, that I too may bear heirs.

Her choice of the word “Erben” (heirs) rather than “Kinder” (children) indicates that her plea is made not just as a married woman, but as the ruler’s consort whose duty it is to provide her husband and his dynasty with an heir.27 But by her second wedding anniversary she would have been able to feel the fetus within her move, the first reliable sign, according to midwifery manuals of the times, that a woman was pregnant. Her joy upon learning she had conceived was unbounded, as shown in the song she wrote on the occasion, “Gott! was fang ich immer an” (God! how shall I ever begin [this song of praise]). Replete with the same euphemisms for pregnancy, the text proclaims her gratitude for conception.28 By the end of August it was time to announce the expected birth officially and publicly, and to ask for the prayers of her subjects on her behalf and on behalf of the hoped-for heir of Schwarzburg. On August 27, 1667, a prayer text was distributed to all pastors in the principality, along with the instruction that it be recited in church every Sunday until she gave birth. The prayer accordingly voiced by her subjects praised and thanked God for the pregnancy, asked God to protect her and her fetus from harm until the proper time for birth, and prayed for the gift of a “much-wished-for happy birth that will bring honor to God as well as blessings to the House of Schwarzburg and well-being to the entire land and all of us.” The birth on October 19 resulted in another principality-wide prayer, this time expressing gratitude that their ruler’s wife had been successfully delivered of a male infant, the heir of Schwarzburg, Ludwig Friedrich.29 Aemilia Juliana wrote a song to celebrate the birth of her son, “Nun seht/ was Gott im Himmel kan” (Now see what God in Heaven can do).30 Following the practice usual for the high nobility, Ludwig Friedrich had been baptized a few days after birth, but his Einsegnung (consecration ceremony formally accepting him into the congregation and the dynasty, perhaps modeled on the biblical Presentation of the Christchild in the Temple) took place simultaneously

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with his mother’s churching, marking the end of the traditional six-week isolation of mother and infant. The event was celebrated on a princely scale, and the costs must have been colossal. Aemilia Juliana probably spent much of her enforced leisure during the six weeks following the birth working out the details of hosting and entertaining hundreds of attendees and conferring with those charged with carrying out the plans. It was well worth the expense and effort. After all, the presence of the highborn guests constituted their official acknowledgement of the importance in their world of the little heir to the dynasty. Among the visitors invited to Rudolstadt for the Einsegnung were representatives of most of the families from the Family Tree. The party from Wolfenbüttel was present: Aemilia Juliana’s sisters Antonia Sibylla and Christiana Elisabeth, the latter’s husband Duke Rudolf August and his younger brothers Anton Ulrich (with his wife Elisabeth Juliana) and Ferdinand Albrecht (with his wife Christine), as well as their sisters Sibylla Ursula (married to the Duke of Schleswig-HolsteinGlücksburg) and Maria Elisabeth (married to the Duke of Saxony-Eisenach). Some of the children were there as well, including Christiana Elisabeth’s two daughters, Aemilia Juliana’s nieces. Aemilia Juliana’s third sister, Justina Sophia, travelled from her widow’s seat in Birumb (Ostfriesland) for the event along with her two daughters. The three sisters of the new mother served as representatives of the defunct Barby dynasty. Several of Aemilia Antonia’s sisters (the maternal aunts of both Aemilia Juliana and Albert Anton) and some of their children likewise attended, thus providing representation for the newly defunct Oldenburg dynasty as well as for the houses into which they had married, the duchies of Württemberg and Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg. The members of the Schwarzburg dynasty turned out in full force, with the Sondershausen and Arnstadt families and their progeny nearly all in attendance. Other families closely connected by ties of blood and friendship were well represented among the invitees: the Ernestine dukes of Saxony-Gotha and Saxony-Weimar, Albertine Duke Moritz of Saxony-Zeitz and his wife Dorothea Maria, the counts of Hohenlohe, Mansfeld, Mörseburg, and Stolberg, as well as the lords of Reuss. Representatives of the landed gentry of Schwarzburg were also in attendance, including the barons Schönfeld, Stein, and Breitenbauch. High-ranking courtiers and officials in the government, church, and schools were likewise included in the festivities. The church service for mother and infant was foremost on the schedule, but there was also a theatrical performance, the last play Caspar Stieler provided for his former Rudolstadt employers, Der betrogene Betrug (The deceived Deceiver). The intermezzi for the prose play constituted a miniature opera depicting the conception of Perseus in the rain of gold that poured into Danaë’s lap, a product of Jupiter’s love for her. The portrayal of the myth provided a multidimensional metaphor for the value placed on Aemilia Juliana’s pregnancy and the birth of another hero for the family tree. At the end, the nine Muses gathered to sing to the Schwarzburg infant. Their lullaby employs a wordplay on the botanical metaphor in which the command “werde groß!” that is repeated in da capo fashion can mean “become great,” but also “grow” or “grow to adulthood.” The first three strophes emphasize the dynastic connections:

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Werde groß/ Du Frieden Sohn/ Werde groß/ du Kind der Freuden! Werde groß/ dein Grafen-Trohn Müsse sich in Purpur Kleiden! Werde wie Dein Stamm-Genoß Kayser Günter! werde groß!

Become great [Grow], you son of peace Become great, you child of joy! Become great, so that your throne of counts will have to be cloaked in purple [become royal]! Become like your fellow occupant in the family tree Kayser Günther! Become great!

Werde groß Du Herbest-Bluhm/ chimre gleich den Tulipanen/ Nim am Alter zu und Ruhm/ Sey ein Uberwug der Ahnen! Schwarzburg/ Dein berühmtes Schloß Wachs’ in Dir und werde groß!

Become great, you autumn flower, Shimmer brightly like the tulips, Increase both in years and in fame, Supersede the deeds of your forebears! May Schwarzburg, your famous castle, grow in you and become great!

Werde groß/ Du frischer Zweig/ Der aus Barby glücklich schosset/ Geh der Tugend edlen Steig Drauf das rechte Recht ersprosset/ Blüh und riech Du Zucker-Ros’ Aus Mühlingen/ werde groß!

Become great, you fresh twig, Sprouted successfully from the Barby stalk, Walk the noble path of virtue On which true justice travels, Bloom and give off scent, you sweet rose from Mühlingen, become great

The themes of the celebratory texts for the dynastic marriage reemerge here in the context of the official welcome of the heir to the House of Schwarzburg by his peers.31 Aside from one serious illness,32 Ludwig Friedrich thrived on his wet nurse’s milk, and within a few months Aemilia Juliana became pregnant again. On September 1, 1668, the same prayer text for the use of their congregations was distributed to pastors of the principality, this time with the added word, “abermahls” (again), in reference to Aemilia Juliana’s second pregnancy. However, she gave birth already on September 15, a sign that the infant was about six weeks premature, and the proclamation of the birth of a little countess issued the following day included the ominous information that the infant had been baptized within hours of birth. It requested that everyone pray for the health of both mother and child during the coming six weeks.33 Albertina Antonia lived only 36 hours. The funerary biography of the infant reported that her grandmother, Aemilia Antonia, who was in attendance at the birth, had noticed immediately how weak she was and decided that emergency baptism was necessary. Duly christened as a member of the dynasty, the little countess had acquired an identity in her short life-span that assured her a place in the family crypt under the Family Tree monument in the City Church. The funerary sermon made use of the botanical metaphor: “It was a sad day when we lost the highborn countess Albertina Antonia, who sprouted on Tuesday as a noble twig [of the family tree], but then quickly ... wilted and faded away.”34 Although the letters of 1669–1671 sometimes mention Aemilia Juliana’s hopes that she might again be pregnant, these must have been false hopes or pregnancies that resulted in early miscarriages. Her funerary biography tells us, using the euphemism “Ehe-

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Seegen” (marriage blessings), that there were no more pregnancies;35 the archive contains no further pregnancy or birth announcements, and the genealogies record only these two children of the marriage. In this instance one male child was sufficient to ensure dynastic continuity. When Ludwig Friedrich neared the age his father had been when he had married, Aemilia Juliana probably played a vital role in the matchmaking activities that resulted in a most auspicious marriage for their son. The chosen bride was Anna Sophia, Duchess of Saxony-Gotha, granddaughter of Ernst I and eldest daughter of his eldest son, Friedrich I. Perhaps fostered by the friendship the two fathers had struck up during their cavalier’s tours as well as by Aemilia Juliana’s friendship with Anna Sophia’s stepmother, the match was a propitious one that brought honor and enhanced status to the Schwarzburg family.36 The wedding took place on October 15, 1691. Aemilia Juliana’s songs for newly betrothed and wedded couples probably derive from the context of the plans and ceremonies surrounding this marriage.37 The match was extraordinarily fruitful. Anna Sophia brought 13 children into the world (including two sets of twins), of whom 10 survived to adulthood. Friedrich Anton was born already on August 13, 1692. The next day his delighted grandmother penned two rhymed prayers for the occasion and inscribed them at the end of the index of one of her manuscript books.38 In the first, bearing the superscript “When God of his own Grace and for the sake of Christ’s sacrifice brought, to his lasting glory, Friederich Anton alive into the world,” she expresses her gratitude to God for the gift of a grandson. In the second, titled “Ein täglich Seuffzer” (A Daily Sigh), she states her hopes for the future of the House of Schwarzburg that the birth of a grandson represents. For Friedrich Anton’s first birthday celebration a year later, she wrote a song and several rhymed prayers, thanking God for the happiness her grandson gives her and for his continued health and well-being.39 After more grandchildren made their way into the world, she wrote a song for the grandparents to sing in which they express how grateful they are to have been granted heirs.40 The first strophe reads: Gelobet sey der Herr/ der es durch sein Auffsehen an einem Erben mir nicht lassen hier abgehen/ ich habe Kindes-Kind/ Gott Lob! erlebt in Glück/ dafür ich Lob und Danck dir/ mein Gott! geb zurück. [Praised be the Lord, who through his care Has not let me suffer the lack of an heir. I have lived to see grandchildren, praise be to God, for which I praise and thank you, my God, in return.]

The dynastic continuity her son and grandchildren represented ensured the wellbeing of all members of the family, as well as the stability of the principality ruled by the dynasty.

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“The Entire House”41 Probably even before the wedding, perhaps in the context of the betrothal ceremony six weeks earlier, Aemilia Juliana was presented with a manuscript instructional guide that covered another important facet of her obligations as ruler’s consort, overseeing the palace household. It seems likely that it was Aemilia Antonia who had the text, which had been authored several decades earlier by their neighbor, Duke Ernst “the Pious” of Saxony-Gotha, carefully copied for her foster daughter’s use. The hand-lettered title indicated that it was intended for those who were assuming the role of ruler’s consort: “Instruction Vor eine Fürstin alß Landes Mutter, waß sie bey Hoff sowohl bey denen Fürstl. Kindern und deren Erziehung als auch sonsten zuthun” (Instructional Guide for the Wife of a Ruler as Mother of the Country, what she is to do at court and in the raising and educating of the princely children as well as in other matters).42 Although Aemilia Juliana had grown up watching the actions of a ruler’s widow who served as regent of the principality, she had been too young when her foster mother had assumed the regency to have had a model for the responsibilities and role of a ruler’s consort. The initial six points in the “Instruction” point out that her first obligation was to watch over the upbringing and education of the progeny of the state marriage, in particular the very small children and the girls, and to inspect arrangements for them in person at least once per week. She was also to make certain, especially in the absence of her husband, that the children and their caregivers participated in the daily prayer sessions and in church services. She was to quiz the children about the Sunday sermon in order to make certain they had paid attention and understood. Points seven through ten placed the ruler’s consort in charge of the Frauenzimmer, the unmarried females and any married women living at court without their husbands. She was to watch over their behavior and see that they faithfully and punctually attended church services and group prayer sessions. The morality and piety of women at court not under the regulation of their fathers or husbands were thus made her responsibility. She was also placed in charge of the court pharmacy, since, as the “Instruction” relates, women of the Frauenzimmer were involved in the manufacture of medicinal remedies. In that context, she was to make certain that sufficient raw materials for these remedies were purchased from the periodic fairs, and that they were properly inventoried. Beginning with a statement at the end of point 10 and continuing to the end of the document, the ruler’s consort was likewise placed in charge of the kitchens. She was to establish meal times and make certain that the food was prepared and served punctually. It was her responsibility to oversee the selection, acquisition, and preparation of food for the table. She was to keep inventories of supplies and see to it that these supplies were replenished as needed. She was to work with the kitchen secretary to make certain that the cooks were sparing of ingredients and not careless or wasteful. She was to enforce the “Küche-Ordnung” (kitchen ordinance), which guided the behavior of kitchen staff, both in their private lives and in their service at the ruler’s table. She should visit the kitchens regularly to

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make certain that bowls, pots, and pans were kept clean. It was absolutely forbidden, according to these regulations, to serve up “anything unusual or unnatural” at the ruler’s table. The piety of the kitchen staff was also the responsibility of the ruler’s consort. There was to be no cursing or taking the Lord’s name in vain. The staff members were to go to church, confession, and communion regularly, live an honorable Christian life, pray morning and evening for help in their tasks, keep special weekly hours devoted to the private practice of piety through reading and writing, and attend the daily group prayer and Bible-reading sessions. The entire text of the Gotha “Küche Ordnung” was included within the “Instruction” for the convenience of the ruler’s consort. The Aemilia Juliana who emerges in the letters and songs would have had no problem with these instructions, as far as they went. She spent many hours with her small son of her own volition, loved teaching him the tenets of their religion, the Christmas hymns, the Lord’s prayer, little rhymed prayers of her own making. She quizzed him on the Sunday sermons and catechism, and she was proud when he had learned snatches of hymns and prayers that he parroted back. In December 1671, when Ludwig Friedrich was four years old, she wrote proudly to Sophia Juliana: “He knows by heart so many little Christmas prayers, God be praised! and he sings quite correctly the melody to In Dulci Jubilo.”43 For the occasion of his first communion, she wrote a song for the proud parents to sing, “Gott/ meine Seele dich erhebet” (God, my soul elevates you), expressing their thanks for God’s goodness in bringing them to this significant moment in their son’s life. Throughout his childhood and adolescence, she created prayers and songs just for him, including some with his acrostics. When he married and began to produce children, she continued to fulfill the expectations of the “Instruction” regarding pious upbringing of the princely progeny, now turning to the spiritual development of her grandchildren, as we are informed by the eighteenth-century biographer who consulted them about their memories of their grandmother.44 As might be expected in a time when survival of the first few years of life was not a given, she also showed great concern for the infant Ludwig Friedrich’s health. It was not customary for women of her class to breast-feed their infants, but she became personally involved in the selection process for a wet nurse.45 She fretted about his wet nurse’s milk, about his weaning, about his diet as he began to eat solid food, about his bowel habits. She worried over every new tooth, every little illness.46 In a letter from early 1668, she reports a terrifying occurrence. She tells Sophia Juliana that at about half before six the previous evening Ludwig Friedrich had been playing with his pacifier (she uses the term “Klöpperichen”) in the nurse’s arms when he got it stuck in his mouth and nearly choked to death. The nurse was able to remove it, and the emergency seemingly had little effect on the infant, who kept healthy color and promptly fell asleep. But the nurse was another matter altogether, panicking to think that the shock of the incident would make her lose her milk, or at least make it unhealthy for Ludwig Friedrich to drink. Aemilia Juliana reported that she had concocted remedies for both the child and his wet nurse, but was clearly still anxious and upset when she wrote the letter, fearing

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later repercussions.47 Leaving the infant behind was an expectation for mothers of her social class, and wet-nursing enabled her to continue to fulfill her hostessing obligations at court and accompany her husband on his travels. She was constantly anxious about Ludwig Friedrich when she was forced to leave the youngster to the care of his grandmother and aunts, and during these journeys she pleaded for frequent letters about his health and doings.48 As prescribed in the “Instruction,” Aemilia Juliana did watch over the morals and piety of the girls and women of all social classes who companioned and served her, in one case denying them permission to join in the revelries and dancing of a particularly raucous group of young noble visitors. As she told Sophia Juliana in a letter, she was very grateful that the guests had finally left, as “the young men had remained after supper at the table, and gotten quite rowdy and very drunk ... I only allowed my people to join them for one evening, and I forbade my maidsin-waiting the dancing.”49 Based on the evidence of the prayers and songs she wrote and published for use in domestic devotional hours, she appears to have led the women in daily prayer and song sessions. It seems very likely that she made certain they attended church and that she discussed the sermon with them afterwards. Her spiritual guidance of women went well beyond the Frauenzimmer, however, as will be discussed in Chapter 5. She designed songs for other women of her acquaintance, including the wives of court bureaucrats as well as family and friends from her own station, and among her many devotional book publication projects, one was specifically designed for the use of women. Additionally, she did not leave operation of the court pharmacy to other women, but instead acted as pharmacist herself, as her mother-in-law had trained her to do, a topic to be dealt with in Chapter 4. To assist her in her responsibilities for the household and table at the Heidecksburg, Aemilia Juliana assembled both printed and handwritten books of instructions and recipes. As might be expected, these included the indispensable cookbook for the table of princely residences compiled by Marx Rumpolt, chef to the Elector of Mainz. This lavishly illustrated book of recipes, titled Ein New Kochbuch, also offers menus for banquets and festive meals, as well as advice on presenting and serving fancy dishes and the wines that accompany them. Aemilia Juliana’s exemplar, the third edition published in 1604 for the electoral court in Dresden, reportedly incorporates several hundred pages of handwritten recipes in a rebound volume. I have been unable to examine this book owned by a private collector, but it seems likely that most of the added recipes were in her handwriting or that of her predecessors in Rudolstadt. Another printed book with Aemilia Juliana’s ownership marks on the title page survives in the palace library of the Heidecksburg. It is a specialized cookbook dedicated to the dietary needs of persons with a variety of ailments, including gout and kidney stones.50 A bound book containing three older manuscript books survives with her ownership mark; she wrote the collective title page herself and explained its contents and origins: “I.N.J. Etliche Zusammen Gebundene Bücher/ von Haus halten/ von Kochen und/ von Einmachen” (In the name of Jesus. Several books bound together: on

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keeping house, on cooking, and on preserving).51 Aemilia Juliana later collected additional recipes for making preserves, conserves, pickles, and distilled aqua vitae in a bound book in her own handwriting; that she continued to collect useful recipes throughout her life is indicated not only by later entries on pages she had initially left intentionally blank, but also by the many small slips of paper covered with her handwriting that have been inserted at appropriate points.52 Several other recipe collections are also attributed to her.53 A bundle of inventories written between 1664 and the early eighteenth century, many of them in Aemilia Juliana’s handwriting, attests to another activity expected of the countess. Those she penned herself, which mostly date from the 1670s, begin with the usual “I.N.J.” or “Im Nahmen Jesu!” While most represent general household inventories of tapestries, fabric, bedding, dishes, and silverware, one of those in her handwriting provides an accounting of the jewelry owned by Albert Anton.54 Aemilia Juliana’s oversight of the kitchens went beyond that outlined in the “Instruction” of Duke Ernst, as she played an active role not only in the planning of meals and oversight of supplies and food preparation, but also in the preparation and even production of foodstuffs. From her surviving letters it is clear that she spent considerable hands-on effort making certain that the dinner table at court, which nearly always included visiting nobles and high-ranking courtiers and pastors, was superbly furnished with a variety of foods. Aemilia Juliana herself prepared and preserved herbs for flavoring as well as for healing, and she made fruit preserves, jellies, and candied confections with her own hands. She also oversaw the management of the “Vorwerke” (home farms) in Rudolstadt and nearby Cumbach that produced fruit, berries, nuts, vegetables, grain, dairy products, poultry, eggs, pork, and fish for the tables at court, as well as the grapes and hops needed for the manufacture of alcoholic beverages. Sometimes her husband joined her in these activities, especially at harvest time, but her letters make it clear that she took the lead in this area. And in the annual celebrations of her August birthday, during harvest time, the honorific performances and texts often associate the abundance of the season with her and her activities, as in a ballet of 1703 in which dancing children portrayed hay harvesters, grain harvesters, and vineyard workers.55 In Rudolstadt there were vineyards on the south flanks of the Schloßberg (palace mountain) above the street still bearing the name Weinbergstrasse (vineyard street) and a poultry farm along the steep stairway called the Hühnertreppe (chicken stairs) running up to the palace. Perhaps the pigsties were located there as well. Aemilia Juliana’s hands-on management of the poultry and swine farms is clear when she worries in her letters about whether the little goslings will survive a cold snap, or she expresses her pride in the large litter of piglets produced by a sow she had recently purchased.56 Fruit trees bearing apples, pears, plums, peaches, and cherries, as well as nut trees producing hazelnuts, almonds, chestnuts, and walnuts, grew on the terraced ledges on the south slope just below the palace, where some still flourish today. The ornamental gardens on the palace terraces to the northeast may have produced some of the cut flowers used for decorative arrangements indoors. Her letters mention exotic tulips and passion flowers along

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with May flowers and violets. A variety of berry bushes—blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, mulberries, currents, strawberries—grew in cleared areas in the woods near the palace, where their descendants can still be found. Artificial fish ponds were arrayed along the Pörze, a creek (now referred to as the Rinne) that flows below the northeast end of the Schloßberg, producing carp and trout; the wild fishery of the Saale River at the far side of town was a source of fresh-water mussels in addition to a variety of fish. Vegetable gardens were established in the area near the Pörze, probably on the spot where there are still garden plots today, the city-owned Kleingärten leased to town dwellers.57 Some products were grown in greenhouses. An orangery, perhaps situated beside the Pörze on the site later occupied by the greenhouses of Aemilia Juliana’s youngest grandson, Ludwig Günther II, produced oranges, lemons, quinces, and an occasional pineapple. One product of the orangery was “Melone italianischer arth” (Italian melons); a letter that accompanies the gift of one such melon to the women at Leutenberg asks Sophia Juliana to preserve some of the seeds for Albert Anton, who was clearly the grower.58 Indeed, from Aemilia Juliana’s letters it appears that the orangery was managed by her husband, at least at this early point in their marriage. In one letter she comically laments that Albert Anton will be very angry to learn that “yesterday the dogs savagely bit the lemons to death.”59 On January 3, 1675, Albert Anton gave Aemilia Juliana an extraordinary gift that enhanced her ability to provide for the court household: the Cumbach fiefdom located across the river from Rudolstadt to hold in her own right. Perhaps intended to recognize, as their tenth wedding anniversary approached, her status as mother of the heir and as highly valued consort, this grant of an estate of her own, to be held by her and her descendants in perpetuity, required the authorization not just of Albert Anton, but also of his Sondershausen and Arnstadt cousins, as the surviving document shows. Written in ornate calligraphy on a large sheet of heavy parchment and hung with the heavy clay seals of all of the counts of Schwarzburg attesting to the validity of their signatures granting the estate to Aemilia Juliana, this document participates in the elaborate feudal system that still governed control over most of the land in the area.60 These extensive farms of Cumbach that were now her own produced wheat, barley, oats, and hops, as well as garden vegetables (peas, onions, carrots, cabbage, cucumbers, and salad greens are mentioned in the letters), orchard fruits and nuts, apples for cider, and grapes for wine-making. There were also beehives full of honey, a herd of sheep for meat and wool, a herd of milk cows, and a dairy that produced butter and cheese. Flower gardens provided blooms for decorative arrangements. The Cumbach farms also supplied the hay and other animal feed filling the palace haylofts, as well as those for livestock on the farms.61 There was a garden house in Cumbach that Aemilia Juliana used for family outings and informal entertaining in the rural setting of the farms, probably in the midst of a pleasure garden, as mentions in several letters indicate.62 The Cumbach farms enabled Aemilia Juliana to remain self-sufficient in provisioning the princely table and other food service at court for the growing numbers of retainers. Ownership

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of these farms also provided her with surplus commodities that she could turn into the cash necessary for her purchases of glassware, plates, and serving dishes, among other items related to food service that she couldn’t produce herself. Aemilia Juliana added to her holdings over the years, purchasing grazing land at some point before 1680 and a large estate complete with arable land in 1693.63 She even wrote a prose prayer on the subject, together with “The Song of a Person who owns a Piece of Land,”64 on the occasion of her first such acquisition. In the song she proclaims: Mein Gott! ich bin zu geringe aller deiner Güt und Treu/ du legst mir in vielem Dinge Lust und Nutzen reichlich bey/ ich muß auch nechst andern Gaben ein Gut auf dem Lande haben.

My God! I am too lowly for all your goodness to me, you grant to me on all fronts richly of pleasure and utility, now, in addition to your other gifts, I am to own a piece of land.

2. Ich will dencken dieser Treue danckbarlich biß in mein Grab/ und dir geben stets aufs neue diese deine Gnaden-Gab/ deiner Huld mein Gut einschreibe/ Herr und Hüter drüber bleibe.

I will remember this generosity gratefully until I go to my grave, and give you back every day the fruits of your gift of grace, in your care’s register sign up my land that you may be overseer and keeper of it.

3. Sieh vom Anfang biß zum Ende auf dasselb im gantzen Jahr; früh und spate Regen sende/ und behüt es für Gefahr/ Ungewitter/ Krieg und Plage/ und was schädlich/ von ihm jage.

Watch over it from beginning to end the whole year through; send morning and evening rain, and guard it from danger, from thunderstorms, warfare and trouble, and fend off anything damaging.

4. Gott! dein Segen sich ergiesse daß derselb ohn Unterlaß auch in alle Winckel fliesse/ in Ställ/ Boden/ Scheun und Faß/ deinen Segen soll erwarten Vieh/ Berg/ Wiesen/ Aecker/ Garten.

God! may your blessing pour forth, so that blessings unceasingly pour even into every corner, into stall, hay barn, granary, and barrel; may your blessing benefit livestock, vineyard, pastures, fields, and gardens.

5. Schenck darvon in Fried und Freude mir bloß das/ was dir gefällt/ von dem Heu/ Gras und Geträide/ Hopffen/ Wein/ Obst/ Vieh und Geld; und hilff/ daß/ was ich erlange/ ich mit tausend Danck empfange.

Fill my cup in peace and joy, to the extent that is pleasing to you, with hay, grass and grain, hops, wine, fruit, livestock and coin; and help me to receive all that I attain with a thousand expressions of gratitude.

6. Daß für Haus/ Hof/ Küch und Keller/ iedes Korn und Hälmelein/ für Vieh/ Frucht und ieden Heller

For everything destined for house, court, kitchen, cellar, for every kernel and little blade of grass, for animal, fruit, and every penny earned

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ich dir geb das Lob allein/ denck: Erfreut Gott so auf Erden/ was will dort im Himmel werden?

I give thanks to you alone, and I think, if God gives me so much joy on earth, what joys must be awaiting me in heaven!

7. Nun hiermit ich alles gebe deiner Gnad und deinem Schutz/ dir zur Ehre/ weil ich lebe/ mein und meines Nechsten Nutz/ laß mich brauchen ohne Sünden/ und mich Christlich darein finden.

So with these words I give the bounty into your gracious mercy and protection; all in your honor, so long as I live, for my use and that of my neighbors, let me benefit from it all without sinning, and accept the bounty as a good Christian should.

The contents of this song about the acquisition and uses of a piece of arable land conform to the information about her actual activities in the realm of agricultural production as recorded in the letters. Nor was she limited to products from Rudolstadt, Cumbach, or other local sources. As long as her mother-in-law lived at her widow’s seat in Leutenberg, in a mountainous area that produced edibles at slightly different times, the two households exchanged garden or farm products and often sent each other prepared confections and baked goods. The fish ponds and streams of Leutenberg were more productive than those near Rudolstadt, to judge from the frequent references in the letters to the receipt from Leutenberg of fish, usually carp but sometimes trout or sturgeon.65 There was also an orangery, with the usual lemon and orange trees, whose products were shared with the Rudolstadt family. In one letter Aemilia Juliana commiserates with her mother-in-law, who had reported that all of her lemon trees had dropped their blossoms.66 The Leutenberg hops were apparently of particularly high quality for the brewing of beer, the local water perhaps as well. One hot July day in 1668 Aemilia Juliana wrote to Sophia Juliana requesting some Leutenberg beer, saying “I wish to God that I could have a refreshing drink of beer every day here in Rudolstadt, just as up in Leutenberg.”67 Other commodities might come from the northern half of the principality, near Frankenhausen, or from Stadt Ilm, Aemilia Juliana’s dower territory. Above all, salt for food preservation and cooking came from the Frankenhausen salt mines, which belonged to the ruling family.68 Wine produced from Rudolstadt vineyards was not as good as that from Frankenhausen (bordering on the famous Unstrut wine region) or even Stadt Ilm, and thus the court tables were likely furnished with wines carted in from these sites within the principality. To be sure, when honey would not do, sugar had to be purchased in Erfurt or Leipzig, but apart from manufactured sugar, and occasional references in the letters to purchases of special confections or seafood for festive occasions,69 everything else that graced the princely table was produced locally. Processing of the raw foodstuffs from Rudolstadt and Cumbach was also an important element of Aemilia Juliana’s oversight responsibility, and in some cases of her hands-on activities. Nuts and some types of fruits could be dried. Apples, cabbages, and root vegetables could be placed in cold storage, and some vegetables could be pickled for later use. She mentions cucumber pickles in one letter, and

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although she never happens to speak of sauerkraut, it would have been a staple. Various fruits were processed into preserves. A reference to Würste (sausages) makes it clear that the Thuringian specialty Bratwurst was already appreciated, even by members of the ruling class.70 Pretzeln (a salty German hard roll still sold by bakeries and street venders today), Johannisbrot (St. John’s bread), Mandeltorte (almond torte), and various sorts of cakes were also products of the court bakery, made with local products. Aemilia Juliana even attempted in the early 1670s to brew beer in the Heidecksburg palace. However, she discovered that the water piped from the springs of Mörla, to the west, not only gave the beer a bad taste, but was actually unhealthy, according to the report submitted in 1673 by Doctor Andreas Mack, whom she and her husband had asked to analyze it. By 1676 a mule was employed to carry creek water up to the palace, presumably for brewing as well as for other uses.71 Aside from his exotic fruits grown in the orangery, Albert Anton contributed to table provisions primarily through his hunting activities. In what amounted to a division of labor, he provided a variety of game for the table, according to season. Officially, Albert Anton was the Reichs-Jägermeister (Imperial Master of the Hunt), as his ancestors had been for centuries, although there is no evidence that he personally served the Holy Roman Emperor in this capacity. As Aemilia Juliana’s letters show, the entire family would adjourn each fall to the prime hunting grounds in the Thuringian Forest. The ancestral castle Schwarzburg in the mountainous region to the southwest had been converted already in the sixteenth century into a hunting lodge and summer residence. A bit further north in that same region was Paulinzella. The Romanesque cloister, secularized and then abandoned during the early years of the Reformation in Schwarzburg and allowed to fall into picturesque ruins, was claimed by the ruling house, which effected the conversion of one of the outbuildings into a hunting lodge they named “Forsthaus” (Forest House). Another hunting lodge, Neuhaus, located at the southern border of Schwarzburg territories, was, as its name implies, new construction. In fact, the lodge was still under construction during the first few years of Aemilia Juliana’s marriage. Completion was celebrated in September 1669, when a special welcomedrink glass was commissioned, probably by Aemilia Juliana, to commemorate the festivities. Aemilia Juliana contributed a song for the event, “Ich ziehe in mein Hauß mit Gott” (I move into my new house with God).72 Their cozy retreat was enlarged when more bedrooms were added in 1673.73 Plenty of space was necessary, as they were often accompanied by guests eager to join the hunt, including individuals from the various Reuss family branches who were close neighbors and relatives, Albert Anton’s friends Heinrich Friedrich and Johann Friedrich, Counts of Hohenlohe, as well as members of several ducal families whose holdings lay at a considerably greater distance. Plentiful venison for the court kitchens was the result each fall, at least when the weather was right for the stags to shriek their mating calls that made them easy targets.74 Wild boars were sometimes shot in great numbers when a large group of noblemen gathered with their dogs and long guns; presumably after a feast on fresh meat, the remainder could be smoked as ham or bacon, or made into smoked

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sausages that would keep for many months. The enormous surviving smokehouse of a nearby palace offers insight into the magnitude of the meat preservation operation at such a site of communal meals.75 At other times Auerhuhn, a type of large grouse, was the sought-after target for feasting on fresh game, and Aemilia Juliana seems particularly gleeful when she reports to her sister-in-law that Albert Anton has been successful in shooting several so that they can share one with the inhabitants in Leutenberg. Ruffled grouse and smaller birds (larks and snipes are mentioned explicitly) were also targets. In one letter she recounts that a fisherman has shot a swan along the Saale in Rudolstadt.76 It presumably made its way to her table. A song for the occasion of the start of hunting season survives in one of Aemilia Juliana’s manuscripts: “Jesu es ist Jagens Zeit” (Jesus, it is hunting season). Sung from the perspective of the hunter, who requests divine protection from danger and success in bringing home meat for the table, it may reflect her personal participation in the hunt early in her marriage. On the other hand, it could well constitute a role-playing song for the use of her husband, as there is no indication in the letters that she joined the hunts or had any interest in doing so. Indeed, her letters are full of her anxieties about her husband’s safety while he is out hunting.77 Her husband’s hunting was not entirely a gender-determined division of labor, however. It is clear that Aemilia Juliana made the choice not to participate in the hunts, as she sometimes comments about the presence of other women in the group of hunters.78 The inclusion of huntresses in Caspar Stieler’s 1667 play, Basilene, created for Albert Anton’s birthday in March of that year, may constitute a commentary from Aemilia Juliana’s perspective, as will be discussed in Chapter 3. Nevertheless, in the provision of food for the table, the partnership of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana amounted to a division of labor based on personal preference. Other than his hunting activities, trips to inspect distant farms and vineyards in Frankenhausen, and hobby growing of exotic plants in the orangery, Albert Anton did little to contribute to the production of food, but he was not idle in running the household and its in-house means of producing wealth. He oversaw a successful studfarm in Cumbach which sent its yearlings each summer to their holdings near Neuhaus to graze on the lush grass of the high mountain pastures. Traces of its presence across the Saale River in Cumbach can still be seen in a street name, Am Stutenrand (On the edge of the Studfarm) and in the Große Wiese (Great Pasture), now a park. Not as famous, perhaps, as that once managed by Aemilia Juliana’s Barby family, the horse-breeding operation nevertheless was a matter of family pride. Her youngest grandson, Ludwig Günther II, who was born after her death, painstakingly authored a studbook tracing the genealogy of the horses bred there. He also painted dozens of images of famous stallions of the stud (too schematic to qualify as portraits, but each with the name of the horse and a year), which once completely covered the walls of a small room at the ancestral Schwarzburg castle.79 At the physical center of the courtyard of the Heidecksburg, the figurative centrality of horses to their lives finds public representation. There, perhaps

Becoming the Ruler’s Consort

Fig. 2.4

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Pferdeschwemme (horse pool), courtyard of the Heidecksburg palace. Author’s photograph.

unique in early modern palace design, Albert Anton’s forefathers had established a Pferdeschwemme (horse pool). This basin, with ramps at both ends so that the horses could walk down into the water below courtyard level and then back up the other side, has balustrades along the sides so that the stableboys could walk horses through the bath without getting wet themselves (Figure 2.4). The division of labor in this area was complete, as Aemilia Juliana did not ride horses. Her husband apparently tried to teach her how to ride and pressured her to learn, but in vain. She wrote a song on the subject of her first (and probably only) riding lesson that shows her trepidation, “Jesu komm anitzt ich reite” (Jesus, come quick, I’m going to ride), preserved only in manuscript.80 She pleads with Jesus to stand by her during the lesson to protect her from harm, and she asks for the strength and physical coordination to succeed. The reasoning that has led her to the attempt, probably quoted from her husband, also appears: she hopes for the enjoyment and healthy exercise that are supposed to be the result. Although in her letters it is clear that some women of her acquaintance did ride horses, there is no evidence that she ever rode again. Horses remained her husband’s domain. The “entire house,” however, was her responsibility. A handwritten inventory of 1690 reveals that the extended household of the 153-room palace over which she presided was made up of 152 persons, who slept on some of the palace’s 205 beds, using many of the 134 pillows and 95 cushions that are also enumerated, and in most cases eating either at the court table or at that for servants. The household list includes members of the ruling family, various high officials and

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court bureaucrats, artists, musicians, and servants, all with quarters in the palace or its outbuildings. The list of servants mentions chamberlains, the court physician, cooks, coachmen, gardeners, the kitchen secretary, bakers, butchers, fishers, cellarers, the brewmaster, chicken catchers, washerwomen, stable and kennel boys, musicians, artists, the master of the hunt, gunroom servants, and page boys.81 Dynastic Representation Among the most important of Aemilia Juliana’s domestic responsibilities was to serve as hostess for the many visitors to the Heidecksburg and various summer and fall residences of the family. The Gotha “Instruction” does not explicitly refer to hosting guests as an aspect of household and kitchen management, and in fact Aemilia Juliana’s obligations in this area went far beyond food service. After all, princely visits were a prime opportunity for the representation of status so necessary to advancement of the Schwarzburg dynasty.82 She had to make decisions about bedrooms and sleeping arrangements for overnight guests (which could involve several high-ranking persons to a bed),83 plan appropriate daytime activities and after-dinner entertainments, and carry out the ceremonies, rituals, and courtesies demanded by rigid notions of correct protocol. There were always visitors, some warmly welcomed and some dreaded. As can be seen in Aemilia Juliana’s accounts of her own travels and those of close relatives, travelling nobles used the palaces of others of their class as inns along their routes, having planned their journeys to take advantage of the presence of such hosts and hostesses. To judge from the accounts in her letters, many of the guests were young bachelors or married noblemen travelling without their families, but married couples with or without their small children, widows of counts and dukes, and even married noblewomen travelling alone also numbered among the guests she mentions. These guests needed more than beds and meals for themselves, however. With them they brought a host of valets, chamberlains, ladies-in-waiting, ladies’ maids, coachmen, grooms, horses, and carriages, all of which also required accommodations. Thus even small family groups constituted a burden. Some festivities, such as those in December 1667 celebrating their infant son’s Einsegnung, brought hundreds of invited noble guests to the palace in Rudolstadt, in this instance 316 persons and 448 horses in all.84 It is difficult to conceive how even such a large palace as the Heidecksburg could have accommodated them. One of Aemilia Juliana’s first tasks as Countess of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt was the refurbishing of guest rooms.85 The rooms needed new wall coverings, painted decorations, draperies, and other furnishings, and a remodeling project was required to install partitions creating a separate alcove (presumably for the bed) in each bedroom, like those she had seen in Wolfenbüttel. This remodeling probably created the private toilet facilities still hidden in the walls of the partitions, the plumbing for which ran to a sewage pipe that led outside the walls on the north side of the palace, where raw sewage spilled out down the mountain.86 The remodeling project created spaces for private devotional exercises as well as

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dressing rooms and wardrobe closets in the small cubicles walled off from the bed. Wall coverings included both cloth and leather. The draperies, made from cloth ordered from Leipzig, were sewn at least in part by her sisters-in-law. Aemilia Juliana also had to create and maintain a wardrobe appropriate to her role as hostess and consort of the ruler. Nearly every letter to Sophia Juliana contains a reference to purchases of cloth, lace, thread, and yarn, and most show that she was having her sisters-in-law and their companions and servants sew clothes for her. Initially her requests were tentative, but she gradually came to accept her new status that apparently entitled her to their labors on her behalf, as perusal of the entire corpus of letters shows. Patterns for dresses were exchanged not only with Leutenberg, but also with related women and with noblewomen at neighboring courts, especially Weimar, Eisenach, Jena, and Ordruf. Silks and other imported fabrics were ordered from Leipzig and shipped to the Rudolstadt and Leutenberg ladies for their approval prior to purchase; the wool and linen cloth manufactured locally clearly did not suffice for public display, although the local products undoubtedly found other uses in their wardrobes.87 Fur and feathers for trimming the clothing they were constructing came from Albert Anton’s hunting activities, although several letters refer to the purchase of exotic feathers. The mother-in-law was a source of advice about protocol for mourning clothing for the family and their servants when closely related personages died, but she does not otherwise appear to have become involved in the production of clothing. Following the deaths of three of her sisters-in-law in 1672, Aemilia Juliana would have had to rely on the members of the Frauenzimmer and perhaps hired seamstresses, although no such specialist employees appear in the document listing persons residing at court in 1690. In the portraits in which Aemilia Juliana’s clothing is visible, she can be seen dressed modishly in pastel silk dresses trimmed with white lace when she was young, in somber colors of dull cloth with more modest deployment of black or silver lace in the later representations. Her jewelry, at least in the portraits, is generally limited to a single strand of pearls. She does not appear to be wearing a wig in any of the portraits, unlike her husband with his patently unnatural powdered Baroque hair. Aemilia Juliana’s letters are full of references to guests arriving at inconvenient times, unexpected guests both welcome and unwelcome, expected guests who don’t arrive when they had promised, and peculiar or misbehaving guests. Her bent for social satire and ridicule are at their best in these letters, such as that devoted to the pretensions of the Saxon Elector’s Court Fool, who arrived expecting to be treated like a courtier. She was not amused by his antics and was relieved when he finally departed, after having involved some of the local people in his godless shenanigans, as she reported.88 She called one visiting group of obnoxious young noblemen “eine Rotte” (an undisciplined pack of dogs), and expressed what she acknowledged to be a forlorn hope that some other expected guests would behave themselves and not turn the household upside down.89 Some letters refer to guests or prospective guests whose visits were especially dreaded. In particular, between summer 1666 and early 1667 she and her mother-

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in-law were terrorized by a woman they referred to as the “Prinzessin,” who is to be identified as the Duchess of Saxony-Altenburg, Magdalena Sibylla, née Duchess of Electoral Saxony, formerly married to the Crown Prince of Denmark. In one letter, probably dating from fall 1666, Aemilia Juliana sympathizes with Sophia Juliana and her mother-in-law for the disturbance a surprise visit by the Princess had caused in Leutenberg. She then recounts her own upsetting experience of the morning, when the Princess had driven by the town not once but twice, causing great alarm. Aemilia Juliana, interrupted in the midst of her otherwise not-to-bedisturbed morning prayers at seven o’clock by the news of the imminent arrival of the Princess in the palace, had to hurry into her clothes, only to be relieved to learn that this personage had not descended from her carriage after all, but instead driven on after procuring sausages and sheep’s cheese from the castle’s overseer. She conveys the news that the Princess had announced her intention to join the local hunt several days later, and thus the threat of a visit continued.90 In another letter, Aemilia Juliana plots half-facetiously how to ward off a visit from the Princess by claiming that there was a measles epidemic in the area or by adjourning to the relatively primitive conditions prevailing at Schwarzburg castle.91 Aemilia Juliana never voices in her letters what it is about the Princess that is so very dreadful; nevertheless, the sole surviving letter from Magdalena Sibylla to Aemilia Juliana seems to exude a snobbery and sense of her own superior status that would have been insulting.92 Aemilia Juliana’s songs and prayers on the subject reveal the serious anxieties and distress her guests often caused her. There are two sequences, one for uninvited guests whose forthcoming visit has just been announced, another for invited guests. It is in the first group that anxieties about the behavior of the guests emerge most clearly. The sequence begins with two rhymed prayers for use when the arrival of uninvited guests is imminent. In the first four-line rhymed prayer, which she terms a “Seuffzer” (sigh), she invites Jesus to join them as co-host and co-guest, to stand by her and share her hosting responsibilities, to stand by her visitors and share their responsibilities to her and to God as guests. In the second, her concerns are more forthright: in naming a trio of alliterating evils, she asks God to see to it that this visit can take place “without sin, shame, and damage” (ohne Sünd/ ohn’ Schand und ohne Schaden). A song for use upon the arrival of guests is informative about her concerns: 1. Liebster Jesu! komm herein! steh uns bey aufs beste! damit wohl bewirthet seyn alle unsre Gäste: Seegne Küch und Keller du, und schenck uns die Gaben! die du weißt, daß wir darzu auch vonnöthen haben.

Dearest Jesus! come on in! Stand by us the best you can! so that well provided for all our guests can be: Bless kitchen and cellar, and give to us their gifts! which you know that we also have need of ourselves

Becoming the Ruler’s Consort 2. Laß in deiner Furcht uns stets itzt und allzeit leben! nicht vergessen des Gebets! und dahin nur streben! daß nichts sündlichs lauffe für: daß beym Trinck- und Essen, wir die Ehre geben dir; deiner nicht vergessen.

Let us live in awe of you now and forever more, not forget to say our prayers! and strive solely for this goal, that nothing sinful occur: that in drinking and eating, we give honor to you; and not forget you.

3. Nun, du liebster Jesus-Gast! du wirst es schon machen: daß du Ehre davon hast; heilge Freud und Lachen; Laß die Gäst nur kommen her zu uns all mit Freuden! in dir frölich mit uns seyn! und vergnügt abscheiden!

Now, beloved Jesus-guest! I know you will contrive it such that you will derive from this visit honor, holy joy and laughter; et the guests come here to us in joyful mood, be joyful in you together with us, and depart well satisfied.

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There is a rhymed prayer she labels “Täglicher Seuffzer” for use during the presence of such guests in the house; a series of rhymed and prose prayers for their departure parallel to the arrival texts completes the sequence. The sequence for invited guests begins with a song, “Mein Gott! ich bitte Gäste hier” (My God! I have invited guests to visit us). Again, she prays for adequate provisions and worries that the guests might not always behave in a pious manner. “Let us be Christian-pleasured,” she pleads, “Ward off any sinful deeds! Rule hearts, tongues, mouths, and ears!” There is a rhymed blessing to be offered to the departing guests, “Nun so zieht ihr Gäste hin Von uns weg mit Frieden” (Now may you guests depart from us in peace). And after the guests have left, pleased with their reception, she has two songs of gratitude to sing, “Nun will ich, Gott! dein Lob erhöhn” (Now I will praise you, God) and “Hab, mein Gott! Danck zu Lohne!” (Accept my thanks, God, in recompense). The latter contains the residual worry that perhaps something unacceptable happened, unbeknownst to her: “If there’s something that was overlooked, and your will was not always followed, oh! then forgive our sins, and find mercy in your heart on our behalf!”93 Proper protocol and ceremony with peers and betters was an important element in her responsibilities as hostess. Proper foods and drinks to serve, proper dress to wear, proper rooms to house and interact with guests, proper gestures and words of welcome and farewell were the constituent elements in court protocol for visitors. For the most part, her training under the guidance of her foster mother and later mother-in-law was adequate to the challenge, but in one instance, she found herself completely mystified. In a letter that can be dated to winter 1669, she recounts that she is about to have an unusual guest, “der türkische Fürst” (the Turkish Prince). It seems that he had been hosted previously by Duke Bernhard of Saxony-Jena, who, after giving him the royal treatment, has had his people bring him on to Rudolstadt. Aemilia Juliana reports—without overt criticism, although

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there may be some subtle irony here—her husband’s immediate defection. Not knowing how he was supposed to behave (or what he was supposed to do) with the Turkish Prince, he had immediately departed for Schwarzburg, leaving orders to welcome and entertain the daunting guest in his absence. Aemilia Juliana expresses the hope that the guest will promptly depart so that her husband can feel free to return home.94 Clearly, difficult guests were her domain, not his. She later reports, as an afterthought in a letter full of other news, what she had done to meet the unknowable demands of protocol for the situation: “In the matter of the Turk I forgot to write recently that I dressed myself in my old black taffeta dress adorned with black ribbons, and fed him candy and some preserves.”95 He seems to have been satisfied with the treatment, and he evidently quickly departed in order to impose his presence on yet another host, as she does not complain of any long duration to his visit. Later letters reveal her discovery that the man was probably a fraud, not a Turkish Prince at all, and probably not even Turkish. He was imprisoned in Electoral Saxony for the deception, but released for lack of evidence; however, a broadsheet she had received that she was sending on to the Leutenberg party continued to claim he was a fraud.96 It is clear that, in the absence of current military conflicts with the Turks (the Battle on the Raab of 1664 having resulting in a treaty), it was social status, not nationality or religion, that mattered when it came to protocol and guests. Entertainment for the guests was another crucial element in Aemilia Juliana’s responsibilities as hostess. While her husband might take some of the guests hunting, show them the horses and stable facilities, and offer a tour of the orangery, she could show off her court pharmacy and give tours of the palace rooms she had redecorated, decked out with the panel paintings and murals that she had commissioned. She also commissioned and arranged the theatrical and operatic performances that entertained guests, especially important when the visitors were from Wolfenbüttel, where such entertainments were expected. And she was likely involved in arranging for musical performances as well. This element in Aemilia Juliana’s activities as ruler’s consort, combining the provision of entertainment for guests with energetic patronage of the arts, finds no mention in Duke Ernst’s “Instruction.” Nor did Aemilia Juliana’s foster mother provide her with an appropriate role model, for artistic patronage was not among Aemilia Antonia’s strengths. The young countess, who had experienced theatrical performances and seen the use of paintings at other courts, would have to find her own way in establishing a court embellished by the nine Muses. Notes 1 On Stieler, see my monograph, Scaramutza in Germany: The Dramatic Works of Caspar Stieler (University Park, 1989), which includes a bibliography of older studies. 2 On this play and its commentary on female inheritance, see my earlier study, “Practical Uses of Comedy at a Seventeenth-Century Court: The Political Polemic in Caspar Stieler’s Der Vermeinte Printz,” Theatre Journal 35 (1983): 519–32. Since German unification I have been able to use archival evidence to verify the interpretation.

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TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt CVII3a, Nr. 4. Documents about the actions regarding the inheritance are contained in bundles in archives in both Rudolstadt (TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt B II 4 a, Nr. 1; Geheimes Archiv BII4a, Nr. 2; and Geheimes Archiv CXXII 3 c, Nr. 34) and Wolfenbüttel (NSSA Wolfenbüttel, 1 Alt 5, Nr. 42–4). 5 As I have discussed in an article, “Die Letzte ihres Geschlechts. Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt als letzte Gräfin von Barby,” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 5 (2001): 9–37. 6 The “Barbyscher Haupt Recess” can be found in NSSA Wolfenbüttel, 1 Alt 5, Nr. 43, 157 ff. 7 In contrast, documents concerning the status of Barby holdings in 1651, when Rudolf August assumed guardianship of the heir upon the death of Jost Günther, paternal uncle of the Barby children, reported the lands still to be in a state of “total Ruin und dissolution” as a result of their centrality for the battlefields of the Thirty Years’ War. These inventories are preserved in NSSA Wolfenbüttel, 1 Alt 5, Nr. 44, 24. 8 That she had not expected to marry is shown in an early song, “Es giebet meine Seele Dir,” which she published under the rubric “Einer ledigen Person” (Song of an Unmarried Woman) in TO 1699. Her identity as the woman in question is clear in the use of an acrostic consisting of her initials as countess of Barby. 9 Johann Sebastian Mitternacht, Rudolfstadtischer Freuden-voller Ehren-Tag [1662], lines 145 ff. 10 Volckmar Happe, Von Gott versehenes Eh Confect (Rudolstadt, 1665), unpaginated; Johann Georg Roth, Die Spielende Weißheit Gottes (Rudolstadt, 1665), unpaginated. 11 The use of earlier documents as the basis for drafting new ones was common practice in Rudolstadt during Aemilia Antonia’s regency. The filing system of the archive in Rudolstadt has retained the integrity of the original bundles from the seventeenth century, as notations on cover sheets make clear. 12 SASA Wernigerode, Rep. A 31a Nr. 60, 1–6; and TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B I. 3, a Nr. 4, 46 ff.; B II. 4, a Nr. 3; and C XXII. 3, c Nr. 35. 13 These are the rubrics for the songs “Gott! wenn ich dencke hin und wieder” and “Ich bin/ O Herr! viel zu geringe,” first published in TO 1699. 14 Happe, Von Gott versehenes Eh Confect; Roth, Die spielende Weißheit Gottes. 15 Those who knew that court secretary Stieler had written the play must have had a good laugh. 16 As Walter Benjamin noted in his Ursprung des deutschen Trauerspiels (Berlin, 1928). He began the chapter on “Trauerspiel und Tragödie” with the opening lines of Stieler’s play. 17 Was there a message in the play about not marrying a close relative? If so, it was surely facetious, for marrying first cousins was common for persons of the ruling class. Albert Anton was Aemilia Juliana’s foster brother, not her brother, just as Ferramond was the foster brother of Ernelinde’s twin brother. But Stieler was having some fun at their expense, exposing under the cover of a play a thought that must have passed through the minds of others as well. 18 These few letters to Albert Anton, which appear to date between 1689 and 1700, are preserved among family letters in TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A III, Nr. 134. 19 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl einer Christ-Gräflichen Lammes-Freundin (Rudolstadt, 1707), pp. 10, 348, and passim; Heiligstes Gedächtniß Eines wahren GottesFreundes (Rudolstadt, 1711), p. 157 and passim. 4

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52 20

The earlier song is preserved solely in one of her bound manuscripts, M2(3), pp. 12–14. The later song was first published in TU 1742, pp. 439–40. 21 The work of the sculptor Samuel Steiger from nearby Cranichfeld, the Family Tree was completed in 1636. On this monument and its meaning, see Gotthard Kiessling, “Die herrschaftliche Inanspruchnahme evangelischer Kirchen an Residenzorten,” in: Die Künste und das Schloß in der frühen Neuzeit, ed. Lutz Unbehaun (Munich, 1998), pp. 83–93, especially 87–8; Ulrich Schütte, “Sakraler Raum und die Körper der Fürsten. Schloßkapellen und genealogisches Denken in den thüringischen Territorien um 1700,” in: Genealogie als Denkform in Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, ed. Kilian Heck and Bernhard Jahn (Tübingen, 2000), pp. 123–35, especially 124–5; and Vinzenz Czech, Legitimation und Repräsentation. Zum Selbstverständnis thüringisch-sächsischer Reichsgrafen in der Frühen Neuzeit (Berlin, 2003), pp. 28–81, especially 78–80. 22 These figures also adorn the Schwarzburg coat of arms, which appears sculpted on an entry into the church and in painted form on the archway of the crossing. Caspar Stieler, in the festive engraved title page for the two wedding plays, places the coats of arms of Schwarzburg and Barby side by side between Wild Man and Wild Woman. He thus posits the position of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana as the male and female founders of a new princely dynasty based on the union of the two venerable dynasties they represent, a theme that will recur throughout their reign and after their deaths. This image is reproduced in Die Grafen von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. Albrecht VII. bis Albert Anton, ed. Horst Fleischer (Rudolstadt, 2000), p. 197. On the use of Wild Man and Wild Woman in dynastic contexts, see Timothy Husband, The Wild Man: Medieval Myth and Symbolism (New York, 1980), especially p. 190. 23 At the time, the family possessed no room dedicated to display of a series of painted or sculpted ancestors on the model of the many ancestor cabinets and 12-Caesars sequences to be found in other residences and capitals of Europe. The Kaisersaal (Emperor Room) in the ancestral castle Schwarzburg, with its painting cycle of Holy Roman emperors culminating in their own ancestor, Günther XXI, begun in 1709 and finished in 1719, would come to fulfill this function not long after Aemilia Juliana’s demise. 24 Letter [96]. 25 Letter [99]. 26 GWA 1683, pp. 7–9. 27 Quoted from GWA 1683, p. 3. 28 GWA 1683. 29 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B II 4 a, Nr. 5. 30 GWA 1683. 31 Der betrogene Betrug, “Sing- und ZwischenSpiel zu dem Betrogenen Betruge,” pp. 33–5. 32 Undated Letter [188] states that it has been nearly a year since he was very ill and nearly died. 33 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B II 4 a, Nr. 5. 34 Justus Söffing, Freundschafft Christi/ mit Seinen Gläubigen (Rudolstadt, 1668), pp. B4r and A3r. 35 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 349. 36 On Schwarzburg marriage politics that helped to elevate the status of the dynasty— including this match—see Czech, Legitimation und Repräsentation, especially pp. 128–63. However, Czech does not see the promotion of the dynasty through marital politics as a woman’s activity, instead attributing all matchmaking to the imperial counts.

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TO 1699, pp. 360–67. TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 1. 39 TU 1742, pp. 515–16. 40 Quoted following TU 1714, p. 409. 41 The title of this chapter segment, “The Entire House,” is a translation of the German term “das Ganze Haus” as used by Otto Brunner to denote the extended household of the rural nobility, including domestic, agricultural, and other economic activities, which he saw as under the oversight and leadership of the pater familias, the Hausvater, on the basis of the published Hausvaterliteratur (guidebooks for the head of the household) of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that he examined. See Brunner, “Das ‘Ganze Haus’ und die alteuropäische ‘Ökonomik’,” in his: Neue Wege der Verfassungs- und Sozialgeschichte (Göttingen, 1968), pp. 103–27. His view has been questioned and problematized by Claudia Opitz, “Neue Wege der Sozialgeschichte? Ein kritischer Blick auf Otto Brunners Konzept des ‘ganzen Hauses’,” Geschichte und Gesellschaft 19 (1994): 88–98. 42 TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt AIXNr.96. This “Instruction” manuscript is a copy of a lost original signed by Duke Ernst and dated 1648. The archive bundle in Rudolstadt in which this copy is preserved contains a variety of model regulatory documents from Gotha, among which the “Instruction Vor eine Fürstin als Landes Mutter” is the only one pertinent to the household. 43 Letter [83]. “In Dulci Jubilo” is a ubiquitous Christmas hymn of medieval origins with alternating Latin and German half-lines. 44 “Vorbericht,” in CS 1770. 45 In Letter [42], undated, she indicates that she is considering a woman as wet nurse. In Letter [207], dated August 30 (1667), about a month and a half before the expected birth date, she indicates that the wet nurse’s milk is increasing very well and that she is asking her to move to the palace well ahead of time. References in her letters regarding infants of the various duchesses and countesses of her acquaintance sometimes mention wet nurses. That it was customary for women of the high nobility to employ a wet nurse can be seen in Johann Georg Sommer, Kurtzes und Nützliches Weiber und Kinder Pflege-Büchlein (Arnstadt, 1676), pp. 85–7. Sommer forthrightly indicates that one of the reasons to use a wet nurse (the term he uses is “Säug-Amme”) was “high social status” (wegen hohen Standes). 46 Letters [107], [140], and [144] concern diet; Letters [381], [248], [294], [378], 11, [135], and [188] refer to teething; Letters [248], [112], [291], [146], and [150], among others, mention his illnesses. She also wrote a pair of songs on the occasion of one serious illness, perhaps that which was notable enough to be remembered on its anniversary in Letter [188]. One song is a plea for help, “Hilff Helffer hilff aus Angst und Noth,” based on an old hymn with the same incipit but newly formulated for the specific situation, while the other is a hymn of thanksgiving, “Mein Gebet ist schon erhöret,” both published in GWA 1683. 47 Letter [107]. 48 Letters [196], [197], [375], [213], [217], [218], [338], and [364], for example. 49 Letter [16], “Rudolstadt den 18. Jan.” (no year given). 50 Marx Rumpolt, Ein New Kochbuch/ Das ist: Ein Gründtliche Beschreibung/ wie man recht und wol/ nicht allein von vierfüssigen/ heymischen unnd wilden Thieren/ sondern auch von mancherley Vögel unnd Federwildpret/ darzu von allem grünen und dürren Fischwerck/ allerley Speiss/ … kochen und zubereiten sollete (Frankfurt, 1604). The book Aemilia Juliana owned was advertised for sale at Christie’s in January 2014. 38

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Another exemplar of this edition is accessible online. The dietary cookbook still found in Rudolstadt is: H. Gualtherum Ryff, New Kochbuch/ Wie man krancker Personen in mancherley Fehl und Leibsgebrechen/ warten und pflegen soll (Frankfurt, 1608). 51 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 15. The title page of the first book indicates that it is a general-purpose housekeeping manual: “Oeconomia und Haus haltung büchlein, auß welchen ein angehender junger Hauß Vater und Hauß Mutter, wie sie in hauß haltung nützlichen anzustellen, sich allenthalben gnugsam zuersehn.” The book is prefaced with instructions on combining practical activities of running a household with constant prayer. The cookbook and preserving manual offer recipes and instructions for the kitchen. Aemilia Juliana evidently had them bound together for her use. 52 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 14. Lacking a title, this manuscript book begins instead with the rhymed prayer quoted in Chapter 1. Under her signature she printed the year, 1685. A few of the inserted slips include dates during 1698 and 1701. 53 On these manuscript cookbooks and pharmaceutical books, see Andrea Esche, “Das Kochbuch der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1637–1706),” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 2 (1998): 89–100. 54 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B XIII f, Nr. 1. 55 Der mit Segen umwunden- und mit Wünschen gebundene Erndten-Crantz (Rudolstadt, 1703). 56 Letters [221] and [330]. 57 Some of this information was unearthed from the archives in Rudolstadt by local historian Hugo Trinckler in the 1930s and published in his book, Entstehungsgeschichte und Häuser-Chronik von Alt-Rudolstadt (Rudolstadt, 1939), especially pp. 160 and 364. There is also information about the agricultural lands and crops in an early eighteenth-century source: Johann Friedrich Treiber, Genealogiea et Chorographia Schwartzburgica, das ist: Des Durchläuchtigsten Hauses Schwartzburg Stamm- und Land-Register (Leipzig and Arnstadt, 1718), especially pp. 121–2. In her letters Aemilia Juliana mentions all of these products, for instance, in Letters [52], [106], [107], [134], [189], [301], [333], [364], [369], and [372]. 58 Letter [389]. 59 Letter [369]. Doreen Winker interprets this statement very differently in her chapter “Albert Anton,” in: Die Grafen von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, p. 202. There, she posits “Zitrone” as the name of a pet parrot. 60 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv C XXII 3 c, Nr. 37. 61 All of these products are mentioned in her letters. See also Treiber, Genealogie et Chorographia, p. 122. 62 Letters [265] and [278]. 63 The earlier purchase is documented in TSAR, Geheimes Archiv BIII6c,Nr.3, in an inventory of her property dated October 9, 1680; the purchase agreement of 1693 is documented in TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt E II 4 b, Nr. 46. This purchase of the Biesenroth estate in Schaale, just south of Rudolstadt, included house, courtyard, livestock barns and hay-storage barns, orchards and acreage for crops, vineyards and hop fields, pastures, meadows, wooded areas, hunting areas, even fishing streams, as well as income from tenant farmers and franchise holders, according to the document. 64 Prayer text in TU 1742, pp. 400–401. The song is quoted and attributed by Rudolstadt court adviser Ahasverus Fritsch to an unnamed countess on the occasion of the purchase of an estate in Gottlobs Hundert Sonderbare Zufällige Andachten (Frankfurt, 1684), no. XXXIV (“Das Landguth”). His incipit is slightly different: “Gott! ich bin viel zu geringe.” The song then appeared in TO 1699; I have quoted it from TU 1714, pp. 345–6.

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Letters [69] and [70], among others. The mother-in-law was apparently fond of fishing and went on fishing expeditions, as Aemilia Juliana’s expressions of good luck beforehand and gratitude after receiving part of the bounty show, for example in Letter [331]. While it appears that most of the fish was eaten fresh—indeed, there are references to shipping the carp alive to the palace kitchens—there is also one mention of dried (smoked) trout. 66 Letter [378]. 67 Letter [333]. 68 Letter [128] records Aemilia Juliana’s visit to the salt works near Frankenhausen to view the manufacturing process. 69 Her word “Confekt” appears to refer to candies or fancy cakes. Letter [392] relates that, as an Easter gift, Albert Anton is giving his mother 50 oysters, presumably from the North Sea; Letter [384] refers to pickled herring. 70 Letter [372]. 71 Horst Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz (Rudolstadt, 1996), pp. 39 and 41. 72 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 39; TU 1742. 73 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 39. 74 Letter [121] relates that warm weather has delayed the start of hunting season, as the stags are not yet shrieking (“schreien”). 75 Schloß Burgk, the ancestral castle of the Reuss family in the village of Burg. 76 Letter [281]. 77 The song is found in M2(3), p. 163. In an undated letter from 1666, she expresses anxiety about the dangers of hunting: “May God bring this hunting around here to a quick close so that I won’t have to sit around in such terror” (Letter 14). The husband of her sister Justina Sophia died in a hunting accident, and several hunting fatalities are recounted in her letters. 78 In particular, she notes in Letter [119] that a young woman, Sibylla Juliana, Countess of Schwarzburg-Arnstadt, who will later marry Heinrich I Reuss of Obergreiz, showed herself during the annual hunt at Neuhaus to be a notable hunter. She reports that Sibylla Juliana shot two stags that day, each time so that shot and fall (“Knall und Fall”) were simultaneous. Given the hyperbole, the words are probably sarcastic. 79 See Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, pp. 77, 87, and 88. Schwarzburg castle is now a ruin. A surviving photograph of the room lined with horse portraits shows the scale of the project, however. While most of the individual paintings were lost, several dozen survive and can be seen on display in the Heidecksburg museum, along with the photograph. 80 M2(3), p. 163. 81 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 15; TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B XIII f, Nr. 1. 82 See Czech, Legitimation und Repräsentation, pp. 307–42, on such visits and their uses. 83 Letter [382]. 84 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, pp. 36 and 37. 85 Letters [33], [36], [134], [144], [159], [173], [175], [271], and [274]. 86 For this information I am indebted to Peter Schopp of Rudolstadt, whose position supervising maintenance and repair of the palace during the German Democratic Republic sent him into attics, subbasement, and cubbyholes of various sorts within the structure.

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References in the letters to flocks of sheep indicate active participation in providing raw materials for the manufacture of yarn and woolen cloth, a ubiquitous industry that must have existed in Rudolstadt. In one letter, Aemilia Juliana discusses the relative merits of types of cloth and indicates that wool is not only less expensive, but also easier to sew (Letter [271]). The fact that “Lein-Oel” (flaxseed oil) was used for lighting (Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 37) is an indication that the other product of the flax crop, linen, was probably also produced locally. 88 Letter 3. 89 Letters [147] and [319]. 90 Letter 14. Others mentioning the Princess’s prospective visits are Letters [55], [64], [122], and [384]. 91 Letter [58]. 92 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A III, Nr. 134. She addresses Aemilia Juliana as “Madame” and “meine hochgeehrte Frauw Greffin,” while signing herself as “Ihr gnedigliche Princessin bleibe ich Magdalena Sibyll.” 93 The two sequences were published in GBS 1714, pp. 545–53. 94 Letter [365]. 95 Letter [146], which can be dated to very late 1669 or very early 1670. 96 Letters 7 and [152]. He can probably be identified as the infamous fraud who traveled around Europe under the name Mahomed Bei, and whose appearance in 1669 in England had led the famous traveler John Evelyn to write about him in The History of the Three late famous Imposters. This work was translated into German as Historia de tribus hujus seculi famosis impostoribus, Das ist, Beschreibung der dreyen unlängst beruffenen Betriegere (n.p., [1670]), three exemplars of which can be found in the HAB. Mahomed Bei mascaraded as a Prince of the Ottoman Empire and claimed to have descended from Solyman the Magnificent.

Chapter 3

Enthroned at the Court of the Muses “The Tenth Muse” A sonnet printed on a single sheet of paper was among the congratulatory messages Aemilia Juliana received following the wedding. Titled “Freudigster Zuruff” (Most Joyful Hurrah), the poem was presented by local students studying at the nearby University of Jena. Like the plays she had recently witnessed, the sonnet alluded to her inheritance, predicted that her children would become the peers of princes, and voiced expectations for the role she would play at court as ruler’s consort: Der Wuntsch ist nun erfüllt. Der Himmel lacht uns zu/ Die Sonne klärt sich auff/ die unser Land bestraalet. Das Edle Schwartzburg glänzt mit Myrten grün bemahlet/ draus Palm und Lorber blinckt/ und/ das die Füll und Ruh/ bemärckt/ der Pallas Blat. Nicht Schätze von Peru/ von Mexicana nicht/ wie hoch ein Mensch sie zahlet/ ist unser Kleinod wehrt. Die seichte Saale prahlet/ mit einem grössern Guß/ und jauchtzt in diesem Nu! Tritt/ Vater Föbus/ auff! Laß dich um Heydeck sehen/ Sein schöner Gipfel werd anietzt dein Musenberg. Die zehnde Mus ist dar/ der Tugend Wunderwerck. Bestätig Ihren Bund mit tausent Wohlergehen! Das erste Liebes-Pfand sey Sieg- und Ehrenreich/ wie Keyser Günther war/ die Folger Fürsten gleich! [The wish is now fulfilled. Heaven smiles at us, The clouds retreat, the sun shines on our land. The Schwarzburg gleams, painted green by myrtles, decked with palms and laurel, abundance and peace marked by the olive branch. No treasures of Peru, nor gold from Mexico, as high as man can count, top the value of our gem. The sluggish River Saale boasts a greater flow, and rejoices with us now! Appear, Phoebus Apollo, high atop Heydeck, Its pinnacle henceforth let be the Mount of Muses. The tenth Muse is here, marvelous image of virtue. Confirm this union with a thousand blessings! May their firstborn be rich in honor and conquest, like Kaiser Günther, their descendants peers of princes.]

The students must have commissioned their honorific poem from the best poet at court, Caspar Stieler, as is clear not only in its superior quality and inimitably

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clever style, but also in its content.1 In addition to repeating some of the messages delivered in the plays, the sonnet introduced a new theme: it would be Aemilia Juliana’s responsibility to make the Heidecksburg a Musenhof, a court where the nine Muses, goddesses of the various arts, could flourish. Indeed, the poet named her the Tenth Muse, a seventeenth-century addition to the original nine meant to indicate the inspirer of artistic creation. As chief Muse at court, Aemilia Juliana was expected to inspire artists to produce works not only for the enjoyment and edification of her guests, but also for the glorification of the dynasty. Aemilia Juliana lived up to Stieler’s expectations, and the entertainments, performances, paintings, and decorations that resulted from her patronage contributed to the rise in status of the Schwarzburg ruling house during her lifetime and beyond. Among the many recent studies of seventeenth-century German court life, articles and chapters abound that are devoted to the concept of the Musenhof. A surprisingly large number of courtly residences, including Rudolstadt, attempted to constitute themselves as Courts of the Muses in emulation of the grandest and most powerful courts, such as Dresden or Vienna.2 The two extended journeys taken by Albert Anton in 1658 and 1659 had exposed him to theatrical, balletic, operatic, and other festivities, as well as art and architecture at various courts in Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands. Most important was his stay at the Musenhof in Wolfenbüttel, where he visited his great-uncle Duke August for a period of months in 1659; there appear to have been shorter visits there in the mid1650s and early 1660s as well. Aemilia Juliana had apparently also attended some of the Wolfenbüttel performances in the 1650s as the guest of her sister Christiana Elisabeth, who was married to August’s eldest son. Indeed, it was the theatrical entertainments experienced by Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana in Wolfenbüttel that probably provided the model for the Rudolstadt court. They knew that the performing arts flourished in Wolfenbüttel in large part because Duchess Sophie Elisabeth and her stepson, Anton Ulrich, were personally involved in writing texts, composing music, overseeing production, and—along with all willing members of their family and entourage, including Aemilia Juliana’s younger siblings, August Ludwig and Antonia Sibylla, who were being raised there—performing in a variety of speaking, singing, and dancing roles or serving as musicians in the performances, which were designed for the semi-private enjoyment of the members of the court. At Duke August’s court, Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana had also seen numerous paintings, interior decoration projects that focused attention on the apparent power of the ruler, pleasure gardens, plans for new or remodeled palaces, and collections of maps, globes, and books. Albert Anton began his reign in 1662 with actions that demonstrated his intention to follow Wolfenbüttel’s example, appointing individuals who could, individually and jointly, produce the sort of representational performances and artworks that would redound to the credit of his dynasty. Several painters, the anonymous Erfurt painter and the Saalfeld painter Hans Heinrich Siegfried, were soon busied with commissions, initially under Albert Anton’s supervision, as shown by a letter he wrote prior to his wedding with Aemilia Juliana.3 In 1663

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he retained poet-musician Caspar Stieler as court secretary, with additional responsibilities as language teacher, entertainer, poet-dramatist, and musician. As musician, Stieler was to provide after-dinner entertainment and participate in the collegium musicum.4 This ensemble of musicians that served musical needs at court numbered 18 for Albert Anton’s wedding in 1665, but nearly half of them had to be borrowed from another court. However, the ensemble grew quickly from fewer than 10 musicians who had double appointments with some other function at court into a fully functioning small orchestra, renamed Hofkapelle (court orchestra) by the time the first Kapellmeister, Wolf Ernst Roth, was appointed in 1666. A planning document for the wedding scheduled for 1672 for Ludaemilia Elisabeth (cancelled due to her death) called for 16 local musicians plus 14 trumpeters and drummers, of whom three were local, the other 11 to be borrowed from elsewhere for the occasion.5 In later years, Albert Anton appointed two talented young men, painter Seivert Lammers and composer Philipp Heinrich Erlebach, to official positions as court painter and court musician (later Kapellmeister), respectively. He also appointed them as chamberlains in his suite of courtiers, an honorific position that offered additional income, financial stability, and membership in the most intimate circle at court, thereby insuring their loyalty.6 He may well have solicited paintings, compositions, and musical-dramatic performances from these individuals and others. Indeed, in published prefaces Albert Anton alone is given responsibility for sponsoring Erlebach’s works. Nevertheless, there are signs after their marriage that it was Aemilia Juliana who assigned most of the projects, assisted in their design, and made arrangements for the performances. Although the patronage activities of a ruler’s consort tend to be more informal than those of a male ruler (or of a female regent or queen acting alone), there is considerable evidence in Aemilia Juliana’s case that she embraced her new responsibilities as Tenth Muse not only to inspire and sponsor, but also to oversee artistic production at court. This examination will attempt to determine the extent of her involvement, as well as to characterize and interpret the products of her patronage at the Rudolstadt court. Designing Family Icons The visual arts provided Aemilia Juliana with an opportunity to contribute, as patron and chief iconographer, to the glorification of the princely family into which she had married. In the letters she wrote to her sister-in-law, Sophia Juliana, during the six years following the wedding, it is possible to catch a glimpse of Aemilia Juliana’s activities overseeing the remodeling and decorating of palace rooms. It is evident that she had also taken over the task of communicating with painters working on projects for her mother-in-law. The letters in which she shares accounts of her daily activities show that she was the one who spoke with the painters, negotiated prices and paid the bills for their work, looked at their suggestions for visual sources, discussed the suggestions with interested family members, inspected initial sketches and developing paintings, and suggested

Fig. 3.1

Crucifixion with the Count and his Family, painting by an unknown artist, ca. 1668–1669. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

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changes that affected the outcome.7 Perhaps the informality she maintained concerning the arrangements accounts for the lack of commissioning contracts and records of payments to the painters. Considering the unusual products of artistic patronage in Rudolstadt, she must have worked directly with the painters to design an appropriate pictorial approach to the subjects she solicited and oversaw. The first painting for which Aemilia Juliana’s patronage is documented in her letters is a large Crucifixion scene depicting the moment when Longinus pierces the crucified Christ’s side with a spear, thus allowing the salvific blood to flow over the witnesses below, while soldiers squat in the right foreground, intent on their gambling and oblivious to the significance of the event taking place behind them (Figure 3.1). The large equestrian figure in the left foreground could be interpreted as the biblical Centurion who recognized the divinity of Christ, and the clusters of witnesses at the foot of the cross seem at first glance to resemble other traditional participants in the biblical scene—Mary Magdalene, the Virgin Mary, and other women, together with John the Beloved Disciple. But a closer look at the painting confirms what is conveyed in the traditional title: Kreuzigung mit der gräflichen Familie (Crucifixion with the Count and his Family). The painting depicts various members of the Schwarzburg dynasty, living and dead, as witnesses and participants in the scene. The features of the Centurion are those of Aemilia Juliana’s deceased foster father, her husband’s father, Ludwig Günther, who looks directly out at the viewer and gestures his dismay. The face is identical to that in a portrait that survives in the Heidecksburg and must have been copied from it. The features of the woman kneeling at the foot of the cross in the guise of Mary Magdalene are those of Aemilia Juliana’s sister-in-law, Ludaemilia Elisabeth. The matronly woman in a posture of mourning to the right representing Mary, the mother of Jesus, is Aemilia Antonia, widow of Ludwig Günther. She is supported by younger women representing the third Mary and other women of the biblical account, but bearing the features of the other three daughters, Aemilia Juliana’s sisters-in-law. To judge from isolated remarks in her letters, Aemilia Juliana appears to have borrowed relevant portraits from her mother-in-law, sending to Leutenberg to fetch each one, and then returning it when the painter had completed integration of the features into his work. The other group of witnesses is even more strikingly unusual. Although the young man to the left of the central cross, flinging up one hand in dismay, might be taken for John, a traditional witness to the Crucifixion, he is accompanied by a small child and a young woman holding an infant. This family grouping depicts Albert Anton, Aemilia Juliana, their daughter who had died within hours of birth, and their small son, Ludwig Friedrich.8 The Crucifixion with the Count and his Family was one of many religious and allegorical paintings and engravings commissioned by Aemilia Juliana that included portraits of herself and members of her family. Like the Crucifixion painting, most of the artworks produced during the first decade of her marriage were designed to serve as catalysts for the sort of devotional sessions popularized by the early seventeenth-century founders of the Neue Frömmigkeit (New

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Piety) movement. To the extent that the paintings were intended for display in private spaces, such as bedrooms and prayer alcoves, they served as exhortations to those viewers who recognized projections of themselves within the frame of the image to contemplate the biblical or allegorical scene and examine the meaning of their placement within it. In the Crucifixion painting, for instance, Aemilia Juliana and her family were exhorted by their deceased forebear to see themselves and their own sins as responsible for Christ’s suffering, but also to recognize their status as recipients of the atonement provided by the blood that Christ shed on their behalf.9 But evoking such contemplation was not the only function of the portraits. In the Crucifixion scene, Aemilia Juliana’s self-portrayal occurs in the context of the entire Schwarzburg family, and as such, it constitutes a statement of her identity as member of that family in which she had grown up and into which she had married. Thus the projection process confirms this social identity at the same time that it provides a focal point, perhaps, for shared family devotional exercises. For the intended viewers of the painting—the members of the ruling family depicted in its entirety across three generations—their placement in intimate spatial contiguity with the salvific event also expresses their self-defined role as Christian rulers and fosterers of piety in their lands. When visitors to the Heidecksburg were shown the painting, this self-representation became a polemical statement about the dynasty’s legitimacy. As can be gleaned from her letters, Aemilia Juliana interacted with at least two painters during the first five years of her marriage, “der Erfurter Maler” (the Erfurt painter) and “Hans Heinrich der Maler” (Hans Heinrich the painter). Based on many scattered comments about paintings in these letters, it is clear that she was overseeing the commissions of her mother-in-law for small paintings to complete redecoration schemes at the dower residence in Leutenberg, having taken over this obligation from her husband upon their marriage. But some of the remarks are not explicitly related to the Leutenberg project, and as she was herself embarked on redecorating in Rudolstadt at the time, it seems likely that they reflect her own commissions.10 Her reliance on book illustrations as models for subjects and treatments of the paintings is clear in several letters dating from the late 1660s, and even after the period covered by the letters, she must have continued the same practices in partnership with a new artist, Seivert Lammers. Since he is known to have come from Nordhausen, he cannot have been identical with the anonymous Erfurt painter. As free-lance artist in Rudolstadt from around 1670 to 1676, and then official court painter through the end of Aemilia Juliana’s life (and beyond), Lammers created a number of paintings useful for private devotions and for the sort of contemplation promoted by the particular brand of piety practiced in Rudolstadt. He also provided panel paintings and frescos that served public display purposes.11 Aemilia Juliana’s practice of using book illustrations as a basis for the paintings she commissioned, perhaps initially at the recommendation of the Erfurt painter, is visible in an undated letter that may still refer to the Crucifixion painting but

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Fig. 3.2

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Aemilia Juliana as Bride of Christ, painting by Seivert Lammers ca. 1675. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

already looks ahead to another she will soon commission. She wrote: “I spoke with the Erfurt painter about the paintings of biblical scenes (Historien), and he is sending along a book to see whether anything in it might please our Gracious Lady Mother. The pictures of Thomas and the Baby Jesus, since they belong with the Passion, he wants in particular to point out, and thus is sending them along first. If I don’t misremember, there is a picture in The Divine Kiss of Love that shows our Lord crowning and receiving the faithful soul when she climbs up the hill to the cross. I would be appreciative if Your Belovedness would show that picture, along with the others that are in the book, to our Gracious Lady Mother.”12 The painting of Jesus and his bride that appears to be the result of the instruction to look at the illustrations in Heinrich Müller’s Himmlischer Liebes-Kuß (Heavenly Kiss of Love) has been attributed to Seivert Lammers, rather than to the Erfurt painter.13 In the resulting painting, the faithful soul of Müller’s frontispiece has been transformed into a bridal portrait of Aemilia Juliana embracing not her husband, but Jesus (Figure 3.2), as indicated in the title: Aemilia Juliana as Bride of Christ. They stand together, each with an arm about the shoulders of the other, a beautifully coifed blond bride in her modish wedding pearls, lace, and silks, and

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her divine bridegroom, a bearded man in archaic robes and flowing brown hair. They gaze lovingly at each other, their faces touching at the forehead beneath a single large crown. Short texts derived from folklore and the Bible are a significant component of this painting, just as in many of the printed engravings that she used as models. Above the bridal couple, and attached to the top of the heart-shaped chain that binds them together, is a ribbon bearing the phrase “Du bist mein” (You are mine) and its inversion, “Ich bin dein” (I am thine). These rhyming sentiments from a traditional love song serve to express the intimacy to which Aemilia Juliana aspires in her relationship with her deity and emphasize the reciprocity inherent in their love. The ribbons in the garland also display text, in this instance biblical phrases delineating Christ’s deeds that show his love for the human soul, his bride. The identity of the depicted lovers is made clear through various means that at the same time express the nature of their love. Jesus holds a placard with her initials, “E.J.,” while she holds a placard with his name, “JESUS,” reinforcing the notion of reciprocal possession. Encircling the image is a garland of red and white roses that asserts Aemilia Juliana’s identity in yet another way, for it alludes to the coat of arms of Barby, her birth family. Given the bridal theme and her youthful appearance, the painting may well have been created in context with a significant wedding anniversary early in her marriage, perhaps already in 1670, shortly after Lammers’ arrival, or perhaps five years later in 1675.14 Its genesis may coincide with that of an anniversary song authored by Aemilia Juliana, “Alle Welt die muß erfahren” (All the world must hear tell), which places Jesus, as her divine bridegroom and her husband’s divine friend, between them as the force that cements them together in their marriage. The words beginning the seventh strophe summarize the triangular relationship: “So bleib ich, du, Er wir dreye Eins in alle Ewigkeit” (Thus we three—I, you, he—remain as one united for all eternity).15 If there was a pendant painting of Albert Anton as Friend of God (his personal motto), it has not survived. Another painting from the same period, Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, also attributed to Lammers, likewise employs an oval wreath of roses to frame the central image depicting Aemilia Juliana. In this instance she appears alone in a vast landscape, holding a lamb in her arms as she gazes upwards imploringly (Figure 6.2). Various texts accompany the visual iconography, making it clear that she kneels as a penitent pleading for divine mercy. Again, text and image are designed to work together to elicit contemplation of eternal truths, and the intended viewer is identical with the portrayed subject. This painting and its iconography will be discussed at more length in Chapter 6. By injecting a self-reflexive element, these two portraits of Aemilia Juliana express conceptions about the intimacy of the ideal relationship with Jesus that is also the subject of her songs, as well as songs by others associated with the New Piety and Pietism movements. The result has been termed “Pietist art,”16 but specifically Pietist concepts are not necessary for its genesis. Nor are private devotional practices the sole function intended for these portraits of Aemilia Juliana. The paintings also make statements about her competency in her role as

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intercessor with God on behalf of the dynasty, the principality, and its residents. Those visitors to the palace privileged to view the private suite where these two paintings were displayed will have gotten the message that the consort of the ruler of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt had an intimate relationship with Jesus and the Lamb of God that would make her prayers on behalf of her land especially efficacious. Other paintings probably by Seivert Lammers show the patron’s interest in incorporating her closest family members in images designed for their devotional use. These include Ludwig Friedrich with a Lamb, which depicts the boy at four or five years of age (Figure 3.3).17 The ornate dress he wears may well be the outfit mentioned in Aemilia Juliana’s letters as a gift from her sister, Justina Sophia, and thus a matter of family pride.18 Although the boy’s mother, grandmother, and aunts probably enjoyed looking at the portrait of the attractive child on whom they doted, the painting was likely designed as a devotional image for his own use. As in the devotional portraits of Aemilia Juliana, this painting, too, provides a textual cue to meaning, in this instance inscribed on the cross held up by the child: An Jesus Leiden halt ich mich Auf sein Blut leb und sterbe ich Das Lämmlein Gottes daß ist mein Drumb kan ich immer frölig sein.

Onto Jesus’s Passion I hold tight, Upon his blood I live and die, The Lamb of God belongs to me, Thus can I be happy eternally.

Probably created by his mother for him to recite, the verse makes it clear that the lamb represents Christ’s suffering and triumph. Another painting, that depicting Christ calling on parents to bring their children to him, may incorporate images of both children. If so, it probably represents a commission on an anniversary of the death of Albertina Antonia, perhaps the important third or fourth in 1670 or 1671, or the tenth or fifteenth in 1678 or 1683.19 The painting exhorts the grieving parents to accept the death of a child as God’s will. These paintings, too, make a statement about the intimacy of the relationship with Jesus enjoyed by members of the ruling dynasty. The four sisters-in-law were also favorite subjects of devotional paintings. For the most part allegorical rather than resembling sacred icons, these images were nevertheless designed to evoke contemplation of religious truths. Although a set of individual painted portraits of the four young women as allegories of the Four Seasons has not survived, an engraved portrait used as the frontispiece of a nineteenth-century book was based on the painting Ludaemilia Elisabeth as Summer (Figure 3.4). The author mentions that it was one of four paintings of the sisters that still existed in the palace at the time.20 Aemilia Juliana probably sent to Leutenberg to borrow portraits for the artist to use as his basis for each painting. For the allegory of Summer, she would have used an existing portrait of Ludaemilia Elisabeth, perhaps the miniature referred to in a letter of 1671.21 The allegorical identity as Summer is provided by the Latin label within the frame, “Aestas.” Ludaemilia Elisabeth, shown in three-quarters pose, gazes out at the viewer, brandishing the attributes of her allegorical identity as the season of the

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Fig. 3.3

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Ludwig Friedrich with a Lamb, painting by an unknown artist, ca. 1674. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

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Fig. 3.4

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Ludaemilia Elisabeth as Summer, phototype engraving from J.T. Löschke, Denkschrift über Gräfin Ludoämilia Elisabetha (Leipzig, 1872), after a painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1670. Courtesy of Foto-Lösche.

harvest, a sickle and a sheaf of wheat. But the sickle is also a symbol of death, and thus Ludaemilia Elisabeth not only represents Summer, but also Mortality. The portraits of the other sisters as Spring, Autumn, and Winter must have conveyed similar messages, both to those portrayed and to others to whom the portraits were shown. It was probably in context with these four paintings that Aemilia Juliana composed her songs for the four seasons, perhaps intended to help inform the viewers about the meanings.22

Fig. 3.5

Allegory of the Five Senses, painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1670. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

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Another painting using portraits of her sisters-in-law employs personifications of the five senses to evoke self-reflection. The large oil painting on a wood panel titled Allegory of the Five Senses portrays Sight, Taste, Hearing, Smell, and Touch in the form of five figures (Figure 3.5). In his monograph on Lammers, Dittrich identifies them as Albert Anton, his three sisters, and Aemilia Juliana. However, in that case, one sister is missing (Dittrich is not aware there were four). Instead, the painting either portrays Albert Anton and all four of his sisters, or it depicts Aemilia Juliana and her four sisters-in-law.23 The latter is the more likely, as allegorical figures representing the five senses were always female. Each allegory is identified by appropriate attributes: Sight, a telescope; Taste, a glass of wine, a bunch of grapes, and loaves of bread; Hearing, a rooster and a clock; Smell, roses and herbs; and Touch, a dog and a snake. Each is accompanied by a short poem explaining the meaning, such as that for Sight, which reads: Wenn ich ein Lämlein seh denck ich Das Gottes Lamm gedultiglich An meiner statt, lies würgen sich.

Whenever I see a lamb I ponder how the Lamb of God uncomplainingly let himself be sacrificed for me.

The intended viewers would have contemplated their own portraits in juxtaposition with the religious truths conveyed in the allegorical attributes and words, resulting in self-improvement (Erbauung). But when the painting was shown to palace visitors, both during the lifetimes of the portrayed women and in the decades following the premature deaths of three of them, the image represented the role the women of the count’s family were expected to play in upholding the pious responsibilities of the ruling house. In 1931, Rudolstadt scholar Bernhard Rein reported that there was a portrait of Ludaemilia Elisabeth at the foot of the cross hanging in the City Church.24 This painting is probably identical with a Lammers work identified as Anna Sophia at the Foot of the Cross currently on display in the Heidecksburg Museum.25 The small panel painting portrays a modishly dressed woman kneeling at the foot of a cross, gazing up at the crucified Christ (Figure 3.6). Behind her to the left, high on a hill overlooking the town, stands the Heidecksburg palace, thus transplanting the biblical scene into the local environs when it unfolds to the benefit of a member of the Schwarzburg ruling house. Whether this painting portrays Ludaemilia Elisabeth (and thus dates around 1670) or Aemilia Juliana’s daughter-in-law Anna Sophia (and thus dates around 1692), this family icon would have served the woman portrayed as an inducement to contemplate her personal debt to the crucified Christ. Visitors to her suite would have gotten the message that the women of the ruling dynasty had an intimate relationship with God. Lammers also painted several cycles of murals commissioned by Aemilia Juliana, who will have supervised the iconographic program in each instance. Documentary evidence shows that Lammers spent time in 1684 in Stadt Ilm, Aemilia Juliana’s dower residence, decorating the palace rooms on the main floor with fresco wall paintings. Neither the paintings nor precise descriptions of

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Fig. 3.6

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Anna Sophia [Ludaemilia Elisabeth] at the Foot of the Cross, painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1692 [or ca. 1670]. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

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them survive, and they may have been strictly decorative, without iconographic significance.26 However, the frescos Lammers painted in the palace in Leutenberg a few years later included several cycles of “histories,” for the most part biblical. Although a fire in 1934 destroyed these frescos, old photographs of several of the scenes record their appearance, and verbal descriptions also exist as a point of reference. One of the rooms was adorned with scenes from the Old Testament account of the life of King David, which the artist probably completed during his sojourn in Leutenberg in 1687–1688. Aemilia Juliana followed her usual practice of constructing family icons in this commission, although not with the intention that they be used for devotional purposes. Indeed, these and other lost paintings from the King David Room served a purely representational function in that they asserted an analogy between the ruling house of Schwarzburg and that of the biblical king. She had Lammers depict Albert Anton and herself as David and Jonathan swearing eternal friendship in the panel titled The Partnership of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana (Figure 4.2), while that titled Ludwig Friedrich as David used their son’s features for a depiction of David holding the severed head of Goliath (Figure 4.1). Detailed examination of the Partnership painting will introduce Chapter 4. A second room, the Fürstenzimmer (Rulers’ Room), which was on the third floor, also contained painted decorations and a scene referred to as The Queen of Sheba before Solomon. This seems a likely story for use as a family icon. Unfortunately, no visual record survives. There are descriptions of wall paintings in other rooms at Leutenberg, some also related to the stories of Old Testament kings, but there is no indication that they might have incorporated family portraits. The Schlachtensaal (Battle Room) contained large grisaille (monochrome) frescos painted in 1698 that depicted battle scenes from the contemporary Turkish wars; perhaps Albert Anton provided the commission and oversight in this instance.27 Aemilia Juliana’s painting commissions that function as family icons participate in the large variety of dynastic expression that dominated Schwarzburg patronage in the seventeenth century. Portraits were an important element in that dynastic display. In the Heidecksburg, as an inventory of 1690 shows, Aemilia Juliana surrounded herself with family portraits in at least one of the rooms of her suite, the “Vorgemach” (antechamber), where the walls were decked “with nothing but family portraits in place of fabric wall coverings.”28 It is unclear whether these paintings that constituted a pictorial family tree included the family icons discussed here; perhaps they were just straightforward, unallegorized likenesses like those now displayed in the Portrait Gallery in the Heidecksburg Museum. But a nearly contemporary record of her pious tastes in art reports that a room in her suite was filled with religious pictures. In 1692 Superintendent Justus Söffing praised her in print for decorating her “Gemach” (chamber) with “spiritual emblems designed for contemplation, illustrating correct faith, a good Christian life, and a blessed death.”29 The two rooms, and the paintings reportedly adorning their walls, may have been identical. Aemilia Juliana’s interactions with artists are likewise reflected in the frontispieces that adorn some of the books she authored or compiled, and her concept of family icons extends not only to these images, but also to those adorning

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Fig. 3.7

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Frontispiece and title page, Aemilia Juliana, Tägliches MorgenMittags- und AbendOpffer (Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 66044 (1).

several devotional works she commissioned and sponsored, or for which she served as addressee. For the books she authored and compiled herself, especially, she can be assumed to have been the iconographer. Each frontispiece depicts either a biblical scene relevant to the content of the book, or provides an emblematic representation of the title. That for the 1683 Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit illustrates the Old Testament passage (1 Samuel 1) in which the barren wife Hannah prays in the temple that she might conceive a child (Figure 6.1). As mentioned in Chapter 2, it is probably a self-representation, given the initial difficulty conceiving that Aemilia Juliana had experienced and her inability to become pregnant following her second experience of childbirth. On the other hand, the frontispiece for her anonymously published devotional handbook of 1685, Tägliches Morgen- Mittagsund AbendOpffer (Daily Morning, Midday and Evening Devotional Offerings), seems to avoid self-representation and even serves to deflect attention from the female gender of the author. It depicts another Old Testament figure, Daniel, at his thrice-daily prayers in his garden house (Figure 3.7). In spite of the difference in gender, this image was interpreted as a family icon in one of the parentation speeches at Aemilia Juliana’s funeral services, when she was said to have surpassed the piety of Daniel in sharing the texts of her thrice-daily devotions with others through

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Fig. 3.8

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Frontispiece, Aemilia Juliana, Allerley Specerey (Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 66044 (2).

publication of the book.30 The frontispieces for the two short devotional books appended to this work, Allerley Specerey (Assorted Spices) and Kühlwasser des Creutzes (Cooling Waters of the Cross), are emblematic (Figures 3.8 and 3.9). That is, they contain both words and images that are designed to elicit contemplation in order to understand the meaning of the whole. Only the presence of the cryptic letters “E.J.” on the heart that serves as a burnt offering in the frontispiece for Allerley Specerey makes either of these images into a self-representation.

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Fig. 3.9

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Frontispiece, Aemilia Juliana, Kühlwasser des Creutzes (Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 66044 (3).

The final project for which Aemilia Juliana commissioned the engraved frontispiece was the original edition of Der Freundin des Lammes Geistlicher BrautSchmuck (The Spiritual Wedding Finery of the Friend of the Lamb), which did not appear in print until 1714, over seven years after her death. Her responsibility is nevertheless clear. As Johann Leopold, pastor of Aemilia Juliana’s dower territory, Stadt Ilm, reported, shortly before she died she had shown him not only a carefully written manuscript containing a large number of new songs, but also a copperplate

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engraving that was to be employed as the frontispiece for the book.31 The published frontispiece consists of a portrait of the author as Friend of the Lamb (Figure 6.3). At the bottom of the engraving of a youthful Aemilia Juliana embracing a lamb, the source for the image is indicated: “S. Lamm. Pingx.” (painted by Seivert Lammers). The painting used as a basis for the portrait no longer exists, and its date is unknown. When a later generation reused the title Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck for a very different selection of her texts in 1742 as part of a complete-works edition, the volume’s designer furnished it with a new frontispiece (Figure 6.4), nearly identical in iconography but based instead on another work by Lammers. This painting of an elderly Aemilia Juliana holding a lamb, which is likewise no longer to be found, was placed on the altar in the City Church in December 1706 for her funeral, as illustrated in an engraving included in the commemorative volume (Figure 6.5). These two lost paintings of Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, together with the frontispieces and funerary engravings that preserve their appearance for posterity, will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6. The frontispieces of several books dedicated to Aemilia Juliana or for which she claimed some sort of responsibility likewise participate in the production of family icons, and she may well have contributed to designing the images. For instance, the frontispiece for Christoph Sommer’s Epilogi Pie Demortuorum, Oder Exemplarische Sterbe-Schule (Exemplary School for the Dying) of 1676, published on the fourth anniversary of the deaths of three of Aemilia Juliana’s sisters-in-law, includes the deceased women in one eye socket of the gigantic death’s head, the three surviving family members to whom the book is dedicated (Aemilia Juliana, Albert Anton, and the youngest sister-in-law) in the other, all six gazing raptly at the crucified Christ between them. The three deceased sistersin-law appear in the frontispiece to a devotional book published on another anniversary in 1675 by Justus Söffing, Hertzens-Lust an Jesu (Heart’s Pleasure in Jesus), in this instance greeting the Risen Christ in their wedding finery. The number of young women is expanded to four in the edition of 1692, now titled Rudolstädtisches Hand-Buch, in order to incorporate the last sister to die. The frontispieces of two books that were published in 1681 and 1682 under the name of Michael Hörnlein also exhibit the practice of creating family icons. The frontispiece for the 1681 book, Geistliches Paßions-Perspektiv (Spiritual PassionTelescope), depicts many people viewing the crucifixion scene through telescopes, the central trope of the text. In choosing four women to represent those blessed by Christ’s sacrifice, the iconographer is honoring all four Schwarzburg women who died in 1670–1672—Aemilia Juliana’s mother-in-law as well as the three sistersin-law—even though portraiture is not attempted in this case. The frontispiece for the 1682 book, Allerbewehrteste Theriaca (Most Efficacious Tonic), likewise emphasizes the blessedness of a small group of women. The faces are too classical to be seen as portraits, yet it seems likely that once again, Aemilia Juliana has commissioned a family icon.32 Another book for which Aemilia Juliana was in some sense responsible, the principality’s first official hymnal, the Christliches Gesang-Büchlein of 1682, republished in an expanded edition with the title

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Gesang-Büchlein in 1688, continues the series of family icons. The frontispiece contains an allegorical portrayal of the key events of the Bible, flanked by a man with a palm frond and a woman with a book, apparently portraits of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana (Figure 4.3). The expanded hymnal edition of 1704 reuses the image from the 1682 and 1688 hymnals (in the 1704 edition it has been reengraved, but is still nearly identical to the earlier version). The representational purpose served by including portraits in these hymnal frontispieces will be addressed in Chapter 4. Visual images were an important product of any Court of the Muses, and Aemilia Juliana was not just a passive consumer, as this account has shown. The frontispieces and other illustrations gracing books she sponsored, as well as the panel, canvas, and fresco paintings she commissioned to decorate the rooms she inhabited, exhibit esoteric iconographic programs whose impetus must derive from her instructions to the artist. In most cases the devotional images incorporate depictions of the living worshiper/patron and members of her family within the pictorial space. Commemorative portrayals of deceased members of the family in devout postures serve both as models for emulation and as representations of the piety of the ruling family. The images for public consumption, like the frescos in the King David Room in Leutenberg or the frontispieces of published books, serve to represent the pious basis of their rule as a legitimizing and empowering force. Staging Entertainments As an aspect of her responsibilities to high-ranking guests, Aemilia Juliana also soon assumed a leadership role in producing theatrical entertainments. She appears to have commissioned and overseen the production of the remaining musical-dramatic comedies of Caspar Stieler staged during the first few years of her marriage. Then, following a long hiatus during which she avoided active participation in theatrical activities, she resumed her involvement late in life, apparently sponsoring an opera as well as several plays and ballets. As was the case at other middle German courts, each such theatrical entertainment constituted a Gesamtkunstwerk, a cooperative enterprise of all of the arts. Literary prose and verse authored by the court poet, vocal and dance music composed by the court composer, actors and dancers drawn from the younger members of the court as well as the Hofkapelle, dance choreographed by the court dancing master, and illusionistic stage sets painted by the court painter combined to create plays and operas designed to entertain and impress. An early twentieth-century term applied to Stieler’s Rudolstadt works, Festspiele (festival plays), is an appropriate appellation, given the festive contexts for which they were designed. Like the visual artworks produced at the court in Rudolstadt, the theatrical performances staged under Aemilia Juliana’s oversight offered thought-provoking messages for the intended audience members—messages that place the distinctive stamp of her patronage on these works. In some cases the plays communicate a message to her husband designed to guide his behavior; in others, the superficially

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secular plot is an allegory for a religious truth or an analogy for biblical events. The musical-dramatic performances also served the representational needs of the ruling dynasty, in some cases explicitly. In particular, the two operas that convey the illustrious history of their ancestors, together with the prologues or epilogues of several of Stieler’s plays, participate in the polemical glorification of the Schwarzburg dynasty. The message to the neighboring and related princely families was that Albert Anton, Aemilia Juliana, and their descendants were worthy peers. For this reason, printed versions of the texts, with a festive title page that provided information about the occasion and the personage honored by the performance, were not only distributed to attendees, but also sent to other courts. Because of the relatively high quality of the poets, composers, and others responsible for the performances in Rudolstadt, the theatrical productions were highly successful and even influential. Indeed, as I have shown elsewhere, Caspar Stieler’s contributions in his Rudolstadt Festspiele to the development of the German opera libretto were pivotal in the history of German opera.33 The two plays Stieler penned for the wedding festivities in 1665, Der Vermeinte Printz and Ernelinde, were probably commissioned by Albert Anton, although perhaps at the suggestion of Aemilia Juliana, whose interest in theater predates her marriage. They both knew that the wedding guests from Wolfenbüttel—her sister Christiana Elisabeth and brother-in-law Rudolf August, his brother Anton Ulrich and the latter’s wife, Elisabeth Juliana, their sister, Sibylla Ursula, and younger half-brother, Ferdinand Albrecht, among others—were accustomed to enjoying musical-dramatic performances on festive occasions. In Aemilia Juliana’s book collection there resided libretti of musical-dramatic works authored by Duke August’s third wife, Sophie Elisabeth, as well as by his talented son, Anton Ulrich, that were performed in Wolfenbüttel in the 1650s.34 She probably shared the texts with Stieler as a model for his efforts; indeed, the wedding plays may well have been preceded by Rudolstadt performances of several of Anton Ulrich’s theatrical works that thus served to initiate the lively series of staged performances in the Heidecksburg.35 The two plays written by Stieler in each of the next two years, which celebrate the birthday of her sister-in-law and chief correspondent Sophia Juliana in 1666, her husband’s birthdays in 1666 and 1667, and Ludwig Friedrich’s Einsegnung ceremony in 1667, were likely elicited directly by Aemilia Juliana in her new role as Tenth Muse. Evidence of her involvement, although not direct, is plentiful and varied in nature. In addition to an eighteenth-century mention of her early theatrical production activities by a grandchild, one of her letters reports a visit by Stieler at a time when a performance was in the works, a sign that she interacted with him in person, presumably much as she had with the painters. But the best evidence is provided by the plays themselves. In addition to an internal reference to her as the provider of the performance in one instance, the play texts reveal an aesthetic approach to representational and theological content similar to that employed in the paintings. The ruler and his wife make their appearances in the plays, just as they did in paintings Aemilia Juliana commissioned. Albert

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Anton is made to play himself in the context of a living ancestor cabinet in one performance, and in another instance of this practice, Aemilia Juliana had the playwright create a singing role for her; the stage directions make it clear that she left her husband’s side in the audience to perform the epilogue on stage. These self-reflexive moments, during which the members of the ruling couple become part of the performance, have a representational function much like that of the frescos of the King David Room in Leutenberg. Even the guests in the audience could be made to join the performance, for the inclusion of traditional hymns in several of the plays would have drawn them into active participation as singers, perhaps prompted by Aemilia Juliana’s fine voice from their midst. And several of the plays ended in a festive dance of the actors that apparently moved into the audience, where the princely couple and their highborn guests would have joined in. This aesthetic that removed the boundaries between viewer and viewed, audience and play, served Aemilia Juliana well in her efforts as Tenth Muse at the newly established Musenhof in Rudolstadt. The two plays of 1666 were performed on consecutive days in early March, as the title pages indicate. The flurry of entertainments requiring so much time, monetary outlay, and energy probably indicates that there was more to the occasion than these family birthdays, however. There must have been visitors from Wolfenbüttel again in the Heidecksburg, and indeed, an anticipated visit from the Wolfenbüttel relatives in 1666 is mentioned in several of Aemilia Juliana’s letters. Although the letters looking forward to the visit cannot be firmly dated, it seems likely that Christiana Elisabeth, Rudolf August, Antonia Sibylla, and perhaps Anton Ulrich and his wife were among the guests in the audience for the March performances. Another likely guest was Count Johann Friedrich of Hohenlohe-Oehringen (resident in Ordruf, south of Gotha), together with his wife Luisa Amoena, a sister of Anton Ulrich’s wife often mentioned in Aemilia Juliana’s letters. Undoubtedly there were several of the Reuss lords and their ladies in attendance as well. The first of the two performances, Die Wittekinden, as discussed in Chapter 2, glorified the Schwarzburg dynasty in positing the legendary Saxon hero of Carolingian times, Wittekind (Ludwig), as an ancestor of Albert Anton’s house. This identity was reinforced through the use of a living ancestor cabinet in a tableau following the end of the play. Actually an opera, Die Wittekinden consisted entirely of recitative and song-forms designed to be presented musically, like some of the theatrical works of Anton Ulrich.36 Thus this musical performance was an attempt on the part of the Rudolstadt court to vie with recent productions in Wolfenbüttel. And the contents had something to suit the tastes of every member of the audience, from the pious mother-in-law and sisters-in-law to the rowdy young lords of Reuss. A romantic plot, complete with evil intriguers who try to separate the two lovers (the protagonist Ludwig and his betrothed, Countess Brechta of Blois), is supplemented by a subplot portraying the miraculous conversion of Ludwig’s recalcitrant pagan sons, Wittekind and Walprecht, and by a comic subplot featuring the seduction attempts of the clownish servant, Scaramutza, with his usual bawdy double entendres and irreverent satirical commentaries.

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The play performed the next day in honor of Sophia Juliana, also a romantic comedy, was similar in plot to Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure. Titled Die Erfreuete Unschuld (Triumphant Innocence), it featured a woman whose virtue was besieged by the guardian placed in charge of her in her husband’s absence. But as the musical intermezzi make clear, the entire plot was to be regarded as an allegory for the human soul beset by the temptations and persecutions of the Devil, only to be rewarded in the end by her divine savior in the figure of the Archangel Michael. The direct source was likely a passage in one of the popular devotional books that Aemilia Juliana mentioned in a letter as a possible basis for a painting.37 Each intermezzo ended with the singing of a well-known Lutheran hymn, singing that probably had the audience joining the onstage actors as in a church congregation. Aemilia Juliana, knowing her sister-in-law’s pious bent, must have worked as closely with Caspar Stieler in designing this performance as she had with the Erfurt painter, considering the highly unusual results. Although the racy humor and social satire present in the play must be seen as Stieler’s contributions, it seems likely that the ideas conveyed in the intermezzi, as well as the notion of incorporating hymn-singing, were hers. Stieler left Rudolstadt later in 1666 for the higher salary and better chances for advancement offered to him in Saxony-Eisenach, but he provided two more plays for festivities at the Rudolstadt court the following year. Perhaps he had already agreed to create them prior to his decision to depart, or perhaps Aemilia Juliana prevailed upon him to continue the new tradition for one more year in exchange for a lavish parting gift. In a letter she notes that he returned to Rudolstadt in late 1666 or early 1667 for a brief visit. Although she does not mention delivery of play scripts or discussions about plays, he obviously paid her a visit in her suite, as she recounts news about the Eisenach court that he had confided.38 In any case, Albert Anton’s birthday on March 2, 1667, was celebrated with a pastoral play with imbedded songs, Basilene, which Stieler had adapted from a French original that he may well have used as a practice text during Aemilia Juliana’s language lessons. She was probably attracted to this particular pastoral play because it reminded her of that performed in Wolfenbüttel in 1657 on the occasion of Duke August’s seventy-ninth birthday, Amelinde. A religious allegory for salvation of the soul, the Wolfenbüttel opera would have appealed to Aemilia Juliana’s motherin-law and sisters-in-law. Perhaps Aemilia Juliana expected something similar in Stieler’s adaptation of Basilene, for it, too, can be interpreted as an allegory for the salvific self-sacrifice of Christ in the form of the faithful shepherd.39 But the central theme of the French play—excessive devotion to hunting— would also have appealed to Aemilia Juliana for personal reasons. It appears, in fact, that she was using the performance to convey a message to her husband in the guise of a cheerful comedy. The worries she confides in her correspondence about Albert Anton’s safety when hunting, as well as her skepticism about those obsessed with hunting, find expression in some of the speeches in this play.40 The first act begins with Scaramutza breaking the hunting weapons—the arrows, quiver, bow, and spear—of his girlfriend, Labelle, in order to prevent her from joining the hunt.

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The result is comic in this scene, but in Stieler’s adaptation of the play as a whole the anti-hunting sentiments are more pointed than in the original, becoming a rejection of bloodshed and the pursuit of dangerous sports on one level and a veiled allegory for the Old Testament story of the rejection of blood sacrifice on another. The hunting-mad shepherdess, Basilene, is chosen by lots to be sacrificed on the altar to the chaste goddess of the hunt, Diana, but a faithful shepherd, who is in love with her despite her constant rejection of his attentions, insists on taking her place and dying in her stead. The willingness for self-sacrifice lifts a curse from the land, and the two unite in marriage. She leaves her pursuit of the hunt that she had coupled with her insistence on remaining unmarried, and joins other couples in rededicating the society to the peaceful life of lovers, shepherds, and gardeners. While Albert Anton and his guests who were avid hunters would have loved the rousing chorus of hunters and huntresses at the end of the first act, as well as the title figure’s defense of the love of hunting in the second (II,viii), he would probably not have missed the message Aemilia Juliana was sending through the vehicle of the play. Peaceful pursuits, agriculture, and love were preferable to blood sports. However, the celebratory frame of the play carries a somewhat different message. Here, the juxtaposition of hunting and agriculture mutates into that of war and peace. The prologue singer, Mars, god of war, indicates that he has moved further east, a reference to the end of the wars against the invading Turks that had compelled Albert Anton to upgrade the fortifications of the Heidecksburg and other installations in his principality and to reorganize and revitalize the militia. The decisive Battle on the Raab River in Hungary in 1664, resulting in a treaty reducing the threat of invasion in German-speaking lands, had brought an end to the anxious period. Mars assures Albert Anton of a peaceful reign, then points out that Irene, goddess of Peace, is sitting at his side and has invited him to enjoy this play. Mars can only be referring to Aemilia Juliana herself, who would naturally be seated beside her husband. She is thus credited with sponsoring the performance, but she also has a costumed role in the frame of the play. Her model for this active participation in a theatrical event was the family festivities in Wolfenbüttel for Duke August’s birthdays, for which the wife of the feted ruler dressed in a role related to the performance and led her husband to the theatre, where she seated herself beside him after delivering a speech.41 Similarly, in this performance at the Heidecksburg, the Irene who was seated beside Albert Anton during the play served as epilogue singer. The stage directions indicate that Aemilia Juliana was to rise from her chair next to her husband, already costumed as the goddess in white robes, and “dance onto the stage” (tritt Tantzend ein), where she was to face the audience to sing a multistrophic ode announcing springtime, peace, and abundance for the land.42 There are self-references that point to her identity: a forest of roses is about to bloom, a nightingale is composing her learned songs, there is plenty in the household cupboards and pantries, and the realm over which she rules—the food-producing farms and mills, the drink-producing breweries—is rich to the point of surplus. She ends by inviting Albert Anton to embrace her in her guise as Irene:

Enthroned at the Court of the Muses Umfange mich mein Freund/ Albert Antohn/ Mich/ deinen Gast/ mich deiner Tugend Lohn! So lange Du wirst ob derselben halten/ Das edle Recht in würden lassen stehen/ Dein Regiment mit Frömmigkeit verwalten; Soll mein Geleit/ das sichre/ mit dir gehen/ Biß endlich ich in Frieden und in Ruh Dich trage nach den Ewigkeiten zu.

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Embrace me, my friend, Albert Anton, Me, your guest, me, your virtue’s reward! As long as you remain committed to virtue, uphold and honor noble justice, and run your government with piety, my presence shall guide and guard your steps, until finally, restfully and peacefully, I’ll bear you off into eternity.

After singing these lines, she evidently returned to his side in the audience and embraced him. In styling herself as the personification of Peace, Aemilia Juliana was making a claim for the importance of the feminine half of this partnership between the ruler and his consort—the half that focused on agricultural modes of food production, creation of pleasurable entertainments and music, and cultivation of the amiable relationships that foster peace among peers. The audience was probably made up of close relatives, including perhaps once again visitors from Wolfenbüttel who would have recognized the tradition she was continuing with her participation in the performance. Although the recently widowed Duchess Sophie Elisabeth would not have accompanied them, Aemilia Juliana’s youngest sister, Antonia Sibylla, who lived in Wolfenbüttel under the guardianship of her brother-in-law, probably was present. Antonia Sibylla had played similar roles in several of Sophie Elisabeth’s productions, including Luna in Der Natur Banquet (Nature’s Banquet), Dialectica in Der Minervae Banquet (Minerva’s Banquet), and the Cumean Sibyl in Glükwünschende Waarsagung Der Königin Nicaulae (Birthday Wishes in the form of the Prophecy of Queen Nicaula). Although women at neither court played roles that were involved in dialogue or action in a plot on stage, each court utilized, at least for birthday performances limited to family and close confidantes, aristocratic women of the court costumed as allegorical figures or ancient deities to dance and deliver speeches or sing songs on stage, a technique that linked the performance to the occasion and to the honored personage in the audience. Aemilia Juliana would probably not have been certain at the time of the performance of Basilene in March 1667 that she was just over a month pregnant, although Mars hints at the end of the prologue that there may already be suspicions about her condition. The following November, six weeks after the birth of Ludwig Friedrich on October 19, 1667, the final play of the sequence of Festspiele authored by Stieler appeared on the stage in the Great Hall of the Heidecksburg. Aemilia Juliana probably organized the huge festivity at which the court and its visitors would celebrate her churching and the infant’s Einsegnung, as discussed in Chapter 2. The play, Der betrogene Betrug (The deceived Deceiver), told the story of a husband who deceived his wife and in turn was tricked by her; they reconcile at the end. The operatic intermezzi supplied the connection to the festive occasion that was missing in the main action. A short mythological libretto, modeled on those of Anton Ulrich performed in Wolfenbüttel in 1659, was divided up into act-ending interludes in the performance.43 In this miniature opera, the expected

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birth of the hero Perseus as a result of the union of Jupiter with Danaë was used to celebrate the birth and good health of the Schwarzburg heir. As discussed in Chapter 2, the culminating lullaby addressed to the infant is sung by the nine Muses, by now well established at the Musenhof in the Heidecksburg. All of Stieler’s plays utilize music to some extent, whether for a few imbedded songs sung by the characters, verse intermezzi of various lengths and types, or—in Die Wittekinden—the entire performance. The identity of the composer for the relatively demanding musical dramas of 1665 and 1666 remains a puzzle. Stieler himself may have provided the settings for the songs and strophic choruses from all four plays performed in those years, but the recitative passages in the intermezzi of Der Vermeinte Printz, as well as the full-length opera Die Wittekinden, which consisted almost entirely of recitative, would perhaps have presented too much of a challenge for an untrained musician.44 When the final two plays appeared on the stage in the Heidecksburg in 1667, two newly appointed musicians, Wolf Ernst Roth and Georg Bleyer, would probably have assumed responsibility in Stieler’s absence. Motherhood and the series of deaths including that of her infant daughter in 1668, her mother-in-law in 1670, and three of her sisters-in-law in the measles epidemic of 1672 turned Aemilia Juliana’s mood and that of the court away from theatrical frivolities. The early years of the 1680s also saw Rudolstadt and its neighbors caught up in anxieties about a deadly plague epidemic, as will be discussed in Chapter 4. In addition, attacks on theater and opera by Pietist-leaning pastors and theologians in the courtly residence towns of relatives and neighbors commenced in around 1680, thus ushering in a reluctance to sponsor staged performances of any kind throughout middle Germany; even professional opera in several cities was affected by the vitriolic attacks.45 The initial thrust appeared in Anton Reiser’s Theatromania, Oder Die Wercke Der Finsterniß (Theater Mania, or the Works of Darkness), which assailed the Hamburg opera theater.46 But the criticisms of theatrical performances, especially operas, also surfaced in Wolfenbüttel, Braunschweig, and Gotha, where discernible interruptions in theatrical production occurred, brought about by zealous pastors and schoolmen. In Rudolstadt, court advisor Ahasverus Fritsch, a supporter of Pietist Philipp Jacob Spener, also participated actively in the flood of aggressive polemic against theater and opera.47 Perhaps due in part to the pervasiveness of such attacks, meditations and sermons on mortality in the context of anniversaries of the deaths of loved ones, rather than comedies, became the norm in Rudolstadt, and staged performances were no longer welcome in the Great Hall of the Heidecksburg. Aemilia Juliana’s personal involvement in commissioning and producing plays for festive occasions is mentioned in a 1770 biography, where the writer, based on conversations with her grandchildren, indicates that she had willingly given up this activity upon receiving a reprimand in an anonymous letter.48 If we are to judge from the products of court patronage of theater under her leadership in the 1660s, such plays and operas were too secular and racy, in spite of Aemilia Juliana’s insistence that Christian allegories and lessons in virtue be imposed on

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the romantic and comic plots. Her acceptance of the criticism can be seen in a song she wrote in which she forswears worldly frivolities, “Welt! gute Nacht! fahr hin!” (World! good night! depart!). In this text she equates the stage with worldly pleasures, theatrical performances with the enticements of courtly society that she finds alluring yet wishes to reject.49 She was not entirely successful at avoiding staged plays during the ensuing decades, but her role had become passive, making her a member of the audience rather than an instigator and producer. One play she may have commissioned herself was a child’s drama authored by Georg Wilhelm Kramer in 1674. His Gottes mitgetheiltes und erbärmlich verscherztes Ebenbild (The Image of God, Generously Shared but Pitifully Lost), dedicated to Ludwig Friedrich, who was not quite seven years old at the time, survives in a lavishly illustrated manuscript presentation copy. The dedication hints at the intention to present the play theatrically, although the manuscript could have functioned as a children’s book, to be read aloud while the youngster looked at the illustrations. The play uses dramatized prose paraphrases of the story of Adam and Eve to teach the child about the Old Testament events leading to original sin and the need for Christ’s help. Two traditional hymns provide opportunities for musical moments. The events of the play are illustrated in monochrome gouache paintings on the sheets of the manuscript by an unknown artist, probably a member of the workshop of court painter Seivert Lammers.50 If there was a performance, there is no sign of Aemilia Juliana’s involvement, even though it had been over two years since the last death in the family. Albert Anton was responsible for commissioning a stage play honoring Aemilia Juliana on her birthday in 1680, as the title page relates. The result was a prose drama, Die steigende und fallende Athenais Oder Eudoxia (Rising and Falling Athenais, or Eudoxia), authored by court tutor Michael Hörnlein (to be discussed in Chapters 4 and 5). It contains a popular hymn and several imbedded songs, perhaps already set to music by the new court composer, Philipp Heinrich Erlebach, whose opportunities to contribute to theatrical performances were otherwise extremely limited during his initial decades in Rudolstadt.51 A few school plays by Frankenhausen rector Johann Hoffmann honored Aemilia Juliana or the entire family during summer visits to the northern territory, and some of them likewise included short musical inlays. One play, Ahab Dramaticus (Ahab Dramatized), was presented in the Frankenhausen Rathaus (city hall) in honor of her birthday in 1683. It offered a moral lesson in the guise of an Old Testament story. The following summer, Hoffmann’s pupils appeared in another biblical drama he had authored, Abraham Dramaticus (Abraham Dramatized), in this case for the entertainment of all three members of the ruling family. The full title alludes to an intended analogy between the biblical figures whose story he portrays and the three illustrious personages in his audience: “Abraham Dramatized, that is: The Wondrously Faithful Abraham, the Wondrously Pious Sara, and the Wondrously Obedient Isaac.”52 The result represents the ruling family as divinely guided and ordained. The analogy he draws between the foundational couple of the Old Testament and Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana would reach its apex

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in 1706 and 1711 in their respective funerary services and in the design for their double sarcophagus, as will be discussed in Chapter 6. Aemilia Juliana must also have been present as an honored member of the audience at other performances. An allegorical dramatization of the Genesis story of the fall of humankind into sin was probably performed in her presence at the newly established court in neighboring Saalfeld in 1680, for the published text was dedicated to Aemilia Juliana, Albert Anton, Ludwig Friedrich, and Maria Susanna.53 In Rudolstadt and Frankenhausen, school plays to which her husband and son were invited may have found her in the audience as well, although her name is not mentioned in the printed programs. These theatrical performances include plays honoring Ludwig Friedrich on his fifteenth birthday in 1682 and twenty-fifth in 1692, as well as an undated play that may have honored him on another birthday.54 Aemilia Juliana was probably present at performances that made a political or dynastic statement, as in the case of several original plays by school rector Johann Ernst Müller, one on the life and death of “Emperor” Günther of Schwarzburg (1690), the other a celebration of victories over the Turks (1698).55 By the end of the century, perhaps due to the dynastic interests served by such performances, the series of theatrical events in honor of Aemilia Juliana’s birthdays had resumed. The first staged performance in her honor after the pause of more than 15 years was the elaborate sing-ballet Der entthronete Winter (Dethroned Winter), which was performed in Rudolstadt in 1699.56 This honorific performance may have been commissioned by her husband, perhaps in cooperation with their daughter-in-law. It was followed by another, Das durch Gottes Gnade immer mehr und mehr geschmückte und beglückte Rathsfeld (Rathsfeld, through God’s Grace more and more adorned and blessed), in 1700. This sing-ballet was performed in Rathsfeld, the residence of her son and his family near Frankenhausen, and the honorific texts and musical compositions were likely commissioned by the younger couple. The performers were Ludwig Friedrich’s children and other pupils from the court school. A musical review titled Das vierfache Alter (The fourfold Age) was also performed during Aemilia Juliana’s birthday celebrations in 1700. More Rathsfeld birthday honors followed in 1703 with the performance of a drama by Johann Hoffmann, Der Gottseligen Felicitas Marter (The Martyrdom of the pious Felicitas). The title page of the published synopsis of this saint’s play expresses the hope that it will be seen as improving literature rather than as frivolous entertainment, and the verse prologue and epilogue that are printed in full explicitly address the criticisms leveled by pious “Schauspiels-Feinde” (enemies of theater productions).57 It appears that Aemilia Juliana’s qualms about attending theatrical performances, although abating, still required a response. The occasion also saw the production of a short sing-ballet, Der mit Segen umwundene und mit Wündschen gebundene Erndten Crantz (The Harvest Wreath, woven with blessings and fastened together with good wishes). In the case of the sing-ballet, there is a record of the participation of painter Seivert Lammers with regard to set design.58 Such performances in Aemilia Juliana’s honor continue to posit her as the inspiration for poets, musicians, and artists at court, in spite of her reluctance to resume her leadership in the theatrical arena.

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Nevertheless, during this same period late in her life, Aemilia Juliana seems once again to have become involved in commissioning staged performances. Marking a first tentative foray into such activities was a sing-ballet performed at the Heidecksburg in honor of Ludwig Friedrich and Anna Sophia in 1701, which was danced by their children and the children of courtiers.59 More significantly, she must have commissioned, for her husband’s birthday on March 2, 1702, the performance in the Great Hall of the Heidecksburg of a full-length opera in three acts, Die Siegende Unschuld/ Unter dem Beyspiele Hunonis/ Grafen zu Oldenburg (Innocence Triumphant, based on the example of Huno, Count of Oldenburg).60 The libretto, like the texts of various genres for other Erlebach vocal music of this period, has been attributed to court tutor Christoph Helm. It is marked by stylistically advanced arias, most of them monostrophic and many of them da capo, features that offered Erlebach an excellent opportunity to exhibit his compositional skills. The content was drawn from a legendary family narrative that was the subject of a painting cycle inherited by Albert Anton’s mother many years before.61 Given the genealogical subject, the Huno opera conjured up the much earlier opera on a dynastic theme, Stieler’s Die Wittekinden of 1666, which had celebrated the founding of the Schwarzburg dynasty on Albert Anton’s birthday in that year. The 1702 opera depicts the analogous founding event of the Oldenburg dynasty from which the mothers of both Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana had descended. Another musical-dramatic performance likewise appeared on the Rudolstadt stage in 1702, in this case in honor of the birthday of Ludwig Friedrich. Titled Die erfreuete Schäffer-Gesellschafft (The joyful Shepherd-Society), it is a combination of musical skits and ballets. The fact that the exemplar in the Historische Bibliothek in Rudolstadt contains handwritten notes identifying the actors, apparently in Aemilia Juliana’s handwriting, may indicate her active participation in commissioning and even overseeing the production. Two more performances in Rudolstadt in 1704, both celebrating the birthday of daughter-in-law Anna Sophia, may also be Aemilia Juliana’s commissions: a musical masque titled Der wahrsagende Wunder-Brunnen (The prophetic Miracle Fountain)62 and a play in alexandrine verse with interspersed arias, Dettlieb und Caramine (Dettlieb and Caramine). Whether or not Aemilia Juliana commissioned these works, she would certainly have been in attendance for the performances. Theatrical patronage formed an important element in Aemilia Juliana’s activities as Tenth Muse and ruler’s consort enthroned at the Court of the Muses. Prior to the attacks on the purportedly sinful nature of theater of the 1680s and 1690s in Rudolstadt and elsewhere, stage performances constituted a staple of courtly entertainments, especially when visitors from other courts were present. The family gatherings for the series of funerals and memorial services between 1668 and 1692 found non-theatrical outlets. However, Ludwig Friedrich’s marriage in 1691 to a Duchess of Saxony-Gotha meant that cheerful courtly festivities were in order, for there were once again guests from courts where theatrical entertainments were an expectation. The young couple residing in Rathsfeld produced a plethora

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of children for whom participation in musical-theatrical and balletic performances made up an aspect of their schooling. Ludwig Friedrich and Anna Sophia had not only hired schoolmasters and music teachers, but also an Italian dancing master to train the children for their future roles as Princes and Princesses of Schwarzburg. After all, the ambitions of the Schwarzburg principalities and the prophetic flattery of Caspar Stieler had recently been realized when both Schwarzburg dynasties were granted the status of Reichsfürsten (Imperial Princes) in 1697—an honor which Albert Anton declined to accept for himself, but which Ludwig Friedrich valued highly as appropriate recognition of the status conveyed to him and his progeny in part by his marriage to a duchess. Making Music Between 1668 and 1697, when staged performances with physical role-playing by actors disappeared from the entertainments she planned, Aemilia Juliana cultivated an alternative in the disembodied voices of vocal music. For the most part devotional in nature, the musical works that resulted from this otherworldly turn in her patronage experienced performance in church or in small pious gatherings, rather than in the Great Hall of the Heidecksburg. Oratorios, cantatas, chorales adapted from favorite hymns, and spiritual arias and odes were the preferred forms. When guests were present, they might also be entertained with Tafelmusik (after-dinner music) that included songs and arias with “moral and political” lyrics, as well as orchestral suites consisting of popular dance forms, to judge from surviving music created during this period.63 While Albert Anton is given credit for sponsorship of musical compositions published during his reign by the court composer, Philipp Heinrich Erlebach, the signs of Aemilia Juliana’s involvement in attracting this talented musician to Rudolstadt, working with him to design the musical projects, and making arrangements for the performances show that she continued to serve as Tenth Muse during this period. And music flourished at the court, in the Court Chapel, and in the City Church in rich recompense for the loss of theatrical liveliness. Aemilia Juliana contributed to the musical flowering not only through her interactions with musicians, but also through her activities as author and singer of devotional songs. When a court official praised Aemilia Juliana in a parentation speech at her funeral in 1706, he outlined some of the ways in which music had dominated her life. He reported that she praised the Lord by means of many a lovely song: she sang with her whole heart and being, she sang for consolation in desolation, and, like the biblical David, she created a large corpus of spiritual songs, many of which she published in her devotional handbook. He also mentions her patronage of church music, which, as he informs us, took the form of providing funding for singers at the altar and having them sing her songs along with other music.64 Another memorial text mentions her practice of singing aloud during her private devotional sessions, so loudly that passersby in the hall could hear her voice.65

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Indeed, Aemilia Juliana structured her daily life into a musical framework to an extraordinary extent, probably beginning even before her marriage. She created numerous song texts for activities that had previously had an insufficient repertoire of devotional music, something she apparently felt was central to her own spirituality. We know that she employed existing hymn melodies as the basis for her devotional song authorship, for she labels most published and manuscript song texts with the melodies to be used. As will be discussed in Chapter 4, she participated in the selection of hymns for the three editions of the Rudolstadt hymnal published during her lifetime, which incorporated many devotional songs authored by Ludaemilia Elisabeth and herself. The melody is indicated above each hymn. The other devotional books Aemilia Juliana assembled and published, consisting largely of songs she authored, also usually incorporate identification of the melodies to which the texts are to be sung. As poet and singer, as promoter of fine singing, and as enthusiastic member of the audience, she thus had much to contribute to the rising dominance of this medium in Rudolstadt. In the early years of her marriage, Aemilia Juliana probably interacted not only with Caspar Stieler in his secondary role as composer and musician, but also with Kapellmeister Wolf Ernst Roth and scribe/musician Georg Bleyer, both appointed in 1666. Roth was active as a composer while in Rudolstadt, to judge from a late seventeenth-century inventory, but few works survive. He is thought to have left the position in 1675, although he continued to receive remuneration for his compositions.66 Bleyer was also a composer, many of whose spiritual works, including the song composed for the funeral of Aemilia Juliana’s infant daughter in 1668, are likewise listed in the inventory.67 Happier occasions for music at court included visits from dukes, duchesses, and other august personages; in one letter, probably dating from 1669, Aemilia Juliana complains about the constant din produced by the musicians, probably practicing a new composition by Roth or Bleyer in anticipation of the forthcoming visit from an unnamed duke and his duchess. Her lament is particularly interesting because she lists the offending instruments: “My head is so full of the sounds of trumpets, drums, violins, shawms [woodwinds with a loud, penetrating sound], and the like, that I am unable to write another word.”68 In an undated letter, she mentions that Bleyer is engaged in composing a song for Albert Anton’s birthday.69 Given the fact that she shares these accounts with her in-laws in Leutenberg, it seems likely that she had solicited both performances. Indeed, to judge from her complaint about the noise, the rehearsals appear to have taken place in her suite. By the late 1670s both Stieler and Roth were gone, and the court orchestra was in need of good musicians and strong leadership. When the death of her sister, Justina Sophia, in her dower residence far to the north in Ostfriesland in 1677 had left a young musician from a local family, Philipp Heinrich Erlebach, then aged 20, without any position, Aemilia Juliana and her husband agreed to take him on. She had probably heard about his plight and his talent from her niece, Wilhelmina Sophia of Ostfriesland, the daughter of Erlebach’s first patroness. Erlebach arrived in 1678 and found employment in the court orchestra. By 1681, at the age of only 24, he was named Kapellmeister. The esteem in which he

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was held in Rudolstadt is demonstrated in the identities of the godparents for his daughter, born in 1684 (Aemilia Juliana among other personages of the court) and his son, born in 1686 (Albert Anton, together with Aemilia Juliana’s brother-inlaw, Christian Wilhelm of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, and niece, Wilhelmina Sophia of Ostfriesland). Erlebach not only served capably as Kapellmeister; he also furnished original compositions that enriched the orchestra offerings and enabled compositional commissions from his employers that could provide new avenues for musical enjoyment and the courtly entertainments so important to a Musenhof with lofty political ambitions. Although his fame was probably limited by his lifelong loyalty to his Rudolstadt patrons, Erlebach was highly regarded by the influential composer, Johann Philipp Krieger, Kapellmeister at the ducal court of SaxonyWeißenfels. The scale of their interchanges as colleagues is attested to in the many works of Erlebach to be found in the collection once located in Weißenfels, and in the many works by Krieger listed in the inventory Erlebach made of the music library in Rudolstadt. Outside Rudolstadt, Erlebach’s festive works also experienced performances in Gotha, Braunschweig, and Mühlhausen, and many of his secular and religious works were performed and published in Nuremberg. Today, Erlebach is considered an important composer in his own right, and his music is seen as an immediate precursor to Johann Sebastian Bach, who probably knew his published works and may well have met him and interacted with him during Bach’s tenure in nearby Arnstadt between 1703 and 1708.70 When the Great Hall of the Heidecksburg ceased serving as a theatrical venue for plays and operas, Erlebach was able to offer a suitably non-visual substitute with pious intentions, the musical oratorio, which must have provided a welcome alternative for Aemilia Juliana. The oratorio, from the musical perspective an opera-like treatment of events in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, did not employ physical role-playing. Nevertheless, like a theatrical opera, the oratorio used recitative and aria settings, the former to convey the biblical prose of the New Testament (both narrative and direct utterances), the latter for commentary and reaction.71 Erlebach’s oratorios appear to mark an important intermediate stage between those of Heinrich Schütz in the first half of the seventeenth century and those of Johann Sebastian Bach and others in the early eighteenth century. Unfortunately, as Erlebach’s musical compositions for these works are lost, it is not possible to experience or study them firsthand today. However, the texts tell us a great deal about his approach, and it is also possible to use his surviving cantatas as the basis for an appreciation. Erlebach’s four oratorios were designed to adorn the chief festivities in the church year: Christmas, Passion Week (Karwoche), Easter, and Pentecost. Initially published in 1688–1690, the printed editions of the texts merely serve as a record for oratorio performances that had already occurred, perhaps repeatedly, in the Court Chapel in the Heidecksburg, as indicated on the title pages. Later editions of several of them make it clear that they continued to be used in this way into the eighteenth century. All four consist of a mixture of recitative, original solo arias and songs, and choral hymns or chorales. While the texts and melodies Erlebach

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employed as chorales were popular hymns and devotional songs, in some cases by well-known near-contemporary authors, including Paul Gerhardt, who is mentioned by name, the aria and song texts consisted of newly penned poetic verse by an unnamed poet. They have been attributed to court tutor Christoph Helm. The oratorios were solicited by Albert Anton, according to Erlebach’s later inventory, but Aemilia Juliana’s indirect or even direct involvement in the commission and approach taken to each oratorio can often be seen in the surviving libretti. She probably consulted with both Helm and Erlebach concerning the poetic and musical treatment of the topics during the genesis of the oratorios. And she appears to have contributed at least one of the aria texts herself. Establishing the oratorio genre in Rudolstadt was that recounting the Passion, Die Hochtröstliche Geschicht des bittern Leidens und Sterbens unsers Herrn und Heilandes Jesu Christi (The highly consolatory story of the bitter suffering and death of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ), first published in 1688. Erlebach divided this oratorio, which is much longer than the others, into six “acts” so that it could be performed piecemeal during the six days leading up to Easter. Experiencing the performance held each day during Holy Week must have made the daily observances in the Court Chapel exceptionally meaningful. Central is the biblical narrative sung by the Evangelist, which introduces role-playing only by having the direct quotations from Jesus and other participants in the action presented by different soloists. The biblical prose was presumably handled in recitativo secco in both instances. This recitative biblical narrative with its interspersed direct utterances was punctuated by arias, songs, and chorales from the perspective of latter-day witnesses and worshipers. The oratorio’s non-theatrical treatment of the subject conforms with Lutheran attitudes towards portrayal of the Passion, particularly in Passion plays. In spite of the role-playing involved in having different voices portray the utterances of Jesus and other participants, as well as the various solo and choral witnesses, the result was that of recitation and reaction rather than of dramatic imitation of an action. Indeed, the resulting oratorio could be seen as the musical equivalent of the Crucifixion painting commissioned by Aemilia Juliana some 20 years before, with its inserted latter-day witnesses now transformed into disembodied vocalizations. Her leadership in the design of this Passion oratorio is thus apparent, in spite of the lack of documentation. Although not published until 1690, the Easter oratorio, titled Die Hocherfreuliche Geschicht der Siegreichen Auferstehung unsers Herrn und Heilandes Jesu Christi (The extremely joyful story of the triumphant resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ), was designed to follow immediately upon the Passion oratorio in the church year. This oratorio, with its similar aesthetic and theological approach, was designed for a single performance on Easter Sunday. The Christmas oratorio, Die Hocherfreuliche Geschichte der Menschwerdung und Geburt unsers Herrn und Heylandes Jesu Christi (The very joyous story of the Incarnation and birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ), was published in 1689. Like the Passion and Easter oratorios, it consists of the Evangelist delivering a narrative text that is interspersed with solo voices for direct speech of the biblical

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roles, while other singers (the solo Christian and the chorus) convey their reactions to the narrated events in verse arias and songs. Some of the songs in the oratorio are well-known hymns that Erlebach presumably arranged as chorales. Others are recently created texts, such as the stylish monostrophic da capo aria sung by the chorus: Mein Jesus ist mein/ mein Jesus ist mein. Nicht sol mir auf Erden Sonst lieber mehr werden/ Auch was es mag seyn. Ich bleibe dabey/ Und sag es ohn Scheu: Mein Jesus ist mein/ mein Jesus ist mein..

My Jesus is mine, my Jesus is mine. Nothing else on earth shall be dearer to me, no matter what it may be. I shall stand firm and say without shame: My Jesus is mine, my Jesus is mine.

The rollicking dactylic verse of this aria in the operatic style expresses the joy of the Christian congregation regarding the birth of Christ. In this case, the text is the second strophe of a song that appeared for the first time in the Rudolstadt hymnal of 1688, “Mein Jesus ist mein” (My Jesus is mine). As this song can be attributed to Aemilia Juliana, her involvement in the creation of the oratorio may have been more direct than one might assume based on the information provided on the title page. Other arias are original texts presumably created by Christoph Helm. The musical treatment of the various types of texts must have been very similar to that in the surviving “Weihnachtskantate” (Christmas Cantata).72 The final oratorio in the sequence, that for Pentecost, Die Hocherfreuliche Geschicht der Himmelfahrt Christi und Sendung des heiligen Geistes (The very joyful story of the Ascension of Christ and sending forth of the Holy Spirit), was published in 1690. It is unusual in that it employs a great deal of choral music in addition to a few solo arias. The enhanced emphasis on choral presentation in this context expresses the mission of the newly established Christian Church to go forth and bring the glad tidings of salvation through Christ to all peoples. As in the other three oratorios, true theatricality is avoided here not only because of the lack of costumed acting, but also due to the insistence on employing an unaltered and unpoeticized prose biblical text delivered in a recitative narrative. Even the use of distinctive voices for the brief direct utterances of Jesus and participants in the narrated events does not approach imitative role-playing, instead remaining narration with its demand for reflection rather than empathy. Thus in Erlebach’s four oratorios of the 1680s, the pleasures of an operatic feast for the eyes and ears have been limited to the musical dimension alone. Erlebach also composed hundreds of sacred cantatas made up of recitative, arias, and chorales, as well as many individual chorales, arias, and motets, not all of which would have been restricted to performance in chapel and church. Around 70 of them survive in a published volume or in handwritten copies preserved outside Rudolstadt, but most were lost in the palace fire of 1735, leaving only evocative traces of their existence in the surviving inventories.73 The cantata apparently created for use in the Court Chapel on New Year’s Eve, 1705, must have been

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lovely, to judge from the published 16-page libretto consisting of alternating recitatives and solo arias flanked by two choral arias.74 These verses are among the best in any of the surviving texts for compositions by Erlebach. They can probably be attributed to Christoph Helm, but the attitudes they express and the vocabulary they employ closely reflect those of Aemilia Juliana. She must have enjoyed this cantata very much during the last New Year’s Eve service she was to experience. Beginning in 1698–1699, Erlebach composed a number of cantata cycles for use in church services during an entire church year, with individual musical settings for 52 Sundays beginning with Advent. The “Kantatenjahrgang” (Cantata Year) of 1698–1699, the “Spruchodenjahrgang” (Biblical Gems Ode Year) of 1700–1701, and the “Geistlicher Chor- und Kirchen-Schmuck” (Spiritual Choir and Church Adornment) cycle of 1705–1706 were apparently based on texts by Christoph Helm, while the second of the series, the “Odenjahrgang” (Ode Year) of 1699–1700, used texts by Aemilia Juliana and her deceased sister-in-law, Ludaemilia Elisabeth, as well as other devotional songs. These cantata cycles followed Erlebach’s usual practice of setting the biblical text to recitative and the original verse texts as arias and chorales.75 A fifth such sequence was probably the most progressive, musically speaking, as it employed the madrigalic cantata texts of Erdmann Neumeister and thus, together with the latter’s earlier cantata sequence composed by Johann Philipp Krieger in Weißenfels, ushered in the modern theatrical approach to the spiritual cantata.76 This practice of composing original music for each service every new church year meant that church services each Sunday in Rudolstadt included new musical compositions and arrangements, an exciting enticement, if any was needed, for an ailing Aemilia Juliana to allow herself to be carried into the Court Chapel during her final years. The early eighteenth-century inventory identifies the “Odenjahrgang” music for 1699–1700 as “52 Partituren zu der Hochseel. Frau Gräfin Jahrgang ... gehörig” (52 scores for the Song Year of the deceased Countess), a clear indication that Aemilia Juliana was closely involved in its design. The list in the inventory includes 70 individual pieces.77 Of the incipits that are listed, however, only three are known to be by Aemilia Juliana and eight by Ludaemilia Elisabeth. Some of the others appear to be traditional hymns used as chorales, while many constitute new texts, perhaps authored or commissioned by Aemilia Juliana for this purpose. That the sequence is explicitly associated with her, even though few of the song texts can be securely attributed to her, indicates that she probably chose the texts to be set to music. Nor are these the only songs by Aemilia Juliana and Ludaemilia Elisabeth with settings or at least arrangements by Erlebach to have left their traces in the inventories; it is clear that in dozens of cases, the song texts of the two countesses formed the basis for musical performances in the Court Chapel or after dinner at court. The texts of Ludaemilia Elisabeth were available to the composer in the published collection of 1687, and those of Aemilia Juliana were for the most part accessible in her published books or in the Rudolstadt hymnal, but she likely commissioned the new settings or arrangements.78 Her involvement as instigator can be assumed in most of these cases of devotional song settings.

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Providing pleasant after-dinner music was another of Erlebach’s contributions to courtly entertainments in Rudolstadt. Many of the songs, often constituting adaptations of his operatic arias, survive complete with their musical settings, most of which are accessible in the modern edition of the two-part collection that appeared in 1697 and 1710.79 Only Albert Anton is a named dedicatee of the first volume, which was published during Aemilia Juliana’s lifetime. Yet the title of this collection—Harmonische Freude musicalischer Freunde (Harmonious Pleasures of Musical Friends)—seems more inclusive. Not just Albert Anton as “Friend of God,” but also Aemilia Juliana as “Friend of the Lamb” participate in a friendship circle based on a common love for music. They, along with other music connoisseurs at court, belonged to this circle of “musical friends” whose pleasures are harmonious in three senses: conviviality, love of music, and the forms taken by their piety. Thus in the arrangements for musical performances, just as for the production of visual images and staged performances, Aemilia Juliana played a central role as Tenth Muse. Her guiding presence is visible in the vocal texts that were set to music in Rudolstadt, even when explicit documentary evidence of her involvement is lacking. The oratorios, cantatas, arias, and chorales, as well as the songs of the church year cycle identified as hers, exhibit her approach to devotional practices and her theologically grounded understanding of acceptable ways to depict the Passion in the fine arts. She sometimes furnished texts of her own making for these enterprises, but her influence on librettist/poet Christoph Helm and his newly created texts for the various musical projects is equally distinctive, and her taste in hymns and devotional songs can be discerned in the selections she made to be used in local performances. Because of her involvement in music as well as in the other arts, the Heidecksburg was truly a Court of the Muses. Notes 1 Freudigster Zuruff Auff die So lange gewünschte ... Heyraht (Rudolstadt, 1665). The attribution of the sonnet to Stieler is my own, and it has not previously been connected with his oeuvre. 2 Jörg Jochen Berns has demonstrated that the representational needs of the less powerful secundogeniture rulers of German microprincipalities provided the impetus. They thus substituted self-glorification for real power and wealth, in this view. Berns, “Zur Frühgeschichte des deutschen Musenhofes oder Duodezabsolutismus als kulturelle Chance,” in: Frühneuzeitliche Hofkultur in Hessen und Thüringen, ed. Berns and Detlef Ignasiak (Jena, 1993), pp. 10–43. On patronage of the arts as representation in Rudolstadt and in the courts of its Reuss neighbors, see Vincenz Czech, Legitimation und Repräsentation. Zum Selbstverständnis thüringisch-sächsischer Reichsgrafen in der Frühen Neuzeit (Berlin, 2003), especially pp. 244–6. 3 The fifteenth letter in a small packet of Albert Anton’s letters to his sister, Sophia Juliana, dated November 14, 1664, which is found within the same bundle that contains the letters of Aemilia Juliana. There he discusses the redecoration project his mother has in hand for the palace chapel in Leutenberg and asks his sister to convey to their mother that he has paid the painter 2 Pfennig on her behalf and that the two paintings are nearly ready.

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Herbert Zeman, “Kaspar Stieler: Versuch einer Monographie,” diss. Vienna, 1965, pp. 54–8; TSAR Geheimes Archiv, A XII 66, Nr. 4–8. 5 Otto Kinkeldey, “Einleitung,” in his edition of Philipp Heinrich Erlebach, Harmonische Freude musicalischer Freunde, Denkmäler Deutscher Tonkunst, vol. 46/47 (Wiesbaden, 1914), pp. v and xi–xii; Ute Omonsky, “Werden und Wandel der Rudolstädter Hofkapelle als Bestandteil des höfischen Lebens im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert,” in: Musik am Rudolstädter Hof. Die Entwicklung der Hofkapelle vom 17. Jahrhundert bis zum Beginn des 20. Jahrhunderts, ed. Omonsky (Rudolstadt, 1997), pp. 21–2. 6 Christian Dittrich, Seivert Lammers, 1648-1711. Ein Beitrag zur thüringischen Kunstgeschichte im Zeitalter des Barock (Dresden, 1980), pp. 9–10 and note 36. 7 Examples of letters that directly or indirectly mention her interactions with painters include Letters [17], [33], [41], [80], [101], [110], [145], [236], [278], [279], [284], [285], [311], [376], [388], [397], [404]. 8 The Heidecksburg museum dates the painting ca. 1640 and attributes it to Heinrich Siegfried (1622–1659) based on the assumption that the Schwarzburg family depicted came from an earlier generation. Given the obvious use of Ludwig Günther’s portrait and the resemblance of the young family to the count and countess of the 1660s, I have instead included the painting among those commissioned by Aemilia Juliana. This assumption is also backed by apparent references to it in her letters. In Letter [17], which probably dates from early April 1668 due to an allusion to a Reuss wedding in Greiz, Aemilia Juliana says that she is sending to her mother-in-law three “images” (probably sketches) of figures apparently destined for this very painting, and is asking for her advice. At this point, it appears that she was planning on having the unnamed painter incorporate only Christ on the cross with Maria [Magdalena] embracing his feet, flanked by the two miscreants crucified with him, but she is already worried that the figures are too small for the size of canvas needed to fill some particular space. Indeed, it sounds as if the painter may already have painted the background. There is no indication in this letter that a portrait was planned for the Maria Magdalena figure. The letter was written five months before the birth and subsequent death of Albertina Antonia, who will eventually be included in the painting, and at a time when Ludwig Friedrich was an infant, not a toddler. Thus the final concept must have evolved gradually over a period of two or three years. A letter that can be dated to December 1669 mentions Aemilia Juliana’s request that the portrait of Ludwig Günther be sent to her (Letter [290]). Another letter refers to the portrait of sister-in-law Christiana Magdalena as having been loaned to Aemilia Juliana (Letter [39]); it can be dated to January 1670. Still another refers to the loan of a portrait of Ludaemilia Elisabeth (Letter [54], which dates from early 1671 since it refers to the recent death of Ludwig Friedrich’s “beloved Grandmama”). In fact, close examination of the painting shows that the figures from the Schwarzburg family were superimposed on an existing image that must have appeared very bare without them. 9 The practice is unusual enough that her patronage of the visual arts merits separate treatment, especially of the models and theological sources behind the resulting artworks. My detailed treatment that examines theological issues and possible precedents for the practice, titled “The Self-Reflective Gaze: Devotional Art between New Piety and Pietism in Seventeenth-Century Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt,” is currently under consideration by a journal. Suffice it to say in this context that her aesthetic was informed by Martin Luther’s Ein Sermon von der Betrachtung des heiligen Leidens Christi (1519) and Wider die himmlischen Propheten, von den Bildern und Sakramenten (1523), together with a treatise by later theologian Johann Arndt, Ikonographia (1597), as well as by illustrations and frontispieces from contemporary printed devotional books.

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Letters [278], [279], and [383] refer explicitly to the Erfurt painter, but do not include dates or any additional information about his identity. However, the fact that none contains any reference to her son Ludwig Friedrich—an omission that normally calls for a date of 1666 or early 1667—may help date his activities to these years. Letters [404] and [82] refer to Hans Heinrich. 11 On Lammers and his predecessors in Rudolstadt, see Dittrich, Seivert Lammers. 12 Letter [279], which can’t be dated to a particular year. I use the phrase “Your Belovedness” to translate the term used among close family members of the high nobility, “Eure Liebden,” which Aemilia Juliana abbreviates “E.L.” Here, as in most of the letters to her sister-in-law, she refers to Aemilia Antonia as “unsere G[nädige] F[rau] M[mutter]”, which I translate as “our Gracious Lady Mother.” 13 Dittrich, Seivert Lammers, p. 9. Heinrich Müller’s Himmlischer Liebes-Kuß, first published in 1659, was a best-seller that was often reprinted. It is unclear which edition she possessed, but I have examined the third edition (Frankfurt: Wilde, 1669). Aemilia Juliana is apparently describing the frontispiece, which shows a crowned Jesus enthroned in the clouds kissing a woman who has climbed up to heaven to be with him. 14 Dittrich posits 1676 as the date for both Aemilia Juliana as Bride of Christ and its pendant, Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb (Seivert Lammers, pp. 118–19). But if the painting dates from 1676 (or from her tenth wedding anniversary in 1675), when she would have been close to 40 years of age, that would mean that the portrait did not reflect her current appearance, but instead aspired to that of 1665, when she had been a new bride. 15 As discussed above in Chapter 2. The song text in her handwriting is preserved in M2(3), pp. 12–14. It includes an acrostic that combines their names and identities by intertwining their initials: AEAJGZSVH (Albert Emilia Anton Juliana Graf/Gräfin zu Schwarzburg und Hohnstein). 16 Dittrich, Seivert Lammers, pp. 31–5. He discusses these paintings at length, pp. 8–46. Very similar works of art elsewhere have also been labeled “Pietist art.” See Jan Harasimowicz, “Architektur und Kunst” in: Glaubenswelt und Lebenswelten, ed. Hartmut Lehmann, Vol. 4 of Geschichte des Pietismus (Göttingen, 2004), pp. 456–85. 17 This painting, which hangs in the Heidecksburg Museum in the rooms dedicated to Schwarzburg history, does not appear in Dittrich’s catalogue of Lammers’ works, but Dr. Unbehaun agrees that it should probably be attributed to Lammers and given the date 1670 or 1671. 18 Letters [233] and [404]. 19 As I discuss in the article, “The Self-Reflective Gaze.” The painting shows Jesus surrounded by mothers with their infants and young children. He blesses an infant he holds in his arms; given its vague features, it may be seen as deceased. The woman who stands to the left, with a larger squirming baby on her lap, gazes at the infant Jesus holds and blesses, and she probably represents its mother. Dittrich, Seivert Lammers, tries to identify several of the women as Lammers’s first and second wives and all of the children as his own (p. 117); he thus dates the painting to the 1690s. Nevertheless, because the biblical story was central in the funerary sermon for Albertina Antonia delivered and printed in 1668 (Justus Söffing, Freundschafft Christi/ mit Seinen Gläubigen [Rudolstadt, 1668]), as well as in a musical piece titled “Lasset die Kindlein zu mir kommen” created for the funeral, it seems logical to postulate that the painting was a commemorative commission in reference to the death of Aemilia Juliana’s infant. 20 Johann Traugott Löschke, Denkschrift über Gräfin Ludoämilia Elisabetha (Leipzig, 1872).

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Letter [54]. “Nun der Winter ist vergangen”; “Ich kan zu Haus nicht bleiben”; “Gott hat das Jahr geschmücket”; and “Lobt Gott ins Himmels Throne” (TO 1699). 23 Dittrich, Seivert Lammers, p. 119. The figure on the far left, Sight, supposedly portraying Albert Anton, is no more male in appearance than the others. The clothing is vague, the draped cape and lace manchettes on the sleeves not sufficiently differentiated from those worn by the women to the right to make a determination on that basis. The coiffure does not differ from that of the women, with its hints of strings of small pearls. In fact, I assume that this figure is Aemilia Juliana. 24 TSAR, Nachlaß Dr. Bernhard Rein, Nr. 93, first item. 25 Dittrich’s entry on this painting (Seivert Lammers, p. 118) explains his identification of the subject by referring to an inventory that reports a similar painting on the private devotional altar of the “deceased duchess,” by which was meant Anna Sophia, née Duchess of Saxony-Gotha, who married Aemilia Juliana’s son in 1691. Dittrich finds similarities with a formal portrait of Ludwig Friedrich’s wife. However, I find that this figure at the foot of the cross more closely resembles Ludaemilia Elisabeth as immortalized in the allegorical portrait as Summer. Following Rein’s assumption about the identity of the woman portrayed would also be in accord with the placement of Ludaemilia Elisabeth’s portrait within the Crucifixion with the Count and his Family, as discussed above. 26 Dittrich, Seivert Lammers, pp. 128–9. 27 Dittrich, Seivert Lammers, p. 11, pp. 37–9, and pp. 129–32. Dittrich, writing during the Communist regime of the German Democratic Republic, saw the use of portraiture of the ruler and his wife in biblical scenes in the King David Room as absolutistic selfaggrandizement, p. 39. 28 “Serenissimae Regentis Ordinar-Vorgemach mit lauter Familien Portraits statt der Tappet.” (TSAR, Geheimes Archiv BXIIIf,Nr.2). 29 “Wie Ihre Gn. Dero Gemach mit so nachdencklichen geistlichen Sinn-Bildern vom rechten Glauben/ Christlichen Leben/ und seligen Sterben auszieren lassen.” Söffing, Rudolstädtisches Hand-Buch (Rudolstadt, 1692), p. 6 verso. 30 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl einer Christ-Gräflichen Lammes-Freundin (Rudolstadt, 1707), p. 39. The biblical source is Daniel 6.10. 31 As reported by early hymnologist Johann Martin Schamelius, pastor in Naumburg, who claimed to have heard it directly from Leopold: “kurtz vor der Fr. Gräfin Niederlage ... habe [sie] ihm auch dazumahl ihre verfertigte, und sehr reinlich geschriebene Lieder in grosser Anzahl gezeiget, mit Vermeldung, daß solche nächstens zum Druck solten befördert werden, habe auch das bereits dazu gestochene Kupffer-Blat zu sehen dargereichet.” Schamelius, Vindiciae Cantionum S. Ecclesiae Evangeliscae (Leipzig, 1712), p. 15. 32 I have discussed and illustrated these frontispieces in an article: “‘Wer weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende.’ Todesbereitschaft im Leben und Dichten der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt,” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte (10): 43–7. 33 In my studies, “Creating a Language for German Opera: The Struggle to Adapt Madrigal Versification in Seventeenth-Century Germany,” Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift 62 (1988): 266–89; and A Language for German Opera: The Development of Forms and Formulas for Recitative and Aria in Seventeenth-Century German Libretti (Wiesbaden, 2002). 34 In Wolfenbüttel, Albert Anton—and perhaps also Aemilia Juliana—probably saw Anton Ulrich’s allegorical drama Amelinde in 1657 and his biblical opera Jacobs des Patriarchen Heyrath in1662, among others. Aemilia Juliana owned a copy of the 22

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1657 edition of Amelinde, together with a musical-dramatic work of 1656 authored by Duke August’s wife, Sophie Elisabeth, both of which she either acquired as mementos of performances she had attended, or—if she wasn’t present—as a gift sent to her by her eldest sister. The two plays are bound with other works of Wolfenbüttel derivation in the binding characteristic of her private library (HB Rudolstadt, DdII,Nr.91), and her signature as an unmarried woman adorns the title page (“AEmilia Juliana. G.G.u.F.zu B. u. M.”). 35 The libretti of Amelinde and Jacob des Patriarchen Heyraht were reprinted in Rudolstadt by Caspar Freyschmidt, probably in 1664 or 1665, but without the honorific frames addressed to Duke August that had appeared in the earlier editions published in Wolfenbüttel—an indication that performances of these two dramatic works by Anton Ulrich, minus their Wolfenbüttel context, were probably mounted at the Schwarzburg court shortly before the marriage of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana. The Rudolstadt Amelinde edition survives in the HB Rudolstadt in a collective volume (Ma X, Nr. 42). It seems likely that Caspar Stieler was involved as producer. 36 On this libretto and its performance, see my books: Scaramutza in Germany: The Dramatic Works of Caspar Stieler (University Park, 1989), especially pp. 27–33 and 108–9; and A Language for German Opera, pp. 216–22. 37 Heinrich Müller, Himmlischer Liebes-Kuß, pp. 40–41 and p. 70. 38 Letter 12. 39 The French pastoral play, printed in few exemplars and lacking wide distribution, must have been acquired by Stieler during his sojourn in Paris in 1658. On Basilene and its allegorical meaning, see my book, Scaramutza in Germany, pp. 41–7. 40 Letters 14 and [40], for example. 41 Sophie Elisabeth created such roles for herself in Der Natur Banquet, Der Minervae Banquet, and Glükwünschende Waarsagung und Ankunft der Königin Nicaulae. On Sophie Elisabeth as dramatist, see Joseph Leighton, “Die literarische Tätigkeit der Herzogin Sophie Elisabeth von Braunschweig-Lüneburg,” and Hans Gert Roloff, “Die höfischen Maskeraden der Sophie Elisabeth, Herzogin zu Braunschweig-Lüneburg,” both in: Europäische Hofkultur im 16. und 17. Jahrhundert, ed. August Buck (Hamburg, 1981), vol. 2, pp. 483–96; Roloff, “Absolutismus und Hoftheater. Das Freudenspiel der Herzogin Sophie Elisabeth zu Braunschweig und Lüneburg,” Daphnis 10 (1981): 735–53; and Stephanie M. Hilger, “She is the Moon and the Sun: Transgressive Gender Performances in the Works of Sophie Elisabeth, Duchess of Braunschweig and Lüneburg,” Colloquia Germanica 34 (2001): 195–211. The article by Hilger emphasizes Sophie Elisabeth’s participation in the theatricals. 42 The stage direction describes her appearance as “in weißen Kleidern mit einem Krantze gezieret und unter dem lincken Arm das Horn der Fülle/ in der rechten aber einen Ohlzweig haltend.” Basilene, pp. Kiii [verso] – [Kiv verso]. 43 Anton Ulrich was in the audience and would have recognized the compliment. His short operatic works of 1659, Andromeda and Orpheus, are featured as pivotal accomplishments in creating a fully mature German-language recitative verse form in my book, A Language for German Opera, pp. 191–9. 44 On Stieler as musician, see “Die Musik der ‘Geharnschten Venus’” by Kathi MeyerBaer and “Nachtrag” by Bernhard Billeter in: Kaspar Stieler, Die Geharnschte Venus oder Liebes-Lieder im Kriege gedichtet, ed. Herbert Zeman (Munich, 1968), “Anhang,” pp. 19–31. My findings on Stieler’s musical contributions in Rudolstadt can be found in “Caspar Stieler and the German ‘Singspiel’,” in Scaramutza in Germany, pp. 105–41; and in “Rudolstadt: A Series of Musical-Dramatic Performances by Caspar Stieler,” in A Language for German Opera, pp. 207–33.

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See Gudrun Busch, “Die Beer-Volckerodt-Kontroverse im Kontext der frühen mitteldeutschen Oper, oder: Pietistische Opern-Kritik als Zeitzeichen,” in: Das Echo Halles. Kulturelle Wirkungen des Pietismus, ed. Rainer Lächele (Tübingen, 2001), pp. 131–66. 46 Busch, “Die Beer-Volckerodt-Kontroverse,” pp. 135–8. 47 Most stridently in Ahasverus Fritsch, Gottlobs fünffhundert zufällige Andachten (Leipzig: Gleditsch, 1700), no. LXXXVI “Die Opera,” p. 293 (first published in 1687), and “Die unglückselige Opera” (first published in 1700), p. 546. In these two meditations, he denounces comedy, musical drama, and their audiences as frivolous and impious. 48 “Vorbericht,” CS 1770, final page. The biographer speculates that the letter had come from Dr. Petersen, the noted radical Pietist, who was active after around 1675. 49 CS 1770, p. 341. 50 I am grateful to Michael Schütterle of the Historische Bibliothek in Rudolstadt for bringing this handmade book to my attention, and to Dr. Unbehaun for looking at the book with me and discussing likely attributions. 51 Erlebach did create several short-form operatic works of an honorific nature as well as a grand opera during the 1680s, but all of them were for other venues (Kinkeldey, “Einleitung,” p. xl). In addition to two “Serenades” designed for performance in Gotha, Erlebach composed an opera performed in Braunschweig in 1693, Die Plejades oder Das Siebengestirne (The Pleiades or the Constellation of Seven Stars), based on a text by librettist Friedrich Christian Bressand. The libretto is preserved in HB Rudolstadt (Dd II, Nr. 595). The publisher attributes the music to Erlebach: “Die Music zu dieser Opera ist gesetzet von Hn. P. H. Erlebach/ Hoch-Gräfl. Schwartzburgischem Capellmeister zu Rudelstadt.” 52 German: Abraham Dramaticus, das ist: Der wunder-gläubige Abraham/ Die wunder-fromme Sara/ und der wunder-gehorsame Isaac. Aside from a prose plot summary, the program prints only two arias, several odes, and an alexandrine epilogue. 53 Christian Zeidler, Die Durch Adam zwar Verderbete/ Doch in Christo Wieder ererbete Unschuld und Seeligkeit/ In einem Einfältig-abgefasseten Poetischen Schau-Spiel (Saalfeld, 1680). The work, consisting of alexandrine speeches with some imbedded songs, is included in a volume in HB Rudolstadt that collects many plays, libretti, and texted ballets (Dd II, Nr. 595). 54 Title and plot summary of the 1682 play are preserved in a program pamphlet: Johann Hoffmann, Nüzliches und erbauliches Schauspiel von Fürsichtiger und unfürsichtiger Erziehung der heranwachsenden Jugend (Weimar, 1682). The pamphlet is bound in a collective volume of Schwarzburgiana preserved in HB Rudolstadt (Ma IV, Nr. 48). The school play by an unknown author performed in 1692, Der durch Heirat wohlberatene Armenische Prinz Philotheus, includes a dedicatory ode addressed to Ludwig Friedrich and his wife, Anna Sophia, an indication that there were women in the audience. It is bound in another collective volume of Schwarzburgiana in HB Rudolstadt (S.B. Nr. 423). Another play by Hoffmann, Erbauliches Schauspiel/ von dem wunderlich siegenden Kleinen David/ wider den grossen Riesen Goliath (n.pl., n.d.), is preserved in yet another collective volume in HB Rudolstadt (Dd II, Nr. 595), where someone has penciled in the date “1705.” One is reminded of the mural in Leutenberg in which Ludwig Friedrich is depicted as a victorious David carrying the severed head of Goliath. 55 The two plays do not survive, but pamphlets inviting potential audience members to the performances record the titles, plots, and dates of the performances: Johann Ernst Müller, Wohlgemeindte Einladung zu dem Schau-Spiel von dem Leben und Tode Käyser Günthers (Rudolstadt, 1690); and Freundlichste Einladung zu dem Schau-Spiel genandt: Das durch den Frieden erfreuete Europa (Rudolstadt, 1698). These pamphlets are preserved in a collection of plays and semi-dramatic texts in HB Rudolstadt (Ma X, Nr. 41).

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I have translated the German term “Sing-Ballet” as “sing-ballet,” for lack of a better term. A sing-ballet is a semi-dramatic performance of vocal music to which costumed dancers move in a manner that is intended to be both pantomime and dance. 57 Johann Hoffmann, Der Gottseligen Felicitas Marter … In einem verhoffentlich nicht unerbaulichen Schauspiel (Erfurt, 1703), pp. 6–7 and 11–13. 58 As several Lammers sketches of stage sets survive, it seems likely that he was commissioned to design the scenery for most if not all of the plays, ballets, and operas performed during his tenure as court painter. Dittrich, Seivert Lammers, discusses this activity on pp. 13–14 and illustrates several set designs on p. 83. 59 As recorded in a pamphlet, Ballet, Welches Bey erfreulichster Ankunfft unsers Gn. Herrn Ludwig Friedrich und Dero ... Gemahlin ... Annen Sophien unterthänigst vorgestellet (Rudolstadt, 1701). The dancing master claims responsibility, and it seems likely that he and the children were left in Rudolstadt under Aemilia Juliana’s care during a journey undertaken by the parents. The pamphlet is preserved in a volume in HB Rudolstadt, Dd II, Nr. 595 (8). 60 The libretto is preserved in HB Rudolstadt (Ma X, Nr. 29b) and in several other libraries with holdings once associated with the courts of related ducal families. 61 On the background of the opera’s subject, see Christine Holzberg and Dieter Ruedelbusch, Die Sage vom Löwenkampf des Grafen Friedrich und die besonderen Beziehungen zwischen den Häusern Oldenburg-Delmenhorst und Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (Oldenburg, 1978). The paintings hang in the Oldenburg room in the Heidecksburg museum. 62 It may be the same as, or derivative from, the work of the same title performed in Weißenfels in 1690 with music by Johann Phillip Krieger. 63 The extended title of the second part of Erlebach’s Harmonische Freude Musicalischer Freunde (1710), which made the after-dinner songs available to the public, uses the terms “moral” and “political” to describe them: “bestehend in Funff und Zwantzig Moralisch- und Politischen Arien.” Erlebach also published dance suites that likely had their origins in court entertainments. 64 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 194. 65 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 67. 66 On Roth, see Kinkeldey, “Einleitung,” p. v; Omonsky, “Werden und Wandel der Rudolstädter Hofkapelle,” p. 21. Kinkeldey published the 1697 inventory of musical scores at the end of his “Einleitung,” pp. xxii–xxviii. 67 On Bleyer, see Omonsky, “Werden und Wandel,” pp. 19–21, and Conrad Höfer, “Georg Bleyer,” in: Zeitschrift des Vereins für thüringische Geschichte, 24. Beiheft (Jena, 1941). Many pieces of religious music by Bleyer appear in Erlebach’s inventory under their composer’s initials, “G.B.” 68 Letter [240]. 69 Letter 7. 70 On Erlebach, see Bernd Baselt’s entry, “Philipp Heinrich Erlebach,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, ed. Stanley Sadie, vol. 6 (London, 1980), pp. 235–7, which contains an accurate account of Erlebach’s life, a list of his surviving and lost works, and a complete bibliography of older treatments. In addition, see Baselt, “Die frühdeutsche Oper am schwarzburg-rudolstädtischen Hofe unter Philipp Heinrich Erlebach (1657–1714),” in: Musiktheatralische Formen in kleinen Residenzen, ed. Friedhelm Brusniak (Cologne, 1993), pp. 32–54; Omonsky, “Werden und Wandel der Rudolstädter Hofkapelle,” pp. 13–94, especially 25–33; and Kinkeldey, “Einleitung,” which includes Erlebach’s 1697 inventory of musical scores. A second inventory, taken after Erlebach’s death, is printed in Bernd Baselt, “Die Musikaliensammlung der Schwarzburg-Rudolstädtischen Hofkapelle

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unter Philipp Heinrich Erlebach (1657–1714),” in: Traditionen und Aufgaben der hallischen Musikwissenschaft, Sonderband of the Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift der Martin-LutherUniversität Halle-Wittenberg (1963), pp. 105–34. The music burned in the palace fire of 1735. 71 On the development of the oratorio genre, see Otto Kade, Die ältere PassionsKomposition bis zum Jahre 1631 (1893; rpt. Hildesheim, 1971); Kurt von Fischer, “Die Passionshistorien von Heinrich Schütz und ihre geschichtlichen Voraussetzungen,” in: Heinrich Schütz in seiner Zeit, ed. Walter Blankenburg (Darmstadt, 1985), pp. 139–52; and Willi Flemming, “Einführung, Oratorium,” in: Barockdrama. VI. Oratorium, Festspiel (1931; rpt. Hildesheim, 1965), pp. 1–26. 72 Erlebach’s Christmas cantata “Siehe, ich verkündige euch grosse Freude,” is performed on the recording “Baroque Christmas Cantatas,” Vanguard Cardinal Series, 1968. None of the arias and chorales is identical to any in the oratorio. The cantata, which survives in manuscript, was published in a modern transcription in 1960. It can be dated to 1698. 73 Erlebach’s Gott-geheiligte Sing-Stunde (Rudolstadt, 1704) contains 12 cantatas (texts by Christoph Helm) complete with musical settings. Many unpublished spiritual cantatas, arias, and motets are preserved in the Sächsische Landesbibliothek in Dresden, according to the listing in Baselt, “Erlebach”, New Grove, vol. 6, p. 236. Baselt estimates that around 300 individual settings are lost. 74 Rudolstädtischer Neu-Jahrs-Abend/ Oder Christliche Auffmunterung Zu Andächtiger Uberlegung Des instehenden Jahr-Wechsels/ Wie solche In der Christlichen Fest- Vorbereitungs-Versammlung In der Hoch-Gräfl. Schwartzburgis. Hof-Capelle zu Rudolstadt musiciret wird (Rudolstadt, 1706). 75 See Omonsky, “Werden und Wandel,” p. 27, and Baselt, “Erlebach,” New Grove, vol. 6, p. 236. The texts of the 1705–1706 sequence, the last that Aemilia Juliana would have experienced, are preserved in published form as Geistlicher Chor- und KirchenSchmuck (Rudolstadt, 1707). They consist of prose biblical quotations, each followed by a single short rhymed song-like strophe. It is unclear whether this cycle is in fact different from that of the “Spruchodenjahr” 1701. 76 The texts for this cantata cycle, performed in 1703–1704, are preserved in Erdmann Neumeister, Das Wort Christi In Psalmen/ Lobgesänge/ Geistliche und Liebliche Lieder/ Vor die Hoch-Gräflich-Schwartzburgische Hoff-Capelle zu Rudolstadt (Rudolstadt: Urban, 1708). On this work, see Omonsky, “Werden und Wandel,” pp. 28–9. On the importance of Neumeister’s reform of the spiritual cantata, see Wolfgang Miersemann, “Erdmann Neumeisters ‘Vorbericht’ zu seinen ‘Geistlichen Cantaten’ von 1704: ein literatur- und musikprogrammatisches ‘Meister-Stück,’” in: Erdmann Neumeister (1671–1756). Wegbereiter der evangelischen Kirchenkantate (Rudolstadt, 2000), pp. 51–74. 77 Baselt, “Die Musikaliensammlung,” p. 128–9. The 70 pieces are listed under numbers 1406–1443 in the inventory. 78 The inventories show that earlier composer Georg Bleyer set at least one of Aemilia Juliana’s songs, “Du Tochter Zion,” as well as one by Ludaemilia Elisabeth, “Gott ist die Liebe,” an indication that the practice must have begun in the late 1660s. 79 Erlebach, Harmonische Freude musicalischer Freunde, vol. 1 (Nuremberg, 1697), and vol. 2 (Nuremberg, 1710); published in modern realizations in Harmonische Freude musicalischer Freunde, ed. Otto Kinkeldey (Wiesbaden, 1959). As Olmonsky has shown (“Werden und Wandel,” p. 27), the compositions derive from Die Plejades and Die Siegende Unschuld.

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Chapter 4

Partner in a State Marriage “The Partnership of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana” Among the more intriguing of the family icons initiated by Aemilia Juliana are the frescos Seivert Lammers painted in the King David room at Friedensburg palace in Leutenberg in 1687–1688. The scenes from the Old Testament account of the life of David that once adorned the walls of a room in the small palace, formerly her mother-in-law’s dower residence and later one of the family’s summer retreats, contained family portraits superimposed on the biblical figures. Not designed to elicit private devotion, these wall paintings served purely representational purposes. The equation with the dynasty of King David, ancestor of Christ, endowed the Schwarzburg family with an aura of divinely destined purpose in human history. But the depiction of Aemilia Juliana in one of the panels also served to convey her view of her role as ruler’s consort by means of an astonishing analogy. One scene that survives in an old photograph depicts a young David fresh from his triumph, the shepherd’s pouch containing stones for his sling buckled around his waist, the gigantic severed head of Goliath held in his hands (Figure 4.1). David’s features are not those of some idealized face (like that of the soldier standing behind him), nor do they reflect those of a hired model, common practice for biblical paintings. Instead, the facial features of Ludwig Friedrich, then 21 years of age and still away on his cavalier’s tour, topped the body of the heroic young shepherd who had saved his people. His gaze is directed, portrait-like, at the painting’s viewer. Lammers, evidently on the basis of an existing portrait, portrayed his subject as a proud, quietly self-assured young man who resembled both of his parents, although less heavily jowled than his father and with Aemilia Juliana’s fuller lips. The scene is known as Ludwig Friedrich as David. A second recorded scene depicts David and Jonathan, right hands clasped in the moment of Jonathan’s promise to love and serve David as his closest friend forever (1 Samuel 18:3). Both are dressed in armor, their heads capped with crested helmets, David with a quiver full of arrows visible over his shoulder, Jonathan with his sword girded at his side, not yet having given it to his friend as recounted in the biblical story. They stand side by side, joint defenders of Israel against the pagan Philistines (Figure 4.2). David’s face in this scene constitutes a portrait of a youthful Albert Anton, in his late twenties but already heavily jowled, looking out at the viewer. The more delicate features of his friend Jonathan, with arched brows and full firm lips, reflect the appearance of Aemilia Juliana at about the same age, and rather than looking out at the viewer, she gazes devotedly at her husband. The panel is known as The Partnership of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana (Der Bund zwischen Albert Anton und Aemilie Juliane).

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Ludwig Friedrich as David, wall painting formerly in the King David room in the palace in Leutenberg, Seivert Lammers, ca. 1688. Courtesy of Foto-Lösche.

The language of the biblical passages depicting the love between David and Jonathan probably appealed to Aemilia Juliana when she wanted to define her relationship with her husband. Jonathan’s love had to do with the union of hearts, with the feelings of the heart, yet without romantic fiction: “Jonathan and David made a covenant with one another; for he loved him as he loved his own heart” (Jonathan und David machten einen Bund mit einander; denn er hatte ihn lieb wie sein eigen Herz). In Aemilia Juliana’s anniversary song “Alle Welt die muß erfahren” (All the world must hear tell), with its acrostic employing their intertwined initials, she had used similar words to refer to the friend Jesus had given her, a friend “who held her as dear as his own heart” (der mich wie sein Hertze meint). Similarly, her word choice was affected by Jonathan’s words upon reconfirming his commitment to his friend in 1  Samuel 20:42, “May the Lord ever stand between me and thee, between my seed and thy seed” (Der Herr sei zwischen mir und dir, zwischen meinem Samen und deinem Samen, das bleibe ewiglich!). She paraphrased the statement about the involvement of the divinity in their relationship as “Thus we three—I, you, he—will remain one in all eternity” (So bleib ich, du, er, wir dreye, Eins in alle Ewigkeit). As in the friendship between David and Jonathan, it was God whose presence blessed and defined the elevated nature of their marriage. Although there are no visible texts within the painting, that same biblical language defining the ultimate friendship is implicit in this image of her partnership with her husband.1 The dynastic implications of Jonathan’s words, “between my seed and thy seed,” took on new meaning in the pact between the members of the ruling couple. The state marriage between herself and Albert Anton was the foundation, the very future of the dynasty, as expressed in their heir, Ludwig Friedrich. And that was the intended message of the King David Room with its portraits of the Schwarzburg ruling family superimposed on the figures

Partner in a State Marriage

Fig. 4.2

103

The Partnership of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana, wall painting formerly in the King David room in the palace in Leutenberg, Seivert Lammers, ca. 1688. Courtesy of Foto-Lösche.

from the prehistory of Christianity. Just as the deeds of David prefigured the deeds of his descendant Jesus Christ, so would their actions bode well for the future of the dynasty and principality. The decorated room, which was probably used for festive events to which their relatives, friends, and neighboring noble families were invited, was to serve as a visual glorification of Albert Anton and his antecedents and descendants. At the same time, it offered Aemilia Juliana the opportunity to make a statement about the nature of her role in their marital partnership. There is no getting around that fact that Aemilia Juliana had herself depicted in this instance in the guise of a man, a warrior who fought in defense of his friend and that friend’s destiny. Although she never wielded a real sword, her militancy served as a metaphor for the weapons she brought to bear in defense of Schwarzburg in the many descriptions of her piety as a source of strength for her people, of her songs and prayers of supplication for their well-being as a shield she held up on their behalf. Aemilia Juliana would have felt justified in using this militant self-portrayal due to the biblical women whose patriotic acts of violence were exemplary (Jael and Judith), not to mention the biblical and early Christian women who had led men into battle (Deborah in partnership with Barak and Zenobia alone at the head of her troops). But there was also a historical role model for a closely related woman ruler who had brandished a sword on behalf of her people: Aemilia Juliana’s sixteenth-century predecessor in Rudolstadt, Heroic Katherine (“die heldenmütige Katharina”).2 As was his usual practice, Lammers used book illustrations as a basis for his depictions. In the case of Aemilia Juliana as Jonathan, he relied on an illustration of Zenobia from Piérre Le Moyne’s La Gallerie des Femmes Fortes (The Gallery of Powerful Women). This collection of images and texts depicting a series of powerful women from biblical and secular history was a popular work that

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participated in the ongoing debates in the seventeenth century over the proper sphere for women (the so-called Querelle des Femmes). Le Moyne’s original edition and many other works of the period with similar textual arguments were dedicated to women who were in fact politically powerful, either as temporary regents for sons still in their minorities or as queens ruling in their own right. In offering evidence of the ability of women of the past to rule and to defend a state, such works functioned to establish the basis for the authority of the woman to whom the work was dedicated. Zenobia was included for her actions as queen and regent for her young son, actions which involved military leadership.3 Although the Roman-style robes are arranged differently in Lammers’ mural, Aemilia Juliana as Jonathan assumes exactly the same pose as Le Moyne’s Zenobia. She wears the same helmet with its feathery plumes, the same breastplate that includes a prominent navel, the same Roman-style short skirt consisting of hanging bands of fabric. Unlike Zenobia, Aemilia Juliana as Jonathan wears a sheathed sword—an even clearer symbol of military authority than the arrows in a quiver visible over the shoulder of her husband as David. With her right hand she grasps the hand of her husband instead of Zenobia’s spear, and the intricate detail of their intertwined fingers draws the viewer’s eyes to the centrality of the gesture. The resulting image depicts a partnership between the two members of the ruling couple. Thus while Lammer’s fresco presents her as a femme forte, it does so by representing her as an equal partner to her husband, rather than as a woman assuming a male role as a substitute for male authority. The Querelle des Femmes, which had made its first appearance in the early fifteenth century with the dissemination of Christine de Pizan’s Book of the City of Ladies, was a trendy topic in the seventeenth century. In addition to a few women writing on behalf of their own gender, numerous men wrote treatises and other works defending women’s positive qualities, in particular their ability to rule a state.4 One of the most significant contributions to the Querelle des Femmes of the seventeenth century was written by Gisbertus Voetius, mentor of the famous scholar and advocate for women’s education, Anna Maria van Schurman. The chapter “Concerning Women” in his Politica Ecclesiastica of 1663 is far more radical in its defense of women’s abilities than that in Schurman’s own treatise.5 The expressed opinions of Voetius on “whether women are to be engaged in public office and governance” and “whether women should be admitted equally with men to religious exercises—public, private, and semiprivate” would have been of great interest to Aemilia Juliana. Voetius finds that women rulers and regents properly assert authority in matters of church and state, and that other women “by virtue of learning and capacity for interpretation” may appropriately play important roles as policy advisers and as leaders of household and semi-private devotions.6 Voetius mentions as one of his six examples of notable learned women Eudoxia, wife of the Byzantine emperor Theodosius II.7 This Greek woman, originally named Athenais, had taken the name Eudoxia upon conversion to Christianity. Stories of Eudoxia’s life generally include accounts of the regency of the emperor’s sister Pulcheria, as well as admiration for the learning and poetic activities of the new

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empress, and thus could furnish considerable material for Querelle des Femmes discussions. In fact, the material was used for this purpose in Rudolstadt. At the command of Albert Anton, court tutor Michael Hörnlein dramatized Eudoxia’s story and staged it in Aemilia Juliana’s honor on the occasion of her birthday in August 1680. Die steigende und fallende Athenais Oder Eudoxia (Rising and Falling Athenais, or Eudoxia) was a prose tragedy tracing not only the title figure’s meteoric rise from professor’s daughter to empress and from pagan to Christian, but also her fall due to the machinations of malicious and misogynist intriguers at court. Lacking the dramatic talent of his predecessor, Caspar Stieler, Hörnlein wrote a play that constitutes a jumble of sometimes irrelevant chronological events rather than a coherent plot, but the issues of the Querelle des Femmes bind the disparate strands together. The debate first surfaces in the second scene, when the governor notes that one of the advisers, Saturninus, “doesn’t think much of women rulers” and another adviser, Chrysaphius, admits, “I am of the same opinion.” Using the usual arguments that appear in various treatises on the topic, the two misogynist advisers and the governor and his ally take up opposing positions in their lengthy discourse.8 This argument lays the groundwork for the theme that dominates the play in misogynist tirades by the intriguers alternating with expressions of admiration for women rulers by supporters. Despite the dialogue structure, it is the misogynist view that receives clear condemnation in the play, as this position is invariably mouthed by characters whose behavior and motives will be unmasked as evil. The advocates for women’s abilities in this miniature debate about the ability of women to rule, following the model of the treatises on the subject, also incorporate a series of examples of effective women rulers who contributed their wisdom, zeal, and piety to the successful state: Deborah, the Old Testament judge, is mentioned twice, while the historical Zenobia and the biblical Esther also emerge as exemplary women who exerted a leadership role in political and religious arenas. Thus Aemilia Juliana’s activities as female half of the ruling couple are lauded both in the victorious feminist arguments and in the activities of the two female protagonists in the play. It is not possible to know just how precise Albert Anton’s instructions to Hörnlein had been, but it is abundantly clear that Hörnlein wrote what he felt his patron wanted in creating this play that praised Aemilia Juliana through depiction of admired historical women and presentation of the usual arguments of the Querelles des Femmes against a dramatized backdrop that made clear which side held the correct views. Recent history in Rudolstadt could also contribute a positive role model for Aemilia Juliana, the regency of her foster mother during the minority of Albert Anton, which lasted from 1647 to 1662. When Aemilia Antonia removed herself and her unmarried daughters to her dower territory in Leutenberg in 1664, she was celebrated for her accomplishments as Regent. The oration by her court preacher, Johann Georg Roth, praised her as a wise second Deborah, as a definitive example of the good Christian ruler, and as proof that women had the ability to govern effectively when called upon to do so. In this “Christian Contemplation of the

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Government of the Judge Deborah,” Roth praised Albert Anton’s mother as a judge and leader whose government had respected the laws, customs, and freedoms of her subjects. Her actions, according to Roth, had fostered the physical and spiritual well-being of her people.9 Funerary sermons and memorial texts after her death in 1670 likewise lauded her deeds as Regent. She was explicitly praised for originating ordinances and decrees that benefited the entire land and its people, fostering schools and churches, and supporting schoolteachers and pastors in their work.10 She is given credit in her funeral biography for establishing annual visitations of churches and schools, catechism examinations of adults, and pastoral councils— actions modeled on those carried out by Duke Ernst in neighboring SaxonyGotha—as well as for making various pastoral and schoolmaster appointments. In these arenas, she was clearly fulfilling responsibilities of male rulers that are mentioned as particular concerns in the Querelle des Femmes debates. She is also depicted as having fulfilled the role appropriate to the Landesmutter, Mother of the Country, in that she concerned herself with raising the princely children, operated the court pharmacy for the benefit of her subjects, offered help to the poor, and “mothered” her subjects like a “wet nurse” and fond but strict parent. Her husband’s will establishing the regency had made it clear that, due to her extraordinary abilities, Aemilia Antonia was to be considered the primary decision-maker both as regent and as guardian of their children, even though Saxon law required that a male co-regent and co-guardian co-sign decrees and other legal documents. Ludwig Günther selected the son of his sister Magdalena, Heinrich II Reuss of Gera, to serve in this capacity.11 But Aemilia Antonia’s name always appears first on the documents she signed, and it is generally clear that the impetus for each came from her, while Heinrich’s signature was a mere formality. It was during this regency and guardianship by his highly capable mother that Albert Anton had grown up, his own values and opinions formed in large part by her words and deeds, his concept of good governance shaped by hers, his stand on the issue of gynocracy informed by his own experience. It is thus perhaps not surprising that Albert Anton would welcome the contributions his wife wished to make to governance of the principality and acknowledge her role as equal partner in the enterprise. Aemilia Juliana, as Aemilia Antonia’s foster daughter, had likewise grown up with an admired woman regent as role model, and thus it was natural that she should wish to participate as such a partner in governance—and that she would have herself portrayed in this role in the King David Room. Unlike her foster mother, who had to assume both male and female roles in the principality and in the family as regent and guardian, Aemilia Juliana carved out a sphere of activity as consort to the ruler that was for the most part not in overt violation of the usual expectations for women, yet she was able to contribute in substantive ways. Although she did not have an official role in the governance and running of the state, her active participation in an unofficial capacity was known and acknowledged by those closest to the decision-making. In the commemorative volume collecting the funeral sermons delivered following Aemilia Juliana’s death, it is recorded that Pastor Johann Nicolaus Schmied proclaimed on December 10,

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1706, on behalf of the highest officials in the government: “This is a house filled with the laments and tears of all of the state ministers and advisers of the court who are the representatives of the justice, consistory, treasury, and war offices, in mourning for such a gracious, highly intelligent, generous, and loving Mother of the Country, who was able to contribute such splendid and well-thought-out advice for the sake of the well-being of the entire land whenever difficult matters presented themselves and decisions had to be made.”12 While it can be assumed that her advice on ordinary matters was sought on a daily basis by her husband and by those advisers who paid her frequent visits, this statement in a funeral sermon makes it seem likely that she was also present in meetings of the entire group of advisers when major crises arose or when proposals for changes that challenged tradition were under consideration. Partnership did not mean that their roles were identical. Some areas were likely Albert Anton’s sole domain. For instance, Aemilia Juliana did not become involved in decisions or actions regarding military preparedness, an area where documentation of Albert Anton’s activities is clear. Nor did she serve as an appeals judge, as he did, although she sometimes acted as intercessor to whom supplicants first brought their pleas for help. She did not sign the ordinances that became the laws of the land, although she probably suggested and even helped to draft some in which she had particular interest. She did not oversee the treasury or other government offices—her husband’s domain, as her letters make clear. Nor did she make formal appointments to positions in the court bureaucracy or in the church, although she undoubtedly made some of the decisions and advised her husband on others. She did not conduct visitations of schools or parishes, nor preside at church councils, and she did not have any official function in overseeing schools or the church. All of these official roles that Albert Anton’s mother, Aemilia Antonia, had fulfilled as Regent during his minority were now his alone. To judge from the many references in Aemilia Juliana’s letters, Albert Anton appears to have taken his responsibilities in these areas seriously. Her direct involvement in governing is apparent, however, when it comes to the few offices open to women, offices which directly affected the lives of their female subjects, as will be discussed in Chapter 5. In addition to her unofficial participation in governance, Aemilia Juliana also took on several other roles that qualified her as a full partner in the ruling couple, to be treated below as “Saintly Intercessions” and “Practical Interventions,” respectively. The activities conducted under the first category depended on her authorship, performance, and dissemination of devotional texts on behalf of the principality and its inhabitants. Albert Anton understood very well the advantages his wife’s poetry and piety brought to their partnership. That he encouraged her in her efforts can be seen in the official status accorded her writings, as well as in the praise contained in the birthday and funerary honorifics. The activities she conducted under the second category, “Practical Interventions,” contributed materially to the well-being of their subjects, whether through charitable support, manufacture and distribution of pharmaceuticals, or investments in industries that stimulated the economy. That Albert Anton apparently allowed her to make her

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own financial decisions in controlling both her paternal legacy and her holdings in Schwarzburg, even though he had the right to take the reins, indicates the respect he had for her judgment in the financial arena as well. The State of the State: Saintly Intercessions Outside the court household, perhaps the most important duties for Aemilia Juliana as ruler’s consort involved her direct intercession with God on behalf of the principality, especially during times of crisis or discussions of new initiatives, through the prayers and songs that she performed in the privacy of her prayer alcove, together with the devotional texts and collections that she made available to Schwarzburg’s inhabitants for their use. Her activities are most visible in the context of the published collections she sponsored or designed, but hundreds of songs that she authored on behalf of their subjects, for the most part originally designed for her private performance before God, also found their way into these published collections and can be studied as individual intercessions. Aemilia Juliana’s activities in this sphere constitute an exceptional contribution to the duty of every consort to be a “pillar of prayer” (Betsäule) in defense of her people. Although she undoubtedly began her intercessional activities at an earlier date, the first book projects that appear to constitute products of her efforts, although published under the names of court preacher Johann Georg Roth and court tutor Michael Hörnlein, respectively, were Biblische ABC-Tafeln/ Oder Christliche Trost-Schule (Biblical ABC-Tables, or Christian School of Consolation) of 1674 and Der Brunn/ den die Fürsten gegraben haben/ herfür quellend alle in der H. Schrift befindliche Gebet (The Well-Fountain which the Rulers have excavated, pouring forth all the prayers found in the Bible) of 1676. The title pages and prefaces make it clear that these collections of biblical prayers derive from the command of the female member of the ruling couple, and Aemilia Juliana, as she is known to have done in other instances, probably collected the Bible passages herself.13 The second collection, in particular, speaks from the perspective of the ruler’s consort. The metaphor of the well-fountain provided by the rulers represents metaphorically her partnership with her husband, for the command to dig an aqueduct from Mörla to the palace, with the water then cascading down the mountain to the fountains in the town for the use of the residents, was Albert Anton’s, while her parallel contribution came in the form of prayers. The prayers in this collection address such common disasters as storms, drought, fire, famine, and war. One prayer is for use “when insects are damaging the crops,” and yet another is dedicated to the ravages of inflation on the currency of the land. Already in this early instance, it appears that Aemilia Juliana was sharing the prayer texts she used as intercessor on behalf of her land with her subjects, who would be able to add their voices to hers. Aemilia Juliana also wrote original songs on such topics, and she shared them with the local congregation, perhaps initially on single printed sheets distributed at church services. Those for thunderstorms and other severe storms are perhaps the

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most numerous. As some of the letters she wrote between 1665 and 1671 refer to terrifying storms, it is entirely possible that she had already begun producing such song texts during this period.14 She wrote other weather songs as well, primarily with regard to concerns about the effects on agriculture of drought or, conversely, of too much rain and too little sunshine.15 These may well represent more than the usual laments from farming societies about variable weather, given the fact that the Little Ice Age was afflicting Europe in the seventeenth century, bringing with it not only some abnormally cold, snowy winters, but also unusual extremes in weather.16 Nevertheless, climate change was not devastating to Schwarzburg year in and year out, and the land generally retained its ability to feed itself from its own agricultural activities. Some of her subjects probably attributed their good fortune to her intercessions with God. Two pairs of Aemilia Juliana’s songs, as well as a number of rhymed prayers, are directed at the financial crises brought about by inflation; in each of the song pairs, one pleads for divine aid and the other thanks God for his intervention. As inflation is never mentioned in the letters, it appears that this problem arose only later than 1671; the existence of the two pairs of songs leads to the conclusion that there were two separate instances of inflationary pressure on the Schwarzburg economy between 1672 and her death in 1706.17 From the various song and prayer texts, it is clear that “Theurung” was not exactly inflation in the modern sense, instead referring to precipitously higher prices on crucial commodities as a result of shortages caused by natural disasters. Thus her texts pray for relief from famine even as they lament the devalued currency, as can be seen in the first two strophes of a song first published in 1686: Barmhertziger/ Grund-frommer Gott! ach! sieh doch an die grosse Noth/ die uns liegt auf dem Hals; Es drücket uns die Theurung sehr/ der Hunger wächst je mehr und mehr.

Merciful, beneficent God, alas, look upon the great need that weighs us down; Inflation presses us sorely, famine increases daily.

2. Wie Ertz und Eisen/ Stein und Sand ist nunmehr fast das gantze Land: der Vorrath ist hinweg. Die arme Leut verschmachten gehn/ die Vorraths-Häuser wüste stehn.

Hard as bronze and iron, barren as stone and sand, that is what almost the entire land is like: provisions have been used up. The poor people go without, the storehouses stand empty.

After pleading for divine assistance to alter the weather-caused famine, later strophes name the commodities that can scarcely be found at any price: grain, flour, and bread.18 Fires that devastated entire neighborhoods in towns in the principality were likewise a concern for Aemilia Juliana and her husband. She wrote a number of texts in which she pleads with God for mercy, accepts a terrible fire as an admonition from an angry God, or expresses gratitude that the fire was ultimately controlled. A few of the texts may have been generated in the context of the serious fire of 1675 in Stadt Ilm or the truly devastating fire of 1681 in Königsee, which destroyed

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318 houses and left only 35 standing.19 Two songs appear to be the result of the chimney fire that she reports had occurred, without serious damage, in their new hunting lodge in 1669.20 But many of the songs and prayers derive explicitly from the year 1689, when most of the northern residence town of Frankenhausen was lost to a conflagration on September 17. Aemilia Juliana’s sequence of texts for the occasion began with prose and rhymed prayers written as soon as she heard about the fire; these texts, which she designed for her own use on behalf of her subjects, pray for divine aid to douse the fires, which she attributes to God’s anger at the sins committed by his people. In addition to a plea for mercy for the residents and their possessions and livestock, she prays on behalf of the firefighters—recognition of the dangers inherent in the fulfillment of their responsibilities. A rhymed prayer, primarily a plea for forgiveness of sin although it again mentions the firefighters as being in need of divine protection, assumes that the wind-aided fire will only subside once God has either forgiven them or has punished them enough. In fact, as reports sent to Albert Anton from Frankenhausen indicate, the fire had raged through the neighborhoods of the town, leaving it in ashes within hours. It had destroyed the palace and government office buildings, the city’s church, several other public buildings, 76 private houses, 20 hay barns, 73 livestock barns, and 42 assorted sheds.21 Upon hearing of the scale of the devastation, Aemilia Juliana wrote a song, “Halt ein, O Gott! mit deiner Ruth” (Put a stop, oh God, to the punishment), in which she stated the hope that their sins had received sufficient punishment. She asked for future blessings and promised that she, her people, and her land would praise God forever more, if he would grant this plea. On October 25, Aemilia Juliana traveled with her husband to inspect the burned-out city. The beginning of a song she wrote on the occasion shows her horrified reaction to the sight: Hier ist der Ort, da wir die Ruth von unserm Gott bekommen, da er durch eines Feuers-Glut uns Haus und Hof genommen: Ach! wie erbärmlich sieht es aus! hin ist das Schloß, hin manches Haus, hin auch ein Tempel Gottes.

Here is the very place where we the rod of chastisement received from our God, when he, by means of a terrible fire, took the residence of family and court from us. Alas, how pitiful the place appears! Gone is the palace, gone many a house, gone also a temple of God.

She goes on to lament the sins of the people that led to the catastrophe and pledges that she, her family, and their subjects will turn away from their evil ways. Although the song contains her personal reactions to the disaster, its perspective is that of the Landesmutter.”22 While Aemilia Juliana consoled her subjects who had suffered losses and generated texts designed to assuage God’s anger, her husband had a practical role to play. That he was active in mop-up and reconstruction operations in Frankenhausen is clear from the documentation, but he had been active in the area of fire prevention and firefighting for several decades. He had overseen the publication of the first official fire ordinance of 1669, as well as the inclusion of

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a section on responsibilities of small towns for firefighting in the 1681 ordinance that provided regulations for villages and unincorporated clusters of houses lacking their own town government. He would also sponsor the publication of a revised fire ordinance in 1701. These ordinances required that fire hazards be abated, that firefighting and alarm equipment be maintained, and that procedures for firefighting be made known to the citizens responsible for responding to alarms.23 The division of labor in the partnership of the ruling couple is especially clear in such ordinances together with official documentation of destructive fires on the one hand, and on the other in the surviving texts Aemilia Juliana wrote on those occasions. Many of Aemilia Juliana’s songs and prayers plead with God to spare the land from devastation caused by war or by the quartering of troops passing through on their way to some conflict. In authoring these texts, she complemented her husband’s roles as commander of the local militia and negotiator concerning the quartering of foreign troops. Some of Aemilia Juliana’s texts explicitly mention concerns about the invading Turks. These products of her pen probably date from the period of resumed hostilities leading up to 1683, when Turkish armies besieged Vienna. Some of the texts referring to the quartering of troops passing through Schwarzburg likely date from 1676, when documentation indicates that the land was being directly impacted in this way.24 The series of prayers and songs to be performed as an army nears the borders of the land, enters the land demanding quartering, marches through the land, and finally departs, is an excellent example of Aemilia Juliana’s authorship activity.25 In particular, the prose prayers are very specific in mentioning her concerns: “Alas, my Savior, Jesus! a large army occupies our land. Everywhere we hear the sounds of war and of suffering.... Jesus, Jesus! stand by us, don’t distance yourself from us or any of our people!... Keep us safe from these soldiers, so that they don’t behave towards us with enmity! Don’t let them eat up from under the mill-wheel all the flour of our subjects, nor empty out their oil jugs, nor take away their possessions. Instead, provide sufficient food, drink, and money for this huge army to satisfy both men and horses.”26 Her songs for the occasion, “Grosser Gott/ Herr Zebaoth” (Great God, Lord Zebaoth) and “Das Land ist von dem Volcke frey” (The land is free of the foreign army), are typical of her texts written and sung on behalf of her principality and its people. The first, to be sung “Bey Einquartierung” (During Quartering by Foreign Troops), begins: Grosser GOTT! Herr Zebaoth! Ach entlöß uns doch der Bande/ schaff uns Beystand in der Noth/ treib das Kriegs-Volck aus dem lande: denn das Land-Volck seufftzet sehr/ geht nach Brodt schon mit Beschwehr.

Great God! Lord Zebaoth! Oh, release us from the bonds, stand by us in our need, drive the foreign army out of our land. For the local people are suffering and complaining since already there is not enough bread for all.

The second song rejoices about the army’s departure and gives thanks to God. Its closing strophes show that she saw herself and her pleas directed at God as a shield protecting her people and her land from devastation, as a protective wall around the borders of the principality.27

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Aemilia Juliana was perhaps most praised for the efficacy of her prayers on behalf of the land in the context of a return in 1679–1683 of the bubonic plague. Initial reports spoke of large numbers of deaths in eastern Europe, even in Vienna, where 78,000 corpses of plague victims had to be disposed of during 1679. Reports arrived frequently in the chancellery in Rudolstadt, complemented by letters addressed to Albert Anton from his connections throughout Germany beginning in July 1680 and extending through 1683.28 Although no letters to or from Aemilia Juliana survive from these years, it can be assumed that her correspondence was dominated by news and expressions of fear about the spread of the plague, given her obsessive interest in reports of epidemic illnesses in earlier letters. Albert Anton’s first response to the threatened epidemic, a short ordinance dated early in August 1680 in which he describes the coming plague as the punishment of a just God for the sins of the people and for the misuse they have been making of the peaceful times granted to them since the Thirty Years’ War, admonishes his subjects on both spiritual and hygienic actions they need to take to ward off the epidemic. His second response was a Mandat (proclamation) designed to be delivered from the pulpit in every church in the principality during September 1680. This sermon-like text interpreted the epidemic nearing their borders even more stridently as God’s just punishment for their sins. It outlined ways in which the citizens had to turn away from their worldly values and rededicate themselves to God if they wished to avert catastrophe. There followed an official published ordinance dated October 18, 1680, “Ordinance because of the Raging Plague Epidemic,” containing instructions for his subjects of all social classes; it included not only hygienic and medicinal measures to be taken in order to prevent the spread of the disease, but also regulations for proper behavior and the initiation of special daily prayer sessions in each household. The plague had not yet arrived in Schwarzburg, but it was making its appearance in neighboring lands and moving ever closer, and thus one purpose of the late October ordinance was still to attempt to ward it off. However, most of its contents constituted preparation for the eventuality that it would not stop at their borders.29 On the assumption that enhanced piety would help ward off the plague, both members of the ruling couple contributed materially to the spiritual improvement of their subjects. Concerned that so many households in Schwarzburg possessed no Bible that could form a basis for daily devotional activities, Albert Anton commanded General-Superintendent Söffing to work with the local printing house to publish an affordable edition of Luther’s Heilige Schrift (Holy Scriptures). It appeared in January 1681. Söffing’s preface included an exhortation to every household head who didn’t have enough money for the purchase price to beg the few pennies it would cost to acquire this best of all books.30 Aemilia Juliana’s activities were complementary to those of her husband, for she endeavored to intercede on behalf of their subjects by reminding God of the Old Testament covenants when he had promised to lay aside his just anger, as well as the New Testament sacrifice of his only begotten son Jesus for the sins of humankind, and promising him in return that she and her people would praise his mercy through their songs and prayers if he spared them. In carrying out these spiritual intercessions, she created and

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privately performed new song texts that served these purposes, and she designed the publications that would collect these and other useful devotional texts for the use of their subjects. Aemilia Juliana began with a series of plague-themed songs for the days of the week designed for herself to sing on behalf of the entire populace. In one of these, her self-constructed identity as intercessor is clear in the initial strophes, which remind us of her stance in the early painting of her as Friend of the Lamb (Figure 6.2): Es kömmt her an unsre Gräntze/ Vater! ach ich klag es dir! Kranckheit und die Pestilentze/ O behüt uns doch dafür/ ich nah durchs Gebet zu dir/ nah dich wieder her zu mir/ mach mich loß von meinen Sünden/ laß vor Recht mir Gnade finden.

Up to our very borders there is coming— Father, alas, I lament this to you— contagion and pestilence, Oh, protect us all therefrom. Through my prayer I approach you, draw near to me here in return, make me free from my sins, let me find mercy instead of justice.

Straff mich nicht/ wie ichs verdienet/ vor mich hat bezahlt dein Sohn/ Jesus hat mich ja versühnet/ ach! um dessent willen schon/ nim durch Christi theures Blut/ vor die Kranckheit uns in Hut/ laß uns deine Gnade segnen/ und kein Ubels uns begegnen.

Punish me not as I deserve, recall that your son paid for my sins. Jesus did penance on my behalf. Oh, for his sake, if for no other, place us, through the power of Christ’s blood, under your protection against this plague. May your gracious mercy bless us and let no ill beset us.

Ach laß Vater dich erbitten/ laß sich nahen/ wenn du wilt/ keine Plag zu unsern Hütten/ sey für uns du unser Schild/ ich begehr dein/ hilff mir aus/ schütz mich und mein gantzes Hauß/ ja ich bitt in deinem Arme/ aller Menschen dich erbarme.

Alas Father, let my plea prevail, if it is your will, and let no trouble draw near our humble cottages. Be for us a protective shield. I desire of you, help me out, protect me and my entire house. I plead from within your embrace, have mercy on all humankind.

In the other plague songs, she employs various methods in the attempt to assuage God’s anger and halt the march of the epidemic. In one, “O Gott/ ich fall in deine Ruth” (O God, I accept your rod of chastisement), she attempts to take the punishment upon herself, in hopes that God will spare others. But in the last lines of this song, there is also a tone of insistence, a confidence that, if she asks, God will have to comply with her request: “so laß mich nicht/ erhöre mich/ ich hertz und küß dich inniglich/ biß du dich mein erbarmest” (so do not abandon me, but hear my prayers. I’ll caress and kiss you lovingly until you take pity on me).31 In another song, “Mein Gott/ ich komm zu dir gelauffen” (My God, I come running

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to you), she conveys the urgency of the situation: “Der Würge-Engel würgt bey Hauffen Das Volck in unsrer Nachbarschafft” (The avenging angel is felling the people in our vicinity by the thousands). She pleads for divine aid on the basis of Christ’s sacrifice and ends by promising God that she and her people will loudly proclaim his goodness, if he will just preserve them from the epidemic’s further advance.32 In these pleas on behalf of her land, she portrays herself as having an exceptionally intimate relationship with God, one that offers confidence that her prayers will be answered. One is reminded that, as she composed these words, she was probably sitting beneath the painting she had commissioned depicting her in Jesus’s loving embrace (Figure 3.2). Her pledged persistence in asking until God responds with words and positive actions, her self-construct as residing in the arms of God or Jesus, her repeated admonitions that God should remember the purpose of Christ’s sacrifice, and her promise to proclaim and testify to God’s goodness in the eventuality that her efforts are rewarded—all these implicit claims to be able to affect God, when taken together, express her trust that her pleas on behalf of her people will be granted, that her texts and performances will be efficacious. Nor did she confine her efforts to songs she herself would sing. Her husband had commanded that the inhabitants in every household in the principality should devote a special prayer hour each day to preserve themselves and the entire land from the plague, but few households possessed collections of songs and prayers that could be used for this purpose. Aemilia Juliana filled the void and created a collection that she had the local publishing house print for dissemination throughout the principality. The result was the pamphlet titled Tägliche Bet-Stunden In den Hauß-Kirchen/ Wie sie mit Gebet/ Litaney/ Psalm/ Seuffzer und Liedern/ Bey diesen gefährlichen Pest- und Sterbens-Läufften Heilsamlich anzustellen und zu halten/ ordentlich beschrieben (Daily Prayer-Hours in the House-Church, describing how they are to be established and conducted with prayers, litanies, psalms, rhymed prayers, and songs for the health of all during these dangerous times of pestilence and death). The texts to be used daily include a prose prayer of unknown authorship, a standard litany pleading for mercy, the ninety-first psalm (the usual choice during plague epidemics), the Lord’s Prayer, and several rhymed prayers that Aemilia Juliana wrote herself. Then comes a section containing two song texts for each day of the week. While most of the 14 songs were written by others and appear in many collections, two of them are Aemilia Juliana’s texts that she had designed initially for her use as intercessor, as discussed above, “O Gott ich fall in deine Ruth” and “Es kömmt her an unsre Gräntze.” In publishing and disseminating this devotional pamphlet, she was providing an official textual basis for the special daily household prayer sessions Albert Anton had required of the denizens of Schwarzburg in his ordinance of October 1680. As the epidemic drew ever nearer, she also shared a collection of biblical prayers she probably used during her private devotions. The result was another printed pamphlet, Biblisches Bet-ABC. Darinnen Biblische Gebet/ Seuffzer und Wünsche/ Bey allerhand Anliegen/ Sonderlich zu Zeit derer schleichenden

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Seuchen zu gebrauchen/ Vorgestellet werden (Biblical Prayer-ABC, with biblical prayers, sighs, and wishes, compiled for use in various troubles, but especially designed to be used when epidemics are creeping closer). She organized the passages she had collected by the letters of the alphabet, such that all texts in the initial section begin with “A,” the first one with “ABBA/ lieber Vater” (Abba, dear Father) and the rest beginning with “Ach” (Alas) or “Allmächtiger” (Almighty). The 77 pages made up of alphabetized biblical quotations are followed by an “Anhang Dreyer Christlich. Lieder Zur Zeit der Pest” (Appendix of Three Christian Songs for use during Plague Epidemics). All three of these songs were products of Aemilia Juliana’s pen. The first is among those designed for her use as intercessor (“Mein Gott/ ich komm zu dir gelauffen”). However, the other two have a pastoral intent. One concentrates on preparation for a blessed death, beginning with the words “Weil man jetzt hört von lauter Sterben/ Und bald vielleicht die Reih an mir” (Since all one hears about these days is death and dying, and perhaps it will soon be my turn). The other, “Heilig/ Heilig/ Heilig sey” (Holy, holy, holy be), calls on the Trinity for assistance in times of epidemic illness and expresses confidence that God will provide help.33 Nor could this addendum of three songs exhaust her desire to provide appropriate songs for use in the mandated household devotions during the epidemic; a separate booklet containing 12 more songs (one of them authored by Aemilia Juliana, the others culled from recent songbooks or perhaps received as manuscript copies in letters from relatives and friends at other courts) likewise appeared in Rudolstadt in 1681: Alpha. Omega. Zwölff sonderbare Pest-Lieder (Alpha. Omega. Twelve especially designed Plague-Songs). Her song, “Gott Lob/ der an dem Tage” (God be praised, who on this day), is for the use of the leader of the household devotional hour who blesses the other members of the household as they adjourn to their beds for the night. In addition to the 12 new song texts, the pamphlet refers the user to the 14 songs to be found in the Tägliche Bet-Stunden and lists another 20 or so general-use hymns and devotional songs that can also be employed in this context. In all extant exemplars this booklet is bound with either Tägliche Bet-Stunden or Biblisches Bet-ABC and thus forms a constituent element in Aemilia Juliana’s program for the mandated devotional hour. It seems likely that all three of these items were compiled by Aemilia Juliana using some of her own texts and personal collections, printed at government expense as an official action, and distributed gratis or at very low cost to the principality’s households. Thus she not only performed texts she created herself on behalf of her subjects, but she also designed the devotional exercises to be carried out more or less simultaneously by all of the principality’s inhabitants, thus extending the power of her lone voice into a multitude of voices jointly calling on God. One final project demanded much of Aemilia Juliana’s time in late 1681 and early 1682: creation of the first official hymnal for Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. Few households owned a hymnal, a challenge when using any but the most common hymns during church services, and the mandated household prayer hours would also benefit from access to a hymnal. The intention was to ensure that every

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household in the land could acquire a hymnal to accompany the new Bible Albert Anton had made readily available. The hymnal would need to be small enough to hold in one hand and inexpensive enough that everyone could afford a copy. Costly printed musical notation was unnecessary, as most hymns could be sung to a limited set of well-known melodies. If the first line of the text by which the melody was known was provided at the top of each song, the text need not even be typeset as a poem, but could be printed from margin to margin, without regard to the line ends marked by rhymes, thus saving space and reducing the cost.34 Although court preacher Johann Georg Roth takes responsibility for the hymnal on the title page, Aemilia Juliana appears to have been involved in selecting the songs to be included, undoubtedly using various hymnals that were at her disposal as well as the devotional books she had compiled for use during the plague. But she also provided copies of many favorites preserved in her personal manuscripts, including unpublished original songs by her sister-in-law, Ludaemilia Elisabeth. And she supplied the texts of songs she had written herself in which she pleaded with God on behalf of her subjects or provided voices for them to do so themselves. She included a recently written song for household devotions on Sundays before church, “Ich freu mich des/ und jauchze sehr” (I am glad about that and jump for joy), the result of her wish to contribute in some way to her husband’s efforts to enforce keeping the Sabbath. She provided a new song for use in advance preparation for death, important during this uncertain time when the plague still lingered in neighboring lands, “O du drey-einger Gott, den ich mir auserlesen” (Oh you three-in-one God whom I selected as my own). In all, she contributed 26 of her own song texts and 11 by Ludaemilia Elisabeth to the new hymnal. The title explained the hymnal’s contents and intended use: “Little Christian Songbook, in which the usual old songs of Dr. Martin Luther and other spiritually powerful people are to be found, together with various beautiful new songs, compiled at the command of a (female) member of the ruling family, appropriately organized for easy use in the court chapel as well as in other churches and schools, and at home or on the road.”35 The preface, like that of the Rudolstadt Bible published the previous year, mentions its modest price that should enable every household to purchase a copy. The nature of Aemilia Juliana’s role in the partnership formed by the ruling couple is acknowledged in visual form in the hymnal’s frontispiece, identical in the hymnal editions of 1682 and 1688 (Figure 4.3). The engraving shows the couple, seated on either side of a shield sporting the title, she holding a book and he grasping a palm frond. Both point at the name of Jesus and various Old and New Testament images and symbols inscribed within a heart that is supported by the twigs of a blooming rose bush. While the poses of the woman and man resemble standard personifications of Church and State, the fact that the faces are portraits of the ruling couple adds new meaning: Aemilia Juliana and Albert Anton are jointly responsible for the hymnal and, by extension, for the spiritual well-being of their subjects. The image also tells us that, while Albert Anton might have provided official approval of the hymnal, it was Aemilia Juliana who had taken the lead in

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Frontispiece, Gesang-Büchlein (Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1688). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek Sachsen-Anhalt in Halle (Saale): AB B 3352.

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selecting and furnishing the song texts. She holds a book, probably representing the hymnal itself, or perhaps alluding to the Bible as the basis of the doctrinally correct hymns and devotional songs she had selected and in some cases authored. Furthermore, in this Protestant context where the blooming rose bush is not to be construed as a traditional reference to the Virgin Mary or the rosary, its presence instead constitutes further acknowledgement of Aemilia Juliana’s responsibility, as the roses were an element in her coat of arms as a Countess of Barby by birth. Despite Roth’s preface claiming to have assembled the hymnal at the command of both members of the ruling couple, their subjects would have understood the visual proclamation of Aemilia Juliana’s primary responsibility for the project. The plague epidemic of 1680–1683, which killed half the population of nearby Jena and Erfurt and felled tens of thousands in the lands beyond their borders, did not gain a toehold in Schwarzburg, which thus appeared to have been singled out by God for special protection. Neither famine nor storm nor fire nor warfare brought lasting harm to the small principality shielded by Aemilia Juliana’s prayers. The awe her subjects felt about her apotropaic actions, especially during the plague years, still resounded in the funerary sermons, poems, and biography created, collected, and published following her death some 25 years later. Several of the funeral texts explicitly state that she was famous for the efficacy of her prayers on behalf of her subjects. One avers that her prayers had warded off inflation, war, epidemics, fires, and floods; another refers to her prayers as a wall around the borders of the land.36 This view of her activities on behalf of the principality is depicted most eloquently in a poem by Christopher Helm, pastor in Sondershausen, who recited it at a memorial service held there in her honor in January 1707. He had the poem, which consisted of several pages of elegant alexandrines, printed and sent to Rudolstadt with a cover letter expressing his condolences. Titled “Das Schwartzburgische Trauer-Schild” (The Schwarzburg Mourning-Shield), the poem portrays a process by which a black shield in honor of the deceased is decorated with verbal metaphors. The central image is that of a healing “balsam tree,” but other metaphors pertain to combat. He asks rhetorically why it is usually only male heroes characterized by great courage in battle who get honorific shields. In his response he explains why this particular woman merits such a shield, employing an extended military metaphor outlining her exploits: knowing how bravely she had battled on behalf of her people, how effectively her prayers had protected many a gap in their fortifications, how well her arm had wielded her faith as a weapon that could force the strongest enemy to surrender, her subjects will readily admit that her manly virtue is worthy of a far better shield than that which he has been able to concoct in her honor. As a shield bearer famed for the efficacy of her prayers to protect her land, he claimed, she was a true heroine to her people.37 In employing this military imagery in her honor, Helm is only reflecting a construct she had invented for herself nearly 20 years earlier. Her partnership with her husband on behalf of the land may not have entailed dressing in armor and wielding a real sword, but the image she had Lammers create of her in 1688

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as an armed Jonathan hand-in-hand with her husband, who represented a second David, had relied on this same metaphor in order to express the nature of her role in their partnership. The State of the State: Practical Interventions Aemilia Juliana’s activities in partnership with her husband were not limited to informal involvement in governance coupled with spiritual intercessions. Her sense of responsibility for the people of the land extended into the practical sphere. She intervened with material support in the form of charity, medicines, financial contributions to institutions, sponsorship of university students, and patronage of medical and other handbooks for distribution within the principality. In addition, she managed her own financial resources with the common good in mind when she invested her wealth in a new mill, in a local brewery and distillery, and even in a copper mine. In the latter cases, she not only sought to turn a profit which she could then use for charitable as well as family purposes, but also in order to fulfill a local need or participate in a venture that had as its purpose the general reinvigoration of the economy. According to various funerary sermons and her funerary biography, Aemilia Juliana was charitable to those who were hungry and thirsty with provisions from her own table and to those who lacked adequate clothing with garments sewn by her own hands. Widows and orphans had found in her a gracious benefactor.38 Some of this charity took permanent form: the biography mentions “the magnificent endowments that she established in various places in our land for widows, orphans, and poor people” (die herrlichen Stifftungen/ so Sie an verschiedenen Orten in unserm Vaterlande denen Wittwen/ Wäysen und Armen zum Besten auffgerichtet haben).39 Documentation survives for several such endowments. In 1688 she established an interest-bearing fund of 800 florins to help the poor in her dower territory, Stadt Ilm. Another endowment, using capital in the amount of 1,300 Thaler, the income of which was to be distributed annually to “poor people, widows, and orphans” in the Rudolstadt area, was established upon her death by a legacy she created in 1705.40 In one instance, instead of creating an endowment, she purchased a large house in Rudolstadt for the purpose of establishing a “Garküche” (soup kitchen) where day laborers and other single working men who lacked households could obtain cheap but nourishing hot meals.41 A late eighteenth-century biography of Aemilia Juliana notes that her various endowments for the poor were still in operation at the time.42 The funding for these charitable endowments and capital outlays derived from her personal income based on the inheritance settlement from Barby, on her marriage settlement and Morgengabe, and on the 1679 gift from her husband (the town and farms of Cumbach)—all of which she appears to have managed herself. Aemilia Juliana’s practical interventions in the medical arena reflected her mother-in-law’s interests and the training this woman had provided to her before the marriage, but Aemilia Juliana’s actions also extended into realms her

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mentor would never have imagined. That her pharmaceutical activities led her to seek medical knowledge is clear in the description of the young countess in the dedication to her in a medical handbook written by Dr. Andreas Mack, court physician in Rudolstadt, dated September 4, 1665, less than three months after her marriage. He says of her, “of the arts of medicine, to which she brings an excellent understanding, she is an ardent student who graciously shares her medical remedies with her poor subjects for their benefit.” He praises Albert Anton for asking him to write this handbook regarding precautions to take during several epidemics currently threatening the region—especially an ailment he calls the “Hungarian Head Sickness” (die Ungarische Haupt Kranckheit), which was being spread by soldiers returning from the wars against the Turks. But he also depicts Aemilia Juliana’s parallel activities undertaken in partnership with her husband in more detail: “Your gracious Ladyship ... has likewise fostered in praiseworthy fashion this project of prevention and remedy. Following in the footsteps of your predecessor Aemilia [Antonia], who similarly provided pharmaceutical remedies to all her poor subjects in need of them, you not only maintain the court pharmacy, but have also established a traveling pharmacy so that when the need arises, anyone who asks will be provided with appropriate remedies. Furthermore, it has pleased your gracious Ladyship to make this handbook available to your subjects so that they will be informed about what they need to request in order to fight this ailment. Some might wonder why you would be proud to have such a lowly medical handbook, written in German, dedicated to you, but it is for this reason.”43 The forms her partnership with her husband took in this instance emerge in the physician’s praise for her actions. The expansion of the book’s subject to the measles, as well as to various other epidemics that commonly afflicted both children and adults, such as chickenpox and smallpox, can probably be attributed to her own concerns. Her letters from the early years of her marriage are filled with news of measles and chickenpox epidemics.44 Other medical book publication projects may also have benefited from her instigation and support. The court physician of Schwarzburg-Arnstadt, Johann Georg Sommer, published two German-language medical handbooks in Rudolstadt. The first, which offered information about how to avoid or cure the plague, appeared in 1683. Although it lacks any indication of sponsorship by a member of the ruling house, it seems likely that the publication of this book, printed in Rudolstadt by the licensed press responsible for such official printing commissions as ordinances, was a product of the partnership of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana. The handbook seems very modern in its recognition of the nature of infectious agents and of the need for cleaning household surfaces that might have been in contact with someone who was sick.45 Sommer also published the second edition of his handbook on the care of neonates in Rudolstadt in 1691.46 The book had initially appeared in Arnstadt in 1676 with vague attribution of the impetus to both male and female Schwarzburg rulers, including Aemilia Juliana, as will be discussed in Chapter 5. In Christopher Helm’s funerary poem “Das Schwartzburgische TrauerSchild,” the Sondershausen pastor figuratively paints a new coat of arms for

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Aemilia Juliana on the shield he verbally creates in her honor. He describes the central image as “a balsamic tree that produces a medicinal potion for the benefit of all,” thus using her pharmaceutical activities as an emblematic representation of all of her actions on behalf of her subjects. The funerary sermons and biography published in the memorial volume likewise include references to her generosity in sharing with her subjects medicinal products of her own manufacture from the court pharmacy of which she had charge.47 While donating remedies to those in need was something for which many rulers’ consorts were given credit, few received praise for their apothecary skills. In most cases, the activities of the ruler’s wife were probably limited to oversight and management. But the craft of manufacturing medicines was passed down from mother to daughter within some families of the high nobility, as can be seen in Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. Albert Anton’s mother, Aemilia Antonia, who was reportedly famous for her pharmaceutical skill, had trained her foster daughter, Aemilia Juliana, as well as one of her biological daughters, Ludaemilia Elisabeth—presumably because they were the ones to exhibit aptitude and interest in the subject.48 The basis for the training was present not only in Aemilia Antonia’s knowledge of the lore of local medicinal plants, both wild and domestic, but also in the pharmaceutical handbook authored by court physician Andreas Mack and in other pharmaceutical reference books known to have been in the family collection.49 Documentation of Aemilia Juliana’s activities in this area stems from several different sources, of which the most important are the handwritten and printed pharmaceutical books from her personal collection. Among the manuscript books in her own handwriting in the family archive is a tiny bound recipe book titled Mit Gott Wider Gifft, undt Pestil. Fieber (With God Against Toxins and Pestilential Fever), evidence that her activities during the plague epidemic in 1680–1683 were not limited to spiritual intercession. It contains a variety of remedies, including “candied concoctions” (Confectionen), “powders” (Pulver), “salves” (Salben), and “elixirs” or “tonics” (Aqua Vitae or Wasser). The medicines for which she records manufacturing instructions carry various plague-related titles, some in Latin and some in German: “A Powder to ward off various toxins during plague epidemics,” “A Powder in times of deadly danger,” “For the Plague,” “Another for the Plague.”50 It appears that she assembled the recipes from a variety of published and unpublished sources, collected the ingredients (including medicinal herbs from the Leutenberg garden and nearby forests, as well as items that she ordered from Erfurt or Leipzig), and made up some of the medicines in advance in order to be prepared in the event that the plague made inroads in Schwarzburg. Another manuscript book collection of remedy recipes is older, not in her handwriting, and apparently passed down through the family. According to a note pasted in at the front, it was copied from a still older book authored by an otherwise unknown “Doctor Schifferdecker.” Numerous inserted slips of paper, some apparently in Aemilia Juliana’s handwriting, provide additional recipes.51 Another bound manuscript collection of recipes that she owned specializes in distilled tonics and elixirs. Inserted is an index to the recipes that appears to be in her handwriting.52

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Late in her life she continued to be interested in the subject, as can be seen in a 1699 pharmaceutical book from her personal library.53 Aemilia Juliana’s surviving letters, although written long before the mobilization necessitated by the plague epidemic, contain a wealth of evidence about her pharmaceutical activities. Her interest in illnesses and in remedies recommended by physicians is clear in many of her accounts. They show that she consulted with Dr. Mack and with another court physician (that in Ebeleben, probably Dr. Johann Georg Sommer) about epidemic illnesses threatening the inhabitants of Schwarzburg, as well as about the ailments of family members and friends.54 Some of the letters refer to medications she has prescribed as well as manufactured, a sign that she sometimes employed her diagnostic skills and pharmaceutical knowledge directly to the patient.55 A few of the letters provide details about pharmaceutical manufacture: requests for herbs or other botanical ingredients to be sent from Leutenberg; an apology for the active distillery equipment producing “Hirschhertzen Wasser” (hart’s heart elixir) in the guest bedroom that a visiting sister-in-law will inhabit.56 Once she reports that she had just completed manufacturing a batch of “das gemeine Kinder Pulver” (common children’s powder); elsewhere she offers gratitude for the July cherries and the copy of a recipe she needs in order to manufacture “Steinwasser” (cherry pit elixir); in another letter she expresses gratitude for the copy of a recipe for a salve she plans to make.57 Not all of these remedies were for serious illness, of course; many were salves designed to soothe irritated skin, elixirs and tonics to settle an upset stomach or energize someone suffering from late-winter fatigue, powders for childhood sniffles and teething or for adult headaches and toothaches. Aemilia Juliana’s court pharmacy and its distilling and manufacturing facilities were a significant source of pride that figured in the dynastic self-representation to which visiting notables were exposed. A neighboring duke reported in his diary that one of several entertainments provided to him in Rudolstadt involved a visit to the Countess’s pharmacy.58 There must have been considerable innovative distilling and manufacturing apparatus for him to examine, as well as an orderly system for storing medicines and their ingredients. Perhaps a collection of herbal and pharmaceutical books, including those she wrote herself, also constituted one attraction of the tour. That the duke would agree to undertake this tour of the court pharmacy indicates that the facility must have been famous for its products, as well as for the expertise of its operator. The tour of the court pharmacy may have had economic implications as well, for Schwarzburg’s vast forests with their plentiful medicinal plants constituted a natural resource that was becoming a valuable source of income and wealth. Indeed, when the Olitäten (herbal balsam) trade began to flourish beginning in the 1660s, various ordinances governing the collection of plants, the distillation and manufacture of products from them, and the sale and export of these products by Balsamträger (balsam carriers) became necessary. The ordinances reflect the vigor of the manufacture and trade of pharmaceutical products in SchwarzburgRudolstadt from the second half of the seventeenth century and first half of

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the eighteenth.59 Remnants survive today: there is still an Olitätenweg (balsamic plant trail) through the Thuringian forest in the southern tip of Schwarzburg, near Neuhaus; and in the woods surrounding the Leutenberg palace there is a Kräuterweg (botanical path) where the medicinal plants still growing there carry labels. It seems possible that the activities of the skilled herbalist-countesses contributed to this new industry that arose in the period when Aemilia Antonia had just retired to her wooded retreat rich in naturally occurring healing plants and when Aemilia Juliana now had the responsibility as the “Balsam Tree” for the principality’s subjects. This symbol on the honorific shield constructed in the imagination of Christopher Helm thus referred not only to her practical interventions as herbalist and apothecary, but also perhaps as benefactor of a new industry. Another arena for practical intervention for Aemilia Juliana focused on the professionals who led the churches and schools as well as the children they taught. A picture of her interest in universal literacy and in the acquisition of other academic skills and bodies of knowledge on the part of all citizens of the principality, male and female, emerges in a variety of sources. Her funerary biography praises her contributions to churches and schools and to local schoolchildren as well as to Schwarzburg students studying at the University of Jena: “Her beneficence took the form of yearly stipends awarded to needy university students as well as to poor pupils in our local schools to cover the costs of tuition, fees, and books.... She also provided funding for the building and maintenance of churches and schools.”60 One funeral sermon praises her activities in furnishing churches with decorations and in purchasing books needed by school children. Several sermons and the biography mention that she provided supplements to the salaries of pastors and school teachers. Another funerary sermon praises her generosity “to all loyal subjects, to both the learned and the uneducated, to needy students and to impoverished school children.”61 Indeed, during her lifetime, the praises of such students, pupils, and their schoolmasters often took public form in honorific texts presented to her on her birthdays or at New Year’s, when the stipends were distributed. For instance, a German poem titled “Neu-angeflammter Danck-Altar” (Newly Ignited Thanksgiving Altar) was printed and sent to her in 1689 as an expression of gratitude from the “Schwarzburg youths studying at the University of Jena,” and a New Year’s poem of 1693 in her honor titled “Das ungleichbenahmte Heideck” (The inappropriately named Heideck) came “from the named Schwarzburg youths in residence at the university or living elsewhere.” Other texts came from individual students expressing their gratitude for her help, for instance Justus Michael Hedwig upon his graduation in 1695.62 Churchmen added their praises in prefaces and dedications to their publications, usually mentioning her generosity to students as well as to the church and its servants.63 Aemilia Juliana’s most significant gift on behalf of education, however, was a trust fund attached to the two girls’ schools in Rudolstadt, as will be discussed in Chapter 5. As the principality of Schwarzburg and town of Rudolstadt gradually recovered from the economic collapse associated with the Thirty Years’ War, a recovery that

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accelerated after Albert Anton attained his majority, new enterprises emerge in the documentation. These include not only the expanded manufacture and trade in Olitäten beginning in the mid-1660s, but also the founding of a publishing firm in Rudolstadt in 1662, the elevation of the local boys’ school into a Landschule (regional high school) in 1664, the erection of a paper mill in Leutenberg in 1666, the aqueduct project of 1672 to bring water to the Rudolstadt palace and town, and a slate and lime manufactory licensed in 1674.64 The paper mill, an enterprise established by Aemilia Juliana’s mother-in-law, supplied the principality with writing and printing paper that replaced dependence on imported paper.65 Court advisor Ahasverus Fritsch was inspired to publish a legal treatise on the subject of paper manufacture, the printing press, censorship, publishers, booksellers, and bookbinders in 1675, a sign of the official interest of the government in these interrelated activities.66 The revival of the local Jahrmarkt (annual fair), which made local and imported products available to the population at the same time that it encouraged export of local products by drawing foreign traders to participate, is noted by Aemilia Juliana in a letter that must have been written during spring or summer 1668. She reports that, in the context of the general upswing in the local economy, the fair that was currently taking place in Rudolstadt had also gotten bigger and better. There were 16 shopkeepers and cloth manufacturers from beyond Schwarzburg’s borders taking part, including a merchant from Neustadt who was offering satin and all sorts of cloth of French manufacture. The latter had been doing so well at the fair, she reported, that he had indicated his intention to return in future years. In another letter, dated April 1 but without notation of the year, she says that she had been at the annual fair earlier that day when a messenger from Leipzig had arrived at the palace.67 Clearly, it was her practice to attend these events in person, perhaps in search of cloth, trimmings for clothing or draperies, dishes, or pharmaceuticals she could use in her own activities, but also in order to assess the economic benefits for Schwarzburg. A crucial element in this economic recovery was timber production. The growing importance of forestry is clear in a 1676 legal treatise on the subject by Fritsch; that the industry continued to be important for Schwarzburg is shown in the new forestry ordinance of 1701 for the northern territory, which refers to earlier ordinances that were no longer widely available and whose provisions were currently being ignored.68 Wood was important for construction during the building boom that began in Rudolstadt and elsewhere in the principality in the 1660s, as well as for home heating and cooking purposes, but it was also the necessary foundation for a number of new or expanding industries that required large quantities of fuel: charcoal and tar manufacture, glass-blowing and casting, the smelting of ore, the casting and hammering of metal into valuable products for local use as well as for export, pottery kilns, distilleries, and the processing of salt and soap, among other enterprises. The several pottery workshops in the Töpfergasse (Potter’s Alley) in Rudolstadt were founded during the seventeenth century to provide kitchen crockery not only for local residents, but also for export.

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Aemilia Juliana visited the Glasshütte (glass-making studio) in Schmalenbach, and her patronage of the craftsman for a major commission is reflected in a special welcome mug celebrating the completion of the hunting house in nearby Neuhaus, as mentioned in Chapter 2. A letter records that she ordered ordinary glassware as well. She likewise visited the salt mine and processing plant near Frankenhausen.69 Export of firewood, which was bound together into rafts and floated down the Saale River to various markets, became an important source of economic strength, enriching the land both through sale of the natural resource and through its transport by local laborers.70 Aemilia Juliana may have become personally involved in this enterprise, as the document recording her purchase of a property mentions the presence of wooded tracts.71 Aemilia Juliana was a direct participant in the crescendo of development activities in the principality, and her entrepreneurship actions enter the documentary record under her name, not her husband’s, a sign that she employed her own funds for these efforts that were designed not only to enlarge her personal wealth, but also to contribute to the vitality of the state’s economy. Her first recorded opportunity arose with a request for a third grain mill from the Rudolstadt Town Council in 1673. They applied for Albert Anton’s help in establishing a new mill due to frequent shortages of milling capacity they said were caused by the increasing population coupled with the heavy demands made by the court, especially when there were visitors to feed. Perhaps Aemilia Juliana felt responsible for the problem because of her own increasing use of the existing mills in order to provide for the tables at court. In any case, in 1676 she purchased a blacksmith’s operation that had fallen into disrepair after its owner’s death and used her own funds to have a new mill built in its place. The Pörz- oder Neu-Mühle (Pörz or New Mill) was located on Pörze creek (now called the Rinne) to the northeast of the palace mountain. Aemilia Juliana granted a franchise for the mill, from which she continued to earn income throughout her life. In 1677 she added an oil press to the mill (for the linseed oil used in lamps, the cooking oil derived from rapeseed, and perhaps even the botanical oils used as the base for salves and lotions).72 She later established a brandy distillery near the mill, and she was probably also responsible for the first brewery built in this location. Documents of the sale of the property after her death show that it was subsequently converted into an eating and drinking establishment, the “Gasthof zum Wilden Mann” (Restaurant at the Sign of the Wild Man). On the site of her enterprises, there still exists a brewery building, and the locally produced beer still bears the name “Pörze.”73 The mill, oil press, distillery, and brewery established by Aemilia Juliana would have contributed to the prosperity and self-sufficiency of the local population. Perhaps the most significant effort to jump-start the economy was the revitalization of the mining industry undertaken by Albert Anton beginning during his first decade in power and climaxing with public celebrations in 1687–1688. He began in 1669 by sending a survey team to inspect old mines for potential and to seek new locations for mines. The resulting report inventoried the land’s mineral resources, finding, for example, a gold vein at one site, a vein of iron at

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another, and a host of other minerals, including iron, silver, lead, sulphur, and copper. Although the gold vein turned out to be overrated, and gold was also no longer plentiful in the streams and rivers, in spite of hopes for a revival of goldmining, the new mines that resulted from Albert Anton’s efforts near Leutenberg and Könitz produced a number of minerals, including silver and iron as well as an abundance of copper.74 Another region came to his attention in 1677 when it was threatened by other claimants. In that year it became necessary for Albert Anton to build a legal case to ward off an attempt from the new Duke of SaxonySaalfeld to take over the mines and smelting plants in the region of Reschwitz, as documentation in the Rudolstadt archive shows. Several bundles not only include accounts of the recent claims, but also assemble older documents in order to prove earlier possession of the mineral rights for this area under Schwarzburg control; they show that the Schwarzburg counts had enfeoffed the barons of Lengefeld with the franchise for the Reschwitz mines over which they maintained mineral rights.75 They must have won the legal case, for the Reschwitz copper mines west of Saalfeld became an important resource for Schwarzburg in the decades that followed. That some mining activity already was taking place by 1675 seems clear in the inclusion of a miner’s blessing in a congregational prayer in the church agenda of 1675, which was published to unify rites and practices in both halves of Schwarzburg.76 In the 1680s Albert Anton worked jointly with his counterparts in Schwarzburg-Sondershausen and Schwarzburg-Arnstadt to encourage further mining development in their lands. The result was the Schwarzburg Freedomto-Mine Act, which was published in Rudolstadt. This act conveyed to their enterprising subjects, “especially the mountain people and miners and those who are interested in designing and building mines,” permission to seek out mineral deposits. The preface states the reason for this proclamation: “Because by the gracious blessing of God, there have been uncovered in our territories hopeful new and old mines that can produce gold, silver, copper, lead, mercury, steel, iron, and other metals and minerals. Some of these mines were productive in the past but have fallen into ruin because of long wars and other hindrances.... We wish to revive the industry in God’s honor and for our use and for the common good, since doing so should contribute to a thriving economy of benefit to all our subjects and to the financial support of many people.”77 The act offers permission to search on both state and private land, to dig and make tunnels, and to come and go without special local permits. It provides punishment for landowners and local officials who refuse to allow such activity, establishes authorities (the MineMaster, the Mine-Officials) to oversee the process and the freedoms granted by this proclamation, and offers monetary rewards for reported finds of gold, silver, and other valuable minerals.78 The Freedom-to-Mine act was followed by a jointly issued regulatory document for mining, the Verneuete Bergwerck-Ordnung (Renewed Mining Ordinance), which was published in Arnstadt early the following year. The preface to this ordinance sounds even more optimistic about the industry’s revival: “Because

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through God’s generous grace mining in our principalities is blossoming to such an extent and continues to expand further with every passing day, producing a very considerable result already, and more mines are being constructed which, with good oversight, should produce even more,... we have created this ordinance to govern the industry.”79 The three rulers announce that they have appointed overseers who are obligated to remain at the mines and to run them on their behalf. Persons with grievances against these overseers can apply to the counts or their chancellors and advisers. There follow more than 80 pages of rules and regulations. At the end are found the oaths that the various mining officials were to swear, for instance “Der Bergmeister Eydt” (the Mine-Masters’ Oath). In October 1687 the stakeholders in the mining initiatives of SchwarzburgRudolstadt gathered in Könitz to celebrate their successes and express their hopes for the future. Information about the participants is found on the title page of Michael Hörnlein’s printed sermon for the occasion, Das Geistliche GoldbergWerck: “The Spiritual Gold Mine of Salvific Faith, in a sermon [...] delivered at the palace of the Counts of Schwarzburg in Könitz, a place located in the territory of the counts of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt that is richly blessed with mines, in the pious presence of the ruling family and various other persons of the high nobility or high status, together with a large number of the officials and mine operators and miners.” The dedication on the back of the title page specifies further that those present included persons of all social classes, women as well as men, educated and uneducated, officials and mining engineers and workers, from the land’s rulers to its lowliest inhabitants, all of them involved in some way in reviving the mining, ore processing, and smelting industries. The preface again mentions participants of all social classes, including miners, and concludes: “The assembly represents a very substantial gathering of mining people.” Hörnlein explicitly notes the presence of Aemilia Juliana, as well as her husband, at the event.80 While there is no record of the details of the celebration aside from these mentions in the pamphlet memorializing the sermon, two song texts from Aemilia Juliana’s hand appear to have been designed for the occasion. One of them, “Kommt her/ und schauet Gottes Werck” (Come here and look at God’s work), would have been sung by the congregation at the church service, probably following the sermon during which Hörnlein had called upon them to thank God for granting them access to the earth’s mineral wealth. In Aemilia Juliana’s devotional handbook of 1699, it is given the title “Dancksagung für den BergSegen” (Thanksgiving for the Blessings from the Mines).81 The word “Werck” (work) in the first line is already a reference to the topic of the day: Bergwerk (the German term for a mine, literally, mountain-works). The earth brings forth iron ore, and we smelt metal from the stones, her text states, but only God knows where it lies, only God can reveal its location. The words go on to express gratitude for the rich bounty the mines near Könitz have produced and to request divine blessings for the future success of the mines, now explicitly termed “Bergwerck.” The result is a specially designed hymn for the participants in the celebration to sing during a church service.

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The other song text Aemilia Juliana produced for this occasion, although it likewise has a religious tone, appears to have had a festive rather than a pastoral function. Its greater length as well as its enhanced aesthetics of form and language would mean that it was likely performed by selected musicians rather than sung by the congregation. Not published until 1770, where it is added as an appendix at the end of the final volume of the complete-works edition, it is captioned “Ein Bergwerks-Lied” (A Mining Song).82 The first, second, and sixth strophes of this eight-strophe song offer insights into the nature of the 1687 celebration: [1.] Auf! lobsinge Gott zu Ehren, jauchze Gott, du, unser Land! welches, um uns zu ernähren, hat geseegnet Gottes Hand: Es trieft, andern um die Wette, auch von Gottes Fusses Fette.

Arise! sing praises in God’s honor, rejoice to God, you, our land, which, in order to provide for us, God’s hand has richly blessed. Our land, more than others, drips with the fat God’s footsteps left for us.

2. Alles, was man nur verlanget, hat ihm Gott geleget bey; auch in unsern Bergen pranget Silber, Kupfer, Gold, Zinn, Bley. In den tiefsten Bergwerks-Gründen läßt sich Gott von uns auch finden.

Everything we have desired God has provided to us right here; in our mountains we see glitter silver, copper, gold, tin, lead. In the deepest depths of the mines God lets us make successful finds.

…………………………

…………………………

6. Laß das Erz sich offenbaren, wo man einschlag’, weise an; klug und glücklich laß verfahren, hilf dem armen Bergwerks-Mann, daß die Arbeit wohl gelinge, dir das Lob, uns Beute bringe!

[God], let the metal reveal itself, and show us where we should seek, let us operate with skill and luck. Help the poor mine worker, so that his labor may bring success, yielding bounty for us and praise for you!

As author, Aemilia Juliana expresses the joy, gratitude, and wishes of the entire populace on an important occasion in the economic life of the principality. Her authorship of texts employed in the festivities is not merely spiritual intercession in this instance, but also a direct contribution to the revived industry in that she provides the participants of all social classes with a sense of unified purpose. A series of short rhymed prayers Aemilia Juliana authored represents more personal expression of her thoughts as the mining revival began and as it escalated over a period of years. They begin with one captioned “When mining was spoken of”: “My God, if I now have an opportunity to learn about mines and mining, a topic that hasn’t been heard of in all the years of our lives, then I’ll give thanks and accept it as a sign of your grace and ask for your blessing upon the learning.” One can imagine her penning this rhyme when she first listened in on the discussions her husband was having. Several other prayers follow, one upon starting construction

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of a new mine, one asking for luck in the finished mine, another giving thanks for God’s blessings to the land that can be seen in the flurry of renewed mining activity. These prayers speak on behalf of the principality. Likewise, prayers upon establishment of a “Gold-Wäscherey” (gold panning operation) and a “Pot-Aschen Werck” (potash works) show interest on her part, but not direct involvement.83 Another sequence of rhymed prayers, however, indicates that she invested in a mine herself.84 In the first text in this series, she ponders about whether to venture her capital, while the second reveals that she has decided to do so: “I am investing money in the mine, in the name of Jesus; may God give his approval to this enterprise, if he so wishes. With Jesus I have ventured and paid out the money. I’ll thank God as well as I can if my venture pays off.” Subsequent prayers include pleas for God’s help with the enterprise as the mine-building progresses. One of the rhymed prayers pledges that the profits will go not only to her, to her child, and to her grandchildren, but also to her people. Several prayers offer thanks to God for the success of the mine, while one mentions the profit from the smelters as well. Other texts reflect a more worried tone: God, let me be gracious when I hear that my neighbor’s mine is producing better than my own; God, let me not be jealous when I hear that mines in other lands are doing better than those of myself and my countrymen. The final poem is captioned “When the optimism for the mine diminished somewhat.” Although no documents recording her investment in constructing a mine survive, it seems likely that she became directly involved during the flurry of activity culminating in the celebration of 1687, or perhaps in the several years thereafter. It was probably a copper or combined-metals mine, perhaps one of those in the Könitz region whose traces can still be observed in the many sealed openings to the underground honeycomb dotting the ancient eroded hillsides. The names of mines belonging to the ruling family that have come down to us are evocative of the sorts of names Aemilia Juliana would have chosen: Zur Ehernen Schlange (To the bronze serpent), Gabe Gottes (Gift of God), Anfang mit Gott (Begin with God), and Sophia Juliana.85 Clearly, the name for each mine was thought of as a sort of spiritual talisman selected to solicit God’s blessings for the enterprise. In her entrepreneurial involvement, Aemilia Juliana was a full partner to her husband, her activities on behalf of the principality and its inhabitants complementing and supplementing his. Her capital investments, no less than her prayers and songs related to economic production, were important contributions to the well-being of the state and the private wealth of the Schwarzburg dynasty. As the manager of farms, with their varied modes of agricultural and forestry production, and as financier in several mining and manufacturing enterprises that contributed to the revitalized economy, she joined her husband as a partner in the team formed by the “working couple” (Arbeitspaar) at the head of the state, just as Heide Wunder expected.

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Notes 1

In the English King James version, the translators employed “soul” rather than “heart,” but I have used my own translation of Martin Luther’s version since Aemilia Juliana’s song “Alle Welt die muß erfahren” depends on Luther’s Bible. The song, also mentioned above in Chapter 2, is preserved in M2(3), pp. 12–14. 2 When the infamous imperial general, the Duke of Alba, wished in 1547 to lead his troops through the Rudolstadt area, the widowed Countess Katharina (1509–1567) authorized his passage only if he promised that neither persons nor property in the region would be harmed. When his soldiers nevertheless slaughtered oxen belonging to Schwarzburg peasants, she represented their case at sword-point during breakfast at the Heidecksburg. The words she is said to have shouted, “Fürstenblut für Ochsenblut!” (Prince’s blood for oxen blood!), became a rallying slogan for the responsibilities all members of the Schwarzburg ruling house accepted on behalf of their subjects. I discuss this story as well as the Partnership painting in an essay titled “The Militant Countesses of Rudolstadt,” in: Gender Matters: Discourses of Violence in Early Modern Literature and the Arts, ed. Mara R. Wade (Amsterdam, 2014), pp. 19–41. 3 Piérre Le Moyne, La Gallerie des Femmes Fortes (Paris, 1647); new editions in 1660, 1661, 1662, 1663, 1667, and 1668 attest to the continuing impact of this work. The 1660 edition published in Leiden, in particular, is widely preserved in German libraries and may have been marketed aggressively through German book fairs. On this work, its context, and its imitators, see Christa Schlumbohm, “Die Glorifizierung der Barockfürstin als ‘Femme Forte’,” in: Europäische Hofkultur im 16. und 17. Jahrhundert, ed. August Buck (Hamburg, 1981), vol. 2, pp. 111–22. Schlumbohm includes an illustration of the engraving of Zenobia discussed here. 4 A good short discussion of the Querelle des Femmes as it was manifested during the second half of the seventeenth century and beginning of the eighteenth is to be found in Sarah Colvin, The Rhetorical Feminine: Gender and Orient on the German Stage, 1647–1742 (Oxford, 1999), pp. 14 ff. Other important recent studies include Claudia Opitz, “Streit um die Frauen? Die ‘querelle des femmes’ in sozial- und frauengeschichtlicher Sicht,” Historische Mitteilungen 8 (1995): 15–27; various essays in Die europäische Querelle des Femmes: Geschlechterdebatten seit dem 15. Jahrhundert, ed. Gisela Bock and Margarete Zimmermann (Stuttgart, 1997); Margarete Zimmermann, “The Querelle des Femmes as a Cultural Studies Paradigm,” in: Time, Space and Women’s Lives in Early Modern Europe, ed. V.A. Jacobson Schutte (Kirksville, 2001), pp. 17–29; and the essays in Geschlechterstreit am Beginn der europäischen Moderne. Die Querelle des Femmes, ed. Gisela Engel, Friederike Hassauer, Brita Rang, and Heide Wunder (Königstein, 2004). 5 Relevant excerpts of Voetius’s treatise, as well as that of Schurman, have been translated and published in: Anna Maria van Schurman, Whether a Christian Woman should be Educated and other Writings from her Intellectual Circle, ed. and trans. Joyce L. Irwin (Chicago, 1998). 6 Voetius, “Concerning Women,” in Whether a Christian Woman, pp. 122–3 and 134–5. 7 Voetius, “Concerning Women,” in: Whether a Christian Woman, p. 126. 8 Hörnlein appears to have taken some of his arguments almost verbatim from a notable German-language contribution to the Querelles des Femmes, the treatise Lobwürdige Gesellschafft Der Gelehrten Weiber that was published in 1631 under the pseudonym “Johannes Frawenlob.”

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Johann Georg Roth, Christliche Betrachtung Des Regiment-wesens der Richterin Debora Aus dem IV. Cap. des Buchs der Richter Als Die Hochgeborne Gräfin und Frau/ Frau Aemilia ... Wittbe ... das uhr-alte Gräfl. Schwartzb. Schloß zu Leutenberg ... als Ihren verordneten Wittums-Sitz ... bezogen (Rudolstadt, 1664). 10 Unverwelckliche Myrten-Krone (Rudolstadt, 1672). The first part of the volume includes a number of sermons and poems written in 1670–1671 by various pastors and courtiers in Leutenberg and Rudolstadt, as well as Aemilia Antonia’s “Lebenslauff” (funerary biography). The second part contains the funeral sermons, epicedia, and biographies of her three daughters who died in the measles epidemic of 1672. 11 TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt B II 3 c, Nr. 5, and Geheimes Archiv B II 3 d, Nr. 2. 12 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl einer Christ-Gräflichen Lammes-Freundin (Rudolstadt, 1707), p. 45. 13 In Biblische ABC-Tafeln (Rudolstadt, 1674) and Der Brunn/ den die Fürsten gegraben haben (Rudolstadt, 1676). In Biblische ABC-Tafeln, her involvement is indicated on the title page with the words “Auf gn. Begehren Einer Hohen Standes-Person.” The use of the principle of alphabetization to organize the biblical passages, her practice in numerous series of short texts, also stamps this collection as deriving from her personal manuscripts. Her involvement in Der Brunn is even more explicitly indicated on the title page, both in the title itself (the plural noun for rulers) and in the phrase “uf gn. Befehl einer eifrigen Beterin.” And in the preface it is the use of a feminine noun, “auf gn. Anordnung,” that hints at her responsibility. These allusions to her identity point to her rank as well as her gender. 14 Letters [93], [128], [336], and [369]. The series of original texts on the topic includes the following songs that appear in the Rudolstadt hymnal: “Es kommt ein Wetter wie ich hör,” “Ein Wetter steiget auf,” “Ich hör dich donnern Gott,” “Ach Gott du hast erschaffen den Sturmwind,” “Wenn Noth und Schrecken bricht herein,” “Das Wetter ist vorbey,” “Der Herr ist mit mir gewesen,” “Großmächtger Gott, O starcker Held,” “Herr Gott nun sey gepriesen,” and “Nun hat mich Gott errett.” They are already present in the first edition, Christliches Gesang-Büchlein (Rudolstadt, 1682). 15 “Auf/ Christen-Hertz/ bey Leib nicht,” “Herr/ aller Augen sehen nauff,” and “Ach starcker Gott! wend von uns ab,” all found in TO 1699. She also wrote several rhymed prayers seeking relief from excessive rain and thanking God for sunshine, dated Frankenhausen and Rathsfeld, September 1695, and inscribed in the margins of the index to one of her manuscript songbooks, M2(1). 16 On the Little Ice Age and its effects on those who experienced it, see Paul Münch, Lebensformen in der frühen Neuzeit (Frankfurt, 1992), pp. 127–154. He includes a useful bibliography, pp. 576–7. See also Kulturelle Konsequenzen der ‘Kleinen Eiszeit’, ed. Wolfgang Behringer, Hartmut Lehmann, and Christian Pfister (Göttingen, 2005), especially the introduction, pp. 7–30. This collection of essays includes two dealing with devotional song writers of the times: Hartmut Lehmann, “‘Die Wolken gießen allzumal/ die Tränen ohne Maß und Zahl’. Paul Gerhardts Lied zur ‘Kleinen Eiszeit’,” pp. 215–24; and Patrice Veit, “‘Gerechter Gott, wo will es hin/ Mit diesen kalten Zeiten?’ Witterung, Not und Frömmigkeit im evangelischen Kirchenlied,” pp. 283–310. 17 The first pair to appear in print included “Barmhertziger Grundfrommer Gott” and “Gott Lob! Die Theurung ist Vorbey,” which appeared initially in a Braunschweig hymnal in 1686, then in Aemilia Juliana’s TO 1699. The second pair, which appeared posthumously, included “Die Teurung drückt das Land” and “Die Teurung ist gewandt.” All four songs appear along with rhymed prayers on the topic in CS 1770, pp. 110–18. 9

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Quoted from TU 1714, pp. 466–7. Horst Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz (Rudolstadt, 1996), pp. 40 and 42. 20 Letter [129], dated Neuhaus, September 10, 1669: “I forgot to write that recently the kitchen chimney here caught fire, but God graciously prevented it from spreading.” The songs, bearing the superscripts “When a fire starts” and “A song of thanks after the fire is out,” would have fit this context, but they could also be applied to other situations, and she published them in TO 1699 so that others could use them. The incipits are “Mein Gott! es kömmt ein Feuer aus” and “Wie sprech ich Gottes Güte aus.” 21 TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt C III 3 c, Nr. 4. 22 Quoted from CS 1770, pp. 140–41. 23 The ordinances were published as Gräffl. Schwartzburg-Rudolst. Gemeine Feuerordnung (Rudolstadt, 1669), Gräffl. Schwartzburgische Dorf-Ordnung (Rudolstadt, 1681), and Gräfliche Schwartzburg-Rudolstädtische Erneuerte Gemeine Feuer-Ordnung (Rudolstadt, 1701). 24 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 40. 25 GBS 1714, pp. 615–18; expanded version in CS 1770, pp. 83–99. 26 CS 1770, pp. 88–9. 27 TU 1714, pp. 462–3. 28 Dozens of them are collected in a bundle titled “Die Contagion bet[reffend]. An. 1681” in TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt C IX 3 k, Nr. 10. 29 The various plague mandates and ordinances are included in TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt C IX 3 k, Nr. 9, which bears the title “Verordnung wegen grasirender Seuche 1680.” An order to set a watch at the hospital that treats poor citizens and travelers can be found in TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt C IX 3 k, Nr. 6. The most extensive ordinance, that dated October 18, was published by court printer Christoph Fleischer: Des Hochgebohrnen Grafen und Herrn/ Herrn Albrecht Anthons/ ... Verordnung/ Wornach in dero Grafschaft Rudolstädtischer Lini/ Bey itzo ein und andern Orts grassierenden ansteckenden Seuche/ die Unterthanen zu halten. Nebst einem Medicinischen Memorial. Zu männigliches Nachricht publicirt Anno 1680 (Rudolstadt, 1680). During the plague years Albert Anton also published ordinances that attempted to alter the sinful behaviors that he blamed for their vulnerability—excesses in eating, drinking, and lavish dress during weddings, funerals, and other celebrations, and widespread profanation of the Sabbath. 30 Biblia, Das ist/ Die gantze Heilige Schrifft Alten und Neuen Testaments/ Teutsch/ D. Martin Luthers (Rudolstadt, 1681). Söffing’s preface, dated December 24, 1680, lauds Albert Anton for commanding the publication of this inexpensive edition for the spiritual well-being of his subjects. 31 Both quoted from Tägliche Bet-Stunden (Rudolstadt, 1681), unpag. 32 Quoted from Biblisches Bet-ABC (Rudolstadt, 1681), pp. 78–9. 33 Biblisches Bet-ABC, pp. 80–82 and 83–4. 34 This common typographic practice can be found in most hymn and devotional song compilations of the period. Knowing the melody seems to have provided all the structure needed by the songbook’s user. 35 Title page of Christliches Gesang-Büchlein. The phrase “Auf hohe Verordnung also eingerichtet” implies, through its use of a feminine noun, that Aemilia Juliana was the instigator. 36 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 38, 41, and 249. 37 Christopher Helm, Das Schwartzburgische Trauer-Schild (Sondershausen, 1707). Christopher Helm is perhaps identical to the Christoph Helm who had spent many years in Rudolstadt as court tutor, during which time he often served as librettist for Kapellmeister 19

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Erlebach, as noted in Chapter 3. The segment of the poem paraphrased in the text reads as follows: Wer unsre Heldin kennt/ wie tapffer Sie gerungen/ Und wie vor manchen Riß sich Ihr Gebeth gestellt/ Wie offt Ihr Glaubens-Arm den Stärcksten selbst bezwungen/ Wenn allgemeine Noth sich in das Land gesellt; Der muß/ zu Dero Lob/ auch dieses noch bekennen/ Daß es nicht halb genug an Schild und Wapen sey; Wir müssen allen Pracht ein leeres Stück-Werck nennen/ Denn es kömmt kein Vergleich Aemilijens Tugend bey. 38 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 39–40, 45, 124, and 353. Praise for her gifts of food, drink, and clothing to the needy also appears in Justus Söffing’s Rudolstädtisches Hand-Buch (Rudolstadt, 1692), p. 6 verso. 39 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 353. 40 The endowments are recorded in TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A VIII 1 c, Nr. 8, p. 332 and Kanzlei Rudolstadt E IX 5 f, Nr. 8. 41 Hugo Trinckler, Entstehungsgeschichte und Häuser-Chronik von Alt-Rudolstadt (Rudolstadt, 1939), p. 344. As Trinckler indicates that the City Council had been discussing using the house for this purpose in connection with her purchase of the building, it must be assumed that this was one of the instances when she personally worked with government officials on projects for the common good. 42 Johann Peter Schwartz, “Vorbericht,” CS 1770, p. **2 recto. 43 Andreas Mack, Kurtzer und Einfältiger Unterricht/ Wie die itziger Zeit/ hiesiger Orthen/ auffs neu vermerckte hitzige/ Ungarische Haupt Kranckheit zu erkennen/ wie davor/ mit Göttlicher Verleihung/ man sich verwahren und/ so damit befallen/ sich davon entledigen möge/ Welcher Auff Hochgräfflichen Gnädigen Befehl und Ahnordung Sampt Nachricht von verhüet- und heylung deren/ auch öffters beschwerlich durchgehenden/ Blattern und Masern oder Flecken/ wie auch der Rothen-ansteckende Ruhr etc. (Rudolstadt, 1665), Aij recto and verso. The use in the title of the synonym pair “Befehl” and “Anordnung” (the first of which is masculine, the second feminine) probably refers to the equal involvement of the male and female rulers. Aemilia Juliana owned a number of Latin-language medical tracts, probably gifts to her from the authors; at least one of them was dedicated to her. While this practice constitutes recognition of their benefactor on the part of local medical students studying in Jena, it may also reflect public acknowledgement of her interest in the subject. The surviving Latin tracts with her ownership marks, which date prior to her marriage, are bound in one of the collective volumes of her private library: HB Rudolstadt, Fun. div. XVII. 44 As Aemilia Juliana’s mother had died of the measles, this disease was particularly horrifying for her. Letters [50], [212], [334], and [384], roughly datable to 1666, 1667, and late 1668, deal with measles epidemics. Letters [49], [55], [100], [247], [275], and [374] refer to chickenpox or smallpox outbreaks in Rudolstadt; while one, [49], dates to 1666, the others date from Ludwig Friedrich’s infancy and thus contain a note of panic. 45 Johann Georg Sommer, Gründlicher und kurzter Pest-Unterricht/ Wie man sich mit Göttlicher Hüllfe vor der Pest verwahren/ und in Nothfall selbst curiren könne: Mit treuer Anhandgebung vornehmer und gemeiner in itziger Pest gut befundener Artzneyen/ nebenst nützlicher Anweisung/ wie Krancke/ Besuchende/ Genesende und Haußgenossen sich zuverhalten/ und hernach inficirte Häuser und Haußrath wieder brauchbar zumachen/ so wohl vermögenden/ als sonderlich dem armen Nechsten zu Liebe auffs deutlichste In gewissen Regeln vorgestellet (Rudolstadt, 1683).

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Johann Georg Sommer, Kurtzes und nützliches Weiber- und Kinder-Pflege-Büchlein (Rudolstadt, 1691). 47 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 40, 124, 216, and 353. 48 Unverwelckliche Myrten-Krone, p. 304. Ludaemilia Elisabeth is praised for her skill in pharmaceutical manufacture in her funerary biography (p. 126 in the second set of pagination in the same volume), while mention of this skill is lacking the biographies of her sisters. In Letter [66], Aemilia Juliana refers to her mother-in-law’s “Kräuterbettigen” (medicinal herb garden) at Leutenberg, which she must have maintained in order to supplement the naturally occurring plants in the surrounding forests. Ludaemilia Elisabeth’s participation in the herb-gathering and herb-growing enterprise in Leutenberg explains Aemilia Juliana’s gift to her of a herbal remedy book, as mentioned in Letter [220]. 49 Andreas Mack, Antidotarium Privatum, Das ist Wohlbestalte Hauß- Rhäiß- und Feld- Apothecken; Worinnen zubefinden allerhand nützliche und kräfftige Artzeney-Mittel (Coburg, 1647). It may have been Mack’s strong interest in pharmaceuticals that aroused Aemilia Antonia’s interest in him, leading to his appointment in 1651 as court physician in Rudolstadt. He is credited with founding a public pharmacy in Rudolstadt in his funerary biography, Justus Söffing, Der auf Erden und im Himmel Geehrte Artzt (Rudolstadt, 1683), pp. 27–37. 50 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 8. 51 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 17. The binding incorporates a padlock, an indication that such recipes were kept secret, perhaps to endow the ruler’s consort with the power of exclusive knowledge. 52 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 16. This book, too, sports a padlock. 53 Eleonora Maria Rosalia, Duchess of Troppau and Jägerndorff, Freywilligauffgesprungener Granat-Apffel/ Deß Christlichen Samaritans. Auß Christlicher Lieb deß Nächsten eröfnete Geheimbnuß/ Viler vortrefflichen/ sonders bewährten Mitteln und Wunder-heylsamen Artzneyen (Vienna: Vogt, 1699). At the bottom of the title page of the exemplar preserved in HB Rudolstadt (Med. 61), Aemilia Juliana has inscribed her name. The book, assembled by a duchess, contains recipes for medicinal waters and remedies, as well as dietary advice. The reference in the title to the publication of remedies that were long-held secrets reminds us of the padlocks that protected older pharmaceutical books in the Rudolstadt collection from prying eyes. 54 Letters [170], [257], [276], [328], [348], and [367] mention medications obtained from physicians or others. Many other letters that refer to measles, chickenpox, and dysentery epidemics indicate that she had spoken with Dr. Mack about the threat posed by each. That mentioning an unnamed Ebeleben physician is Letter [257]. 55 For example, Letter [99]. 56 Letters [66] and [376]; Letter [216]. 57 Letters [58], [376], and [381]. 58 “[Ich habe] der Gräfin Apoteke besehen”: quoted following Vinzenz Czech, Legitimation und Repräsentation (Berlin, 2003), p. 320, note 73. 59 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, pp. 34, 37, 42, and 49. The entry on p. 37 indicates that more than 1,000 “Balsamträger” or traders carried on this activity from the area around the ancestral castle Schwarzburg alone. 60 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 353. The biographer also calls her the “wet nurse” of churches and schools (p. 341). 61 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 124; pp. 51, 62, and 353; and p. 45. 46

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All three examples are included in a large collection of such honorific texts bound in the manner of her private library that is preserved in HB Rudolstadt (S.B. Nr. 214). Heideck, the name of the palace in Rudolstadt, is usually taken to mean “corner of the heath,” but the title of the 1693 poem may be a double entendre; neither heath nor heathen is to be found in Rudolstadt. 63 E.g., Söffing, Rudolstädtisches Hand-Buch (1692), p. 6 verso. 64 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, pp. 31–40. 65 Aemilia Juliana refers to her mother-in-law’s plans for the paper mill in Letter [272], written in January 1666, where she indicates that the only other paper mill in Schwarzburg, that in Blankenburg, has just been heavily damaged by a flood. The paper from the Leutenberg mill was to be of higher quality than the locally available stock that Aemilia Juliana disparages in Letter [40]. Other letters predating the new mill indicate that she had to order writing paper for herself and the Leutenberg ladies from Leipzig, as in Letter [165]. 66 Fritsch, Tractatus de Typographis, Bibliopolis, Chartariis, et Bibliopegis (Jena: Hertelius, 1675). 67 Letters [381] and [220]. 68 Fritsch, Corpus iuris venatorio forestalis (Jena: Fleischer, 1676). The copperplate title page that depicts the “Scheitholzflößerei” (cut timber raft transportation) is illustrated in Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 29. The forestry ordinance was published in 1701 but bears an August 1700 date: Des Hoch-Gebohrnen Grafen und Herrn Herrn Albrecht Anthons... Holtz- und Forst-Ordnung (Rudolstadt, 1701). It begins with a tirade against current malefactors who are, it claims, devastating the forests through their thoughtless and often criminal actions; it requires users to obtain permission before felling trees and admonishes them to take care not to destroy young trees in the vicinity of those to be felled, not to create any new trails without authorization, and not to pasture animals in the woods without permission. 69 On the pottery industry, see Trinckler, Entstehungsgeschichte und Häuser-Chronik von Alt-Rudolstadt, p. 107. Aemilia Juliana recounts a visit and tour at the glass-making studio in Letter 12. The welcome mug is depicted in Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 39. She refers to ordering a set of goblets in Letter [27]. A prayer designed for the glass craftsman to recite is included in Justus Söffing’s Hertzens-Lust an Jesu/ oder Jesus-GebetBuch (Rudolstadt, 1675), pp. 536–8. Aemilia Juliana recounts her visit to the salt works in Letter [114]. 70 On the “Brennholzflößerei” (river transport of fuel wood), see Die Grafen von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. Albrecht VII. bis Albert Anton, ed. Horst Fleischer (Rudolstadt, 2000), p. 190; and Hanns Rothen, “Die Brennholzflöße auf der Saale,” Rudolstädter Heimatshefte 7/8 (1998): 170–74. 71 The documentation of the 1693 purchase by Aemilia Juliana of a large property in Schaale, to the southwest of Rudolstadt, includes the term “Gehölzen” (forested patches) in its depiction of what was included: TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt E II 4 b, Nr. 46. 72 Trinkler, Entstehungsgeschichte und Häuser-Chronik von Alt-Rudolstadt, pp. 249 and 291–6; Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 41. The latter work mentions the use of “Leinöl” (linseed or flaxseed oil) for lighting the watchtower, p. 37. 73 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 53. In giving the inn this name, its owner recognized the coat of arms of its previous owner. The Wild Man, who was also called “Pörze-Mann” in honor of a water spirit of local folklore, was a component of the Schwarzburg coat of arms, as discussed in Chapter 2. Given Aemilia Juliana’s concerns

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about beer brewed from the aqueduct water and Dr. Mack’s condemnation of it as inappropriate for beer (Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, pp. 38–9), she may well have founded the brewery on the creek not long after she opened the new mill. 74 On the seventeenth-century history of mining in Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, see the short account in Die Grafen von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, p. 172. The issuance of a permit in 1677 to attempt to obtain gold from river water (“Goldwäscherei”) is recorded in Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 41. An early eighteenth-century account noted that the gold mines near Leutenberg were no longer producing, but that there were still active silver and copper mines there, as well as near Könitz. See Johann Friedrich Treiber, Genealogie et Chorographia Schwartzburgica, das ist: Des Durchläuchtigsten Hauses Schwartzburg Stamm- und Land-Register (Leipzig and Arnstadt, 1718), pp. 136–8. 75 TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt E XI, Nr. 97a; E XI, Nr. 94 k; E XII 1 c, Nr. 7; and C V 2 e, Nr. 8. 76 Agenda Schwartzburgica, Das ist: Verzeichniß der Ceremonien (Rudolstadt, 1675), p. 43. 77 Gräfliche Schwartzburgische Berg-Wercks-Freyheit/ Uf gnädigen Befehl Derer Hochgebohrnen Grafen und Herren/ Herrn Albrecht Anthons/ Herrn Christian Wilhelms/ und Herrn Anthon Günthers/ Vetteren und Gebrüderen (Rudolstadt, 1685), p. 3. 78 Gräfliche Schwartzburgische Berg-Wercks-Freyheit, pp. 4–11. 79 Verneuete Berg-Werck-Ordnung/ Der Hochgebohrnen Graffen und Herren/ Herrn Albrecht Anthon/ Herrn Christian Wilhelm und Herrn Anthon Günther/ Gevettern und Gebrüdere (Arnstadt, 1686), p. A2 recto. 80 Michael Hörnlein, Das geistliche GoldBergWerck des seligmachenden Glaubens (Rudolstadt, 1687), recto and verso of title page and pp. 2–3 in the preface. Hörnlein uses a gold mine as a metaphor for the spiritual wealth to be found in faith; Jesus is the miner who unearths the spiritual riches and the smelter who refines them. 81 TO 1699, p. 338. Attendees were probably provided with the printed text, which they were to sing to a well-known hymn tune, “Lobt Gott in seinem Heiligthum.” In the compilation the text appears in the series of songs designed to be sung by the principality’s inhabitants on occasions important to the economic health of the land; it follows songs for the hay harvest, grape harvest, and wine-pressing. 82 CS 1770, pp. 451–2. The melody derives from an older song for miners to sing, “Freuet euch, ihr BergLeut alle.” 83 GBS 1714, pp. 539 ff.; TU 1742, pp. 526–32. 84 GBS 1714, pp. 540–44. 85 Fleischer, Vom Leben in der Residenz, p. 59. This list of names of mines owned by the family refers to their location as “Amt Blankenburg,” which included the Reschwitz region to the west of Saalfeld.

Chapter 5

Advocate for Women Some of Aemilia Juliana’s most significant contributions as her husband’s partner in the principality took the form of advocacy for women. In her efforts on their behalf, she could rely on some of her own experiences in order to empathize with their desire for an education and a voice in important matters of church and governance, their joys and sufferings in marriage and childbed, and their need for the strength of numbers in a community of shared experience. Acting on the basis of her personal opinions about the need for women to be broadly and deeply educated, not just minimally literate, she came to the assistance of girls’ schools and the school mistresses who taught there. Her activities on behalf of pregnant and birthing women and midwives in Schwarzburg derive from her experiences with pregnancy, childbirth, and the loss of a child, as well as from events in the lives of her female relatives and friends. Less evident but also important are her various community-building actions fostering inclusive women’s networks that crossed boundaries of family, polity, and social class. Because these areas of endeavor are so poorly documented in the cases of other women with similar leadership opportunities, each merits detailed treatment here. “On Women of Letters”: Learned Women, Learning for Girls During her childhood in Rudolstadt, Aemilia Juliana had benefited from the extraordinary education that she had received at court, together with her foster sisters, an education that resulted in praise for her as a learned woman. Aemilia Antonia had devoted a great deal of thought and effort to designing the curriculum for the education of her daughters and foster daughter, who shared a tutor rather than attending the local girls’ school. The document in which she lays out her expectations for tutor Johann Hedwig indicates that the girls received four hours of instruction each day divided into two sessions, each of which was to start and end with prayer and a reading from the Bible. She specified that other readings were to include Martin Luther’s Kleiner Catechismus, the Psalms, and selected proverbs and short quotations from the Bible. The creation of a personal devotional book, in which each girl would copy Bible passages she had collected in response to assignments, as well as inscribe prayers, songs, and poems she was instructed to author, was central to the learning process. The resulting manuscript book would then form the basis for recitation and memorization. Aemilia Antonia expected the five girls to be instructed in arithmetic as well as reading and writing. They were also to be trained in behavior, including both moral and ethical precepts and the social graces appropriate to their station in life. And they were to be taught how to speak in a way that was both readily intelligible and gracefully attractive.1

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In Aemilia Juliana’s funeral biography, it is claimed that she was particularly diligent, intelligent, and adept at memorizing during these childhood lessons, and that she had quickly learned to read, avidly applying this skill to the Bible. But, as her biographer reported, she also displayed a notable desire to learn more: “It wasn’t enough for her to build on the foundational texts of Christianity through daily devout reading in the Holy Bible and in the writings of inspired spiritual leaders and other books that might well serve as a theological compendium. In addition she took on other important disciplines and useful sciences, such as Rhetoric, History, Genealogy, and so forth. And she became so accomplished in the discipline of Poetry that she could create, already in her youth, clear, correct, and pleasing poems for all sorts of occasions, thus preparing the way for those improving and soul-refreshing devotional songs, which we will have more opportunity to praise below. And because she had a particular desire to learn Latin, not to mention other languages, she quickly, through zeal and aptitude, became adept at understanding Latin authors and even in imitating their writing style— an accomplishment which she retained throughout her long life.”2 The languages taught in the royal schoolroom probably included French and Italian, as well as Latin, and Aemilia Juliana owned a book in French acquired later in her life as well as several already present during her schooling.3 The intensity with which Aemilia Juliana pursued excellence in her studies is revealed in several prose and rhymed prayers she authored for her own use and inscribed in the manuscript book she created while still in the schoolroom. The first text in this record of her early writing efforts is titled “Prayer for successful progress in my studies” (Gebeth umb glüklichen Fortgang im Studium). It is followed on the next page by a rhymed German prayer with a Latin title, “Pro felicitate in studiis,” which begins, “O Herr verleih mihr deine Gnad, das mein studiren wohl gerath” (O Lord grant me your grace, that my studies may flourish). Nor did the 15-year-old girl forget to draft and copy into her manuscript book the “Prayer of thanksgiving for success in her studies,” in which she acknowledges that it was with God’s help that her studying and learning were “fruitful.”4 The education the girls received under Aemilia Antonia’s direction was the equivalent of that provided to boys, and the result for the two most apt pupils, Aemilia Juliana and Ludaemilia Elisabeth, was acknowledged in gendered terms. Aemilia Juliana’s accomplishments as a learned individual “extended beyond the usual educational accomplishments of her sex,” as her funeral biographer averred.5 Regarding Ludaemilia Elisabeth, the learned Dr. Friedrich Lenz, Chancellor of the principality during her years in the schoolroom, was quoted as saying: “If only she had been born a count of Schwarzburg instead of a countess, for her learnedness would be a credit to a future ruler.”6 Her exceptional abilities were praised not only in funerary honorifics, but also, some 40 years after her death, by Georg Christian Lehms, who mentioned her in his book of 1715 praising women poets and learned women, Teutschlands Galante Poetinnen. He used poetic examples and biographical information as support for his hypothesis contained in the extended title, “that the female sex is just as capable at their

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studies as the male sex.” Lehms was a proponent of the argument that women were intelligent beings who could benefit from an education, representing one of the sides in the Querelle des Femmes, discussed above in Chapter 4 in relation to arguments about the suitability of women to govern. Lehms’s preface criticizes his fellow Germans for treating women “as if this noble and excellent sex just crept around in the darkness underground with the moles, as if they couldn’t use their understanding, which God had granted them just as surely as he had granted it to their male counterparts.” He states his own opinion of women: “A woman is every bit as perfect a tool of God’s providence as a man, and she possesses intellectual ability every bit as excellent as his, indeed often superior.”7 In including praise of Ludaemilia Elisabeth, he recognizes the self-realization made possible by Aemilia Antonia’s provisions for her daughters’ education, an education from which Aemilia Juliana also benefited. One of the most famous and significant contributions to the Querelle des Femmes of the seventeenth century was written by Anna Maria van Schurman (“Whether a Christian Woman Should be Educated,” in her Dissertatio Logica of 1638). Schurman speaks eloquently in favor of the educability of women and the desirability of providing as thorough an education to them as to their male counterparts.8 That Aemilia Juliana was aware of this argument from the Querelle des Femmes, and that she had a similar opinion on the subject, is shown in a letter she wrote on October 1, 1656, when she was 19. This letter to her sister Christiana Elisabeth in Wolfenbüttel expresses her enthusiasm about her studies, and she urges all of her sisters to apply themselves with similar zeal: “Because of this experience, I long to hear how it is going with your studies, which had been sadly neglected for some time, and hope to hear your assurances that you are applying yourself with diligence. I plead that you admonish all of my sisters, to whom I send my dutiful greetings, to work much more diligently at their studies than in the past, avidly and without grumbling, so that all those who are of the opinion that women are incapable of an advanced education might be convinced of the contrary, and give up their unfounded prejudices.”9 Here she expresses the opinion that women of privilege who are offered an education, like herself and her sisters, should take full advantage—indeed, that they have the obligation to excel so that they can become evidence for women’s abilities in the ongoing debate that was challenging traditional thinking about gender. Aemilia Juliana’s learnedness was appreciated by her husband and explicitly honored by her contemporaries on numerous occasions during her lifetime. The various poems, theatrical performances, and sermons honoring her on her birthdays, not to mention the many dedications and prefaces to books published in her honor in Rudolstadt, are replete with praise for her intellectual accomplishments: her facility in Latin, her poetry-writing, her disciplined reading in the Bible and other theological books, her own theological writings, her large personal collection of books, her deep understanding in medicine, pharmacy, and law. Already as a bride, she had enjoyed praise for her Wissenschaft, her knowledge and learning that made her a fit match for her learned husband.10 In the 1680s in Rudolstadt,

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a play praising learned women and a series of publicly delivered orations, all of them dedicated to Aemilia Juliana on the occasion of her birthday celebrations, placed Schwarzburg in the center of the Querelle des Femmes controversy and firmly on the side of women’s education. It was no coincidence that this flurry of contributions to the discussion of women’s intellectual abilities corresponded to Aemilia Juliana’s increasingly public presence as author and lay theologian. The sequence began with the performance of the play Albert Anton commissioned from Michael Hörnlein in honor of his wife’s birthday in 1680. As discussed above in Chapter 4, this play, Die steigende und fallende Athenais Oder Eudoxia (Rising and Falling Athenais, or Eudoxia), incorporates statements of the positions, pro and con, of the Querelle des Femmes in order to examine the appropriateness of the assumption of political power by women. The conclusion is unequivocal, in spite of the dialogue structure, as the speakers against learned and powerful women are unmasked as treacherous murderers. For the winning side of the argument in the play, Hörnlein uses the learnedness, wisdom, and poetic accomplishments of two female characters to justify their involvement in politics. Indeed, he treats the production of poetic works as evidence that women’s intellectual capacity is on par with that of men. The historical Eudoxia was known to have been a poet,11 and Hörnlein alludes to her poetic works when, in one scene, he has Eudoxia say she was copying at sister-in-law Pulcheria’s request the heroic poem she had composed on the occasion of her husband’s victory over the Persians—an event that had been announced by a messenger earlier in the play. Although Eudoxia’s poetic activities are only mentioned in passing, and no texts ostensibly from her pen are included or performed, a song for which Pulcheria is given credit is the centerpiece of the scene in which Eudoxia and others marvel at its musical performance by a garden statue (V, iv). The text, which was distributed to the onlookers on stage (and perhaps to those in the audience), is a well-crafted verse meditation on vanity that begins with a lament on the transience of the beauties of nature and then proceeds to find the same decay and vanity in human lives and actions. The song concludes with an admonition to concentrate on heavenly things and not on the transient pursuits of this earth, echoing a theme prevalent in Aemilia Juliana’s own songs.12 The listeners on stage admire the artistry of the woman poet, a compliment to Aemilia Juliana’s poetic activities. Taking another tack in honoring the learnedness of Aemilia Juliana on her birthdays, the rectors of the Rudolstadt boys’ school, Johann Funk and Johann Friedrich Heckel, established the practice of inviting her to hear Latin orations on a variety of scholarly topics. For many years such orations, a genre of honorific generally reserved for male rulers, had constituted the preferred form for publicly honoring Albert Anton on his birthdays. The series addressed to Aemilia Juliana apparently began in 1683 with a genealogical oration by Funck, Tripudium Solemne, followed by five others authored and delivered by Heckel between 1685 and 1689. In 1686, the topic was De Foeminis Litteratis (On Women of Letters). The oration thus explicitly took part in the Querelle des Femmes at the same time that it offered acclamation for the learning and poetic activities of the addressee.

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In line with the feminist side of the Querelle des Femmes debate, Heckel proclaims that females are as capable of being literate and learned as their male counterparts. He then offers examples of women who succeeded as philosophers, philologians, poets, physicians, theologians, and experts in jurisprudence. His list includes Anna Maria van Schurman as philologist, medieval abbess Hildegard of Bingen as physician, and Pietist songwriter Henrietta Catharina of Gersdorf as poet—examples with particular significance for Aemilia Juliana’s own activities and talents. Heckel avers that the honoree is equally admirable in the excellence of her piety, education in the liberal arts, medical studies, and sacred and vernacular poetry. The topic in the oration of 1688, Dissertatiuncula Mythologico-Philologica De Minerva, likewise dealt with a feminine subject, in this case Minerva, Roman embodiment of wisdom and virtue.13 All six orations delivered in Aemilia Juliana’s honor and presumably in her presence, together with the dozens of Latin poems honoring her on her birthdays and other auspicious occasions beginning with her wedding, implicitly attest to her proficiency in Latin at the same time that they explicitly extol her accomplishments and virtues. Her example as a learned woman, publicly acknowledged and lauded by the learned men who were the leaders in the principality, including her husband and various churchmen and schoolmen, established possibilities for women of all stations in life to develop and make use of their innate mental abilities. Although her learnedness may not have been an appropriate aspiration for every woman, Aemilia Juliana did contribute to efforts designed to ensure that all girls in Schwarzburg could obtain an education that fulfilled their needs. In 1671 a flurry of activity in Rudolstadt in which she played an important role resulted in increased access to schooling for girls of all social classes. The girls’ school facing the school for boys from across the Schulplatz (School Plaza), established in the sixteenth century, was deemed too small, and a second school for girls was built below the western end of the palace.14 Its founding coincided with the creation of an ordinance for girls’ schools and the schoolmistresses who taught there. The impetus may well have been to honor former regent Aemilia Antonia during the year following her death, for she had been a strong advocate for the education of girls. In fact, education for the girls of the principality had a long tradition of support from the ruler’s consort or widowed regent in Rudolstadt. Anna Sophia of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, née Princess of Anhalt (1584–1652), Aemilia Antonia’s much older sister-in-law and Albert Anton’s aunt, had been an ardent supporter of girls’ education. Under her enthusiastic leadership, prominent pedagogy reformer Wolfgang Ratke (Raticius), who resided for a time in Rudolstadt, saw his fresh approaches to education adopted in the local girls’ school in 1624. Ratke’s reforms, which aimed at strengthened and deepened piety through instruction in the grammar of the German language together with various other languages, and which advocated learning to understand the interconnections rather than rote memorization, subsequently had significant impact on schools for boys as well as girls across central eastern Germany.15 Indeed, as Duke Ernst of Saxony-Gotha has been shown to have incorporated some aspects of Ratke’s didactic theory into

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his school reforms, Rudolstadt can be viewed as central to the development of schooling in Lutheran territories.16 In her turn, Aemilia Antonia supported the girls’ school through her charitable gifts, and her views of the educability of girls visible in her instructions to the tutors of her daughters and foster daughter probably had an impact on the pedagogy employed there. The concept of universal education was a product of the Reformation, and Martin Luther wanted all girls to be taught to read, as well as the boys. In his address of 1520 to the ruling houses of Germany (An den christlichen Adel deutscher Nation), he had written, “Above all other things, Holy Scripture must be the foremost and common subject in universities and secondary schools, and the Gospel in elementary schools. And would God that every town had a girls’ school in which young girls were taught a daily lesson in the New Testament, either in German or in Latin.”17 Nevertheless, in the sixteenth century, universal education was an idea whose time had not yet come. In 1642 Duke Ernst of Saxony-Gotha became the first to mandate universal education for his land.18 Other principalities followed gradually in the course of the seventeenth century, but the proclamation of universal education did not immediately result in universal literacy, in SaxonyGotha or elsewhere.19 Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt was among the first to follow Gotha’s lead, and it may have come closer than most to achieving the goal. Already in 1667, in his new school ordinance for Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, Albert Anton had signaled his interest in reforming the educational system following the model of Saxony-Gotha. Central to the educational reforms in Schwarzburg, as in Gotha, was the requirement that all boys and girls between the ages of five and fourteen attend school, whether they lived in a large town, in a village, or in a cluster of houses in the countryside. This was a point that court adviser Ahasverus Fritsch felt particularly strongly about, as seen in his scathing tract of 1685 addressed to those parents who encouraged or even required truancy, Parens Peccans (Sinful Parenting).20 The General Village Ordinance of 1681, designed to provide a set of laws and regulations to all communities in the principality of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, re-emphasized this expectation of universal education, a sign that the Count and his governing council were in full support of the effort, even though it required capital investments in new school buildings and funding for teachers’ salaries.21 Individual towns sometimes addressed the issue as well; in Leutenberg, under Aemilia Antonia’s leadership, an ordinance required citizens to swear an oath to send their children to school.22 The title page of Albert Anton’s new Schwarzburg school ordinance made the lines of responsibility clear: “Instructions, which the pastors and schoolmasters in the countryside as well as town officials of the upper principality of SchwarzburgRudolstadt, together with the parents, should take into account regarding the inspections of the schools and the instruction of the children, both at home and in school, published by the gracious command and order of the rulers of the principality.”23 The ordinance provided for enforcement of its primary reform, the requirement that all boys and girls attend school, and for periodic visitations and examinations that would ensure the effectiveness of the instruction provided

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to the children, as well as the compliance of teachers, schoolchildren, and their parents with the various regulations. Parents were admonished not only to send their children to school, but also to make certain that they had the necessary books, as well as paper and ink; pastors, teachers, and town officials were instructed to find the resources to provide necessary books and supplies for needy children. The school ordinance also offered curricular guidance. Just as in Gotha, the goal in Schwarzburg would be education for girls as well as boys in reading, with access to training in writing and reckoning for those who showed aptitude. The ordinance specifies that the Bible, the Catechism of Luther, and various devotional books should form the basis for instruction in reading. Books recommended in this regard include several favorites of Aemilia Juliana, Heinrich Müller’s Himmlischer Liebes-Kuß and Johann Michael Dilherr’s Weg zu der Seligkeit, as well as two hymnals, those from Nuremberg and Lüneburg. The stated goals for the use of these materials include enhancement of understanding of the tenets of Christianity and development and deepening of piety, as well as acquisition of an excellent understanding of the meanings of words. Teachers are also admonished to help children become good speakers who can enunciate clearly when reading or reciting aloud, without rushing their words or stammering. And once children have made a good start on learning to read, teachers should proceed to introduce writing and reckoning. The ordinance clearly and repeatedly expresses the obligation of teachers to treat the children fairly and humanely, not only in punishment, but also in the instructional context. Teachers are commanded to treat rich and poor children alike, thus allowing every child a chance to excel and offering opportunity for advancement through education within an otherwise rigid social class system. And they are told that each child deserves respect and love. If a pupil has been ill or otherwise kept from school, the teacher should go to great lengths to help the child make up what was missed. And if a pupil is unable to recite or answer a question or otherwise learn as quickly as the others, the teacher should be patient and not torment the child with more questions; only words, not the rod, should be used to incite the child to apply more effort to learning what has proved to be too difficult. In other words, the ordinance provides that teachers should treat each child as an individual with a unique learning style or particular learning abilities or disabilities. While there is no elaborate explanation for this approach, the underlying rationale seems to be pedagogical, based on what works best for teaching children. Although the masculine gender tends to dominate the language, the Schwarzburg school ordinance of 1667 is not only directed at schoolboys and their schoolmasters, but also at schoolgirls and their teachers. Sometimes it employs language that is gender-neutral, such as “ein Kind” (the noun for “child” is neuter in German), “die Jugend” (young people), and “Kinder” (children), in order to indicate that the rules apply to the education of children of both sexes. But the terminology often specifies that both boys and girls are meant. For example, the teachers are instructed not to leave the classroom under the oversight of a “little boy or little girl” (Knaben oder Mägdlein) in order to take care of their

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own business. And “schoolboys or schoolgirls” (Schul Knaben oder Mägdlein) should make a habit of arriving at school on time. Parents should make sure their “sons and daughters” (Söhne und Töchter) attend school; those who withdraw their child prior to the fourteenth birthday face a hefty fine. The fines are then used to purchase books and supplies for “needy boys and girls” (die armen Knaben und Mägdlein). The frequent use of such terminology in the ordinance makes it clear that the requirement of universal education in Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt applies to girls as well as boys. When the ordinance cautions against potential unseemliness in punishments in classrooms “that contain both boys and girls” (Wo Knaben und Mägdlein beysammen seyn), it assumes that in many cases, presumably in smaller towns, there are insufficient resources to teach boys and girls separately, with the result that they are educated together. However, in larger towns like Rudolstadt, there were separate schools for girls, and these schools were staffed by schoolmistresses. The school ordinance, while it explicitly included schoolgirls, did not take such all-female schools into account, and not everything said to the male teacher was appropriate for the schoolmistress. An additional ordinance was needed, one that was addressed to female teachers. The result was the 1671 Schul-Ordnung/ Wornach sich die Mägden-Schulmeisterinne in Städten und uff dem Lande der Obern-Graffschafft Schwarzburg/ Rudolstadtischen Theils/ zurichten (School Ordinance, which gives rules for the Schoolmistresses of the girls’ schools in cities and in the countryside in the Upper Principality of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt). It echoes and reuses the language of the most important regulations from the 1667 ordinance, in particular those concerning mandatory school attendance.24 Although scholars have assumed that it derives from the same male authorities as the general ordinance, the new language governing the activities of schoolmistresses sounds very much like a text of Aemilia Juliana’s contriving. Indeed, this ordinance, dated July 1671 and published that same year in Rudolstadt by the official printer, Caspar Freyschmidt, is unusual in that it lacks the usual introductory remarks attributing the regulations to Albert Anton and explaining why the ordinance had become necessary. The very anonymity hints at female authorship and responsibility. Nor is it surprising that Aemilia Juliana should have become personally involved in authoring an ordinance directed at schoolmistresses in the girls’ schools. After all, she and her female in-laws evidently assumed responsibility for the selection of women teachers, as can be seen a letter of 1668 that she wrote to her sister-in-law in which she asks her correspondent to make inquiries on her behalf about the qualifications of a proposed schoolmistress.25 Many wording differences between this ordinance and that aimed at schoolmasters, as well as a few short additions, relate to the gender of the teachers and their exclusively female students. Wording that traditionally applies to the piety and desirable behavior of women abounds: the schoolmistress should be devoted “von Hertzen” (sincerely, with her heart) to the Christian religion, she should live a quiet and retired life of piety, and she “should behave towards her pupils with a motherly heart” (ein treu Mutterliches Hertz und Gemüth tragen). She should

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guide the schoolgirls towards desirable feminine virtues and away from “vices that are particularly undesirable in females” (dem weiblichen Geschlecht übel anständigen Lastern). There is also more emphasis on piety in the stated goals and curriculum of the girls’ school than in the parallel language for schools in general. One article states that each school day should begin with prayer, hymn-singing, and the reading of a chapter from the Bible, and that the day should likewise close with a hymn and a prayer. In demanding the same proficiency in speaking as in the general ordinance, the ordinance governing girls’ schools adds another context for audible speech to the reading and recitation listed there: praying. The girls should otherwise be quiet during school, not chat or gossip, and when they stray, they “should be admonished about the need to be respectfully devout and attentive” (zur Andacht und Auffmaercksamkeit stets und mit Ernst ermahnet). Finally, the subjects to be taught reflect different goals for the girls than for the boys. The curriculum consists first of reading, then learning the alphabet, and finally writing, at least for those girls with aptitude, as Article 14 indicates: “If there are children who are far enough along in their reading and spelling that they can be introduced to writing, a writing lesson should be scheduled each afternoon, and every effort should be made to teach them to write.” The ordinance for the girls’ schools does not mention reckoning or other subjects as part of the curriculum. This ordinance addressed to schoolmistresses in the girls’ schools, like the general ordinance, spells out a pedagogical approach that is designed to help each child succeed, although in some cases it edits the language of the older ordinance or adds new admonitions. Children absent due to illness or other reasons are to be helped to catch up, and children who make mistakes or are slow learners are not to be scolded or punished, but instead assisted in their tasks. Children at different skill levels should be divided into groups within the classroom, and those in each group should sit with others at their level and have identical assignments. In order to fulfill her responsibilities to instill the Christian virtues and to enforce discipline, the schoolmistress is authorized to scold and punish the children, when appropriate. In particular, laziness and lack of cooperation, as well as laughter and idle chatter, are to be punished. But when discipline is not a problem, she should behave towards her charges and speak to them in a modest and respectful way. The approach outlined in this ordinance, even more than in the general school ordinance of 1667, emphasizes education through kindness, affection, nurturing, and interest in the children’s well-being as individuals, rather than through fear of chastisement. One article in the schoolmistress ordinance of 1671, following the lead of the general school ordinance, shows concern for those girls who don’t possess the necessary textbooks; the schoolmistress is instructed to report such lacks first to the parents, and then, if that is unavailing, to the pastor. Perhaps the fault usually lay with parsimonious or uncaring parents, but in some cases the lack of school books was due to family poverty, and that was something Aemilia Juliana could do something about. Her standard practice was to make a sizable charitable gift each New Year’s Day for that purpose.26 But on January 1, 1674, Aemilia Juliana made a lasting gift: she granted the two girls’ schools a permanent endowment

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with capital of 200 Thaler, the interest from which was to be used in perpetuity to provide school books for pupils who couldn’t afford them. In the legacy document she indicates that she did so “for the honor of God, the betterment of Christianity, and the good of the children studying in the local girls’ schools.” The capital, together with interest it would have accumulated to that date, was finally handed over in May, 1676, as her own notation and the confirmation of Ahasverus Fritsch at the bottom of the original document show.27 Aemilia Juliana took advantage of the opportunity afforded her in the official document recording her gift to expand on her hopes for the contents of the curriculum in the girls’ schools. The ordinance of 1671 had relegated writing to a secondary position, reserved for those girls showing special aptitude, and there had been no reference to arithmetic lessons at all. Yet writing and reckoning had proved themselves invaluable in her own dealings, helping her to obtain her inheritance and to control it in the interests of herself, her family, and her land. She needed arithmetic when she borrowed or lent money, when she oversaw her various income sources and expenditures, and when she planned and kept track of her charitable gifts. Her figuring of sums survives in the margins of several pages in her manuscript books, and the lengthy correspondence she was conducting with various parties concerning the inheritance she had not yet received in full from Barby is likewise a demonstration of the practical uses to which she put her own education in these areas.28 In the donation document of 1674, she puts pressure on the schools to make these subjects an important part of the curriculum when she mentions that she especially wishes to encourage the schools to offer the girls an excellent education in writing and arithmetic.29 These skills would enable them to take control of the money and property they would inevitably come to manage, whether it was merely household expenditures or the family business or other forms of wealth. Aemilia Juliana also contributed to the education of children through her authorship of role-playing songs, two of which she published in 1699. In the song she created for a teacher (male or female) to sing at the beginning of each working day, “Soll, mein Gott! ich für andern hier” (Shall, my God, I above others here), she depicts the education of children through the botanical metaphor of planting the seeds, watering the plant, and producing fruit. In the accompanying prayer (not published until after her death, but probably shared with teachers along with the song on individual sheets of paper), she includes many of the same goals for the teacher as those that appear in the two ordinances, including the precept to love the schoolchildren in one’s charge. In the song she created for schoolchildren to sing, “Gott unser Vater oben!” (God our Father on High), she provides words expressing their intention to be diligent in their studies and respectful to their teacher.30 As a learned woman who had benefited from an education similar to that offered to her male counterpart and future husband, Aemilia Juliana contributed to improvements in the education of girls on many fronts. The exemplary learnedness of this ruler’s consort, as praised by her husband and the leaders of the church and schools in the principality, offered a role model and rationale promoting education

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for females. But Aemilia Juliana also embraced an active role when she selected schoolmistresses, became involved in opening a new girls’ school in Rudolstadt, and provided a special ordinance for girls’ schools in the principality. In addition, she established a charitable endowment to pay for books and writing supplies for needy pupils in the Rudolstadt girls’ schools and authored role-playing songs for the use of teachers and pupils that helped them focus on their respective tasks. As ruler’s consort she accepted responsibility for the education of girls in a role parallel and complementary to that of her husband in his efforts to upgrade schooling for boys, both in Rudolstadt and principality-wide. “May God preserve all pregnant women” These words from Johann Habermann’s prayer for the congregation to recite on behalf of those in need of divine assistance, appended to most seventeenth-century Lutheran hymnals (including those in Rudolstadt), reflect the comparatively precarious situation faced in the early modern era by birthing women and their infants. Aemilia Juliana may have become interested in advocating for the wellbeing of pregnant and birthing women, and for the midwives who served them, due to her personal experiences with pregnancy, birth, and the death of a newborn child, but her letters show that she also took notice of problem pregnancies and difficult births among her relatives, acquaintances, and subjects. Mother Clara, the midwife who had served her during both births, visited her frequently and kept her apprised of the latest childbirth-related news from the town, information that she then passed on to her sister-in-law in her letters. She probably also discussed with Mother Clara measures that could improve the situation for midwives and the women they served. Her strong interest in helping birthing women led her to collect recipes and ingredients for “Weiber-Aquavitae” (women’s tonics) for use in the birthing room, which she distributed to those in need. She may also have advocated the inclusion of prayer texts and rituals for pregnancy, childbirth, and emergency baptism in the church agenda issued jointly by the Schwarzburg principalities in 1675. In 1676 she participated in a joint project with the ruling families of all of the Schwarzburg principalities to ensure the proper training and support of midwives. And in 1683 she authored and published a devotional handbook for the use of pregnant and birthing women and their supporters. Aemilia Juliana had probably heard her husband’s cousin, Ludwig Günther of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen-Ebeleben, speak of his wishes to regularize, modernize, and otherwise improve the state of obstetric care in emulation of Duke Ernst of neighboring Saxony-Gotha, whose midwifery and medicinal ordinances first appeared in 1653–1658. Ludwig Günther had already introduced a Midwife Ordinance in Ebeleben in 1663. This ordinance required candidates for midwife positions to be examined by a physician for competency, but it also offered status, a steady income, and protection from false accusations to the midwives appointed according to its requirements. The ordinance had been adopted for use in the immediate area around Ebeleben and Greussen under Ludwig Günther’s control,

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but because it was disseminated only in manuscript copies and never published, it had little impact beyond those two towns. In the meantime, the tales of childbirth disasters that occurred due to incompetent midwives, as well as the complaints of numerous rural villages that lacked access to any trained midwife, continued to mount in the Schwarzburg principalities.31 Aemilia Juliana was an active participant in the process of selection of midwives in Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, joining her mother-in-law and eldest sisterin-law in reviewing qualifications of applicants and even interviewing finalists for positions, as can be seen in several undated letters written between 1666 and 1671. While it is possible that this responsibility began prior to her own childbirth catastrophe in 1668, she may have begun to play an active role only when her experiences made it painfully clear how important it would be to improve midwife preparation and increase the number of trained midwives. Nevertheless, there is no evidence of any formal attempts to upgrade midwifery in any part of Schwarzburg between 1668 and 1671, the year when new efforts that can be connected with Ludwig Günther were launched in neighboring Schwarzburg-SondershausenArnstadt, which had recently been added to his domains after the death of his brothers and a nephew.32 The Arnstadt chancellor, in a 1671 letter to his colleagues in the northern territory of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, wrote to encourage them to address the issue with the ruling family resident in Sondershausen: “Since several extremely worrisome cases have recently arisen, it has therefore been adjudged very necessary to publish an ordinance and guide for midwives.” He aspired to the support of all of the Schwarzburg rulers for a joint ordinance and proclamation, as shown by his use of the terms “Herrschaften” (rulership, ruling persons) and “Vormundschafft” (guardianship, guardian) for the various rulers and regents in the Schwarzburg principalities. The use of the anonymous feminine nouns, rather than names of male rulers, alludes to the inclusion of women in the decision-making process. The rulers in question were Ludwig Günther, his wife Concordia, his widowed sister-in-law Maria Magdalena of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen (as Regent acting on behalf of her absent son Christian Wilhelm and her underage son Anton Günther), and Albert Anton together with Aemilia Juliana. A subsequent letter indicates that all were agreed, and publication of a printed midwife instruction was to proceed under the oversight of Ludwig Günther’s court physician, Johann Georg Sommer. However, these efforts bore no fruit until five more years had passed, when Sommer published an obstetrics handbook for the use of midwives, Nohtwendiger Hebammen-Unterricht (Much-needed Instruction for Midwives), with a preface that stood in place of a formal ordinance. Published in Arnstadt in 1676, it was distributed throughout the Schwarzburg principalities by official mandate.33 Sommer’s extended title describes its contents: “Much-needed Instruction for Midwives, concerning how a midwife is to deal with pregnant women, women in childbirth, and women who have given birth, as well as their infants, both in the case of natural births and in the case of unnatural births; also, what sorts of useful

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methods they may employ in those cases that constitute emergency situations for the women or the infants.” The title page also notes that Sommer had authored the book “at the order and gracious command” of the Schwarzburg ruling house—the latter concept once again conveyed in the feminine abstract noun “Herrschaft” that implies the sponsorship of female as well as male rulers. The involvement of these women, including by this time Aemilia Juliana’s sister Antonia Sibylla, now married to Christian Wilhelm, Count of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen, is further alluded to in the preface. There, Sommer calls the ruling women of Schwarzburg “veritable wet nurses to their subjects” due to their aspirations to furnish every corner of their domains with well-trained midwives to serve all women, regardless of ability to pay.34 The obstetric manual, the contents of which Sommer gleaned from other obstetric books written by midwives and physicians, as well as from his own medical education,35 was to serve as a training manual and reference handbook for midwives, replacing their former reliance on informally acquired knowledge and on experience gained through trial and error at the expense of women and their infants. At the same time, it called on authorities to establish mechanisms to regulate the profession and protect its practitioners. The body of the book begins with a mandate that is reaffirmed by the cover letters issued to governing bodies of towns and villages along with exemplars of the book: “That every well-governed city or community must have one or more midwives is abundantly clear in the frequent disasters that are apt to occur—unfortunately!—in the cases of difficult births when no skillful and experienced midwife is present. However, the more necessary such persons are, the more crucial it is that women of character, skill, and experience be selected, trained, subjected to an oath of office, and provided with a salary and civic rights and privileges” (pp. 1–2). Sommer’s midwife manual, together with the supporting documentation of its dissemination, is evidence of officially promoted reforms in the midwife profession in Schwarzburg. In Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, one result was a formal midwife ordinance (no longer extant) created and published sometime between 1676 and 1681, when it was mentioned in a principality-wide ordinance for unincorporated towns and small villages lacking their own municipal ordinances.36 It can be assumed that Aemilia Juliana had a role in formulating the formal midwife ordinance, which probably relied on Sommer’s manual for the training it required of aspiring midwives. Even though Sommer’s illustrated handbook is devoted primarily to obstetric information, he includes several exhortations to incorporate prayer in the midwife’s preparation for her professional activities and among the actions to be taken by the woman and her supporters during labor and birth. Early modern childbirth, even in the presence of an expert midwife, required the divine assistance that participants and bystanders could request in their prayers and devotional songs. Sommer provides the texts of six prayers for the midwife and the birthing woman to recite. That he did not, however, consider this small corpus of prayer texts sufficient is shown in one of the illustrations (Figure 5.1). In this depiction of the birthing room with the midwife standing next to the woman in labor, ready to begin applying her

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Fig. 5.1 Engraving depicting a midwife with a birthing woman, from Johann Georg Sommer, Nohtwendiger Hebammen-Unterricht (Arnstadt: Meurer, 1676). Courtesy of the Niedersächsische Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek, Göttingen: 8 Med. Chir. III, 61337. skills, there is a prayer book lying open on the bedside table next to a drinking glass. When Aemilia Juliana perused Sommer’s handbook after its publication in 1676, she would have gazed with interest at the illustration and the items it depicted on the bedside table. The glass and devotional book represented contributions she could make to the birthing rooms of Schwarzburg. The glass was for the tonics provided to the birthing woman, presumably in particular the “Weiber Aquavit” (aquavit for women) Sommer names as efficacious. Aemilia Juliana had long been active, under the guidance of her mother-in-law, in concocting and providing such pharmaceutical remedies and cordials for pregnant and birthing women. Indeed, in the manuscript compilation of recipes for various distilled tonics that she used, several of the recipes were assembled under the rubric “Weiber Aquavit” (tonics for women).37 The first was apparently the most useful, as its title shows: “Ein gut starckes Waßer zu machen daß den schwangeren Weibern sehr nützlich und von wegen seiner großen Güte der Weiber Aqua Vit genannt wird” (How to manufacture a good strong tonic that is very efficacious for pregnant women and for this reason is called Aquavit for Women). The ingredients include cinnamon, nutmeg nuts and flowers, white ginger, and other spices, and the instructions spell out how these are to be mixed and distilled. Another tonic, called “Ein gut waßer für schwangere Weiber” (A good tonic for pregnant women), incorporates lemon rind as well as cinnamon and other spices. But by 1676 Aemilia Juliana had also laid the groundwork for that other remedy on the table, the devotional book, in the form of the powerful spiritual medicine of prayer and song collected in a

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manuscript book that perhaps already bore the title Geistliches Weiber Aqua-Vit (Spiritual Aquavit for Women). Its contents had provided her with the strength she had needed to overcome suffering and grief, and the songs she had sung during labor had been able to help her control her breathing between contractions, thus preserving her strength for the birth. Perhaps it was this engraving that encouraged her to share the book with her female subjects. That Aemilia Juliana had been authoring songs and prayers for her own use before, during, and after her pregnancies in 1666–1668 is clear in the praise for this activity voiced by Justus Söffing in his funeral sermon for her infant daughter: “Albertina Antonia was brought to Jesus through the heart-felt prayers of father and mother as soon as she was placed, a gift of God, under her mother’s heart. As evidence of these prayers we have the spiritually powerful and fervent little songs which flowed on her account from her mother’s heart.... In praying like Hannah in the Temple, our countess created many a beautiful little song for Ludwig Friedrich and Albertina Antonia, asking God to protect and preserve them.” Not only were these songs evidence of her pious prayers; authoring and compiling them in a manuscript book for her own use would also have enabled her to replace the devotional books available to her that she found inadequate or even offensive. Her letters indicate that, at the advice of her mother-in-law, she had ordered a “marriage book” (Ehebüchlein) from a Leipzig bookseller for use during her first pregnancy. She doesn’t mention the title, but the only devotional handbook totally devoted to pregnancy and childbirth available at the time of her marriage was that of Bonifacius Stölzlin, Geistlicher Adler-Stein (Spiritual Eagle’s Stone). Like the sixteenth-century devotional books for pregnancy and birth that a matronly friend had warned her about, this newer book contained prayers and songs that sought to force a frightened woman in labor to repent her sins rather than invoking positive thoughts that might be helpful to her. In spite of the reference in the title to the Adlerstein, the medicinal stone she wore next to her heart throughout her pregnancies, also at her mother-in-law’s advice, she must have recognized that the book’s remedies would be counterproductive.38 In any case, instead of making the purchased book the basis for her daily devotions, she created her own. Her original texts include several songs praying for conception, morning songs and evening songs for use during pregnancy, songs designed for the beginnings of labor, songs to use during labor that would help her concentrate on her task and suppress the discomfort, songs of joy for the successful birth and baptism of her infant. Perhaps at the request of Mother Clara, the midwife who had become a confidante, she also penned several midwife’s songs that sought God’s help on a daily basis and as the labor of a client commenced, as well as a song of thanksgiving for the midwife’s use following a birth at which she had assisted. Although the manuscript book, presumably begun during her first pregnancy and augmented during the second, does not survive, it is likely that Aemilia Juliana began with a bound book filled with blank pages that she titled and formatted prior to inscribing any songs and prayers, as that was her practice in the surviving manuscript books. On the title page she replaced Stölzlin’s amulet metaphor with

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her own remedy for the sufferings of childbirth, “Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit” (Spiritual Aquavit for Women), and then filled in the page numbers and laid out the rubrics. Before she copied any songs or prayers into the manuscript book, she gave each segment its own title, beginning with “I. [Plea] of a woman for Conception” and ending with “XXIII. A Daily Song and Prayer of the Parents for their Child.” After selecting the topics, Aemilia Juliana probably copied songs and prayers onto the blank sheets of the 23 sections as she wrote them. Several of the sections were not for the woman to recite or sing, however. Most notably, sections VI, VII, and VIII were designed to contain songs for the midwife to sing in preparation for her work, while XIV housed the midwife’s song of thanksgiving following a successful birth. The texts for the midwife surround and thus embrace with caring arms the texts in sections IX through XIII, which comprised the songs and prayers designed for the use of the birthing woman and her supporters. Following the texts for childbirth, there are sections for songs and prayers for the use of the parents and godparents regarding the child’s baptism and for the new mother’s use during her six weeks of confinement and at her churching. The final section in the first part of the handbook contains songs and prayers for the use of the parents on behalf of their child. They express daily concerns, as well as those associated with childhood illnesses. Despite her inclusion of sections for godparents, the postpartum woman, and care for the infant, Aemilia Juliana’s original plan appears to have taken only the first two-thirds of the available pages in the bound volume, and she had room on the remaining sheets for the additional section she knew was also a necessity, especially once her second childbirth experience had ended so disastrously. She headed the first of the blank pages following section XXIII with the words “Songs and Prayers designed for Sad Cases.” The first rubric introduced a song she had written for another bereaved mother, “When the child is born dead,” to be sung to the melody of the most widely used consolatory song, “Freu dich sehr, O meine Seele” (Rejoice, oh my soul). “Sad Cases” also included the deaths of birthing women. She herself had nearly died during childbirth, or so she had thought each time. Indeed, the song she had written shortly after Ludwig Friedrich’s birth, “Nun seht/ was GOTT im Himmel kan” (Now see what God in Heaven can do), had mentioned her assumption during labor that she would not survive. She lived, but other women of her acquaintance had died in childbed or soon after giving birth. She gave voice to their dying thoughts and wishes in two songs, one for the dying mother whose newborn child appears healthy, “Gott mit meiner matten Zungen” (God with my weak voice), and another for the woman laboring in vain who expects to die without giving birth to the infant within her womb, “Gott/ ich merck dein Vaters-Wincken” (God, I perceive your fatherly command), as well as two original prayers for the same circumstances. However, most of the remainder of this section she filled out with existing song and prayer texts, as well as biblical quotations, all of which were ubiquitously used in the context of deathbeds and funerals. At the end of these traditional funerary texts, she appended original songs and prayers for members of the deceased woman’s immediate family to sing.

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The texts beginning the section that followed were those she had probably written as her tiny daughter lay dying, “A song for the parents of a deathly ill child” and “A prayer on the same occasion,” and after the death, “A song of the parents, after the child has died” and “A prayer after the child has died.” If this manuscript book was already mostly complete by the end of the 1660s, she may well have loaned it to friends for their use and received positive feedback that later gave her the courage to publish it for wider access. The publication of Aemilia Juliana’s manuscript book would probably have occurred soon after that of Sommer’s midwifery manual, had it not been delayed by the intervening crisis years when the plague epidemic of 1680–1682 threatened the principality, as discussed in Chapter 4. The book finally appeared in 1683. The full title expressed her intentions: “Spiritual Aquavit for Women, that is, Christian Songs and Prayers for use before, during, and following attainment of God’s marriage blessings [i.e., pregnancy] and in the various situations that may arise therefrom, from the heart, mouth, and hand of the Mother of the Country, prepared for and shared with her [female] subjects, for the purpose of valuable, powerful edification drawn from God’s holy word.”39 The title indicated that she intended to distribute copies of the book, like the medicinal aquavit she prepared with her own hands, to the households of the principality. There must have been a few blank pages at the end of the bound manuscript book, for she filled them in later, perhaps in preparation for publication. The first addition was a song she had written for her friend Elisabeth Juliana, wife of Duke Anton Ulrich of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, on the occasion of the death of a 20-year-old son in 1676. This song, which identifies the recipient through acrostics spelling out her initials (EIHZBULGHZSH—Elisabeth Iuliana, Herzogin zu Braunschweig und Lüneburg, geborene Herzogin zu Schleswig-Holstein), had initially appeared in a pamphlet published in Wolfenbüttel, but it was general enough in content to give voice to women who lost a son of any age, even an infant.40 Not a product of an experience Aemilia Juliana herself had to undergo, her vicarious words she lent to her friend are nevertheless an eloquent expression of the grief of any such mother. For purposes of publication in 1683 she added a newly composed prose prayer for use in the same circumstance. The second addition, at the very end, was the text of the ceremony for emergency baptism, which she took from the joint Schwarzburg church agenda published in 1675. She must have been affected by the initial panic in that birthing room of 1668 when it was determined that emergency baptism was in order for her own weak infant. In her case, as it turned out, there had been plenty of time to call upon the pastor, but that would not always be so. What if the midwife couldn’t remember the words, or what if there was no official midwife present? It would be best to have the words of the ceremony close at hand. They had not been included in Sommer’s handbook for the midwife, but there was space for them in the devotional handbook that Aemilia Juliana viewed as the partner of his obstetric handbook in the birthing room. The text “From the Schwarzburg Church Agenda, concerning Emergency Baptism” began: “If the newborn children are so weak

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Fig. 5.2 Title page from Aemilia Juliana, Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit (Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1683). Courtesy of the Herzog August Bibliothek: Tl 62. that the situation constitutes the highest state of emergency, then they are to be baptized at once. The baptism is to be conducted by Christian men or pious women, including particularly the sworn midwife who has been especially instructed in how to conduct this ceremony in an emergency.”41 Both the instructions and the text of the ritual are given in full. In 1699, when Aemilia Juliana was preparing to publish an expanded version of her all-purpose devotional handbook, Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und AbendOpffer (Daily Morning, Midday and Evening Offering), she distilled her collection of texts for pregnant and birthing women in order to create a short section for this

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purpose within the larger compilation. She omitted those for “sad cases,” limiting herself to a selection of texts applicable to every pregnancy. She added a few prose prayers and several songs related to baptism, childcare, and childrearing that she had authored since the completion of the specialized women’s book. The selected texts, although originally created for her own use or that of friends and relatives and distributed to her subjects, could now serve women everywhere. Aemilia Juliana was also interested in the lives of the women who served her and other women in the context of childbirth and childrearing, and she included her songs for their use in the 1699 handbook. To complement the songs for the midwife that had appeared in Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit, she created songs for the wet nurse or nursery maid (with the rubric “Einer Kinder-Wärterin”) and governess (“Einer Kinder-Hoffmeisterin”) to sing during their morning devotions as they prepared for their day’s work. Their songs appear among the role-playing texts for professionals, most of whom are men. In “Laß/ Gott! mir deine Hülff zu statten kommen,” the maid begins: “Help me, God, now that I have been hired as nursery maid, regulate my behavior so that my service is useful and helpful to the child.” The song of the governess, which begins “Dreyeinger Gott! es ist/ wie dein Aug sehr wohl schauet/ ein hohes Kinder-Pfand auf Pflicht mir anvertrauet” (Holy Trinity, as you can see, a precious child has been entrusted to my care), asks for divine guidance on how best to instruct her charges for their spiritual and physical good. Aemilia Juliana’s simple three-strophe song texts, designed to be sung to well-known hymn melodies, would have been very accessible to the women in question.42 Thus, especially in the area of reproductive biology and child-rearing, Aemilia Juliana’s own experiences and those of the women of her acquaintance not only provided the rationale for her activities related to the professionalization of the midwives of Schwarzburg, but also formed the basis for songs and other texts that she then provided to other women for their use. In contributing to the creation of instructions and ordinances for midwives and in disseminating her texts related to pregnancy and childbirth in overt acknowledgement of her identity as “Mother of the Country,” she was fulfilling an important dimension of her role as ruler’s consort and partner of her husband in assuring the welfare of the principality and its inhabitants. Women’s Support Networks As ruler’s consort, Aemilia Juliana had an important role to play as member of various support networks for women, some functioning within the court household or principality and others connecting female peers from across Lutheran Germany. When it came to networks supporting women of the palace household, the town, or the principality, Aemilia Juliana (together with her mother-in-law and sistersin-law during their lifetimes) was the primary supporter, offering expressions of sympathy, pharmaceutical remedies, visits from the court physician, intercessional prayers, pastoral conversations, role-playing songs, and advice. On the other hand,

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the networks of female relatives and other women from the high nobility across Lutheran Germany existed for the mutual support they provided to all members, and Aemilia Juliana both benefited others and found support for her own needs in such interconnectedness. The support networks to which Aemilia Juliana belonged and her activities as a member are visible above all in her surviving letters and in the various songs and prayers written to give a voice to other women. They show her involved in offering support especially in times of tribulation, when a woman’s life was beset by the anxieties, sufferings, and misfortunes that might befall her, not only due to biology and the state of medicine at the time, but also as products of her limited legal status. It was above all during these difficulties and crises that a network made up of individuals subject to the same physical and legal constraints could provide support. Some crises were emotional, initiated by the loss of parents, siblings, child, or husband, for instance. Some were physical: difficult pregnancies, miscarriages, premature and problem births, death in childbed, or exceptionally painful illnesses such as gout, kidney stones, and breast or uterine cancer. But being an orphan or losing a brother, as Aemilia Juliana had experienced for herself, or being widowed without having produced a surviving male heir or losing an only son, as several of her female friends and relatives had done, had an impact on financial security and social status that was equally devastating for the woman so afflicted. And for the woman who did not marry, whether because family finances did not permit it or because she was not sought out by a potential bridegroom or because she was disinclined to marry, the denial of access to the usual stages of a woman’s life43 also meant denial of the status and social life open to married women. The restricted status of women led to a certain helplessness in the business world, in the home, and in the law courts. Women could not speak up for themselves, and their financial interests might not be well represented on their behalf. Married women might be subjected to domestic abuse, and elderly unmarried women and midwives might find themselves accused of witchcraft. All of these disasters that cause suffering or that threaten to deny a woman of security and status and to isolate her from the accustomed support system within the family are mentioned in Aemilia Juliana’s letters as afflictions of women she knew or had heard about. One local network that was formally defined as the concern of the ruler’s consort was the Frauenzimmer, the cohort of girls and women living in the palace, including female servants and the wives or daughters of their male counterparts, as well as her appointed companions and ladies-in-waiting and the wives or daughters of palace officials. Many are mentioned in Aemilia Juliana’s letters as in need of sympathy and prayers, including, for instance, the wives of court musician Georg Bleyer and court messenger Heinrich the Trumpeter, who receive explicit mention. The wet nurse, nursery maid, and governess for Ludwig Friedrich would also have been members, as well as the wives of court painter Lammers and Kapellmeister Erlebach, among many others. Members of her suite who are mentioned in the letters include lady-in-waiting Baroness Anna Magdalena of Schönfeld (the “Hofmeisterin”) and companion Anna Barbara Hanckel (who later married court tutor Michael Hörnlein). But as discussed in Chapter 2, Aemilia

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Juliana also took on a more active role in protecting the morals and enhancing the piety of the women under her care. Her pastoral activities on their behalf were in several instances depicted as a school of piety, something that went well beyond the more usual leadership role during household devotions. Of Anna Magdalena’s experiences in Aemilia Juliana’s suite, Justus Söffing stated in her funerary biography, “As soon as her marriage brought her to court, she was overjoyed to encounter the high fruit-bringing Jesus-School that Aemilia Juliana and Maria Susanna had instituted, where she benefited from the pious Jesus-conversations that served to elevate her piety.” A court official from the neighboring ducal court of Saalfeld similarly described the Rudolstadt court under Aemilia Juliana’s leadership: “Her land and people attest unanimously to her exceptional piety, for through her Christian training and teaching of others, she has made her court into a house of God and the women’s suite into a school of virtue.”44 Aemilia Juliana also participated in a network of women from outside the palace that comprised her daily or occasional contacts, many of them from the landed gentry and educated families of the bureaucrats and professionals of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. The women of relatively high status mentioned most often in her letters other than Anna Magdalena of Schönfeld were the “Würmin,” wife of court official Baron von Wurm from a local landed gentry family; the “Könitzin,” a widow who headed the landed gentry family resident in nearby Könitz; the “Fritschin,” wife of court adviser Ahasverus Fritsch; the “Magistrin,” wife of the schoolmaster; and the “Superintendentin,” wife of church superintendent Justus Söffing. Aemilia Juliana’s supportive relationships with these women (and their later counterparts who came into her sphere only after the period covered by the surviving letters) probably helped to secure the sometimes remarkable loyalty of their husbands to the House of Schwarzburg. In particular, court painter Lammers, Kapellmeister Erlebach, superintendent Söffing, and court adviser (later chancellor) Fritsch appear to have been offered prestigious positions elsewhere, but chose to remain with their Rudolstadt patrons. The local network also incorporated women of lower social status, including townspeople known to Aemilia Juliana through her contacts with their husbands and fathers, to judge from specific mentions in her letters. Some members were professionals in their own right; the midwife Mother Clara and Aemilia Juliana’s former nurse Mother Catharina are both mentioned multiple times in the letters, and she probably had interactions with schoolmistresses from the girls’ schools that are not yet recorded in the surviving letters. As the network expanded outward, as seen from Aemilia Juliana’s perspective, it included the female residents of Rudolstadt and of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, all of whom she appears to have regarded as her particular charge. These concentric circles that formed supportive networks of women within the palace, within Rudolstadt, or within Schwarzburg were the basis for smaller networks tied to a particular woman or a particular circumstance in the lives of multiple women. Most important of these specialized networks was that which formed around a pregnant woman and functioned throughout her preparations for birth, during labor and childbirth, and through the six weeks of postpartum confinement culminating

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in churching. This sequence of events from the life of most married women, in her letters among the most frequently mentioned circumstance requiring support from other women, also emerges in Aemilia Juliana’s devotional handbook for pregnant and birthing women, the publication of which was an application of her role within the individual networks that formed around each pregnant woman under her purview. Other network members, whose solidarity was centered most visibly in the birthing room, included female relatives, friends, neighbors, and the midwife. In addition to the pharmaceutical and authorship activities discussed above in relation to childbirth, which show that she was serving as an ex officio member of every birthing network in the principality, Aemilia Juliana displayed in her surviving correspondence a level of interest in the pregnancies and births of women of all social classes known to her that qualified her inclusion as a friend in their support network, even if she was not present in the birthing room. She remained an interested party of the support circle, although not an active member, when some of its members accompanied the woman to church after her six weeks of confinement for her churching, and Aemilia Juliana’s lists of the women who were selected to accompany one of her court ladies following two different confinements offer insights into the importance the identities of these female supporters had for other women.45 And as the network mutated following the birth into a support group for the newborn child, some of the same women—often including Aemilia Juliana or one of her female in-laws—emerged as godmothers, especially important, to judge from the letters, in the case of the female godchildren with whom they continued to sympathize or whom they helped in other ways, both as infants and as older children and adults. Clearly, her acceptance of such lifelong membership in support groups formed around children in the principality was among her responsibilities as ruler’s consort.46 Other specialized networks might form around the medical, legal, or other problems of a particular woman in the local networks. In her letters Aemilia Juliana expressed her sympathy for women who were faced with difficulties or suffering, but she also had ways to help. She could provide advice to those in need of counsel, and she could offer pharmaceuticals of her own manufacture to the sick and the pregnant. She could intercede with her husband on behalf of those who needed mercy or legal assistance or public charity, with others in the network who were in a position to be of help to those needing it, or with the doctor, whom she could send to an ailing woman at her own expense. Sometimes she mentions that Mother Catharina, her childhood nurse, has been attending a sick woman under discussion; it is unclear whether Aemilia Juliana has asked her to do so, or whether the former nursery maid was supporting herself in this way. One of the actions Aemilia Juliana frequently undertook was to share her favorite devotional books and texts, including many she had written herself, as loans or gifts. And she could pray on behalf of the sufferer and thus intercede with God through the power of prayer. Her most extraordinary contribution was the composition of personalized devotional texts, some of which are adorned with acrostics or wordplays identifying the recipient.

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Aemilia Juliana’s responses in her letters to the tribulations of the Magistrin can stand for many others. This woman apparently had a series of terrible health crises, at least some of which probably relate to a pregnancy gone awry. Each time there is bad news, Aemilia Juliana accompanies her words of distress on the woman’s behalf with little prayers for God’s help, and each time improvement in the woman’s condition is reported, she responds with prayers of gratitude for divine assistance. Following one such report, she prays, “May God in his mercy stand by her and grant her, if that is in her best interest, complete recovery.” The following week she reports that she has heard that “things look grim again for the Magistrin,” and she again offers a prayer: “May God in his mercy stand by her.” In one letter she looks forward so sorrowfully to the birth (the term she uses is “Niederkunfft”) that it must be assumed that the midwife has determined that the fetus is dead; in another she hopes that “the Lord Jesus will graciously help the Magistrin, for she has suffered so much from a female ailment.” In yet another letter she pleads for news, since she has heard from Mother Clara, the midwife, that it is a very sad situation, and she feels sympathy for the woman.47 Two other women of Aemilia Juliana’s acquaintance in Rudolstadt—often mentioned in her letters but not yet in the context of troubles—were the recipients of acrostic songs that offer hints of their later tribulations. For the Baroness Wurm, she wrote an acrostic song that also contained a pun on her name: “Es liegt ein armer Wurm” (Here lies a wretched worm). The nature of the problem is not specified, but physical suffering and fear of death seem the likely impetus for the words that follow. For the Könitzin, the acrostic song that begins “Ach Jesu kom, erquicke mich” (Alas, Jesus, come, refresh me) hints at breathing difficulties, perhaps indicative of a heart or lung ailment.48 One of Aemilia Juliana’s closest friends in Rudolstadt was the Hofmeisterin, Anna Magdalena of Schönfeld, who served as lady-in-waiting and attended her during her second birth and confinement.49 In happier times Aemilia Juliana had written an acrostic song, “Ach Gott/ wie rühm ich sattsam dich” (Alas, God, how can I praise you enough?), for her friend to sing during the six weeks of confinement following the birth of one of her many children. Aemilia Juliana’s letters often contain news about Anna Magdalena’s pregnancies and births, her churchings, and her serious illnesses. In one letter Aemilia Juliana reports: “Schönfeld’s wife is still very ill. Several days ago everybody was sure she would die. Schönfeld is said to have been completely grief-stricken. May God help her if it is his will to do so. Today she seems better.”50 The letters break off long before Anna Magdalena’s death in 1677 in childbed with her seventh child, but the published funerary biography contains a great deal of information about the relationship between the two women that can serve to augment the scraps contained in the letters. Anna Magdalena had spent much time in Aemilia Juliana’s company, and “thus she had grown in piety through listening to her elevating conversations, and she especially loved singing the songs and reciting the rhymed prayers Aemilia Juliana had written, some of them using Anna Magdalena’s initials. Even in her greatest weakness, as she lay dying, she asked to have copies of these in front of her, and

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she refreshed her soul with them.” The account goes on to report that Aemilia Juliana had visited her a number of times in the days before her death and prayed with her, to the refreshment of her spirit.51 Thus in the funerary biography for Anna Magdalena in which Aemilia Juliana’s authorship practices and the nature of their interactions are described, there is clear evidence of the way she participated in the local networks of those women closest to her. Aemilia Juliana also participated in various overlapping networks of physically distanced female relatives and other noblewomen. These networks were formed and strengthened through intermittent face-to-face contact at dynastic events such as weddings and funerals, including Ludwig Friedrich’s Einsegnung ceremony in 1667 and Aemilia Antonia’s funeral in 1670, as well as during more casual visits. But it was letter-writing that cemented the relationships and provided the platform for supportive actions. The evidence for these networks and for the types of support offered and received is very strong for the period of Aemilia Juliana’s surviving letters, even though these are addressed to only one of the many women with whom she corresponded. She often refers to letters received or expected from various noblewomen. Other signs of these support networks appear throughout Aemilia Juliana’s life in the form of acrostic songs she authored for individuals whose identities can be ascertained using their initials. Surviving exemplars of books she had written or sponsored, inscribed in her handwriting with original and sometimes personalized devotional texts, show that she interacted with some of these women through such gifts. And the presence of original songs in her handwriting at one distant court attests to her supportive relationship with a former consort and regent. The surviving letters are addressed to a woman who represents a link in one of the support networks. Her unmarried sister-in-law Sophia Juliana is the Leutenberg hub of the network of women of the ruling family in SchwarzburgRudolstadt, headed by Aemilia Antonia until her death in 1670 and then by Aemilia Juliana. Joining Sophia Juliana were her three unmarried sisters: Ludaemilia Elisabeth, Christiana Magdalena, and Maria Susanna. By extension, this network also included Aemilia Antonia’s female relatives, including sisters, nieces, and a cousin-in-law. Various other countesses of Schwarzburg-Arnstadt and Schwarzburg-Sondershausen participated in this network, including Sophia Dorothea of Schwarzburg-Arnstadt together with her daughters and Maria Magdalena of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen and her daughters. An important member of the network was Maria Magdalena’s unmarried sister Anna Sophia, Countess Palatine of Birkenfeld, Abbess of Quedlinburg. Aemilia Juliana’s connections were also incorporated into the network, including her sisters and their daughters. Towards the end of her life, she could add several great-nieces to the network. To this web of women Aemilia Juliana was also able to contribute her in-laws in the ruling house of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel: her eldest sister’s sisters-in-law Sibylla Ursula (Duchess of Schleswig-Holstein-Glücksburg), Klara Augusta (Duchess of Württemberg-Neustadt), and Maria Elisabeth (Duchess of Saxony-Eisenach and later of Saxony-Coburg), as well as brother-in-law Duke

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Anton Ulrich’s wife Elisabeth Juliana (née Duchess of Schleswig-HolsteinNorburg) and their daughters. To some extent, the letter-writing networks of physically distanced noblewomen had practical applications: Aemilia Juliana used her correspondence to request advice on protocol matters and to exchange recipes for food or tonics as well as patterns for clothing and interior design elements. Another purpose was to exchange reading material, including funeral sermons and handwritten copies of song texts, as well as books. The discussions of the “Women’s Book” or “Marriage Book” in letters during Aemilia Juliana’s pregnancy, as mentioned above, show that women offered each other advice about appropriate reading material pertinent to events in their lives. Sharing favorite or original devotional works might constitute pastoral guidance. In other instances, books and pamphlets were shared for their entertainment or news value, such as the texts of festival entertainments or broadsheet accounts of scandalous or marvelous events. Above all, the letters provided gossip and news about members of the network, their families, and their mutual acquaintances that served to provide continuity to the relationship between the correspondents. Expressions of sympathy, moral outrage, anxiety, sorrow, or other emotions elevate the relationship above the mundane and form a firm basis for affection between the parties. As might be expected, given her authorship of an entire devotional book designed to help pregnant and birthing women, many of Aemilia Juliana’s letters also convey her sympathy for noblewomen who have suffered some childbirth tragedy. Her letters will often mention with sadness some woman who has suffered a miscarriage, whose child is deformed or weak, or whose child has died. She expresses her concern and distress for one of her eldest sister’s sisters-in-law, Maria Elisabeth, Duchess of Saxony-Eisenach, in several letters regarding the series of deaths she experienced (all five of her male infants, as well as her husband, died in the span covered by Aemilia Juliana’s surviving letters).52 And she sadly recounts that yet another daughter of Duke August of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, Sibylla Ursula, has just had a miscarriage in a series of disastrous pregnancies that had yet to produce a viable heir. But she also laments the deaths of infants and children of the wife of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold, a ruler’s consort who will have been completely unconscious of her installation as a member of this network of German noblewomen.53 Enclosed in some of the letters, or placed in the hands of the woman during visits or dynastic occasions, were personalized songs and prayers that Aemilia Juliana authored herself. The most interesting of these are the acrostic songs, which employ the recipient’s initials as the larger and often bold-faced first letters of the strophes. Ten of the intended users can be identified as relatives, but others came from outside her family circle. She authored such songs for at least six members of the high nobility who were not close relatives, all of them female. Usually the women identified by their initials can be shown to have visited Rudolstadt or to have received Aemilia Juliana and her husband as guests, but in a few cases it appears that the friendships must have been pursued almost entirely through

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correspondence sent by post or messenger. The unrelated duchesses among the recipients of acrostic songs were Dorothea Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein-Plön, née of Schleswig-Holstein-Gottorp; Magdalena Sibylla of Württemberg-Stuttgart, née Landgravine of Hessen-Darmstadt; Johannette of Saxony-Eisenach, née Countess of Sayn-Wittgenstein; and Dorothea Maria of Saxony-Zeitz, née Duchess of Saxony-Weimar. Other identifiable members of the high nobility honored by Aemilia Juliana’s acrostic song texts include Christiana Eberhardine, Margravine of Brandenburg-Beyreuth, later married to Friedrich August (August the Strong), Elector of Saxony and King of Poland; Maria Christiana Reuss, Countess of Plauen, née Countess of Leiningen-Westerburg; and Juliana Elisabeth, Countess of Mörseburg, née Countess of Leiningen-Westerburg. Several of these recipients of Aemilia Juliana’s acrostic songs were ruler’s consorts or widows at distant courts, and the songs must have been enclosed as gifts in letters she sent to them. Three of the songs address the woman’s concerns about the health of a newborn heir or her devastation at the death of a son. A song praying for divine aid for a newborn child, which she had written in the early 1670s for Magdalena Sibylla of Württemberg-Stuttgart, evokes the hopes and fears for the firstborn boy who will, if he survives, inherit the duchy. This song, not published during Aemilia Juliana’s lifetime, begins “Mein Jesu! sieh auf mich von oben” (My Jesus, look upon me from on high). A song written for a noblewoman who had lost a son, “Mein Sohn! mein Sohn! wie beugst du mich” (My son, my son, how you bend me down with grief), also adorned with an acrostic identifying the recipient, gave a voice to Maria Christiana, wife of Heinrich III Reuss of Lobenstein, whose 23-year-old son fell in battle in 1702.54 It likewise remained unpublished until long after Aemilia Juliana’s death. On the other hand, the acrostic song Aemilia Juliana created in 1676 for her eldest sister’s sister-in-law, Elisabeth Juliana of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel, already appeared in the commemorative funerary volume of 1676 and with other songs for the death of a child in Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit, as mentioned above. A few other songs without acrostics, as well as rhymed prayers, can be shown to have been created to give a voice to women from this network of women of the highest nobility. For Christine, Duchess of Saxony-Gotha, Aemilia Juliana penned rhymed prayers for times of tribulation and inscribed them in a book that she gave to the duchess as a gift during a visit to Gotha.55 For Magdalena Sibylla, Duchess of Württemberg-Stuttgart, Aemilia Juliana penned four original songs that she sent to her friend in around 1690, some 16 years after she had first sent an acrostic song to this woman. These songs that Aemilia Juliana designed for Magdalena Sibylla to use in her daily devotions demonstrate the lasting nature of the network.56 A few of the women in the letter-writing and song-recipient networks wrote song texts themselves or published song compilations, and the exchange of original songs and songbooks probably helped to cement the long-distance friendships. This was certainly the case with Ludaemilia Elisabeth, from whom Aemilia Juliana requests copies of songs in one letter and whom she thanks for a new song in another.57 Sophia Dorothea of Schwarzburg-Arnstadt had her three teenage daughters compile a songbook for publication that appears to contain

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original songs, probably written by the girls, and perhaps their songs were also exchanged with Aemilia Juliana or other correspondents.58 Magdalena Sibylla of Württemberg-Stuttgart compiled a number of devotional songbooks based to a large extent on Aemilia Juliana’s devotional handbook of 1685 and the edition of Ludaemilia Elisabeth’s songs of 1687. The Duchess also incorporated the four gift songs mentioned above into one of her publishing projects. Another woman, the Electress Christiana Eberhardine, reissued the compilation of songs titled Glauben-schallende und Himmel-steigende Herzens-Music (Faith-clamoring and Heaven-clambering Music of the Heart) that disseminated a large number of song texts by Aemilia Juliana, Ludaemilia Elisabeth, and dozens of other women authors.59 These collections attest to the exchange of original songs and songbooks among women of the high nobility. Aside from the numerous references to pregnancy and childbirth in Aemilia Juliana’s letters and in the songs she created for the births and deaths of children of her peers, two other topics relevant to women find illuminating coverage in her writings. Both relate to the limited legal status and perilous financial position of women who find themselves outside the usual support offered by family or marriage: widows without sons and women who expected to remain unmarried throughout their lives. In these letters, songs, and prayer texts, she reveals her empathetic understanding of the plight of such women of the high nobility. Her expressions of sympathy and her provision of personalized texts giving these women a voice for their laments form an important aspect of her advocacy for women. Aemilia Juliana’s empathy with various widows of her acquaintance finds an outlet in a number of her letters and in songs she wrote for their use. Her sympathy for a new widow finds its greatest degree of eloquence in a letter lamenting the death of Heinrich II Reuss of Gera in 1670. The widow, née of SchwarzburgArnstadt, was apparently very close to her husband. Aemilia Juliana describes the grief: “May God give support to the wife, for she will not be able to come to grips with her calamity because she was so blessed in her marriage.... She will be unable to accept this disaster, for she said emphatically that she would be the most miserable being in the world if her husband died. In any case, she looks like death herself and probably won’t live long, may the Lord Jesus take her into his care.”60 Aemilia Juliana expresses pity for widows of various stations in other letters. She may have penned the song she provided for their use in the devotional handbook of 1699, “O Gott! mein Vater, der du hast verheissen” (O God my father, you who have promised).61 The prose prayer that accompanies it is certainly hers. It begins: “Jesus! I am a widow, a woman who is sorrowful, for my husband has died. He was, next to God, my consolation, my overlord, my protection, my staff, my honor, my joy and my crown.... My wedding dance is transformed into an elegy, a sword pierces my soul, I am a wide field filled with woe, a garden without a fence, a body without a head, a sheep without a shepherd.”62 But Aemilia Juliana’s primary engagement in widow’s issues had to do not so much with grief, but with the lifestyle outcomes for the women of the ruling families who lost their husbands. Having grown up in a household and principality

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headed by a widow, she had seen in that example the best possible outcome for the woman: a regency and the guardianship of an underage male heir, with only nominal deference to the men given co-regency and co-guardianship responsibilities. She had seen her middle sister, Justina Sophia, widowed early with only daughters to raise, displaced and in straightened circumstances, to be sure, but still able to be independent. Her widowed friend, Magdalena Sibylla of Württemberg, had served as regent and still had some standing at court after her son came of age, although she increasingly felt isolated and persecuted. At least she had a dower territory and residence; Aemilia Juliana also knew widows with no male heir who became essentially homeless, having to reside with adult daughters. The situation of the widow of the Count of Schwarzburg-Arnstadt, Sophia Dorothea, was that which found the most coverage in Aemilia Juliana’s writings. Having lost her husband in 1666, Sophia Dorothea continued to live in style and comfort with her five daughters in the palace in Arnstadt while her underage son attended school and prepared himself for taking over the reins of government from his guardians when he came of age. But then the unthinkable happened: Johann Günther, 15 years of age, died of an epidemic illness while off at university in August 1669. Aemilia Juliana’s letter of September 10 requesting advice about mourning clothes contains a remark about the devastation of the widow who has just lost her only son: “Concerning her illness, no one knows for certain what it is. She is reportedly bedridden, but probably due to overwhelming grief.”63 Aemilia Juliana penned a song for her use, “Schau, treustes Jesu-Hertz” (Behold, most loyal Jesus-Heart), in which a widow voices her grief for the loss of her only son. It seems possible that a copy of this song, which was not published until 1770, had been sent along as a gift with the official letters of condolence mentioned in Aemilia Juliana’s letter to her sister-in-law as under preparation.64 The extent of the disaster for the widow was already clear; Aemilia Juliana’s letter dated the previous day indicated that the widow’s brother-in-law, Ludwig Günther, had staked a claim to the southern half of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen around Arnstadt, adding it to his smaller territory of Ebeleben. In spite of the outrage Aemilia Juliana and her husband felt about this usurpation, which is apparent in her letter, Ludwig Günther won out. By the end of the month the 48-year-old bachelor had married in haste with the obvious intention of establishing his own dynasty. Aemilia Juliana apparently never accepted the new wife, of whom she strongly disapproved, although interchange with the neighboring ruling family was inevitable, and her letters indicate that she got on comfortably with Ludwig Günther himself.65 But Sophia Dorothea, no longer the mother of the heir, was apparently not welcome in her own home, and there is no mention of a dower residence ready for her use. When an aging widower with many children (Heinrich I Reuss of Obergreitz) asked for the hand of one of her daughters, and as part of the deal made his prospective mother-in-law and her unmarried daughters welcome in his home, the offer was accepted with alacrity. Aemilia Juliana’s letters on the subject, while disapproving of the April-September match and the vanity of the bridegroom, are full of compassion for the situation of the widow and her daughters.66

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Although the song for Sophia Dorothea (if the version printed in 1770 is correct) did not employ an acrostic to identify its recipient, Aemilia Juliana did create such personalized songs for other widows of her acquaintance. “So hab ich nun mein Creutz” (So now I have taken up my cross to bear), for instance, contains the acrostic initials of one of the Leiningen countesses, Sophia Magdalena (SMGZSGGZL), who had married a count of Schönberg. She penned another acrostic song, “Dreieiniger Gott, mein Leib” (Three-in-one God, my body), for the old age of Dorothea Augusta, Duchess of Schleswig-Holstein-Plön, who outlived her husband by many years, and yet another, “Jesus bleibet mein Vergnügen” (Jesus remains my pleasure), for “JEGVMGGZLW,” who was either Juliana Eleonora or Johanna Elisabeth of Leiningen-Westerburg, both of whom married counts of Metternich.67 In each case widowhood with its accompanying isolation is the theme. The plight of unmarried noblewomen who found themselves alone or with inadequate family support (or perhaps unhappy living with family members) constitutes another theme that makes an appearance in Aemilia Juliana’s letters and songs. When there were many daughters, even the wealthiest of noble families rarely had the resources to fund dowries for them all, and thus many noblewomen found themselves without a husband and home of their own. Since Aemilia Juliana had expected, prior to her brother’s death, to spend her life in this situation herself, she could have strong empathy with such women. There were several possibilities for unmarried noblewomen. In two instances in the letters, Aemilia Juliana discusses the requests of unnamed women for her help or that of her mother-inlaw to find refuge in a secular convent.68 While in both cases she expresses doubt that it will prove possible—the few remaining convents in Protestant Germany rarely had vacancies—it is intriguing to see the attitude implicit in these accounts. For a single noblewoman of the seventeenth century who needed or wanted a life apart from family, the great secular houses of Quedlinburg, Gandersheim, and Herford, governed by a noblewoman still called “Äbtissin” (abbess), were clearly an attractive alternative. Living chastely, yet without cloistering or poverty or close parental supervision, and without having to serve as a glorified servant for a better-placed relative, would be possible there.69 A few single women lived in other sorts of isolation from their families. Aemilia Juliana wrote a song for an unmarried countess, perhaps of Stolberg or Sölms, identified by the acrostic as “WMGZS.” Living alone is the situation giving rise to the words in the incipit, “Wie wohl ist mir, mein Gott, ob ich schon einsam lebe” (How wonderful I feel, my God, even though I live all alone). The song ends: “I live completely content in my isolation and, without any hindrance, get my joy from Jesus.”70 Did she live all alone in a small manor house belonging to her family, far from the family residence and from other centers of conviviality, with only servants for company? That is certainly the implication. While she gives voice to her contentment with the situation in Aemilia Juliana’s text, presumably the song was needed for solace and consolation. In this way, the songwriter was able to contribute to the emotional well-being of single members of her network of noblewomen.

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This network that offered mutual support to Aemilia Juliana and her peers was, in the second half of the seventeenth century, completely informal, unlike those of the previous generation, which imitated the structures of the language societies established by their husbands and brothers. The most important of these earlier women’s societies in Protestant Germany was the Tugendliche Gesellschaft (Virtuous Society), founded by Anna Sophia of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt and some of her female peers during a gathering in Rudolstadt in 1619. The women who formed the membership were wives, sisters, and daughters of the aristocratic founders of the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft (Fruitbringing Society), the most famous and important of all the language societies in seventeenth-century Germany. The Gesellschaftsbuch (book that describes the society and contains a membership record) describes the Tugendliche Gesellschaft not as a language society per se, but instead as a women’s network for purposes of mutual support: “Die Gesellschafft ist eine Verbindung etlicher Persohnen, so sich miteinander wegen gleichmäßiges Sinnes in gemeinem Leben vereinigen und die hilfreiche Hand in fürfallender Noth eine der andern zu bieten versprechen” (The Society is an association of a number of women who have united with one another because of a shared perspective in everyday life and who promise to offer to one another a helping hand whenever the need arises). Between 1619 and 1652, when the death of Anna Sophia also marked the functional end of the Tugendliche Gesellschaft, a total of 103 women of the high nobility had been admitted as members, although the number of living members was never allowed to exceed 73.71 The mothers of both Aemilia Juliana and Albert Anton figured among the members, as did Aemilia Juliana’s paternal grandmother, who was also one of Albert Anton’s aunts. But after mid-century this structure had broken down, and neither Aemilia Antonia’s daughters nor her daughter-in-law became members of this or any other formally constituted society. The younger generation seemed content to rely on less structured relationships for support, friendship, and help with causes they pursued in common. The result was informal networks of women, both locally and across Lutheran Germany, in which Aemilia Juliana, as a ruler’s consort, often had a significant role to play. Notes 1 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B I 2 a, Nr. 1. On this document, see Johann Traugott Löschke, Denkschrift über Gräfin Ludoämilia Elisabetha (Leipzig, 1887), pp. 6–8; and Frank Esche, “Aemilie Antonie,” in: Die Grafen von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. Albrecht VII. bis Albert Anton (Rudolstadt, 2000), p. 168. 2 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl einer Christ-Gräflichen Lammes-Freundin (Rudolstadt, 1707), p. 347. 3 Two French-language books with her initials or name inscribed on the title page survive (HB Rudolstadt, Lo II 2α , 107 and Lo II 2α , 62): Hardouin de Perefixe, Histoire du Roy Henry le Grand (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1664); and Nicolaus Caussin, Eloge du Roy Lovis XIV. Diev-Donne (Paris: Bechet, 1651). The Rudolstadt archive preserves a French devotional book that belonged to her (TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 11):

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Les Saintes Occupations des Ames fidelles (Frankfurt: Wust, 1673). The contents include French translations of German (Lutheran) hymns, biblical texts, and Luther’s catechism, thus stamping the book as Lutheran. 4 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 3, pp. 1–3. The cover page of this manuscript book bears her maiden name and title, together with the year 1652. 5 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 347. 6 This quotation concerning Ludaemilia Elisabeth appears in Johann Hedwig’s commemorative letter in the funerary volume, Unverwelckliche Myrten-Krone (Rudolstadt, 1672), second pagination, p. 126, where the former tutor praises her attainments. 7 Georg Christian Lehms, Teutschlands Galante Poetinnen. Mit [...] einer Vorrede. Daß das Weibliche Geschlecht so geschickt zum Studieren/ als das männliche (Frankfurt, 1715), p. 7. 8 Anna Maria van Schurman, Whether a Christian Woman Should be Educated and other Writings from her Intellectual Circle, ed. and trans. Joyce L. Irwin (Chicago, 1998). On views on the educability of women presented within the context of the Querelle des Femmes debates, see the introductions to the above volume, as well as the following studies: Katharina Fietze, “Frauenbildung in der ‘querelle des femmes’,” in: Geschichte der Mädchen- und Frauenbildung, vol. 1: Vom Mittelalter bis zur Aufklärung, ed. Elke Kleinau and Claudia Opitz (Frankfurt, 1996), pp. 237–51; Joyce Irwin, “Anna Maria van Schurmann— Eine Gelehrte zwischen Humanismus und Pietismus,” in: Geschichte der Mädchen- und Frauenbildung, vol. 1, pp. 309–24; Elisabeth Gössmann, “Rezeptionszusammenhänge und Rezeptionsweisen deutscher Schriften zur Frauengelehrsamkeit,” in: Res Publica Litteraria, ed. Sebastian Neumeister and Conrad Wiedemann, vol. 2 (Wiesbaden, 1987), pp. 589–601, especially 591–2; and Barbara Becker-Cantarino, “Die ‘gelehrte Frau’ und die Institutionen und Organisationsformen der Gelehrsamkeit am Beispiel der Anna Maria van Schurman (1607–1678),” in: Res Publica Litteraria, pp. 559–76. 9 “Über dieses schwebe ich in grösten Verlangen, mit dessen, was es ietzo mit dero Studiis, so eine Zeit lang in schlechter Blüt gethannen, vor eine Bewandnüs habe, von E.L. vergewissert zu werden, höchstes Fleises bittende: die sämptlichen Frewlein Schwestern, nebenst dienstlicher Begrüsung meinetwegen gehöriger Maasen anzumahnen, dass selbe ihren Studiis mit weit mehrern als bies dahero abgestatteten Fleis, embsich und sonder Verdrus obliegen möchten, damit alle diejenigen, derer geführte meinung, ob vermöchten die Weibesbilder zum studiren keinesweges richtig seyn, überweisen, und dero ungegründetes Vorgeben könte verworffen werden.” Quoted following the early twentiethcentury transcription as preserved in TSAR, Nachlass Dr. Bernhard Rein, Nr. 93, p. 3. The text, which has since disappeared from the collections of the HB Rudolstadt, was probably a first draft of a letter (it being common practice to have kept a draft of important letters for archival purposes). However, Dr. Rein was of the opinion that the letters in the volume constituted a school assignment and were never sent. 10 Johann Georg Roth, Die spielende Weißheit Gottes (Rudolstadt, 1665). 11 She is reputed to have composed a poem in honor of her husband’s victory over the Persians, and in later life, when she lived a cloistered existence in Jerusalem, she penned a verse paraphrase of a large portion of the Bible, a life of Christ in Homeric hexameters, and a verse rendition of the stories of saints Cyprian and Justina. Surviving fragments were published in the nineteenth century: Eudociae Augustae ... carminum graecorum reliquiae, ed. Arthur Ludwich (Leipzig, 1897).

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The song, a poetic tour de force which consists of 14 quatrains of alexandrine verse, does not resemble poetry written by Hörnlein and must have had a more talented author, perhaps even Aemilia Juliana, who occasionally wrote similar alexandrine poetry. 13 Johann Funck, Tripudium Solemne (Rudolstadt, 1683); Johann Friedrich Heckel, Dissertatiuncula scholastica posterior de Statuis, qua Actum Oratorium de Statuis Posteriorem (Rudolstadt, 1685); Dissertatiuncula De Foeminis Litteratis (Rudolstadt, 1686); Dissertatiuncula De Praecipuis D. Octav. Caes. Augusti, Primi Romanor. Monarchae, Virtutibus (Rudolstadt, 1687); Dissertatiuncula Mythologico-Philologica De Minerva (Rudolstadt, 1688); and Dissertatiuncula De Calumnia (Rudolstadt, 1689). The 1686 oration praising learned women can be found in an exemplar in the HB Rudolstadt in a large collective volume of Schwarzburgiana (S.B. Nr. 214). (Although erroneously interrupted after the first page by an oration addressed to Ludwig Friedrich, the oration is complete once it resumes.) 14 Hugo Trinkler, Entstehungsgeschichte und Häuser-Chronik von Alt-Rudolstadt (Rudolstadt, 1939), pp. 156 and 175. 15 On Ratke, see Uwe Kordes, Wolfgang Ratke (Raticius, 1571–1635). Gesellschaft, Religiösität und Gelehrsamkeit im frühen 17. Jahrhundert (Heidelberg, 1999). Ratke’s influential pedagogical treatise is Bericht Von der Didactica oder LehrKunst (Magdeburg: Pohl, 1621). 16 Reinhard Stiebitz, “Schwarzburg-Rudolstädter Schulordnungen aus der zweiten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts und ihr Verhältnis zu dem Schul-Methodus des Herzog Ernst von Gotha,” Zeitschrift für Geschichte der Erziehung und des Unterrichts 1, 4 (1911): 274–5; Susanne Schuster, Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt und Ahasver Fritsch. Eine Untersuchung zur Jesusfrömmigkeit im späten 17. Jahrhundert (Leipzig, 2006), p. 122. Schuster credits Anna Sophia and Ratke with founding a girls’ school in Rudolstadt, but it seems instead likely that they merely designed a new curriculum for the existing school. Anna Sophia created a generous endowment in support of that girls’ school, as Schuster shows. 17 Quoted following Richard Gawthrop and Gerald Strauss, “Protestantism and Literacy in Early Modern Germany,” Past and Present 104 (August 1984): 34. This article also brings together other statements Luther made concerning the need for all children, rich and poor, male and female alike, to be taught how to read and write. 18 Stiebitz, “Schwarzburg-Rudolstädter Schulordnungen,” pp. 274–91. 19 Rolf Engelsing, Analphabetentum und Lektüre. Zur Sozialgeschichte des Lesens in Deutschland zwischen feudaler und industrieller Gesellschaft (Stuttgart, 1973), especially pp. 45–6. 20 Fritsch, Parens Peccans, Sive Tractatus De Peccatis Parentum (Nuremberg: Endter, 1685). 21 Gräflich-Schwartzburgische Dorf-Ordnung (Rudolstadt, 1681). The requirement that parents send their children to school is included in the first article. 22 The Leutenberg oath is to be found in TSAR, Hess. Collect. A VIII 7 c, Nr. 1. 23 Instructiones, Wornach die Pfarrer/ und Schulmeister auf dem Lande/ Ingleichen/ die Schultheissen auf denen Dorffschafften/ der Obern Grafschafft Schwartzburg/ Rudolstädtischer Linie/ Nebenst denen Eltern/ Bey Inspection derer Dorff-Schulen/ und Information der Jugend/ zu Hause/ und in der Schulen/ sich zu achten haben/ Auf gnädigen Befehl und Anordnung Gräfl. Landes-Herrschafft publicirt Am 1. Augusti Anno 1667. The complete text appears in Stiebitz, “Schwarzburg-Rudolstädter Schulordnungen,” pp. 280–88. I take the use of the two feminine nouns “Anordnung” (behest) and “Gräfl.

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Landes-Herrschaft” (rulers of the principality) in the title as a possible signal that Aemilia Juliana was equally involved in the enterprise to reform the educational system. However, the cover letter that accompanied the ordinance when it was sent to the responsible officials attributed the authority solely to Albert Anton when it stated that the ordinance represented “unsers Gn. Herrn ernsten Willen und Meinung” (the stern will and intention of our gracious lord, the Count). Furthermore, Ahasverus Fritsch, as official in the Consistory, signed the original cover letter and should be given credit, along with General-Superintendent Justus Söffing, for the ordinance and the reforms it promotes, according to Schuster, Aemilie Juliane, p. 118. 24 This ordinance is also reprinted in Stiebitz, “Schwarzburg-Rudolstädter Schulordnungen,” pp. 288–90. The ordinance for girls’ schools has been discussed in context with the general school ordinance of 1667 by Schuster, Aemilie Juliane, pp. 118–25, especially pp. 121–2, although she does not focus on the gender-based differences between the two, as I attempt to do here. 25 Letter [183]. 26 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 353. 27 TSAR, Staatsarchiv E IX 5 f, Nr. 6: “Acta das von der höchseel. erstorbenen Gräfin Aemilien Julianen zu hiesigen Mägdlein Schulen gemachte Legat a 200 Thl. betreff. Anno 1674.” 28 For instance, in TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B III 6 c, Nr. 3 and Kanzlei Rudolstadt E II 4 b, Nr. 46; and in SASA Wernigerode, Rep A 31a Nr. 60, 6–49. 29 TSAR, Geheimes Archiv E IX 5 f, Nr. 6.: the schoolmistress should, “in unterweißung der Schuljugend, nebst dem Christenthumb, absonderlich auch in Schreiben, und rechnen desto fleisig[er], und embsieger sich bezeigen.” 30 The songs first appeared in TO 1699; both songs and prayers are included in TU 1742, pp. 367–9. 31 Although first published individually during the 1650s, the Gotha ordinances were readily accessible in a published collection that probably served as a model for many Rudolstadt ordinances drafted during all but the early years of Albert Anton’s reign: Fürstliche Sächsische abermals verbesserte Landes-Ordnung (Gotha: Schall, 1667). The ordinance for midwives appears on pp. 161–4, and an “Instruction” for midwives, which includes both medical and spiritual instructions and regulations, appears on pp. 507 ff. Accusations of witchcraft and infanticide against a midwife in Gotha were a concern at about the time this volume was published, as one of Aemilia Juliana’s letters shows (Letter [184]). The Ebeleben “Wehemütter Ordnung” of 1663 is preserved in TSAR, Kanzlei Sondershausen Nr. 1818, along with various documents related to its genesis and promulgation, including minutes of the council meetings in the town of Greussen at which it was made official, a sample letter from a totally unqualified applicant for a municipal midwife position, and a sampler of midwife oaths of office. On Ludwig Günther’s efforts to upgrade the profession of midwifery in his domains in this early instance, as well as later, in cooperation with the counts and countesses of the other Schwarzburg principalities, see my article, “The Welfare of Pregnant and Birthing Women as a Concern for Male and Female Rulers: A Case Study,” Sixteenth Century Journal 35 (2004): 9–41. 32 Aemilia Juliana discusses midwife candidates in Letters [29], [57], and [69]. Ludwig Günther’s efforts in 1671 in Arnstadt are documented in TSAR, Kanzlei Sondershausen Nr. 1818. 33 TSAR, Kanzlei Sondershausen Nr. 1818, which also contains letters and decrees related to the publication and dissemination of Sommer’s midwife handbook.

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Johann Georg Sommer, Nohtwendiger Hebammen-Unterricht (Arnstadt, 1676), title page and p. A4 recto. 35 These multiple sources can be seen in the self-help handbook, Kurtzes und Nützliches Weiber und Kinder Pflege-Büchlein (Arnstadt, 1676), which Sommer appended to his midwifery manual; I used the 1691 Rudolstadt edition, in which references to midwifery books by Franciscus Mauriceau, Louise Bourgeois, and Gottfried Welsch, as well as to the professor of medicine with whom he studied at the University of Jena, Guernerus Rolfinck, appear on pp. 66–70. 36 Gräflich-Schwartzburgische Dorf-Ordnung, p. D1 recto. 37 Sommer, Nohtwendiger Hebammen-Unterricht, uses the term on p. 24. The compilation of recipes for medicinal distilled waters to which Aemilia Juliana had access, handwritten in a variety of hands, including perhaps her own, was bound together at some point for easy use (TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 16). Inserted in the front is a loose sheet on which Aemilia Juliana wrote an index of the recipes, titled “Register derer distilirten Waßer” (Index of the distilled waters), evidence of her active use of the book. The recipes for the various remedies for use in the birthing room appear on pp. 275–6. 38 On the published devotional texts for pregnant women available to Aemilia Juliana, see my article, “Gendered Theologies of Childbirth in Early Modern Germany and the Devotional Handbook for Pregnant Women by Aemilie Juliane, Countess of SchwarzburgRudolstadt (1683),” Journal of Women’s History, 15, no. 2 (2003): 40–67.The offending book was probably Bonifacius Stölzlin, Geistlicher Adler-Stein: Das ist/ Christlicher Unterricht/ Trost/ und Andächtige/ Geistreiche/ und Schrifftmässige Gebet/ für Schwangere und gebährende Frawen/ vor/ in/ und nach der Geburt/ so wol auch anderer Christen für sie/ auff alle Fäll gerichtet (Ulm, 1652). I postulate that it was this book she purchased, and that her distaste for its misogynistic and manipulative attitude toward women led to her development of an alternative devotional handbook for herself and other pregnant and birthing women. She refers to her purchase of such a book in Letters [65] and [50]. She refers to the Adlerstein she wears in Letters [212] and [274]. On the medicinal properties assigned to this stone in folk medicine, see Handwörterbuch des deutschen Aberglaubens, ed. Hanns Bächtold-Stäubli (Berlin, 1927–1942), vol. 1 (1927), cols. 189–93; Beatrix Bastl, Tugend, Liebe, Ehre: Die adelige Frau in der frühen Neuzeit (Vienna, 2000), p. 451; and Thomas G.H. Drake, “The Eagle Stone. An Antique Obstetrical Amulet,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 8 (1948): 128–30. 39 German original: Geistliche Weiber-Aqua-Vit/ Das ist/ Christliche Lieder und Gebete/ Vor/ bey und nach Erlangung Göttlichen Ehe-Segens/ Wie auch Bey andern darbey sich begebenden Fällen zu gebrauchen/ Aus Landes-Mütterlichen Hertzen/ Mund und Hand Ihren Landes-Kindern zu erwünschter/ kräftiger Erbauung aus Gottes H. Wort zubereitet und mitgetheilet. All songs referred to above can be found in this published book. 40 GWA 1683, pp. 229–37. The song initially appeared in print following the sermon by Brandano Daetrio as the first item in an unpaginated collection of consolatory texts at the back of the commemorative volume, Traur- und Ehr-Gedächtnüs Welches Dem Weyland Durchläuchtigesten Fürsten und Herrn/ Herrn August Friderichen/ Herzogen zu Braunsweig und Lüneburg/ rc. Bey Dero Käyserl. Mayest. Armèe hochbestalten Obristen zu Fuß. Zu Bezeugung letzter Schuldigkeit aufgerichtet (Wolfenbüttel: Weiss, 1676). Aemilia Juliana’s song is titled “Traur- und Trost-Lied/ In Person der Hochbetrübten Fürstlichen Frau Mutter/ Zu Deroselben erquicklichen Trost entworffen von Einer Hoch-Gräflichen Person.” Her initials, AE.J.G.Z.S., appear at the end of the text. 41 GWA 1683, pp. 237–40. 34

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TO 1699, pp. 422–4. For an exposition of the “stages of a woman’s life,” see Heide Wunder, He is the Sun, She is the Moon: Women in Early Modern Germany, trans. Thomas Dunlap (Cambridge MA, 1998), Chapter 2. 44 Söffing, Das schönste Symbolum und Hertzens-Wort (Rudolstadt, 1677), pp. 44–5; Tobias Pfanner, Sonn- und Fest- Tags- Betrachtungen (Augsburg: Göbel, 1685), p. 3. 45 Letters [98] and [186]. Susan Karant-Nunn discusses the network beginning with pregnancy and culminating in churching in Chapter 3 (“Churching, a women’s rite”) of her book The Reformation of Ritual (London, 1997), especially pp. 82–3. 46 Letters [81] and [135], for instance. In the record of the letters that ends in 1671, Aemilia Juliana and her female in-laws are associated with baptisms and godchildren in dozens of instances, and it seems likely that she agreed to serve as a godparent for the children of servants, townspeople, and her peers hundreds of times in her lifetime, each instance requiring a monetary gift and the assumption of some material as well as spiritual responsibility lasting a lifetime. Perusal of the names of the children born during her reign to several court servants, courtiers, and court ladies nearly always yields at least one “Aemilia Juliana,” not to mention the names that compound half of her name with half of the name of some other godparent. 47 Letters [69], [70], [195], [91], and [324]. 48 The songs appeared in GBS 1714. 49 The funeral sermon for Albertina Antonia lists the witnesses at the emergency baptism, including the Hofmeisterin as well as Aemilia Juliana and her mother-in-law, together with Dr. Mack. Justus Söffing, Freundschafft Christi (Rudolstadt, 1668), p. C2 verso. 50 The song appeared in GWA 1683. The quotation is from Letter [327]. 51 Justus Söffing, Das schönste Symbolum, pp. 45 and 49. 52 Letters [100], [107], and [314]. The deaths of Maria Elisabeth’s husband and all but the last infant are memorialized in the compilation of funerary texts published under the title Fünffaches Fürstl. Sächß. Trauer Gedächtnüß (Weimar: Schmied, 1670). Aemilia Juliana possessed a copy of this work in her private collection (HB Rudolstadt, Fun. div. XXI [4]). She also mentioned the circumstances, the receipt of the volume of funerary texts, and the distress of the widow and her Wolfenbüttel relatives in Letter [300]. 53 Letters [267] and [144]. She mentions the empress in Letter [174]. 54 Published in TU 1742, p. 502, and CS 1770, p. 427, respectively. 55 The book in question is Justus Söffing’s Rudolstädtisches HandBuch (Rudolstadt, 1692), which contains quite a few songs by Aemilia Juliana and Ludaemilia Elisabeth. Inside the front and back covers, Aemilia Juliana inscribed the series of rhymed prayers for the neighboring duchess to use, culminating in the donor’s intercessional prayer that ends with the words “dieses wünschet Ihro durchl. gehorsambte und demütigste Magd Aemilia Juliana. Gotha den 1. Junij 1692.” The book is preserved in the FB Gotha, Theol. 8o 00703/08. 56 The four songs, preserved on single folded sheets inserted among the literary papers of the duchess in the Landesarchiv Baden-Württemberg in Stuttgart, G 124 Bü 25, were clearly written down as Aemilia Juliana authored them, for she has crossed out text and inserted replacements throughout. As the topics reflect Magdalena Sibylla’s experiences rather than her own—in particular her helplessness in the face of persecution and treachery at court—Aemilia Juliana may have written them as gifts based on laments in letters she had received from the duchess. It is also possible that Magdalena Sibylla requested songs 43

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on these topics for her publication project in which they subsequently appeared, as will be discussed below. The incipits are: “Nun ist die Stunde da, Gefahr und Angst ist nah,” “Bin ich dann gantz und gar umringt Mit schnöden Läster-Zungen,” “Ach Gott, wie geht es mir, So kümmerlich doch hier,” and “Kommt aus Zion ihr Jungfrauen.” These songs never appeared in Aemilia Juliana’s manuscript books in Rudolstadt, nor did they find their way into her own published works. 57 Letters [65] and [358]. 58 Published as Sechzig Schöne Geistliche/ und zur Andacht nützliche Trostlieder (Arnstadt: Freyschmidt, 1662). I have discussed this songbook in my article, “Devotional Songs by Women of the Ruling Families in Seventeenth-Century Lutheran Germany— Authorship, Dissemination, Compilation, Publication,” in: Der Hof. Ort kulturellen Handelns von Frauen in der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. Susanne Rode-Breymann and Antje Tumat (Cologne, 2013), pp. 335–51. 59 Magdalena Sibylla’s titles that contain many songs by Aemilia Juliana include Gottgeweyhtes AndachtsOpffer (Stuttgart: Treu, 1690; expanded edition 1691), Das mit Jesu Gekreutzigte Hertz (Stuttgart: Treu, 1691), Der glaubigen Seelen Kreutz-Presse (Stuttgart: Treu, 1691), and Geistliche Krancken-Apotheck (Stuttgart: Müller, 1703). The four new songs by Aemilia Juliana mentioned above appear in Kreutz-Presse and thus likely arrived in letters of 1690 or 1691. The important songbook for women, Glauben-schallende und Himmelsteigende Herzens-Music, was first published by another noblewoman in 1703; it was republished under the sponsorship of Christiana Eberhardine in 1719. See my studies on Andachts-Opffer and Herzens-Music: “Songs by and for Women in a Devotional Songbook of 1703: Women’s Voices for Women’s Voices,” Daphnis 31 (2002): 593–642; and “Die Beteiligung von Frauen am ‘geist=reichen’ Gesang um 1700: Herzens=Music 1703, Andachts=Opffer 1705 und Freylinghausens Geist=reiches Gesangbuch 1704 mit dessen Zugabe 1705,” in: “SJngt dem HErrn nah und fern.” 300 Jahre Freylinghausensches Gesangbuch, ed. Wolfgang Miersemann and Gudrun Busch (Tübingen, 2008), pp. 123–42. 60 Letter [34]. 61 The song first appeared in the hymnals of Plön (1675 and 1676) and Braunschweig (1686) that were published by her niece and brother-in-law. Brederek attributed the widow’s song to Gentsch von Breitenau, a legal scholar and adviser in Plön, but I consider that attribution by no means certain. See Emil Brederek, Geschichte der schleswigholsteinischen Gesangbücher (Kiel, 1919), p. 11. 62 Quoted from TU 1714, pp. 548–51. 63 Letter [129]. 64 CS 1770, p. 428. 65 The outrage over Ludwig Günther’s claim is expressed in Letter [368]. His new wife, Concordia, by birth a Countess of Sayn-Wittgenstein, bore him only daughters, however, and eventually the younger brother of the Count of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen inherited. Letters in which Aemilia Juliana expressed antipathy towards Concordia include [77], [111], [180], and [238]. 66 Letters [109] and [183], among others. 67 The first song was first published in CS 1770, the other two in TO 1699. 68 Letters [103] and [193]. The latter shows how the network of women worked: “The Countess of Wittgenstein has written twice about her protégée, that I should plead with you to help her, for God’s sake, to get into a Lutheran convent or some other fine place. I would like to help the wretched young woman, but don’t see any means.”

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Even after the Reformation that was supposed to have closed down all of the cloisters and monasteries, a fairly large number of women’s houses survived, some of them as imperial free secular convents (the German term is “kaiserliche freie weltliche Stift”). Single women of the high nobility continued to choose to live in the cloister buildings, or were sent there by their families, and they found within the walls that no longer forced monastic enclosure a pious but not at all austere communal life away from male authority. These convents, which remained in control of a politically defined area or town, continued to provide an outlet for the leadership interests and activities of a few very talented women from the most powerful noble families who became the abbesses. On the phenomenon of Lutheran cloisters, see especially Merry Wiesner-Hanks, “Ideology Meets the Empire: Reformed Convents and the Reformation,” in: Germania Illustrata: Essays in Honor of Gerald Strauss, eds. Andrew Fix and Susan Karant-Nunn (Kirksville, 1992), pp. 181–96; and Wiesner-Hanks, Convents Confront the Reformation: Catholic and Protestant Nuns in Germany (Milwaukee, 1996). 70 First published in TO 1699. 71 On the Tugendliche Gesellschaft, see Klaus Conermann, “Die Tugendliche Gesellschaft und ihr Verhältnis zur Fruchtbringenden Gesellschaft. Sittensucht, Gesellschaftsidee und Akademiegedanke zwischen Renaissance und Aufklärung,” in: Sprachgesellschaften—Galante Poetinnen (Literary Societies/ Literary Women, ed. Erika A. Metzger and Richard E. Schade (Amsterdam, 1989), pp. 95–208. This study contains a list of the members (pp. 195–208), which is a veritable Who’s Who of Protestant noblewomen, both Lutheran and Calvinist, from the first half of the seventeenth century in Germany—in every sense parallel to the informal network cultivated by Aemilia Juliana in the second half of the century. See also the recent study by Gabriele Ball, “Die ‘Tugendliche Gesellschaft’— Zur Programmatik eines adeligen Frauennetzwerkes in der Frühen Neuzeit,” in: Sammeln, Lesen, Übersetzen als höfische Praxis der Frühen Neuzeit. Die böhmische Bibliothek der Fürsten Eggenberg im Kontext der Fürsten- und Fürstinnenbibliotheken der Zeit, ed. Jill Bepler (Wiesbaden, 2010), pp. 337–61.

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Chapter 6

The Ruler’s Consort Constructs Her Legacy Aemilia Juliana’s contributions as ruler’s consort, particularly those as pious intercessor, did not end with her final illness and death. Her publication of books during her lifetime that hinted at her authorship, as well as her commission of paintings and frontispieces that presented the self-constructs she favored, left a permanent legacy that could be acknowledged during her funeral. But advance preparations for her demise were the key to Aemilia Juliana’s success in making posthumous contributions to her dynasty and her people. A wise wealth manager, she worked with lawyers to ensure that her possessions and properties would be inherited by her son.1 But she also worked to complete one more devotional handbook, producing in her final years a finished manuscript and an engraved frontispiece ready to be handed over to the printer after her death. And she ostentatiously prepared for dying in a manner that established her as an exemplum for others. She even contributed to preparations for her funeral in order to ensure that her public persona, in its final iteration, contributed one last time to the success of her descendants. Asserting Authorship: “Hannah in the Temple” and “Friend of the Lamb” Through her authorship of song texts and rhymed prayers and her publication of devotional compilations, Aemilia Juliana was able to make an exceptionally powerful contribution as ruler’s consort. In the published collections—particularly in her 1685 devotional handbook for daily use Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und AbendOpffer (Daily Morning, Midday and Evening Devotional Offerings)—she aspires to and attains a level of pastoral authority otherwise reserved to men in her society, moving well beyond the usual role of the consort as Betsäule (pillar of prayer). Indeed, her personal interpretation of Luther’s theology of grace is so compelling, especially in her eucharistic songs that are appended to the main body of the work containing daily devotions, that she has drawn the attention of historians of religion and been labeled a “lay theologian.”2 Although she avoided overt claims to authorship (this handbook, like her other works, was published anonymously), her responsibility was evidently well known, at least locally. Aware that in assuming spiritual leadership she was overstepping the limitations placed on her gender, both in this instance and in her other publications, she represented her pastoral role in a series of self-constructs that offer biblical justification for a woman author to go public with her authorship. The most important of these are the Old Testament Hannah and the New Testament “Friend (Beloved) of the Lamb” from the Book of Revelation.

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Frontispiece with Hannah in the Temple, from Aemilia Juliana, Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit (Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1683). Courtesy of the Herzog August Bibliothek: Tl 62.

The engraving for the frontispiece of Aemilia Juliana’s devotional handbook for pregnant and birthing women incorporates a scene from the biblical account of the long-barren wife Hannah praying in the public space of the Temple that she might conceive (Figure 6.1). Above the placard containing the short title, Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit (Spiritual Women’s Aquavit), and publication context, “Rudolffstadt 1683,” the fervently praying figure of Hannah reflects Aemilia Juliana’s personal situation during the several years following her wedding when she didn’t become pregnant right away, and again when she waited in vain for a third pregnancy after her second ended disastrously. But that was not the only reason she placed Hannah on the frontispiece of the first book for which her primary responsibility as author, compiler, and sponsor would be clear to most readers—a frontispiece designed to face the title page that described the contents as “Aus Landes-Mütterlichen Hertzen/ Mund und Hand Ihren Landes-Kindern zu erwünschter/ kräftiger Erbauung aus Gottes H. Wort zubereitet und mitgetheilet” (from the heart, mouth, and hand of the Mother of the Country, prepared and

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shared with her [female] subjects for the purpose of valuable and powerful edification drawn from God’s Holy Word). In thus identifying herself and her pastoral purpose, Aemilia Juliana was well aware that she was doing something that was taboo, for, in strict adherence to the words of the Apostle Paul, teaching theology and preaching were forbidden to women in Lutheran Germany of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.3 The engraving depicts this dilemma in which she finds herself, for behind Hannah stand four horrified figures, the high priest Eli and his acolyte, together with Hannah’s husband and her husband’s fecund second wife. The men are gesturing towards Hannah with dismay and disapproval. But the engraving also provided Aemilia Juliana with a powerful, scripturally based defense of her public appearance in a pastoral role. Above the scene, the Eye that is the symbol of God’s omniscience hovers in the cathedral-like vaults of the Temple, awaiting the next events in the biblical narrative to which the inscription on the altar in the foreground explicitly refers (1 Samuel 1 and 2). The watching priest is about to rebuke Hannah for her supposed impious drunkenness, having mistaken the expressive gestures accompanying her silent prayer for signs of intoxication. She denies his accusation and describes her actions as “pouring out” her soul in prayer. Here is the source of Aemilia Juliana’s title, for the act of prayer that pours out the woman’s soul to God, a brand of piety initially misunderstood by the male authorities as shameful intoxication, becomes the Spiritual Aquavit, the spiritual strong drink in the form of devotional songs and prayers, that will help women during childbirth. The priest belatedly applauds Hannah’s piety, and God answers her prayer for conception. The Lutheran orthodoxy would have pointed to her silent piety in a public place as the appropriate model for women, while ignoring the unjustified and unjust behavior of the priest. But Aemilia Juliana had read the biblical text carefully and with a woman’s eyes, and she viewed the injustice of male disapproval confronting the admirable piety of the woman as central to the exemplary tale. The scene she commissioned captures her attitude toward the narrative as contained in the first chapter of 1 Samuel. Nevertheless, she wanted the viewer to read on, for the citation in the frontispiece also mentions the second chapter. There it is related that Hannah’s visit to the Temple several years later neither passed in silence, nor suffered from male disapproval. Although Aemilia Juliana does not employ a second engraving to illustrate the sequel, it is the second stage of the story that in fact justifies most of her book: the pregnancy and birth of a child, and the mother’s authorship and performance of hymns of praise. For when Hannah returns to the Temple, her prayer having been answered and a newly weaned toddler in her arms, she sings a song of her own making which begins “Mein Hertz ist fröhlich in dem Herrn” (My heart rejoices in the Lord). The text of the hymn is strident and fervent, and it is clear that she performs it aloud, yet in this instance she encounters no reprimand from male authority figures. Hannah asserts herself, without overstepping the bounds of modesty, as an individual empowered to speak directly with God, thus affirming the privileged place of female spirituality even within the patriarchal stronghold of the Jewish Temple. In using the exemplum of Hannah as justification, Aemilia

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Juliana was seizing the authority to speak for herself in church and to author and sing aloud songs of her own making, even to publish them for the use of others. The words of Paul relegating women to silence and spiritual dependence on men could be pushed aside in the face of this account that reflected direct revelation from God. In Rudolstadt, Aemilia Juliana’s authorship and publication activities were in fact praised as those of a second Hannah, and this figure appeared throughout Aemilia Juliana’s life on lists of admirable biblical women in works authored by church superintendent Justus Söffing, court tutor Michael Hörnlein, and others that praise her virtues, piety, and song-writing activities. An early instance occurs within Söffing’s published funeral sermon of 1668 for Aemilia Juliana’s short-lived daughter. The preacher stated that, just as the child’s mother had prayed with her heart, like Hannah, so too had she created, like Hannah, “manch schönes Gesänglein/ und süsses Liedlein” (many a lovely and sweet little song), in which she prayed God to protect and preserve her two children.4 The equation of Hannah’s prayers on behalf of her son Samuel to Aemilia Juliana’s prayers for the physical and spiritual well-being of her son Ludwig Friedrich reappears in the sermon of court preacher Heinrich Christoph Ludwig during the first of the 12 funeral services conducted for her in December 1706. Ludwig tells Aemilia Juliana’s son that his mother had not only provided his religious education, but also, through her “Hannah-prayers” on his behalf, brought him good fortune and many blessings.5 This analogy likewise emerges in the parentation oration for the same occasion authored by the pastor of the City Church, Johann Michael Andreae. After mentioning Aemilia Juliana’s song-writing activities and equating them with those of the exemplary biblical women Miriam, Deborah, and the Virgin Mary, Andreae compares Aemilia Juliana to Samuel’s mother Hannah, who had pleaded with her son to devote himself to serving God.6 By the time she died, Aemilia Juliana was thus not the silent Hannah who had to endure the unjust reprimand of the priest, but instead the later, triumphant Hannah whose voice raised in song and prayer has been accepted, her text made canonical, her behavior declared exemplary for other women. Another pastoral self-construct, Friend of the Lamb, which was to dominate Aemilia Juliana’s view of herself as spiritual intercessor on behalf of her land throughout her life, had already emerged by the middle of the 1670s, when she commissioned a portrait of herself holding a lamb as an apparent pendant to the family icon of her as Bride of Christ. In the painting titled Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, she is depicted as a lovely young woman kneeling in the midst of an empty landscape, holding up a lamb towards the heavens with a pleading gesture (Figure 6.2). The little creature was the sacrificial lamb as metaphor for Christ’s salvific sacrifice, but it also pointed ahead to the Lamb of Revelation, presiding over the events that marked the end of the secular world and the beginning of the Kingdom of God. While the painting portrays her as an individual pleading for forgiveness of her own sins, as indicated in the texts included within the image, it also represents her more public role as intercessor on behalf of the inhabitants of the principality. And the iconography of the painting establishes Aemilia Juliana’s close relationship with her deity, in the form of the Lamb, as an advantage for

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Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, painting by Seivert Lammers, ca. 1675. Courtesy of the Thüringer Landesmuseum Heidecksburg.

herself and those for whom she prays. Not only does she hold the Lamb in her arms; the six medallions that appear at regular intervals within the self-referential garland of roses also offer emblematic representations of her intimacy with God. Aemilia Juliana’s self-constructed identity as “Friend of the Lamb” was, by the time of her death, also the accepted public representation of her pastoral authorship. Two engraved images of Aemilia Juliana with the Lamb, based on lost paintings by Seivert Lammers, were employed as frontispieces for posthumous publication of her works, and the title pages of the eighteenth-century editions use the term

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Frontispiece with Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, from Aemilia Juliana, Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (Rudolstadt: Gollner, 1714). Courtesy of the Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek SachsenAnhalt in Halle (Saale): AB 71 B 1/d, 12.

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“Friend of the Lamb” as a pseudonym to identify Aemilia Juliana as the author of the texts they contain. The frontispieces convey the sense that Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb enjoyed exceptional intimacy with her deity, a relationship that enabled her to be of service to others as spiritual guide and intercessor with God. The portrait of her as a young matron with a lamb, preserved in the engraved frontispiece for the Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck book published in 1714 (Figure 6.3), is no longer a depiction of a kneeling supplicant, but instead portrays an enthroned queen wearing the heavenly crown as beloved of the Lamb, whom she embraces with a blissful expression, and who reciprocates her obvious affection. This portrait of Aemilia Juliana depicts her in an attitude that is distinctly pastoral. In this image she looks directly out at the viewer, her right hand raised in a gesture of admonition. “Learn from me, the Friend of the Lamb, what I have learned about the conquest of mortality and sin, and follow my example in turning from the world for love of the Lamb,” she seems to be saying. The image thus not only establishes her as a female model for emulation, but also proclaims the rationale for not remaining silent in obedience to the words of Paul. In this self-construct, she offers to teach others by sharing original texts reflecting her own spiritual growth. Nor is her gesture simply admonitory. It also resembles a gesture of pastoral blessing and thus constitutes an offer to share the spiritual fruits of her friendship with the Lamb. The lost Seifert Lammers painting of a youthful Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb on which this engraving was based was probably painted in the 1670s or early 1680s, to judge from her age in the portrait. At some point, presumably several decades later, she wanted this painting replaced by one that depicted her as the elderly woman she had become, for another version existed at the time she died. This lost painting was the basis for the engraved frontispiece of the 1742 edition of Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (Figure 6.4), which replaced that adorning the 1714 edition. Embracing a lamb whose face is turned towards her own, an older woman, smiling benevolently, gazes directly out at the viewer, with whom she thereby offers to share the benefits of her personal relationship with the Lamb of God. While the original intent of the paintings of her as Friend of the Lamb may well have been to furnish her private prayer alcove, her death allowed these images to take on a public dimension. At the time when Aemilia Juliana died in 1706, the people around her apparently felt that her close relationship with her deity, as expressed graphically in these paintings, was a source of strength that she had indeed been able to share, both through her intercession on their behalf during her devotional sessions and in the texts she penned and published for their use. The engravings recording the lavish funerary decorations in the City Church for her interment at the end of December 1706 show that the painting of her as an elderly Friend of the Lamb was actually displayed on the altar (Figure 6.5). The viewer admonished and blessed by the image of the now-deceased Mother of the Country was no longer limited to her inner circle, but included everyone who entered the church, indeed, everyone who perused the widely distributed memorial volume. Perhaps the commission of the painting with its portrait of an elderly Aemilia Juliana figured among her actions beginning in the early 1690s preparing for her own funeral.

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Frontispiece with Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb, from Aemilia Juliana, Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1742). Courtesy of the Herzog August Bibliothek: Th 683 (1).

Aemilia Juliana’s self-depictions as pastoral author were accepted by the Lutheran establishment in Rudolstadt, as can be seen in the various funerary texts in her honor. Not only does City Church pastor Johann Michael Andreae validate her authorship in his parentation speech by placing her in the series of admirable women poets of the Bible, but he also praises her contributions to the spiritual growth of others—in other words, how her song-writing activities have fulfilled the goals of pastoral care. According to Andreae, her massive output of songs had

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the power to edify many Christian hearts and bring them to salvific recognition of Christ and of the way to live a truly godly life. He points out that, like the biblical Daniel, she had devoted three periods each day to private prayer, but even Daniel, Andreae maintains, didn’t have as much influence with God as Aemilia Juliana, whose published book promoting three daily devotional sessions moved many others to join her in the endeavor.7 The result was a powerful chorus of voices. That Aemilia Juliana’s learnedness and theological correctness that resulted from her studies in the Bible were the basis for her teaching activities is mentioned repeatedly in the “Lebens-Wandel” (funerary biography). “During her entire life,” the biographer states, “she made the effort to serve God with a pure and unsullied worship service. That was the reason for her constant zeal concerning scripturally based truth and for her steadfast love for the Word of God. She worked tirelessly to hear it, read it, contemplate it, and also share it with others.” He sums up her accomplishments: “Because our highly blessed countess always, from childhood on, considered God’s Word to be her highest treasure, obtained her most intense joy from it, researched in Scriptures unceasingly, and spoke day and night of the Lord’s Law, she was able to obtain through God’s grace a very great measure of understanding of God and his Word, not only for her own benefit, but also so that she could serve her fellow human beings.” The biographer expresses his approbation for her pastoral activities: “People of all social classes who encountered her did not know whether they were in the presence of a gracious mother or a spiritually well-endowed and educated theologian and teacher of the Church. For she conversed with each in such a nurturing and gracious way, and these conversations always included discussions about God and his Word that were both pleasurable and spiritually efficacious.”8 Speakers at the various funeral services went so far as to label Aemilia Juliana a disciple of Christ and her works a product of the Holy Spirit. Pastor Johann Nicolaus Schmied called her “eine andere Tabea und Jesus-Jüngerin” (a second Tabea and female disciple of Jesus), while school rector Johann Ernst Müller termed her “eine rechte Israelitin und Jüngerin des Herrn Jesu” (a true Israelite and female disciple of our Lord Jesus). Whereas Schmied did so in context with praise for her many good works, Müller was explicitly tying her discipleship to her devotional publications. Müller proclaimed that the pen that wrote the songs had been guided by the hand of the Holy Spirit, a process he saw as analogous to the ventriloquist oracles predicting the birth of Christ that had issued from the mouth of the Cumean Sibyl.9 This theme of divine inspiration as the basis for female authorship also appeared in another funeral speech, when Johann Christian Hessen, pastor of churches in two neighboring towns, equated Aemilia Juliana’s song-writing to that of the Virgin Mary. Hessen said of the deceased countess, “She authored many such songs, some of which have already been published, based on her own highly enlightened understanding and at the express urging of the Holy Spirit.”10 In the final funeral sermon in her honor, court preacher Heinrich Christoph Ludwig reiterated the opinion of the Rudolstadt church establishment about the

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legitimacy of her pastoral efforts when he praised her widely used song, “Wer weiß/ wie nahe mir mein Ende,” and concluded, “Anyone who has been solaced by this song can easily see that ... she could, with complete justification (mit Recht), teach and instruct others.”11 His words, speaking on behalf of the local Lutheran clergy, constituted a repudiation of the words of Paul about the inappropriateness of allowing women to teach and instruct in matters of faith, just as the high priest in Hannah’s story ultimately recognized the injustice of his earlier rebuke. In their funeral sermons in Aemilia Juliana’s honor, the court preacher and other members of the Lutheran hierarchy in Rudolstadt proclaimed publicly that the evidence for her divine calling to pastoral activities was abundantly clear. They urged publication of the remainder of her oeuvre from the papers and manuscript books she left behind at her death, citing the pastoral efficacy of her devotional songs. Examination of the books that can be attributed to Aemilia Juliana shows that they constitute devotional programs intended as pastoral Seelsorge (caregiving for the soul). Her published works thus assert her pastoral intentions, as do the many texts she created for personas not identical to herself, such as farmers, day laborers, midwives, and miners. Nor were all of the texts she authored and compiled intended just for private or household devotions, the presumed women’s sphere. Some of her texts were clearly designed from the beginning for use by the congregation in church or for performance by groups in other public gatherings. Unlike most women of the time who might have had pastoral inclinations, Aemilia Juliana, as consort of the ruler of a principality, had the authority to publish books and pamphlets and to provide texts for congregational and public use. Her position enabled her to participate in the selection and even authorship of songs for the official hymnal and to design devotional materials for the mandated daily prayers of the populace during the plague epidemic, as well as for the pregnant and birthing women of the principality. In her role as Mother of the Country, she also provided songs, prayers, and entire devotional programs for everyday use in the palace and in the households of her subjects. During her lifetime that authority did not extend to revealing her name as author in any overt way, but hints about her responsibility abound in the frontispieces, title-page circumlocutions, and vague language in the prefaces of most of the works that can now be attributed to her. In 1686 she took a step that both documented and enforced the acceptance of her works by the local establishment. She donated 10 books to the library of the City Church, and she asked GeneralSuperintendent Söffing to have the titles recorded not only in the library catalogue, but also in the archives of the Consistory, the office that oversaw matters of pastoral leadership and orthodoxy in the principality. He carried out her command in a memorandum that lists the works and asks that they be recorded as directed.12 It begins: “The high-born Countess and Lady, Lady Aemilia Juliana, Countess and Lady of Schwarzburg and Hohnstein, née Countess of Barby and Mühlingen, my Gracious Countess and Ladyship, graciously donated to the Church Library here in July 1686 ten works, as follows.” Aemilia Juliana’s authority in the principality is asserted through the use of formal language for her titles and status, thereby assuring official and lasting acknowledgement of the works she provided.

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The 10 works include all of those already discussed in Chapters 4 and 5 above, beginning with the collections of biblical passages Der Brunn/ den die Fürsten gegraben haben and Biblische ABC-Tafeln of the 1670s, and continuing with the various plague-themed pamphlets of 1681, the Rudolstadt hymnal of 1682, and the pregnancy book of 1683. The list also includes two works of 1681 and 1682 authored by Michael Hörnlein, but, as the prefaces indicate, at her instigation: Geistliches Passions-Perspectiv and Allerbewährteste Theriaca. The list culminates in the devotional handbook for daily use of 1685, Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und AbendOpffer, together with the two pamphlets always published with it, Kühlwasser in grosser Hitze des Creutzes (Cooling Waters to ease the burning Pain of the Cross) and Allerley Specerey zum süssen Geruch für dem Herrn (Assorted Spices as a sweet aromatic Offering to the Lord). After the 1686 donation that provided a record of Aemilia Juliana’s published works to that date, she continued to be active in the creation of printed devotional books. In 1687, on the occasion of the fifteenth anniversary of Ludaemilia Elisabeth’s death, she prepared a complete-works edition of her sister-in-law’s songs and had them published under the title Die Stimme der Freundin (The Voice of the [Female] Friend). New editions of the Rudolstadt hymnal appeared in 1688 and 1704, both still exhibiting signs of her involvement. The year 1688 also saw the anonymous publication of a tiny prayer book, Tägliches ABBA! Lieber Vater! Eines Gnaden-hungerigen Gottes Kindes (The Daily ABBA! Dear Heavenly Father! of a Child of God who is hungry for Grace), which consists of many of Aemilia Juliana’s rhymed prayers, spliced together with assorted texts from the catechism, the Bible, and the Rudolstadt hymnal, organized for daily use by new communicants. In 1699 Aemilia Juliana published a new and very much expanded version of her general-purpose devotional handbook. This edition of Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und AbendOpffer added songs and prayers for the entire gamut of human experience, together with a set of role-playing songs designed for the morning devotions of various individuals from the top to the bottom of the social hierarchy. Finally, a little anonymous pamphlet attributed to Aemilia Juliana, Ende Gut, Alles Gut! (All’s Well that Ends Well!), appeared in 1700. It contains five songs she wrote from the perspective of an elderly person awaiting death. The final devotional work that Aemilia Juliana designed herself in nearly every detail was Der Freundin des Lammes Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck zu Christlicher Vorbereitung Auf die Hochzeit des Lammes/ In Lieder/ Gebete und Seuffzer abgefasset und mitgetheilet (The Spiritual Wedding Finery of the Friend of the Lamb for Christian Preparation for the Wedding Feast of the Lamb, prepared and shared in the form of Songs, Prayers, and Sighs). Although it was not published until 1714, it was reportedly complete and ready to be handed over to the printer before she died. The handwritten materials that Aemilia Juliana showed not long before her death to Johann Leopold, pastor in her dower residence in Stadt Ilm, along with the copperplate engraving for the frontispiece, probably already established the title, the organization of the contents, the wording of the rubrics for the sections and for individual songs or prayers, and the texts themselves.13

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Based on the final product published as Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck, it appears that Aemilia Juliana intended to reveal her identity as author more completely than ever before. Not only is the human soul as Beloved of the Lamb depicted in the frontispiece using her portrait (Figure 6.3), but her initials “E.J.G.Z.S.” (referring to her personal names and her title as ruler’s consort) are engraved on the hem of the woman’s skirt, an internal signature presumably already present in the engraving seen by Leopold. Aemilia Juliana is thus “die Freundin des Lammes” (the [Female] Friend of the Lamb) whose words are contained in the book. This identity is confirmed unequivocally at the end of a text prefacing the songs and prayers, “Der Freundin des Lammes Glaubens-Bekenntnis” (the Profession of Faith of the Friend of the Lamb), where her printed signature, “Aemilia Juliana, G[räfin] z. S[chwarzburg],” establishes her authorship responsibility both for the prose statement of faith—a credo she had initially created for her own use—and for the songs and prayers that follow. The contents, too, are in many cases highly personal. In particular, many of the songs and rhymed prayers in Section IV, “Zu verschiedenen Angelegenheiten menschlichen Lebens” (For various occasions in human life), are far too detailed about events in her own life to serve as the private devotions of the book’s readers; instead, they constitute a non-narrative stringing together of autobiographical experiences, her alternative to the autobiographical narratives of contemporary Pietists. At the end of the book there appears the autobiographical “Song of the Person who is the Last of her Family,” yet another rather explicit statement of her identity. Der Freundin des Lammes Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck, as published in 1714, epitomizes its author’s practice of establishing a self-constructed identity. This work, autobiographical and self-referential in many of its details, finally moved her authorship into the bright light of public scrutiny, no longer constrained by decorum and the modesty expected of living women.14 After Aemilia Juliana’s death, her descendants used her massive oeuvre of devotional songs and prayers to enhance their status as members of a dynasty that had divine approval for its pious exercise of power. Although Albert Anton had declined on behalf of himself and his wife to accept the elevation to Reichsfürsten (princes of the Empire) that Holy Roman Emperor Leopold offered in 1697, it was already assumed that their son would, upon his father’s death, take up the title for himself and his consort, Anna Sophia. Ludwig Friedrich did so in 1710. Publication of Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck four years later, complete with Aemilia Juliana’s portrait as pious intercessor with God and a biography that praised her extraordinary piety, served to represent her descendants, the living members of the newly elevated Schwarzburg dynasty, as peers to the ducal families in Gotha, Weimar, Wolfenbüttel, Stuttgart, and Weißenfels, among many others, some of whom had resisted the inflation of rank.15 The frontispiece and title page of this work based on a lost manuscript in Aemilia Juliana’s handwriting ostentatiously assert the author’s identity as consort of the former ruling count and mother of the current ruling prince of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. The unsigned preface asserts that the book would show the reader “how she had spoken with God not only as a

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Christian, but also as Mother of the Country” (wie Sie, nicht nur als eine Christin, sondern auch, als eine Landes-Mutter, mit Gott geredet hat), thus emphasizing that her authorship derived from her role as ruler’s consort. The year 1714 also brought a reissue of the expanded devotional handbook of 1699, Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und Abend-Opffer, under a new title. Now labeled Der Freundin des Lammes Täglicher Umgang mit Gott (The Daily Companionship with God of the Friend of the Lamb), the compilation of original and borrowed songs and prayers now proudly displayed Aemilia Juliana’s pseudonym and gender on the title page, her name and titles in the preface. The preface praises Aemilia Juliana’s piety as exceptional and her beneficence in sharing her spiritual wealth with others as admirable. Like the 1685 and 1699 versions, the new edition appended the two devotional pamphlets Kühlwasser and Allerley Specerey. Only light editing to modernize punctuation and spelling was undertaken. Otherwise, the volume merely furnishes the reissued book with a new title and a preface, both of which serve representational rather than pastoral purposes. Two volumes with the same titles appeared in 1742, but their contents were substantially reorganized, with many added songs from the manuscripts replacing others no longer seen as thematically appropriate, and a third volume incorporating all of the replaced songs as well as any songs that remained unpublished from her manuscripts was also planned. The three massive volumes were intended to serve as a complete-works edition. The third volume, Der Freundin des Lammes CreuzSchule und Todes-Betrachtungen (The School of Suffering and Meditations on Death of the Friend of the Lamb), finally appeared in 1770. In his 1742 dedicatory epistle addressed to the wife of one of Aemilia Juliana’s grandsons, GeneralSuperintendent Nicolas North, who was responsible for creating the threevolume edition, calls it an invaluable dynastic treasure: “das Buch selbst [ist] ein unschätzbares Kleinod des Hochfürstl. Hauses.”16 Distribution of the volumes to courts throughout Lutheran Germany seems to have been undertaken by her descendants, reminding their peers about the excellence of the co-founder of the princely House of Schwarzburg. Aemilia Juliana’s authorship of devotional texts, her legacy to her descendants, retained its value throughout the eighteenth century in the context of the continuing struggles over status among the ruling dynasties. The Constructed Death Aemilia Juliana’s lasting contribution to devotional literature, especially devotional song, was in the service of Lutheran preparations for death, both in advance and on the deathbed. Her most famous song, “Wer weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende,” remained a standard text for deathbeds and funerals well into the twentieth century and is still to be found in the Lutheran hymnal; another of her death-themed songs, “O Du Dreyeinger Gott/ den ich mir auserlesen” (O you, three-in-one God, whom I have selected as my own), was likewise a staple in hymnals until the middle of the twentieth century. In fact, among Aemilia Juliana’s ca. 700 song texts, 34 are dedicated to advance preparations for death and another 21 are for deathbed use.

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And many more of her songs and prayer texts mention the theme at least in passing. These texts served her, and were disseminated to serve others, for use during spiritual preparations for death. But her very public preparations for her death also formed an important element in her legacy as ruler’s consort. Beginning in around 1690, Aemilia Juliana began to carry out various actions related to her expectation, based on biblical precedents, that she would die in 1694.17 She established an additional prayer hour every day at four o’clock in the afternoon that was dedicated to spiritual preparations for death. Although this devotional exercise was private, frequent mentions of it during her funeral show that her activities were widely known. The most extraordinary of her advance preparations during the years leading up to 1694 was her action in 1692 to commission, jointly with her husband, 52 sermons for the church year 1692–1693, each based on a biblical passage on preparing for death. This year-long series of church services provided a protracted public display of her advance preparations during the period leading up to her death, or so she thought. Referred to as the “Todesjahr” (Death Year) by court preacher Hörnlein, the sequence of sermons was presented to her in manuscript form in August 1693 and disseminated widely through its publication early in 1694.18 When the crisis of 1694 passed, she continued her private and public preparations for death. In 1700, when the impending turn of the century apparently caused her once again to connect her expectation that she would soon die with a particular year, she published a pamphlet containing five of her death-preparation songs, presumably for distribution to the church congregation. The pamphlet, which she titled Ende Gut, Alles Gut! (All’s Well that Ends Well!), was attributed to her during a public oration delivered on the occasion of her birthday that year.19 Most significantly, the entire manuscript she created during her final years, Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck, can be considered a product of her advance preparations for death since this project is designed for use during those special prayer hours as well as in the context of deathbed activities and communion (which she conflated with dying and marriage with the Lamb in her imagery). Although it did not appear until after her death, she designed it as a record of her preparations for death that would eventually redound to the credit of her family. Aemilia Juliana finally died on December 3, 1706, but not before she had thoroughly planned her deathbed behavior and words, as well as her funeral, her sarcophagus, and her epitaph, going so far as to carry out those plans to a remarkable degree prior to her final illness. The authors of the funerary sermons and parentation speeches saw the timing of her death, which occurred during the hour she had for many years reserved for preparations for death, and on Friday, the day of the week she had long used to emphasize death preparation throughout all four devotional sessions, as a special gift from God that allowed her to die fully prepared, just as she had wished and as witnesses to her death could attest.20 Not only was she spiritually prepared; she had also successfully laid the groundwork for her final contribution to the House of Schwarzburg. Distant peers were able to read accounts of her blessed death and lavish funeral and even see the grand

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iconographic scheme of decorations in the burial church in engraved illustrations, for her husband, son, and daughter-in-law immediately sponsored publication of a massive commemorative volume documenting her productive life, her good death, and the 12 funeral services in her honor. That this volume resides on library shelves that preserve the collections of the courts not only in Rudolstadt, but also throughout Lutheran Germany, shows that exemplars of this memorial on paper had been sent as gifts to their peers and superiors in order to enhance the status of the dynasty. The Grand Funeral The title page of the volume recording the funerary events, Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, refers to the book itself as a monument: “Schwarzburg Monument to the Friend of the Lamb, namely the highborn Christian Countess Aemilia Juliana, Countess of Schwarzburg and Hohnstein, née Countess of Barby and Mühlingen, which records events beginning with her highly blessed death in full faith in the Lamb of God on the third of December 1706, and continuing through the final day of the year, in the form of various funerary sermons, memorial speeches, and funerary music, as commanded by members of her high-ranking family, during occasions which took place partly in the Court Chapel, partly in the dynasty’s burial crypt in the City Church erected for the Honor of God, and hereby made known to everyone through the medium of print.”21 The scale and format of the book are indeed monumental: 362 pages in folio consisting of an “Introductory Report” (Vorbericht), four foldout oversized illustrations of the funerary decorations in the church, an “Explication of the Iconographic Scheme” (Andeutung der TrauerDecorations in der Stadt-Kirchen zu Rudolstadt), and the texts of the 12 sermons and 12 memorial speeches plus the lengthy funerary biography, bound together with an appendix containing 12 aria or concerto texts plus those for a culminating concerto and cantata. This was the grandest of all grand funerals for rulers of the small principalities of Lutheran Europe, and the book that memorialized the events offers detailed insight into Aemilia Juliana’s final self-fashioning as ruler’s consort. As the memorial volume reports, following Aemilia Juliana’s death at four in the afternoon on the first Friday of December, a series of memorial services, 11 in the Court Chapel and a culminating burial service in the City Church, were arrayed across what remained of the month. A ceremonious torch-lit procession from her room to the chapel and, three weeks later, an even more elaborate nighttime procession from the chapel to the City Church, linked spaces where her body lay in state. By the evening of December 30, when her coffin was brought to the City Church, its interior had been transformed by an elaborate sculptural scheme which provided the context for the final service the following day. Each of the 12 services consisted of congregational hymn-singing, a sermon by one of the local preachers, an honorific speech or parentation delivered by a representative of the government, church, or local school system, plus an original musical performance

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designed for the occasion. Her funerary biography was read aloud following the sermon during the burial service on December 31. To what extent did this elaborate series of memorials, as immortalized in print, reflect Aemilia Juliana’s advance planning for her death? The references to her participation in the design that appear in the report, sermons, speeches, and biography in the funerary volume are scanty, and there is no written record of her directives preserved in the archive.22 Yet the entire scheme bears the imprint of her most pervasive self-constructs and structuring devices to such a great extent that it seems justified to conclude that she played a leading role in planning her own funeral. Even those elements that cannot have been part of her design were determined in deference to her well-known predilections by those charged with executing the funeral plans. As mother-in-law of a duchess and self-conscious cofounder of a conjoined dynasty that had aspirations to ascend in the hierarchy of the Holy Roman Empire, she would have understood the need for the lavishness of the church decor and of the commemorative volume. It may have been beyond her power to determine that she would die at four o’clock on a Friday afternoon early in December, but this accident was fruitful for the final design of the funerary events. In accord with her own sense of the importance of time-of-day and day-of-the-week that pervades her published devotional books, the funerary events began at four o’clock in the afternoon, which not only figured as the time of her death, but also as the time when she had held her daily devotional hour dedicated to preparation for death during her final decades of life. Scheduling the second and third services on Fridays at four o’clock served to mark the passing of one-week and two-week intervals since her death, in accord with her tendency to think in terms of anniversaries. The five services leading up to Christmas (December 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24) and those leading up to New Year’s Eve (December 28, 29, and 30), culminating in the service on the last day of the year, reflected her sense of the significance of these two holidays within the church year as expressions of the promise of salvation and of the necessity of periodically discarding the old sinfulness in preparation for spiritual rebirth—an attitude towards these December holidays already reflected in her letters from the 1660s and 1670s, and readily apparent in her songs designed for use during December. The liminality that New Year’s Eve had always signified for her, halfway between old and new, sinfulness and recovered innocence, could, because of the accident of her month of death, offer the context for her transition from the palace into the dynastic tomb, from transience to permanence, from physical suffering to spiritual union with her Divine Bridegroom, the Lamb of God. The funerary volume, following the brief report of the events, portrays the visual context of the culminating burial service even before it offers the texts of the sermons, speeches, and original musical offerings for the sequence of 12 memorial services. Indeed, the engravings of the various views of the heavily decorated City Church epitomize the elaborate plan, with its main themes and motifs, for the events of the entire month. These themes include Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb and participant in the Wedding Feast of the Lamb, Aemilia Juliana as wise author of books and provider of pastoral care, Aemilia Juliana as

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militant defender and Mother of the Country, Aemilia Juliana as Last Countess of Barby and descendant of other important dynasties, Aemilia Juliana as the valued wife equated with Abraham’s wife Sarah, and Aemilia Juliana as co-founder with her husband of a new and ascendant dynasty of imperial princes. In addition, the iconographic program incorporates sculptural depictions of her admired qualities. The first three illustrations show church apse and nave heavily draped in black cloth that covers much of the sculptural decoration that was otherwise usually visible (and that is still visible in the City Church today). The permanent decor was replaced for the occasion of the funeral by an elaborate and intricate tour de force of sculpture and painting that completely dominates the church interior. The final engraving shows the planned marble double sarcophagus in great detail.23 The initial engraving depicts the funeral altar at the far east end of the apse (Figure 6.5). Temporarily replacing the permanent multi-tiered painted altar installed in 1636 is a low, black-draped table topped by a large neo-classical architectural portal framing the painted portrait of Aemilia Juliana as an elderly woman embracing a lamb, as discussed above. The attached Explication of the Iconographic Scheme describes the portrait as “the countess’s favorite selfconstruct, which she herself created and made the basis for her devotions during her lifetime, of a faithful soul embracing the Lamb of God. Portrayed in this instance employing her own life-size image.”24 Wearing a crown as well as her usual necklace of pearls, she smiles benevolently directly at the viewer, to whom she extends her benediction. Centered above the portrait, atop the portal-shaped frame, is a smaller trapezoidal painted panel depicting the Last Supper as heavenly Wedding Feast of the Lamb; at the table that floats upon clouds in heavenly apotheosis, Jesus is seated next to, and interacts with, a figure who appears to be female, while 11 other disciples adore the triumphant Lamb of God that stands in splendor on a mountaintop above them. In this funerary altar, Aemilia Juliana’s concept of herself as Friend of the Lamb and Bride of Christ merges definitively with the Last Supper imagery of the Eucharist, just as she had conceived of it in her devotional programs of preparation for Holy Communion during her lifetime. In addition, two religious virtues that qualified her to offer pastoral care to others, Wisdom and Fear of God, are personified by small allegorical figures flanking the Last Supper scene, as if to justify her inclusion as disciple of Christ. The entire altar is further framed by black drapery, held open, like the curtains of an illusionistic stage set, by small angels similar to those that had long decked the vaults of the church. Their inclusion connects this temporary altar to the permanent ceiling decor, still visible during the funeral, as the other engravings show. Flanking the altar are two additional sculpted female figures, in this case lifesize in scale, which establish the dynastic themes in the iconographic program. The seated woman on the left represents the House of Schwarzburg, the dynasty into which Aemilia Juliana had married, in mourning but holding erect an unbroken lance, symbol of dynastic continuity. The standing woman on the right represents “das nunmehro ausgestorbene Haus Barby” (the now defunct House of Barby). The coat of arms she carries is split down the middle, a rose has broken off, and

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Fig. 6.5 Engraving of the funeral altar, from Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl (Rudolstadt: Urban, 1707). Courtesy of the Historische Bibliothek, Rudolstadt.

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the lances are broken, all symbolic of the end of the dynasty in which Aemilia Juliana figured as Last, as she herself had depicted her plight in “The Song of a Person who is the Last of her Family.”25 In that text, which she had written at some point after the death of her last living sibling, an elderly Aemilia Juliana had lamented, “Ach! ich bin alleine blieben/ und mein gantz Geschlecht ist hin!” (Alas! I have been left behind, alone, and my entire dynasty has died out.) With her death, the dynasty had indeed come to an end. Nor was the funeral statue that recognized the significance of her death for the dynasty into which she had been born the only contribution to this theme during the funeral month; there are multiple mentions of this fact in the funerary texts, and the Latin epitaph that one can read on the depiction of the planned sarcophagus likewise refers to her as last countess of Barby. The Report had noted that Aemilia Juliana’s coffin, both while it stood in the Court Chapel and after it was placed in the City Church, was decked with a black velvet cloth embroidered with the 16 coats of arms of her direct ancestors, a summary of the dynastic identity of her birth family. Accordingly, the ancestral coats of arms of the House of Schwarzburg, usually visible in the church as depicted through the medium of the Stammbaum (Family Tree), as discussed in Chapter 2, are instead covered by black cloth. The second engraving depicts four additional life-size female statues on pedestals, in this case, as the Explication relates, allegorizing the four forms Aemilia Juliana’s abundant love had taken (love for God, love for her husband, love for her child, and love for her neighbors). They stand in the apse, perhaps flanking the first resting place of the coffin, lit by a hanging candelabrum and numerous candlesticks, for the most part concealing the altar that can be seen only dimly behind them (Figure 6.6). The permanent putti float in the vault above them, detailed enough in the depiction to show that they have been incorporated into the iconographic program for the funeral. These are the angels that carry the instruments of the Passion, symbolic of the sacrifice of Christ on behalf of humankind. The black-draped choir stalls are crowned with small sculptural allegories of the characteristics of the deceased, which the Explication enumerates as the Christian virtues Faith, Hope, and Charity; the religious virtues Devotion, Prayer, Patience, Humility, Gentleness, Mercy, and Generosity; the womanly virtues most suited to a ruler’s consort, including Justice, Conciliation, Loyalty, Constancy, Discretion, Moderation, and Modesty; the household virtues of Hard Work, Good Parenting, and Good Housekeeping; and the special qualities and pursuits that elevated her above other women: Wisdom, Learning, Theology, and Poetry. All of these attributes likewise find space in the many texts delivered and performed in her honor. The third engraving looks through the nave towards the back of the church (Figure 6.7). In the foreground are the black-draped pulpit and the similarly draped Family Tree. Obelisque-shaped plaques containing texts and emblems adorn the pillars of the nave, while above them, angels carrying musical instruments—those permanently installed putti—rejoice musically at the good news about universal salvation from sin and death. High in the west end of the nave, the Baroque organ has been completely covered by a pale image, which the Explication describes as

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Fig. 6.6 Engraving of the funeral decorations in the Stadtkirche, looking east, from Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl. Courtesy of the Historische Bibliothek, Rudolstadt.

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Fig. 6.7 Engraving of the funeral decorations in the Stadtkirche, looking west, from Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl. Courtesy of the Historische Bibliothek, Rudolstadt.

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Fig. 6.8 Engraving of the planned double sarcophagus (“Zwiefache Höhle”), from Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl. Courtesy of the Historische Bibliothek, Rudolstadt. “eine grosse Illumination” (a gigantic image on a screen lit from behind). Closer examination confirms what the Explication claims: it is the image of the double sarcophagus that will someday hold both Aemilia Juliana and Albert Anton. The sarcophagus is flanked by allegories of the chief attributes of the deceased. On the right stands the figure of Faith, who lays a Bible at the base of the tomb, and, behind her, Hope; on the left stands Virtue in the form of Minerva—that is, dressed in armor signifying Aemilia Juliana’s role as co-defender of the land and bearing the attributes of the Roman goddess of wisdom. She holds a cornucopia that pours forth an abundance of books, “among them some that bear the titles of the devotional works published by the deceased countess” (darunter einige den Titel führen der von der Hochsel. Fr. Gräfin ausgegebenen geistlichen Schrifften), as the Explication declares. Minerva’s pictured attributes reemphasize the basis for these books written by the woman she represents: beneficence, wisdom, learnedness. Behind Minerva stands the personification of Beauty crowned by lilies denoting Modesty. Above the sarcophagus hover Fama (the allegory who proclaims Aemilia Juliana’s enduring fame) and Gloria (the allegory for her spiritual triumph who carries her loving heart up to heaven). The poorly defined image on the illuminated screen is remedied by the fourth engraving, which depicts with great clarity the plan for the double sarcophagus, designed by Johann Nikolaus Freund, which would not be complete until 1708 (Figure 6.8).

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The sermons, musical selections, and procession from the palace to the City Church echo this iconographic scheme. Most significant for the question about Aemilia Juliana’s involvement in planning her own funeral are the texts employed during the first, eleventh, and final funerary services. In the case of the initial service, which took place immediately following the torch-lit procession bringing her coffin to the Court Chapel four days after her death, the event began with congregational singing of her song praying for a blessed end, “O du Dreyeinger Gott/ den ich mir auserlesen.”26 The song begins by praying for help in her preparations for death, to “die before I die,” so that she might benefit from the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross in which she affirms her ardent faith. Repeatedly the song ties her pleas for forgiveness and salvation to the blood of Jesus. The tenth strophe states the central tenet of her faith, that which determined the primary self-construct of the Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl and the events it describes: “I know that I will triumph through the blood of the Lamb.” Thus Aemilia Juliana’s self-depicted friendship with the Lamb already emerges in the first text of the initial funerary service as a central emblem of her faith. In preparing for her funeral, she probably requested that this song recording her thoughts and feelings about death and resurrection be sung by her mourners, thereby allowing their combined voices to resurrect her voice, to re-voice her words, to reassert her continuing presence in their lives. The service continued with performance of an original aria based on Aemilia Juliana’s personal motto, “Alleine Bey Christo Die Ewige Freude” (Solely in Christ Eternal Joy Resides), with its alphabetical acrostic so characteristic of her tendencies to alphabetize all sorts of texts and incorporate subtexts that covertly identify individuals or messages through the use of acrostics. The aria text, an expansion of the motto, likewise employs the alphabetical acrostic ABCDEF. The sermon by court preacher Heinrich Christoph Ludwig, the centerpiece of the service, reiterated and explicated the same subjects and motifs. Titled “Die Freude bey Christo/ dem Lamm” (The Joy to be found in the presence of Christ, the Lamb), the sermon centers on one of Aemilia Juliana’s favorite passages in the Bible, Revelation 7:9–17, that in which the enthroned Lamb at the end of time is adored by a multitude of people waving palm fronds and dressed in pure white robes that have been washed and bleached in the blood of the Lamb. There, beyond earthly suffering and sorrow, the people bask in the presence of the Lamb. Ludwig describes Aemilia Juliana’s special attachment to the Lamb, culminating in her ecstatic reaction to the word “lamb” whenever it was voiced at her bedside as she lay dying. The title of the sermon, in equating Christ and the Lamb, ties Aemilia Juliana’s personal motto, “Alleine Bey Christo Die Ewige Freude,” to the passage in Revelation, and Ludwig’s text further explicates the connection. As Ludwig explains, “This is the alphabet game of the Holy Spirit, revealed through the hand and mouth of our [Aemilia Juliana]. It was her beautiful personal emblem or motto, arranged upon the first six letters of the alphabet or ABC.” Ludwig’s initial sermon thus depicts Aemilia Juliana’s rather esoteric Christology, as represented in her self-construct as Friend of the Lamb and in her personal motto,

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in a testimonial to her exceptional faith.27 After an additional musical performance, City Church pastor Johann Michael Andreae offered the parentation speech, which began with more alphabet games, in this instance devoted to Aemilia Juliana’s initials “E.J.” and the construction of Latin anagrams based on her name. Andreae expresses admiration for her poetic talents and prodigious output, comparing her favorably with the female poets of the Bible, Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, and the Virgin Mary. He praises her virtues and charitable deeds, as well as her pastoral activities and prayer hours that have protected the citizens of Schwarzburg from harm, and sums up hyperbolically the respect for her that he attributes to all members of the court: “From our childhood we have known her as a saint, and as a saint she will be praised as long as the world lasts.”28 The service then closed with the congregational singing of one of Aemilia Juliana’s favorite traditional funeral hymns, one whose melody she had often employed for her death-themed songs, “Freu dich sehr, o meine Seele” (Rejoice, oh my soul). This initial funerary service was followed by ten parallel services in the Court Chapel. The eleventh service of the sequence, which took place at four o’clock in the afternoon of December 30, culminated in a procession conducting the coffin down the mountain from the palace to the hereditary burial church of the counts of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, the City Church. Information contained in the Introductory Report in the memorial volume is reconfirmed and supplemented by instructions in a document preserved in the archive in Rudolstadt.29 The coffin was conveyed down the steep street in a carriage drawn by six horses, as befitted an imperial countess. It was followed by similar carriages that bore Albert Anton sitting alone and Ludwig Friedrich together with his wife, Anna Sophia. Torchbearing aristocrats conducted the carriages to the church, but dramatic lighting was also furnished by miners, who brandished the flaming mineshaft lights of their occupation. Pallbearers carried the coffin into the church and set it down in the apse, where the black velvet cloth with the 16 coats of arms of her ancestors was ceremoniously draped over the casket and a crown placed on top. There, in the presence of the draped coffin, the service continued, for the most part musically. Various traditional funeral hymns were sung by the congregation (three are named in the Report), followed by professional performance of the original aria “Ach auserwehlte Stunde” (Oh excellent hour) by the court orchestra. This aria is stamped with Aemilia Juliana’s identity, since it incorporates an acrostic consisting of her initials, AeIGZSGGZB, and like her hymn that had begun the first funeral service, this song-like aria speaks from her perspective. It is not similar in rhythm, rhyme, or word choice to the other new texts Erlebach set to music for the funeral services, which were probably penned by Christoph Helm. Indeed, stylistic examination shows that it must be a product of her pen. Since the song is otherwise unknown, it appears that in this instance Aemilia Juliana has written a text designed specifically for performance at her own funeral. In the first strophe, she voices her longing for the hour of her death and of her wedding with the Lamb:

The Ruler’s Consort Constructs Her Legacy 1. Ach! auserwehlte Stunde/ Erscheinest du noch nicht? Komm doch! Mit Hertz und Munde Wünsch ich dein süsses Licht/ Wo ich mit Gottes Lamme/ Auf unsern Hochzeit Tag/ In reiner Liebes-Flamme Mich ewig küssen mag!

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Oh excellent hour, Do you not yet appear? Come soon! With heart and mouth I wish for your sweet light where I, with the Lamb of God, on our wedding day in pure ardent love may exchange kisses eternally.

She speaks from the perspective of the living, looking forward to the hour of her death and union with Jesus, Lamb of God, which she desires and prepares for. The phrase “Sterben [ist] mein Gewinn” (Death will profit me) used in the seventh strophe alludes to the biblical text she had chosen for the burial sermon to be delivered the following day. In the last strophe, she posits herself with the Lamb in her arms one final time: 9. Brecht doch ihr süssen Stunden/ Je ehr/ ie lieber an/ Wo ich der Last entbunden/ Der Lust geniessen kann/ Da du mich wirst vergnügen/ Mein Seelen-Bräutigam/ Und mir in Armen liegen Als mein geliebtes Lamm!

Arrive, you sweet hours, the sooner the better, when I, freed of my burden, can bask in pleasure since you will delight me, my soul’s bridegroom, and lie in my arms as my beloved Lamb.

As the performers sang the final lines, culminating in “Lamm,” the congregation could look beyond the casket containing the earthly remains of the woman whose voice they were hearing imitated and see her portrait with the Lamb in her arms.30 After her parting words died away, the coffin was interred in the dynasty’s tomb in the crypt to the congregational singing of the traditional burial hymn “Nun laßt uns den Leib begraben” (Now let us bury the body). The service came to a close with another professionally performed aria, followed by the congregational singing of a hymn by mid-seventeenth-century poet Paul Gerhardt that Aemilia Juliana had particularly loved, “Ein Lämmlein geht und trägt die Schuld” (A Lamb goes forth and bears our sins). The mourners adjourned for the night. The next day, also at four o’clock in the afternoon, court preacher Ludwig led the burial service, delivering a sermon based on the Bible passage chosen in advance by Aemilia Juliana as her funeral text. Titled “Die Freundin des Lammes” (The Friend of the Lamb) and thus returning to the central theme of the first sermon, this final sermon provides an explication of the passage “Christus ist mein Leben/ und Sterben ist mein Gewinn” (Christ is my life, and death will profit me), tying it to the particular form Aemilia Juliana’s Christology had taken, that is, spiritual marriage with the Lamb of God. In accord with his concentration on the Lamb as focal point for Aemilia Juliana’s piety, Ludwig quotes dozens of excerpts referring to the Lamb from her published songs and rhymed prayers, then

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concludes: “Innumerable other examples of her marriage with the Lamb could be identified on the handwritten sheets she has left behind.”31 In this sermon Ludwig not only honors Aemilia Juliana’s piety, but also offers his mourners from all levels of society a lesson on spiritual preparation for a blessed death, a lesson in which he names Aemilia Juliana, the Friend of the Lamb, as his primary source and model. That the self-constructs Aemilia Juliana most favored during her lifetime did become the leading motifs during the funeral services is evident from this account. It is entirely possible that their usage reflects conversations about her preferences for the design of her funeral that her husband, son, daughter-in-law, and various pastors conducted with her, at her insistence, during her final decade of life. Direct products of Aemilia Juliana’s advance planning for her own funeral, in addition to the aria “Ach! auserwehlte Stunde,” would have included the selection of biblical texts that would serve as the basis for the funeral sermons—at least for the first and last, although she might have determined all 12. Indeed, she may well have requested that the number of services be 12, a number that crops up as a significant organizational element in several of her manuscript compilations and published books.32 She likely chose the hymns and devotional songs to be sung in the various services, or at least in the first and final services, perhaps dictating the incipits to a pastor or family member. And she undoubtedly spoke with Erlebach about her preferences for original music to be used during the funeral services, not only for her own aria, but also for the other arias, concerto, and cantata that would accompany the services. Visual representations to be used during her funeral were probably also a concern of hers in the decade prior to her death. She likely carried out (or at least oversaw) the embroidery work stitching the coats of arms of her ancestors onto the velvet cloth that would deck her coffin, and she may have designed the two allegorical statues representing Schwarzburg and Barby that flanked her funerary portrait. Perhaps the idea of draping the Family Tree was also her idea, and she may have begun ordering and stockpiling black cloth. The portrait of an elderly Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb probably represented her own commission from court painter Lammers, perhaps already designed to be used during the funeral. The inclusion above her portrait of the panel depicting the Last Supper and Eucharist in Heaven as the Wedding Feast of the Lamb is entirely consistent with her fusion of these three subjects with a blessed death in her song texts. The many sculptures depicting her virtues, on the other hand, may have been planned by her family and the churchmen who had been closest to her. The funeral procession for the most part followed local traditions, but she may have planned one aspect: the presence of miners bearing their mineshaft-style torches to light her way through the darkness to her tomb.33 As discussed in Chapter 4, she had participated as entrepreneur and mine owner in the development of this industry in Schwarzburg. It seems likely that, during a tour of one of the mines, she had been struck by the symbolic potential of such guides through dark labyrinthine passages. The choice also served to highlight this industry that had revived the economy and enriched the coffers of the principality.

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The idea for a free-standing double sarcophagus may have arisen from a conversation between the countess and her husband, or during a conversation she had conducted with the court preacher about the meaning her marriage held for her. The idea derived from an equation of their marriage to that of the foundational biblical figure Abraham with his wife, Sarah. A short divine directive, taken out of context but general enough in its wording to justify its use, sums up Abraham’s relationship with his wife: “Whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you” (Alles, was Sarah dir gesagt hat, dem gehorche, Genesis 21:12). Abraham must have found it to be good advice, for according to Genesis 23 and 25, upon Sarah’s death, he expended great effort to acquire a cave for use as a double tomb. Abraham buried Sarah in this “zwiefache Höhle” (double tomb/cave) and arranged that when he died, he would be buried there beside her. In the various sermons and parentations delivered in Aemilia Juliana’s honor, there appear multiple mentions of the “zwiefache Höhle” in reference to the planned double sarcophagus, and in several instances there are extended analogies drawn between the Old Testament foundational pair and the modern founders of a princely dynasty.34 The Schwarzburg double sarcophagus also figured visually in the funerary events through its depiction as the central image on the illuminated screen at the west end of the City Church, and later through the illustration of this screen and of the planned sarcophagus in a cave-like architectural space in the commemorative funerary volume. On the title page of Albert Anton’s funeral volume published four years later, the double sarcophagus, his final resting place beside his beloved wife, is again termed the “zwiefache Höhle,” a name it retains to this day.35 Assuming that the plans for the sarcophagus already existed well before Aemilia Juliana’s death, she may have commissioned the illuminated screen, which also depicted her virtues in ways she would have approved—particularly in the image of an armored Minerva with a cornucopia spilling forth her published books. The sculptor could not complete the stone sarcophagus prior to the burial, but six major sculptural figures and a host of smaller ones were apparently finished in time for the ceremony and service in the City Church that took place 27 days after Aemilia Juliana’s death. How could this iconographic program have been carried out in such a short time? One possible answer is that much of it was finished in advance, commissioned by the ruling couple as they contemplated death during the Death Year and in the years that followed. But the sculptures do not survive, and that raises another possibility: that the sculptures were made of stucco of the sort that adorned many of the festive rooms of palaces in the neighborhood. Using stucco rather than stone would have allowed them to be completed relatively quickly, but the material also made them less likely to be preserved. Even using stucco to create the massive sculptural program would have been difficult on such short notice, but with major stucco projects ongoing in Gotha and Sondershausen, perhaps it would not have been impossible to commission the sculptures and have the final products, finished well enough to be seen in torchlight and candlelight, in place in little more than three weeks.36 Nevertheless, it seems likely that some of the decorations, at least, had been designed and perhaps even carried out in advance, under the watchful eye of Aemilia Juliana herself.

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The short time frame would also have constituted a challenge for composer Erlebach and his librettist, who had to provide vocal music texts and compositions for the 12 closely spaced services. Baroque composers are known for their speed, but to complete this task within the schedule of funerary events would have been a Herculean task. Normally, original vocal music was composed only after creation of the text to be sung. In this instance, the sequence of vocal pieces had to be created in accord with the plan for the topics of the 12 sermons—that is, the underlying biblical passages. Indeed, these passages are mentioned explicitly in context with their respective arias and concertos in the table of contents, a sign that they were used as the basis for each piece. The complexity of the program of texts and music would have been daunting indeed, if everything had waited for the beloved countess to die. But Aemilia Juliana might very well have commissioned the funerary music in advance; she would have enjoyed reading the texts and hearing preliminary performances. In that case, the sermons would have used the aria and concerto texts as their starting point, along with the chosen Bible passages. The funerary biography titled “Lebens-Wandel,” on the other hand, shows no signs of Aemilia Juliana’s involvement. Unlike some of the famous women Pietists of her times, she did not author an autobiography, and she left it to her family and others close to her to work with the court preacher to sum up her life. Friend of the Lamb, Bride and disciple of Christ, Last Countess of Barby, Mother of her Country, like Abraham’s wife Sarah the co-founder with her husband of a new dynasty, and modern-day figuration of an armed Minerva’s wisdom and virtue—these self-constructs were accepted by her family and by the educated men who surrounded her as appropriate characterizations to be used during the funeral. And these same self-constructs of their ancestress were also employed by her family, both during her funeral and long afterwards, as elements in their selfrepresentation as a dynasty worthy of the power it wielded. Concluding Remarks During her lifetime, Aemilia Juliana viewed everything she did through the filter of her faith, but that did not make her any less effective in carrying out the often highly practical responsibilities of her position as wife of the ruler of the small principality of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. She was able to apply her exceptional intellect to the tasks at hand, acquiring more than the usual accomplishments in the areas of theological understanding, pharmaceutical skills, and the management of the “Entire House,” including the court, the home farms, and various processing, mining, and manufacturing industries that she owned, built, or oversaw. She operated effectively within an elaborate system of protocol regulating all aspects of life in her highly hierarchized society and social class. She maintained and participated in networks of women binding together the dynasties of Protestant Germany in ways that would enhance the status of the dynasty into which she had married. Her exceptional imaginative powers enabled her to inspire creative works that served the purposes of the House of Schwarzburg, and she possessed poetic talent sufficient to pen the thousands of lines of verse that she produced herself.

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Based on the copious documentation and surviving products of Aemilia Juliana’s activities, it has proved possible to bring to life in this one example the ideas of Heide Wunder about the activities of the ruler’s consort as member of a “working couple” in great detail and across all the various arenas and facets of her role. This study began with an examination of the establishment of a dynastic marriage and of the ensuing responsibilities of the consort for producing and raising the heir, as well as running the larger household comprised by the entire court. It continued with detailed accounts of courtly patronage in the visual, theatrical, and musical arts that entertained princely visitors and staked a claim to high status for the ascendant House of Schwarzburg. It included evidence of partnership with her husband in matters affecting the entire principality, both through spiritual intercession and through practical intervention. It showed in detail this consort’s activities on behalf of other women. And it showed that she understood how even her death and funeral could be used to assert the legitimacy and status of the ruling dynasty into which she had married, and how posthumous publication of her works under her own name could further the interests of her descendants. That Aemilia Juliana conducted all of these activities within a framework of self-constructs, often borrowed from biblical texts she found especially meaningful for her as a woman, served to justify her actions to her contemporaries and helps to explain her perspectives on her role to historians of the early modern period who operate today within a very different system of thought. Notes 1

TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B III 6 c, Nr. 3; TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt C I 4 d, Nr. 5. Susanne Schuster, Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt und Ahasver Fritsch. Eine Untersuchung zur Jesusfrömmigkeit im späten 17. Jahrhundert (Leipzig, 2006). 3 Martin Luther, despite speaking in favor of universal priesthood, repeatedly averred that women should follow the words of Paul, who taught that women were to be silent in church and that they were not to teach or preach or share their perspectives or interpretations with others in a public context (1 Corinthians 14:34–5 and 1 Timothy 2:11–12). Nevertheless, Luther also praised individual women of the Old and New Testaments for their prophesying, preaching, and teaching and provided justifications for such activities on the part of the select few. See Luther on Women: A Sourcebook, ed. and trans. Susan C. Karant-Nunn and Merry E. Wiesner-Hanks (Cambridge, 2003), p. 58 (editors’ introduction to Chapter 4). 4 Söffing, Freundschafft Christi/ mit Seinen Gläubigen (Rudolstadt, 1668), pp. B3 verso–B4 recto. 5 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl einer Christ-Gräflichen Lammes-Freundin (Rudolstadt, 1707), p. 12. 6 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 37. 7 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 36–8. The reference to Daniel as a model and analogy for Aemilia Juliana is probably an allusion to the frontispiece of the 1685 edition of Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und AbendOpffer, which depicts Daniel praying on a balcony (Figure 3.7). 8 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 352–3. 9 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 53 and 64–5. 2

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Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 270. Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 338–9. 12 TSAR, Ministerium Rudolstadt, III. Abt. (Kirche und Schule) V. N. n. 1 Bl. 33r. It is titled “Memorandum of the Rudolstadt General-Superintendent Justus Söffing to the Consistory of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. Rudolstadt, July 21, 1686.” My transcription of the German original can be found in Appendix 3. I am grateful to Dr. Frank Stewing for bringing this document to my attention and providing me with a draft transcription, which I have corrected based on my close examination of the document. 13 As reported on the basis of a conversation with Pastor Leopold by Johann Martin Schamelius, Vindiciae Cantionum S. Ecclesiae Evangeliscae (Leipzig, 1712), p. 15. 14 I plan to discuss the construction and reception of Aemilia Juliana’s literary authorship in another context in the future. 15 On Schwarzburg efforts to elevate their status within the structure of the Holy Roman Empire, especially during Aemilia Juliana’s lifetime, see Vinzenz Czech, Legitimation und Repräsentation. Zum Selbstverständnis thüringisch-sächsischer Reichsgrafen in der frühen Neuzeit (Berlin, 2003). 16 “Zuschrift,” GBS 1742, p. 4 verso. 17 As I discuss in two studies: “‘Wer weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende’. Todesbereitschaft im Leben und Dichten der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1637–1706),” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 10 (2006): 34–55; and “‘Ich sterbe’: The Construction of the Dying Self in the Advance Preparations for Death of Lutheran Women in Early Modern Germany,” in: Women and Death 3: Women’s Representations of Death in German Culture since 1500, ed. Clare Bielby and Anna Richards (Rochester, NY, 2010), pp. 31–50. 18 Michael Hörnlein, Bewährteste Kunststücke Wieder des Todes Furcht und Bitterkeit/ In Evangelischen Sonn- und FesttagsPredigten/ ... angezeiget (Rudolstadt, 1694). One additional sermon that he addressed to Aemilia Juliana on her birthday in August 1694, Der Sich selbst überlebende König Jehißkia (Rudolstadt, 1694), was published some eight months later. In it, Hörnlein gently scolds her for her presumption in predicting the year of her own death and expresses his hopes for many additional years beyond the 15 granted to the biblical king Hiskia (Jehißkia). 19 Johann Hoffmann, Climacter Non Climacter (Erfurt, 1700). He mentions the pamphlet’s title in the final footnote and attributes it to “nostrae Patriae Debora” (our country’s Deborah), who, he states, has furnished her subjects with many such devotional songs and spiritual hymns. While acknowledging the edification to be derived from the admirable contents of the songs, Hoffmann gently scolds her in the honorific oration for presuming to predict that the end of the century will mean the end of her life. 20 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 352 and 339. 21 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, title page. On the contents of the volume, see Susanne Schuster, “Die Kunst des Sterbens. Tod und Bestattungszeremonie der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1637–1706),” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 10 (2006): 9–36. 22 The packet of documents that reflect the planning of the processions and ceremonies, titled “Meiner seel. Frau Mütter Beysezungs Acta” in her son’s handwriting, includes only those directives, lists of participants and invitees, and drafts of letters to them that were created after her death (TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B II 4 a, Nr. 14). Another bundle in the archive contains a script for the ceremonies (Geheimes Archiv B VII 5 d, Nr. 7). Instructions concerning mourning clothes and the sermons are found in yet another location (TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt B II 4 a, Nr. 10). None of these contains any directive in Aemilia Juliana’s handwriting. 10 11

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The order of these illustrations varies from copy to copy; this analysis will follow the sequence in the exemplar preserved in TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B II 4 a, Nr. 12. The exemplar in the HAB reverses the first two illustrations. 24 “Die von der Hochsel. Fr. Gräfin selbst ausgesonnene/ und im Leben mit sonderlicher Andacht beliebte Vorstellung/ einer das Lamm GOTTES umhalsenden gläubigen Seele. Für diesesmahl unter Ihrer eigenen Gestalt/ in Lebens Grösse/ abgebildet,” Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 7. 25 “Werde munter/ mein Gemüthe,” as I discuss in an article: “Die Letzte ihres Geschlechts. Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt als letzte Gräfin von Barby,” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 5 (2001): 9–37. This song brings the posthumously published Geistliches Braut-Schmuck (1714) to a close, as mentioned above. 26 Her authorship of the song is explict: “Sobald man daselbst ankommen/ wurde der Anfang zum Gottesdienst mit Anstimmung des von der selig Verstorbenen selbst verfertigten Chorals: O du Dreyeinger Gott/ den ich mir auserlesen rc. gemacht,” Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 2. 27 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 11–31, especially 16–18. 28 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 32–42. While Lutherans had moved away from honoring traditional Catholic saints, the concept of latter-day sainthood was alive and well, especially in the context of the two seventeenth-century revival movements, New Piety and Pietism, for which “Heiligung des Lebens” (sanctification of daily life) was an aspiration. And perhaps his claim in this instance is not so hyperbolic: I have encountered three different legends still told in former Schwarzburg territories about her saintliness. One was told to me by a teenager near the ancestral castle of Schwarzburg: “A countess of Schwarzburg who personally carried baskets of food and medicine to the poor and the sick was derided by other noblewomen. Once some of them confronted her on her way with her basket and tried to stop her. They grabbed the basket and dumped it out. The contents turned into roses.” Two longtime Rudolstadt residents who were not acquainted with one another both told another tale related to Aemilia Juliana’s roses: “The rose bushes that climb on arching trellises over the path to the palace (Schloßaufgang II) were planted long ago by a countess. At the sharp bend halfway along the path the roses change color, white going upwards towards the palace at the top of the Palace Mountain and red going downwards to the town. That is the decision point where we choose the way to heaven or to hell.” And a newspaper article about the small monument recently erected in Aemilia Juliana’s honor in Neuhaus, site of the family hunting lodge, tells yet another legend: that she had personally assumed the medical care of a boy in their employ who was fatally injured by a wild boar while driving game towards the hunters. “Unfortunately the boy died in spite of the selfless dedication of the countess. This hunting accident was the circumstance that led to her authorship of her most famous song, ‘Wer weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende.’” (in OTZ, August 31, 2012). As that story has not surfaced elsewhere, it must have been an orally transmitted legend in that area. It is amazing that these three legends about a member of the princely family that once ruled Schwarzburg could have survived during the 40 years of Communist rule. There may be others; although I recorded the oral accounts in my notes, I was not actively soliciting legends about Aemilia Juliana. Each tale was volunteered during the course of a conversation about the reason for my presence in Rudolstadt. Quite a few other legends concerning the background and miraculous efficacy of the song she wrote on the topic of the unknowable hour of death are recounted in F.A. Cunz, Geschichte des deutschen Kirchenliedes vom 16. Jahrhundert bis auf unsere Zeit (1855; rpt. Wiesbaden, 1969), pp. 660–69; and Paul Althaus, Der Friedhof unserer Väter: ein Gang durch die Sterbe- und Ewigkeitslieder der evangelischen Kirche (Gütersloh, 1923), p. 56.

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TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B, II, 4 a, Nr. 14. The text is printed in the unpaginated appendix of musical texts at the end of Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl. The performance of this “Aria in Concerto” was carried out by nine musicians, described in the inventory Erlebach later made of the musical materials in the Heidecksburg as “5 Strom., 4 Voci e Ripieni.” At one point in the text printed in the funerary volume, it is clear that the four voices split into two differing versions of the text: “Er kan mich doch nicht lassen Den meine Seele liebt” (He whom my soul loves cannot abandon me) and “Er kan mich doch nicht lassen Der meine Seele liebt” (He who loves my soul cannot abandon me). The result is a duet that emphasizes the reciprocity of the loving relationship between the soul and her divine bridegroom, a musical rendition of the early portrait as Bride of Christ. The music, destroyed in the palace fire of 1735, does not survive. 31 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, p. 335. 32 Most individuals of lower classes seem to have had only one service associated with the burial or interment of the coffin; in the case of rulers and their consorts, multiple services were more likely. The number of church services associated with Albert Anton’s funeral a little over four years later was eight. See Heiligstes Gedächtniß Eines wahren GottesFreundes und Welt-Feindes (Rudolstadt, 1711). On courtly funeral practice in seventeenthcentury Lutheran Germany, see Jill Bepler, “Das Trauerzeremoniell an den Höfen Hessens und Thüringens in der ersten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts,” in: Frühneuzeitliche Hofkultur in Hessen und Thüringen, ed. Jörg Jochen Berns and Detlef Ignasiak (Jena, 1993), pp. 249–65. 33 On the use made of nighttime burial by persons of high status in late seventeenthcentury Protestant Germany, see Craig Koslofsky, “Von der Schande zur Ehre: Nächtliche Begräbnisse im lutherischen Deutschland, 1650–1700,” Historische Anthropologie 5 3 (1997): 350–69. However, the nighttime processions, interments, and funeral services of the Schwarzburg family, beginning with that for Aemilia Juliana’s mother-in-law, Aemilia Antonia, in January 1671, always incorporated sermons by local pastors, unlike those Koslofsky describes, which were secular burials. In the case of Aemilia Juliana, the procession and interment took place as an extension of the church service preceding it, followed the next day by the burial service complete with sermon. 34 Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl, pp. 10, 37, 42, 60–61, 226–7, and 280–90. 35 Heiligstes Gedächtniß Eines wahren Gottes-Freundes und Welt-Feindes, title page. The biblical language makes the analogy clear: “Der Leib [wurde] aber den 13. Jenner 1711. in das noch bey Dero Leben verfertigte MONUMENT Der Zwiefachen Höle ... beygesetzet.” Initially, the sarcophagus stood in the crypt among the Schwarzburg tombs, but later that same year, their son Ludwig Friedrich had a cave-like space created under the west tower of the church and placed the double sarcophagus in full view, signifying the founding of the dynasty of the newly elevated Princes of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt by his parents. 36 Johann Nikolaus Freund, the sculptor given credit for the design of the sarcophagus on the engraving, was active during the final decade of the seventeenth century decorating palace rooms in the area with life-size and even larger figural sculptures made of stucco rather than stone. It seems likely that he had been given the commission for the entire iconographic program for the funeral. There were also several famous teams of stucco artists in Gotha (the Rust brothers and the Caroveri brothers) in that decade, and the prominent stucco artists decorating the palace in Sondershausen, the Carcani brothers, are known to have been working there beginning in the late seventeenth century and on into the early eighteenth century. Any or all of these stucco artists and their workers could have been borrowed for a month to work on the project in Rudolstadt. 30

Appendix 1

Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt and its Neighbors ca. 1690

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Appendix 2

Family Ties: An Abbreviated Genealogical Summary

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Appendix 2

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Appendix 3

Donation Document

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Apppendix 3

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Thüringisches Staatsarchiv, Rudolstadt Ministerium Rudolstadt, III. Abt. (Kirche und Schule) V. N. n. 1 Bl. 33r. Transcription Mitteilung des Rudolstädtsichen General-Superintendenten Justus Söffing an das schwarzburg-rudolstädtische Konsistorium. Rudolstadt. 1686 Juli 21. Die hochgeborne gräffin und frau, frau Aemilia Juliana, gräffin und frau zu Schwartzburg und Hohnstein, geborne gräffin zu Barby und Mühlingen, meine gnädige gräffin und frau, hat in Julio anno 1686 zur kirchen-bibliothec alhier gnädig verehret folgende zehen tractaten, welche auch dem catalogo beym gräfflichen consistorio inseriert werden können, wie in dem bey der kirche albereits geschehen ist, damit beyde einstimmig confirmieret werden: 1. Biblische ABC Tafeln, 2. Biblisches bet-ABC, 3. Passions perspectiv, 4. Theriaca wider noth und elend, 5. Gesangbuch, 6. Brunn der fürsten, 7. Lieder und gebet vor und nach erlangung, 8. Morgen-, mittags und abend-opffer, 9. Kühlwasser in hitze des creutzes, 10. Specereyen zum süssen geruch. Justus Söffing, Doctor, 21. Julii 1686.

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Bibliographies The primary bibliography lists manuscripts and books authored or compiled by Aemilia Juliana, as well as the posthumous edition published by her heirs. It also contains many books to which she had access—a number of which were dedicated to her or bear her ownership inscription on the title page—and the printed record of selected plays, libretti, sermons, songs, and honorific poems that she experienced. In addition, it lists the most important ordinances and funerary publications. This bibliography retains the spelling of the original and the slashes that function as commas, but does not otherwise attempt to mimic seventeenth-century typesetting conventions. I have provided the full title for all works for which Aemilia Juliana was directly or indirectly responsible and for the eighteenth-century posthumous editions. For other works published before 1800, the title in the bibliography may be the abbreviated or “short” title. Elisions are marked with three periods. In some cases, the full titles can be found in endnotes because of the relevant information that they contain, but they are not necessary for locating or identifying the book in modern online resources such as the Karlsruher Virtueller Katalog (http://www. ubka.uni-karlsruhe.de/kvk.html). Users of German online catalogues who have American keyboards can resolve umlauted vowels as the vowel plus “e” and the German character “ß” as “ss.” When the only surviving exemplar is in a library not served by such a catalogue, or when the catalogue does not include a particular item preserved in a collective volume as a separate entry, I have provided the location. The selected bibliography of scholarship lists the most important scholarly books, articles, and essays about Aemilia Juliana and her context in seventeenthcentury Protestant Germany, as well as relevant scholarship on women and gender issues in early modern Europe. For ease in use, volumes of collected essays that I refer to multiple times, or that are important in their entirety for this study, are listed under their title rather than under the name of an editor. In some cases, there are also entries for individual essays listed by author, and these employ only a short title as cross reference to the fuller reference. Selected Bibliography of Primary Sources Aemilia Juliana’s Manuscript Books and Letters TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 1, 2, and 3. These are the bound devotional books containing many of Aemilia Juliana’s songs in her own handwriting, as well as those she collected from her sister-in-law Ludaemilia Elisabeth and from various devotional books and hymnals to which she had access. Nr. 2 consists of three separately paginated compilations, (1), (2), and (3). The first records a large collection of songs by Ludaemilia Elisabeth, while the other

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two compile many of Aemilia Juliana’s songs. Nr. 3 is a childhood book in her handwriting that bears the date 1652. TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII, 152. This bundle contains a packet of over 400 of her letters addressed to her eldest sister-in-law, Sophia Juliana, during the period from 1664 to late 1671. TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt A III, 134a. This bundle contains a few more of Aemilia Juliana’s letters, written later and to other correspondents, including her husband. TSAR, Geheimes Archiv A XIII 2, Nr. 8–17. These are the bound manuscript recipe books for kitchen and pharmacy. Some are in Aemilia Juliana’s handwriting, while others were passed down to her, but contain her notes, additions, and/or inscriptions. Aemilia Juliana’s Published Devotional Books (Chronological) Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit/ Das ist/ Christliche Lieder und Gebete/ Vor/ bey und nach Erlangung Göttlichen Ehe-Segens/ wie auch Bey andern darbey sich begebenden Fällen zu gebrauchen/ Aus Landes-Mütterlichen Hertzen/ Mund und Hand Ihren Landes-Kindern zu erwünschter/ kräftiger Erbauung aus Gottes H. Wort zubereitet und mitgetheilet. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1683. Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und AbendOpffer/ bestehend in Gebet-Seuffzern und geistlichen Liedern. Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685. Kühlwasser in grosser Hitze des Creutzes und der Trübsalen/ oder Christliche CreutzLieder und Sprüche. Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685. Bound with the above. Allerley Specerey zum süssen Geruch für dem Herrn/ Das ist: Geistliche ReimGebetund Seuffzerlein Für all und iede Personen/ und auf allerhand Materien und im gemeinen Leben fürfallende Begebenheiten gerichtet. Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685. Bound with the above two works. Tägliches ABBA! Lieber Vater! Eines Gnaden-hungerigen Gottes Kindes. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1688. Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und Abend-Opffer/ bestehend in Gebet/ Seufftzern und Geistlichen Liedern/ Zum andern mahl auffgeleget und vermehret mit Liedern und Gebetern auf alle Stände/ Zeiten und Fälle. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1699. Kühlwasser in grosser Hitze des Creutzes und der Trübsalen/ oder Christliche KreutzLieder und Sprüche. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1699. Bound with the above. Allerley Specerey zum süssen Geruch für dem Herrn/ Das ist: Geistliche ReimGebetund Seufftzerlein Für all und jede Personen/ auf allerhand Materien und im gemeinem Leben fürfallende Begebenheiten gerichtet. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1699. Bound with the above two works. Ende Gut, Alles Gut! [Rudolstadt: Urban], 1700. Bound with the above three works in the exemplar in HB Rudolstadt, Wm VI 1, Nr. 79. Der Freundin des Lammes Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck zu Christlicher Vorbereitung Auf die Hochzeit des Lammes/ In Lieder/ Gebete und Seuffzer abgefasset und mitgetheilet; mit einem Vorbericht. Rudolstadt: Gollner, 1714. Posthumously published based on her plan.

Bibliographies

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Der Freundin des Lammes Täglicher Umgang mit Gott/ Bestehend in Gebet/ Seuffzern und Liedern/ Auf die Zeiten/ Stände und Fälle/ Mit einem Vorbericht. Rudolstadt: Gollner, 1714. Lightly edited new edition of TO 1699, including Kühlwasser and Allerley Specerey. Der Freundin des Lammes Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck, Welcher von Derselben, Zu Christlicher Vorbereitung auf die Hochzeit des Lammes, In Lieder, Gebete und Seuffzer verfasset, und im Jahr 1714. zum erstenmahl zum Drucke übergeben, Auf Verlangen aber vieler hohen und Gottseligen Personen aus denen annoch vorhandenen und von Derselben Mit eigner hoher Hand beschriebenen Blättern sehr mercklich vermehret und in Ordnung gebracht worden; nebenst einem Vorbericht. Ed. Nicolas North. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1742. Reorganized, altered, and expanded selection of songs and rhymed prayers. Der Freundin des Lammes Täglicher Umgang mit Gott. In Lieder/ Gebet und Seuffzer ... verfasset, und im Jahr 1714 zum erstenmahl zum Drucke übergeben ... merklich vermehret. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1742. Reorganized, altered, and expanded selection of songs and rhymed prayers. Der Freundin des Lammes Creuz-Schule und Todes-Betrachtungen welche von Derselben zu christlicher Vorbereitung auf die Hochzeit des Lammes in Liedern, Gebeten und Seufzern verfasset und gesamlet worden sind auf Verlangen vieler hohen und gotseligen Personen aus Deren theils gedruckten, theils Hand-Schriften zusammen getragen benebst einen Vorbericht worinnen eine kurze Nachricht von der erlauchten Verfasserin gegeben wird. Ed. Johann Peter Schwarz. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1770. Third and much-delayed final volume of the 1742 edition that was intended to present a complete-works edition.

Other Publications for which Aemilia Juliana had Some Responsibility (Chronological) Roth, Johann Georg [and Aemilia Juliana]. Biblische ABC-Tafeln Oder Christliche Trost-Schule...Trostbegierigen Seelen zum Labsal und füglichen Gebrauch/ gezeiget und vorgestellet werden. Auf gn. Begehren Einer Hohen StandesPerson/ also eingericht von Joh. Georg. Rothen/ M. SS. Th. B. der Gräffl. Schwartzb. Rudolst. Superint. Adj. und Pf. zu Leutenberg. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1674. Hörnlein, Michael [and Aemilia Juliana]. Der Brunn/ den die Fürsten gegraben haben/ herfür quellend alle in der H. Schrift befindliche Gebet/ uf gn. Befehl einer eifrigen Beterin gefasset von M. Mich. Hörnlein. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt and Fleischer, 1676. Anon. Tägliche Bet-Stunden In den Hauß-Kirchen/ Wie sie mit Gebet/ Litaney/ Psalm/ Seuffzer und Liedern/ Bey diesen gefährlichen Pest- und SterbensLäufften Heilsamlich anzustellen und zu halten/ ordentlich beschrieben. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1681.

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Anon. Biblisches Bet-ABC. Darinnen Biblische Gebet/ Seuffzer und Wünsche/ Bey allerhand Anliegen/ Sonderlich zu Zeit derer schleichenden Seuchen zu gebrauchen/ vorgestellet worden. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1681. Anon. Alpha. Omega. Zwölff sonderbare Pest-Lieder. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1681. Bound with one of the two above works in all surviving exemplars. Hörnlein, Michael [and Aemilia Juliana]. Geistliches Passions-Perspectiv/ Nicht allein Zu Historischer Betrachtung Des bittern Leidens/ Sterbens/ Auferstehung und Himmelfahrt Christi/ Nach den Schrifften (1.) Altes/ und (2.) Neues Testaments/ Sondern auch Zu nützlicher Anwendung desselben/ so wohl in andächtigen Schrifft-Seuffzern als andern Nachsinnen heilsamlich zu gebrauchen/ Zuförderst Einer aufrichtigen Liebhaberin JESU/ Zu gnädigbegehrten Gebrauch/ ausgefertiget von M. Mich. Hörnlein/ Gräf. Schwartzb. Informatore. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1681. Hörnlein, Michael [and Aemilia Juliana]. Allerbewehrteste Theriaca wieder das Gifft der alten Schlangen und alle daher entstandene Noth und Tod/ an dem/ durch die Eherne Schlange gecreuzigt-fürgebildeten JESU/ uf gn. Befehl Einer Jesu Getreu-Zugethanen Seelen/ gewiesen und Gepriesen von M. Michael Hörnlein/ d.a. Pfarrern zu Leitenberg und Adj. der Superint. zu Rudolstadt. Rudolstadt: Friedrich, 1682. Christliches Gesang-Büchlein, Darinnen die gewöhnlichen alten Lieder Herrn D. Martin Luthers/ und anderer geistreichen Leute/ Nebenst unterschiedl. schönen neuen Gesängen/ In nützlicher Ordnung abgefasset zu bequemen Gebrauch vor die HochGräfl. Schwarzb. Hof-Capelle zu Rudolstadt/ Oder auch sonst in Kirchen und Schulen; zu Hause oder auf der Reise; Auf hohe Verordnung also eingerichtet von Johann Georg Roth. Ed. Johann Georg Roth [and Aemilia Juliana]. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1682. Die Stimme der Freundin/ Das ist: Geistliche Lieder/ Welche/ aus brünstiger und biß ans Ende beharreter JesusLiebe/ verfertiget und gebraucht Weiland Die HochGebohrne Gräfin und Fräulein/ Fr. Ludämilia Elisabeth/ Gräfin und Fräulein zu Schwartzburg und Hohnstein u.s.w. Christseligen Andenckens. [Ed. Aemilia Juliana]. Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1687. Gesang-Büchlein. Darinnen die gewöhnlichsten alten Lieder Herrn D. Martin Luthers/ und andrer geistreichen leute/ Nebenst unterschiedl. schönen neuen Gesängen/ In nützlicher Ordnung abgefasset/ Zu bequemen Gebrauch vor die Hochgräfl. Schwartzb. Hof Kirche zu Rudolstadt/ Oder auch sonst in Kirchen und Schulen; zu Hause oder auf der Reise; Auff hohe Verordnung zum andern mahl gedruckt/ und vermehrt. [Ed. Aemilia Juliana]. Includes the original engraved frontispiece and Johann Georg Roth’s preface from the 1682 edition. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1688. Rudolstädtisches Gesang-Buch/ Darinnen die gewöhnlichen Alten Lieder Hn. D. Martin Luthers/ und anderer geistreichen Leute/ Nebenst unterschiedlichen schönen Neuen Gesängen In nützlicher Ordnung abgefasset/ Zu bequemen Gebrauch vor die Hochgräfl.-Schwartzb. Hof-Kirche zu Rudolstadt/ Oder auch sonst in Kirchen und Schulen; zu Hause oder auf der Reise; Auff hohe

Bibliographies

223

Verordnung zum dritten mahl gedruckt/ und vermehret. Ed. Justus Söffing [and Aemilia Juliana]. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1704. Funerary Sermons, Biographies, and Epicedia Important for This Study: Heiligstes Gedächtniß Eines wahren Gottes-Freundes und Welt-Feindes. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1711. Sermons and funerary biography for Aemilia Juliana’s husband, Albert Anton. Helm, Christopher. Das Schwartzburgische Trauer-Schild. Sondershausen: n. publ., 1707. Poem in memory of Aemilia Juliana. TSAR, Geheimes Archiv B II 4a, Nr. 9. Schwartzburgisches Denckmahl einer Christ-Gräflichen Lammes-Freundin. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1707. Collection of sermon and parentation texts, original musical texts, and illustrations of the church decorations for Aemilia Juliana’s funerary events. Söffing, Justus. Das schönste Symbolum und Hertzens-Wort aller Fruchtbringenden Jesus-Seelen. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1677. Sermon and funerary biography for Aemilia Juliana’s friend Anna Magdalena, Baroness of Schönfeld. Söffing, Justus. Freundschafft Christi/ mit Seinen Gläubigen. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1668. Sermon for Aemilia Juliana’s infant daughter Albertina Antonia, with funerary biography. Unverwelckliche Myrten-Krone. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1672. Sermons and funerary biographies for mother-in-law Aemilia Antonia and sisters-in-law Sophia Juliana, Ludaemilia Elisabeth, and Christiana Magdalena. Selected Honorific Dramas, Libretti, Poems, Sermons, Orations, and Devotional Books Anon. Derer Hoch-Gräflichen Häuser Schwartzburgh und Barby, Durch Oldenburg nahe-Gesipte, Nun verneuerte Verwandschafft. N. pl.: n. publ., [1665]. Genealogical pamphlet. Anon. Unterthänigster Glückwunsch. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1665. Wedding poem. In: HAB, Db 4o 557, 19. Anton Ulrich von Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel. Amelinde. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, [1664]. Play perhaps set to music. ———. Jacob des Patriarchen Heyraht. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, [1664]. Play perhaps set to music. Bressand, Friedrich Christian. Hercules unter denen Amazonen, Singe-Spiel. Wolfenbüttel: Bißmarck, 1693. Libretto set to music by Johann Philipp Krieger for a Wolfenbüttel performance dedicated to Aemilia Juliana and her husband. Erlebach, Philipp Heinrich (composer). Ballet, Welches Bey erfreulichster Ankunfft unsers Gn. Herrn Ludwig Friedrich und Dero ... Gemahlin ... Annen Sophien unterthänigst vorgestellet. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1701. Sing-ballet with text perhaps by Christoph Helm. In: HB Rudolstadt, Dd II, Nr. 595 (8).

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———. Das durch Gottes Gnade immer mehr und mehr geschmückte und beglückte Rathsfeld. N.pl.: n.publ., 1700. Birthday ballet with text perhaps by Christoph Helm. ———. Der entthronete Winter. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1699. Birthday serenade with text perhaps by Christoph Helm. ———. Der mit Segen umwunden- und mit Wünschen gebundene Erndten-Crantz. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1703. Birthday ballet with text perhaps by Christoph Helm. In: HB Rudolstadt, Ma X, Nr. 29b (19). ———. Der wahrsagende Wunder-Brunnen. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1704. “Pastourelle.” A short musical masque with texts perhaps by Christoph Helm. In: HB Rudolstadt, Dd II, Nr. 595 (16). ———. Die erfreuete Schäffer-Gesellschafft. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1702. Serenade with text perhaps by Christoph Helm. In: FB Gotha, Poes. 8o 2171-2172 Rara (22). ———. Die Hocherfreuliche Geschicht der Himmelfahrt Christi und Sendung des heiligen Geistes. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1690. Oratorio libretto attributed to Christoph Helm. ———. Die Hocherfreuliche Geschicht der Siegreichen Auferstehung unsers Herrn und Heilandes Jesu Christi. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1690. Oratorio libretto attributed to Christoph Helm. ———. Die Hocherfreuliche Geschichte der Menschwerdung und Geburt unsers Herrn und Heylandes Jesu Christi. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1689; Republished as Rudolphstädtischer ChristAbend (Rudolstadt: Urban, 1698). Oratorio libretto attributed to Christoph Helm. ———. Die Hochtröstliche Geschicht des bittern Leidens und Sterbens unsers Herrn und Heilandes Jesu Christi. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1688. Oratorio libretto attributed to Christoph Helm. ———. Die Plejades Oder das Sieben-Gestirne/ in einem Sing-Spiele. Wolfenbüttel: Bißmarck, 1693. Libretto by Friedrich Christian Bressand for performance in Wolfenbüttel. ———. Die Siegende Unschuld/ Unter dem Beyspiele Hunonis/ Grafen zu Oldenburg. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1702. Libretto perhaps by Christoph Helm. ———. Geistlicher Chor- und Kirchen-Schmuck. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1707. Vocal music texts perhaps by Christoph Helm for an entire church year, presumably 1706. ———. Gott-geheiligte Sing-Stunde. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1704. Twelve cantatas, with texts attributed to Christoph Helm. ———. Harmonische Freude musicalischer Freunde. Ed. Otto Kinkeldey. Denkmähler Deutscher Tonkunst 1,46/47. 1914; rpt. Wiesbaden, 1959. ———. Rudolstädtischer Neu-Jahr-Abend. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1706. Cantata text probably by Christoph Helm. Heckel, Johann Friedrich. Dissertatiuncula De Foeminis Litteratis. Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1686. Birthday oration. ———. Dissertatiuncula Mythologico-Philologica De Minerva. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1688. Birthday oration.

Bibliographies

225

Hoffmann, Johann. Abraham Dramaticus, das ist: Der wunder-gläubige Abraham/ Die wunder-fromme Sara/ und der wunder-gehorsame Isaac. Langensalza: Bachmann, 1684. Program of a lost play. In: HB Rudolstadt, Dd II, Nr. 595 (1). ———. Ahab Dramaticus, Das ist: Der durch seine heidnische Gemahlin Isebel zur Abgötterey verleitete und nebst Ihr samt seinem ganzen Königlichen Hause von Gott hochgestraffte Israelitische König Ahab. Weimar: Müller, 1683. Program of a lost birthday play. ———. Climacter Non Climacter. Erfurt: Müller, 1700. Birthday oration. ———. Der Gottseligen Felicitas Marter. Erfurt: Müller, 1703. Program of a lost birthday play. ———. Erbauliches Schauspiel/ von dem wunderlich siegenden Kleinen David/ wider den grossen Riesen Goliath. No publication information. Penciled date: 1705. Program of a lost play. In: HB Rudolstadt, Dd II, Nr. 595 (3). ———. Nüzliches und erbauliches Schauspiel von Fürsichtiger und unfürsichtiger Erziehung der heranwachsenden Jugend. Weimar: Müller, 1682. Program for a lost play. In: HB Rudolstadt, Ma IV, Nr. 48 (5). Hörnlein, Michael. Bewährteste Kunststücke wieder des Todes Furcht und Bitterkeit. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1694. Sermon collection. ———. Das geistliche GoldBergWerck des seligmachenden Glaubens. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1687. Festive sermon. ———. Der Sich selbst überlebende König Jehißkia. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1694. Birthday sermon. ———. Die steigende und fallende Athenais Oder Eudoxia. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1680. Birthday play. In: HB Rudolstadt, Dd II, Nr. 595 (4). Kramer, Georg Wilhelm. Gottes mitgetheiltes und erbärmlich verscherztes Ebenbild. 1674. Illustrated manuscript presentation copy of a child’s play. In: HB Rudolstadt, Dd II, Nr. 57. Mitternacht, Johann Sebastian. Rudolfstadtischer Freuden-voller Ehren-Tag. [1662]. Poem. In: HB Rudolstadt S.B. Nr. 226. Müller, Johann Ernst. Freundlichste Einladung zu dem Schau-Spiel genandt: Das durch den Frieden erfreuete Europa. Rudolstadt: Urban, [1698]. Program of a lost play. ———. Wohlgemeindte Einladung zu dem Schau-Spiel von dem Leben und Tode Käyser Günthers. Rudolstadt: Urban, [1690]. Program of a lost play. In: HB Rudolstadt, Ma X, Nr. 41. Roth, Johann Georg. Christliche Betrachtung Des Regiment-wesens der Richterin Debora. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1664. Festive oration. ———. Die spielende Weißheit Gottes. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1665. Wedding poem. In: HAB, Db 4o 557, 19. Söffing, Justus. Hertzens-Lust an Jesu/ oder Jesus-Gebet-Buch. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1675. Devotional book commemorating the deaths of Aemilia Juliana’s sisters-in-law. ———. Rudolstädtisches Hand-Buch. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1679. Renamed edition of the above.

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———. Rudolstädtisches Hand-Buch. Rudolstadt: Löwe, 1692. Expanded edition of the above. Sommer, Christoph. Epilogi Pie De Mortuorum, Oder: Exemplarische SterbeSchule. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1676. Devotional book commemorating the deaths of Aemilia Juliana’s sisters-in-law. Stieler, Caspar. Basilene. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1667. Play with music. ———. Der betrogene Betrug. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1667. Play with musical intermezzi. ———. Der Vermeinte Printz. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1665. Play with musical intermezzi. ———. Die Erfreuete Unschuld. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1666. Play with musical intermezzi. ———. Die Wittekinden. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1666. Libretto. ———. Ernelinde oder Die Viermahl Braut. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1665. Play with musical intermezzi. ———. Freudigster Zuruff Auff die So lange gewünschte ... Heyraht. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1665. Wedding poem. In: HAB, Db 4o 557, 19. ———. Untertähniges Denkmahl/ Frolokken und Glükkswunsch. Jena: Bauhöffer, 1662. Honorific poem. In: HB Rudolstadt, S.B. Nr. 225 (2). Zeidler, Christian. Die Durch Adam zwar Verderbete/ Doch in Christo Wieder ererbete Unschuld und Seeligkeit. Saalfeld: Ritter, 1680. Play. In: HB Rudolstadt, Dd II, Nr. 595. Official Rudolstadt Agendas, Ordinances, and Instructions Important for This Study Agenda Schwartzburgica, Das ist: Verzeichniß der Ceremonien/ Wie solche Die ietzo regierende Gräfliche Schwartzburgisch und Honsteinische sämptliche Herrschaft Beyder Sondershäusisch- und Rudolstädtischer Linien/ in ihren Kirchen wollen gehalten haben. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1675. Gräfflich-Schwartzburgische Dorf-Ordnung. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1681. Gräffl. Schwartzburg-Rudolst. Gemeine Feuerordnung. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1669. Gräfliche Schwartzburgische Berg-Wercks-Freyheit. Rudolstadt: Schultz, 1685. Gräfliche Schwartzburg-Rudolstädtische Erneuerte Gemeine Feuer-Ordnung. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1701. Holtz- und Forst-Ordnung. Rudolstadt: Urban, 1701. “Instruction Vor eine Fürstin alß Landes Mutter, was sie bey Hoff sowohl bey denen Fürstl. Kindern und deren Erziehung als auch sonsten zuthun. Ernst [Herzog von Sachsen-Gotha] 1648.” TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt A IX, Nr. 96. Instructiones, Wornach die Pfarrer/ und Schulmeister auf dem Lande/ Ingleichen/ die Schultheissen auf denen Dorffschafften/ der Obern Grafschafft Schwartzburg/ Rudolstädtischer Linie ... sich zu achten haben. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1667.

Bibliographies

227

Mandat, und Verordnung/ Wegen bisheriger Profanation, und Entheiligung Derer Sonn- und Feyer-Tage. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1683. Schul-Ordnung/ Wornach sich die Mägden-Schulmeisterinne in Städten und uff dem Lande der Obern-Graffschafft Schwarzburg/ Rudolstadtischen Theils/ zurichten. Rudolstadt: Freyschmidt, 1671. Verneuete Berg-Werck-Ordnung. Arnstadt: Meurer, 1686. “Verordnung wegen grasirender Seuche 1680.” TSAR, Kanzlei Rudolstadt C IX 3 k, Nr. 9. Verordnung/ Wornach in dero Grafschaft Rudolstädtischer Lini/ Bey itzo ein und andern Orts grassierenden ansteckenden Seuche/ die Unterthan zu halten. Nebst einem Medicinischen Memorial. Rudolstadt: Fleischer, 1680. “Wehemütter Ordnung.” Eheleben. TSAR, Kanzlei Sondershausen Nr. 1818. A Selection of Other Primary Sources Consulted for This Study Dilherr, Johann Michael. Weg zu der Seligkeit. Nuremberg: Endter, 1655. Le Moyne, Piérre. La Gallerie des Femmes Fortes. Paris: de Sommaville, 1647. Luther, Martin. Werke. Kritische Gesamtausgabe. 1. Abt.: Schriften. 73 vols.; 2. Abt.: Tischreden. 6 vols. Weimar, 1883–2009. Müller, Heinrich. Himmlischer Liebes-Kuß. Frankfurt: Wilde, 1669. Petersen, Johann Eleonora. Gespräche des Hertzens mit Gott. Plön: Ripenau, 1689. Schurman, Anna Maria van. Whether a Christian Woman should be Educated and other Writings from her Intellectual Circle. Ed. and trans. Joyce L. Irwin. Chicago, 1998. Sophie Elisabeth von Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel. Der Minervae Banquet. Wolffenbüttel: Stern, 1655. ———. Glükwünschende Waarsagung und Ankunft Der Königin Nicaulae. Wolfenbüttel: Stern, 1656. Sommer, Johann Georg. Gründlicher und kurzter Pest-Unterricht. Rudolstadt: Friedrich, 1683. ———. Kurtzes und Nützliches Weiber und Kinder Pflege-Büchlein. Arnstadt: Meurer, 1676. ———. Nohtwendiger Hebammen-Unterricht. Arnstadt: Meurer, 1676. Stölzlin, Bonifacius. Geistlicher Adler-Stein: Das ist/ Christlicher Unterricht/ Trost/ und Andächtige/ Geistreiche/ und Schrifftmässige Gebet/ für Schwangere und gebährende Frawen. Ulm: n. publ., 1652. Selected Bibliography of Scholarship Aikin, Judith. A Language for German Opera: The Development of Forms and Formulas for Recitative and Aria in Seventeenth-Century German Libretti. Wolfenbütteler Arbeiten zur Barockforschung 37. Wiesbaden, 2002.

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———. “Albertine Antonie Gräfin von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (15.–17.09.1668). ‘Was liebet/ Das betrübet. Was hertzet/ Das schmertzet’. Eine Wöchnerin liest die Leichenpredigt ihres neugeborenen Kindes.” Leben in Leichenpredigten (April 2013). Online journal. ———. “Authorial Self-Consciousness in the Theater of Caspar Stieler.” In: Literary Culture in the Holy Roman Empire, 1555–1720. Ed. James A. Parente, Jr., Richard Erich Schade, and George C. Schoolfield. University of North Carolina Studies in the Germanic Languages and Literatures 113. Chapel Hill, 1991, pp. 247–58. ———. “Der Weg zur Mündigkeit in einem Frauenleben aus dem 17. Jahrhundert. Genesis und Publikationsgeschichte der geistlichen Lieder der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt.” Wolfenbütteler Barock-Nachrichten 29 (2002): 33–59. ———. “Devotional Songs by Women of the Ruling Families in SeventeenthCentury Lutheran Germany: Authorship, Dissemination, Compilation, Publication.” In: Der Hof. Ort kulturellen Handelns von Frauen, pp. 335–51. ———. “Die Beteiligung von Frauen am ‘geist=reichen’ Gesang um 1700: Herzens=Music 1703, Andachts=Opffer 1705 und Freylinghausens Geist=reiches Gesangbuch 1704 mit dessen Zugabe 1705.” In: “SJngt dem HErrn nah und fern”. 300 Jahre Freylinghausensches Gesangbuch. Ed. Wolfgang Miersemann and Gudrun Busch. Hallesche Forschungen 20. Tübingen, 2008, pp. 123–42. ———. “Die Letzte ihres Geschlechts. Aemilie Juliane von SchwarzburgRudolstadt als letzte Gräfin von Barby.” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 5 (2001): 9–37. ———. “Gendered Theologies of Childbirth in Early Modern Germany and the Devotional Handbook for Pregnant Women by Aemilie Juliane, Countess of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1683).” The Journal of Women’s History 15, no. 2 (2003): 40–67. ———. “‘Ich sterbe’: The Construction of the Dying Self in the Advance Preparations for Death of Lutheran Women in Early Modern Germany.” In: Women and Death 3: Women’s Representations of Death in German Culture since 1500. Ed. Clare Bielby and Anna Richards. Rochester, NY, 2010, pp. 31–50. ———. “Practical Uses of Comedy at a Seventeenth-Century Court: The Political Polemic in Caspar Stieler’s Der Vermeinte Printz.” Theatre Journal 35 (1983): 519–32. ———. “Romantic Comedy as Religious Allegory: The Millennial Kingdom in Caspar Stieler’s Die erfreuete Unschuld.” The German Quarterly 57 (1984): 59–74. ———. Scaramutza in Germany: The Dramatic Works of Caspar Stieler. University Park, 1989. ———. “Songs by and for Women in a Devotional Songbook of 1703: Women’s Voices for Women’s Voices.” Daphnis 31 (2002): 593–642. ———. “The Welfare of Pregnant and Birthing Women as a Concern for Male and Female Rulers: A Case Study.” Sixteenth Century Journal 35 (2004): 9–41.

Bibliographies

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———. “‘Wer weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende’. Todesbereitschaft im Leben und Dichten der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (1637–1706).” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 10 (2006): 34–55. Arndt, Johannes. “Möglichkeiten und Grenzen weiblicher Selbstbehauptung gegenüber männlicher Dominanz im Reichsgrafenstand des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts.” Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte 77, 2 (1990): 153–74. Baselt, Bernd. “Die frühdeutsche Oper am schwarzburg-rudolstädtischen Hofe unter Philipp Heinrich Erlebach (1657–1714).” In: Musiktheatralische Formen in kleinen Residenzen. Ed. Friedhelm Brusniak. Cologne, 1993, pp. 32–54. Bauer, Volker. Die höfische Gesellschaft in Deutschland von der Mitte des 17. bis zum Ausgang des 18. Jahrhunderts. Versuch einer Typologie. Tübingen, 1993. Becker-Cantarino, Barbara. Der lange Weg zur Mündigkeit: Frau und Literatur (1500–1800). Stuttgart, 1987. Bepler, Jill. “Das Trauerzeremoniell an den Höfen Hessens und Thüringens in der ersten Hälfte des 17. Jahrhunderts.” In: Frühneuzeitliche Hofkultur, pp. 249–65. ———. “Die Fürstin als Betsäule—Anleitung und Praxis der Erbauung am Hof,” Morgen-Glantz 12 (2002): 249–64. ———. “‘im dritten Gradu ungleicher Linie seitwerts verwandt’. Frauen und dynastisches Bewußtsein in den Funeralwerken der Frühen Neuzeit.” In: Dynastie und Herrschaftssicherung in der Frühen Neuzeit. Geschlechter und Geschlecht. Ed. Heide Wunder. Berlin, 2002, pp. 135–60. Berns, Jörg Jochen. “Zur Frühgeschichte des deutschen Musenhofes oder Duodezabsolutismus als kulturelle Chance.” In: Frühneuzeitliche Hofkultur, pp. 10–43. Czech, Vinzenz. Legitimation und Repräsentation. Zum Selbstverständnis thüringisch-sächsischer Reichsgrafen in der frühen Neuzeit. Schriften zur Residenzkultur 2. Berlin, 2003. Das Frauenzimmer. Die Frau bei Hofe in Spätmittelalter und früher Neuzeit. Ed. Jan Hirschbiegel and Werner Paravicini. Residenzforschung 11. Stuttgart, 2000. Der Hof. Ort kulturellen Handelns von Frauen in der Frühen Neuzeit. Ed. Susanne Rode-Breymann and Antje Tumat. Musik-Kultur-Gender 12. Cologne, 2013. Die Europäische Querelle des Femmes: Geschlechterdebatten seit dem 15. Jahrhundert. Ed. Gisela Bock and Margarete Zimmermann. Stuttgart, 1997. Die Grafen von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt. Albrecht VII. bis Albert Anton. Ed. Horst Fleischer. Kleine kulturgeschichtliche Reihe 3. Rudolstadt, 2000. Dittrich, Christian. Seivert Lammers (1648–1711). Ein Beitrag zur thüringischen Kunstgeschichte im Zeitalter des Absolutismus. Dresden, 1980. Erdengötter. Fürst und Hofstaat in der frühen Neuzeit. Ed. Jörg Jochen Berns. Marburg, 1997. Esche, Andrea. “Das Kochbuch der Gräfin Aemilie Juliane von SchwarzburgRudolstadt (1637–1706).” Blätter der Gesellschaft für Buchkultur und Geschichte 2 (1998): 89–100. Europäische Hofkultur im 16. und 17. Jahrhundert. Ed. August Buck. Wolfenbütteler Arbeiten zur Barockforschung 9. Vol. 2. Hamburg, 1981.

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Fietze, Katharina. “Frauenbildung in der ‘querelle des femmes’.” In: Geschichte der Mädchen- und Frauenbildung, vol. 1, pp. 237–51. Fleischer, Horst. Vom Leben in der Residenz. Rudolstadt 1646–1816. Beiträge zur schwarzburgischen Kunst- und Kulturgeschichte 4. Rudolstadt, 1996. Frauengeschichte—Geschlechtergeschichte. Ed. Karin Hausen and Heide Wunder. Geschichte und Geschlechter 1. Frankfurt, 1992. Frühneuzeitliche Hofkultur in Hessen und Thüringen. Ed. Jörg Jochen Berns and Detlef Ignasiak. Jenaer Studien 1. Jena, 1993. Gender in Early Modern German History. Ed. Ulinka Rublack. Cambridge, 2002. Genealogie als Denkform in Mittelalter und Früher Neuzeit. Ed. Kilian Heck and Bernhard Jahn. Studien und Texte zur Sozialgeschichte der Literatur 80. Tübingen, 2000. Geschichte der Mädchen- und Frauenbildung, vol. 1: Vom Mittelalter bis zur Aufklärung. Ed. Elke Kleinau and Claudia Opitz. Frankfurt, 1996. Geschlechterstreit am Beginn der europäischen Moderne. Die Querelle des Femmes. Ed. Gisela Engel, Friederike Hassauer, Brita Rang, and Heide Wunder. Kulturwissenschaftliche Gender Studies 7. Königstein, 2004. Harasimowicz, Jan. “Architektur und Kunst.” In: Glaubenswelt und Lebenswelten. Ed. Hartmut Lehmann. Geschichte des Pietismus, vol. 4. Göttingen, 2004, pp. 456–85. Hausen, Karin. “Öffentlichkeit und Privatheit. Gesellschaftspolitische Konstruktionen und die Geschichte der Geschlechterbeziehungen.” In: Frauengeschichte—Geschlechtergeschichte, pp. 81–8. Hilger, Stephanie M. “She is the Moon and the Sun: Transgressive Gender Performances in the Works of Sophie Elisabeth, Duchess of Braunschweig and Lüneburg.” Colloquia Germanica 34 (2001): 195–211. Irwin, Joyce. “Anna Maria van Schurmann—Eine Gelehrte zwischen Humanismus und Pietismus.” In: Geschichte der Mädchen- und Frauenbildung, vol. 1, pp. 309–24. Jacobsen, Roswitha. “Der Landesvater als Familienvater. Ernst der Fromme von Sachsen-Gotha-Altenburg und seine Verordnungen für die eigene Familie.” Gothaisches Museums-Jahrbuch (2009): 73–97. Jung, Martin H. “Ämilie Juliane von Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt.” In his: Frauen des Pietismus. Zehn Porträts. Gütersloh, 1998, pp. 11–26. Karant-Nunn, Susan. “A Woman’s Rite: Churching and Reformation of Ritual.” In: Problems in the Historical Anthropology of Early Modern Europe. Ed. R. Po-Chia Hsia and Robert W. Scribner. Wolfenbütteler Forschungen 78. Wiesbaden, 1997, pp. 111–38. ———. The Reformation of Feeling. Shaping the Religious Emotions in Early Modern Germany. Oxford, 2010. ———. The Reformation of Ritual. An Interpretation of early modern Germany. London, 1997. Keller, Katrin. “Kurfürstin Anna von Sachsen (1532–1585). Von Möglichkeiten und Grenzen einer ‘Landesmutter’.” In: Das Frauenzimmmer, pp. 263–85.

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Index Note: Page numbers in bold type indicate illustrations. Abraham and Sarah (Genesis 17–23) 83–4, 97, 191, 201, 202 acrostics 12, 26, 37, 51, 94, 102, 153, 158, 159, 160, 161–2, 165, 197, 198 ancestor cabinet 31, 52, 78 Arnstadt 88, 148, 164, 169 authorship 2, 4, 5, 7, 86–7, 107, 108–18, 127–9, 137–8, 146–7, 151–5, 158, 159–63, 165, 171–2, 175–87, 190, 196 Bach, Johann Sebastian (1685–1750) 7, 88 balsam (botanicals) trade 118, 121–4, 134 baptism 3, 28, 32, 34, 147, 151, 152–5, 171 Barby and Mühlingen (counts and countesses) 22–3, 27–8, 33–4, 51, 64, 146, 191–2, 193, 200, 213 Albrecht Friedrich (1597–1641) 5 Antonia Sibylla, see SchwarzburgSondershausen August Ludwig (1639–1659) 5, 22, 58 Christiana Elisabeth, see Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel Justina Sophia, see Ostfriesland Sophia Ursula, née of Oldenburg (1601–1642) 5, 166 Bepler, Jill 2, 16 Betsäule (pillar of prayer) 2, 16, 108, 175 Bleyer, Georg (1647–after 1683) 82, 87, 98, 99, 156 book donation 184–5, 217 book illustrations 62–3, 71–6, 93, 103–4 book ownership 8, 38, 53, 58, 77, 121–2, 133, 134, 138, 151, 166–7, 170, 171 books borrowed and lent 161 books given as gifts 4, 134, 160, 162–3, 171, 189

Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel (dukes and duchesses) 33, 160–61, 186, 213 Anton Ulrich (1633–1714) 33, 58, 77, 78, 81, 95–6, 153, 161 August (1579–1666) 1, 6, 58, 77, 79, 80, 96, 161 Christiana Elisabeth, née of Barby (1634–1681) 6, 20, 22–3, 33, 58, 77, 78, 139, 160–61 Christina Sophia (1654–1695) 33, 160 Dorothea Sophia, see SchleswigHolstein-Plön Elisabeth Juliana, née of SchleswigHolstein-Norburg (1634–1704) 33, 77, 78, 153, 161, 162 Ferdinand Albrecht (1636–1687) 33, 77 Maria Elisabeth, see Saxony-Eisenach Rudolf August (1627–1704) 6, 20, 22–4, 33, 51, 58, 77, 78 Sibylla Ursula (1629–1671) 33, 77, 160, 161 Sophie Elisabeth, née of MecklenburgGüstrow (1613–1676) 1, 58, 77, 80, 81, 96 Bride of Christ 63, 63–4, 178, 191, 206 cavalier’s tour 24, 35, 101 childbirth 32, 34, 137, 147–55, 156–9, 161–3, 169–70, 176–7, 184 City Church, see Stadtkirche churching 33, 81, 152, 157–8, 159, 171 clothing and jewelry 47, 50, 56, 119, 124, 161 convents (secular) 165, 172, 173 cookbooks 38–9, 54 Court of the Muses, see Musenhof Cumbach 39, 40–41, 42, 44, 119 Daniel (Daniel 6:10) 72, 72, 95, 183, 203 David, King (1 Samuel, 2 Samuel) 71, 76, 78, 86, 95, 97, 101, 102

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David and Jonathan (1 Samuel 18–20) 71, 101–4, 103, 106, 119 Deborah (Judges 4–5) 103, 105–6, 178, 198, 204 devotional songs 5, 7, 11, 12–13, 38, 86–7, 89, 91, 92, 108, 115, 118, 138, 161–3, 172, 177–8, 183–4, 186–7, 204 Dittrich, Christian 69, 93, 94, 95, 98 dynastic continuity 2–3, 19, 22–3, 27–35, 191 dynastic representation 3, 5, 13, 19, 28, 46–50, 58–78, 83–6, 101–3, 122, 175, 187–96, 203 dynasty 19, 27–34, 46, 61, 78, 85, 175, 186, 189, 191–3, 198, 202, 203, 206 education, princely children 3, 36–7, 137–8, 146, 178 education, universal 142–4 education, women 104, 123, 137, 138–47, 167 Einsegnung (consecration ceremony) 32–3, 46, 77, 81, 160 “Entire House” (das Ganze Haus) 36, 45, 53, 202 Erfurt painter 58, 62–3, 79, 94 Erlebach, Philipp Heinrich (1657–1714) 59, 83, 85–92, 93, 97, 98–9, 132–3, 156–7, 198, 200, 202, 206 Esther (Esther 1–9) 105 Eudoxia 83, 104–5, 140 Family Tree monument, see Stammbaum fires 8, 108–11, 118, 132 food preparation 3, 36–9, 46, 49–50, 161 food production 3, 39–43, 54, 80–81 forestry 54, 124–5, 129, 135 Frankenhausen 42, 44, 55, 83–4, 110, 125 Frauenzimmer (women’s suite at court) 3, 36, 38, 47, 156–7 Friend of the Lamb 64, 74–5, 92, 113, 175, 178–82, 179, 180, 182, 189–91, 192, 197, 199–200, 202 Fritsch, Ahasverus (1629–1701) 15, 17, 54, 82, 97, 124, 135, 142, 146, 157, 168–9 funeral 188–202, 203–6, 221

genealogy 10, 27, 28–30, 52, 85, 138, 140 genealogy chart 10, 213 Gerhardt, Paul (1607–1676) 89, 131, 199 Gersdorf, Henrietta Catharina von (1648–1726) 141 godparents 88, 152, 158, 171 Gotha 3, 5, 82, 88, 142–3, 162, 169, 171, 186, 201, 206 guests 2, 3–4, 19–20, 33, 38, 43, 46–50, 58, 76–86, 161 Hannah (1 Samuel 1–2) 32, 72, 151, 175–8, 184, 198 Hannah in the Temple 151, 175–6, 176 Heckel, Johann Friedrich (1640–1715) 140–41, 168 Heidecksburg palace 6, 9, 19–20, 38, 43–7, 45, 57–8, 62, 69, 70, 71, 77–8, 80, 81–2, 85, 88, 92, 130, 135 Helm, Christoph (active 1683-1707) 85, 89–92, 99, 132–3, 198 Helm, Christopher (active 1706–1707) 118, 120–21, 123, 132–3 Hildegard of Bingen (1098–1179) 141 Hoffmann, Johann (active 1677–1705) 83, 84, 97, 98, 204 Hohenlohe (counts and countesses) 33 Heinrich Friedrich (1625–1699) 43 Johann Friedrich (1617–1702) 43, 78 Luisa Amoena, née of SchleswigHolstein-Norburg (1642–1685) 78 Hörnlein, Michael (1643–1703) 14, 75, 83, 105, 108, 127, 136, 140, 156, 168, 178, 185, 188, 204 horses 23, 44–5, 46, 50, 198 hunting and fishing 8, 26, 42, 43–4, 46, 47, 48, 50, 54, 55, 79–80 hymn melodies 87, 116, 132, 155 hymnals 7, 11, 14, 115, 143, 147, 187 hymnals, Rudolstadt 75–6, 87, 90, 91, 115–18, 117, 147, 184, 185 hymns 7, 11, 14, 37, 53, 78–9, 83, 86–7, 89–92, 115–18, 145, 167, 189, 198–200 incipits 11 inflation 108, 109, 118 inheritance 5, 6, 8, 13, 19, 22–4, 26–7, 28, 50, 51, 57, 119, 146, 175

Index “Instruction vor eine Fürstin als Landesmutter” 3, 16, 36–9, 46, 50, 53 intercession, spiritual 2, 5, 13, 64–5, 107, 108–19, 121, 128, 155, 175, 178–81, 180, 182 Könitz 126–9, 136, 157, 159 Krieger, Johann Philipp (1649–1725) 88, 91, 98 Lammers, Seivert (1648–1711) 59, 62–75, 83, 84, 93–5, 98, 101–4, 118–19, 156–7, 178–82, 200; see also paintings Landesmutter (Mother of the Country) 3, 5, 16, 19, 36, 106, 107, 110, 153, 155, 181, 184, 187, 191 Last of her Family 22, 186, 191, 193, 202 letter-writing 7–8, 12, 16–17, 26, 160–62, 167 Leutenberg 6, 42, 47, 48, 62, 71, 92, 101–4, 105, 121–3, 124, 126, 134, 135–6, 142, 160 Little Ice Age 109, 131 Luther, Martin (1483–1546) 142, 143, 168, 203 Mack, Dr. Andreas (ca. 1625–1683) 43, 120–2, 133, 134, 171 manufacturing 5, 119, 122–5, 126–9, 202 markets and fairs 36, 124 measles 48, 82, 131, 133, 134 midwife 32, 137, 147–50, 150, 151–5, 156, 157–8, 159, 169–70, 184 Minerva 141, 196, 201, 202 mining 5, 42, 119, 125–9, 136, 184, 198, 200, 202 Morgengabe 24, 119 Mother of the Country, see Landesmutter Mitternacht, Johann Sebastian (1613–1679) 23 Müller, Johann Ernst (?–1734) 84, 97, 183 Müller, Heinrich (1631–1675) 63, 94, 96, 143 Musenhof (Court of the Muses) 13, 58–9, 78, 82, 88, 92 networks 3, 4–5, 137, 155–66, 171, 172, 173, 202

235

Neuhaus 43, 44, 55, 110, 123, 125, 132, 205 Neue Frömmigkeit (New Piety movement) 7, 61–2, 64, 93, 205 Neumeister, Erdmann (1671–1756) 91, 99 New Piety (see Neue Frömmigkeit) Oldenburg and Delmenhorst (counts and countesses) 27–8, 33, 85, 98, 213 Aemilia Antonia, see SchwarzburgRudolstadt Sophia Ursula, see Barby opera 4, 8, 13, 30, 33, 50, 58, 76, 77, 78, 81, 82, 85, 88, 92, 95–8 oratorio 86, 88–90, 92, 99 Ostfriesland (princes and princesses) 213 Justina Sophia, née of Barby (1636–1677) 20, 22–3, 33, 55, 65, 87, 164 Justina Louisa (1657–1715) 213 Wilhelmina Sophia (1659–1698) 87–8, 213 Ordruf 47, 78 paintings Aemilia Juliana (Lammers, ca. 1690) 4 Aemilia Juliana as Bride of Christ (Lammers, ca. 1675) 62–4, 63, 94 Aemilia Juliana as Friend of the Lamb (Lammers, ca. 1675) 64, 94, 113, 178–9, 179 Allegory of the Five Senses (Lammers, ca. 1670) 68, 69 Anna Sophia [Ludaemilia Elisabeth] at the Foot of the Cross (Lammers, ca. 1692 or 1670) 69, 70, 95 Crucifixion with the Count and his Family (ca. 1669) 60, 61–2, 89, 93, 95 Ludwig Friedrich as David (Lammers, ca. 1688) 71, 76, 95, 97, 101, 102 Ludwig Friedrich with a Lamb (Lammers, ca. 1674) 65, 66 The Partnership of Albert Anton and Aemilia Juliana (Lammers, ca. 1688) 71, 76, 95, 101–4, 103, 106 Passion of Christ 12, 65, 75, 88–9, 92, 99, 193 patronage 2, 8, 13–14, 30, 50, 57–99, 203 musical 86–92 theatrical 30, 76–86 visual arts 59–76

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pharmacy, pharmaceuticals 3, 7, 36, 38, 50, 54, 106, 107, 119–23, 134, 139, 150, 155, 158, 202 Pietism 2, 7, 12, 14, 16, 17, 64, 82, 93, 94, 97, 141, 186, 202, 205 plague 82, 112–18, 120, 121, 132, 153, 184, 185 prayer hours 3, 5, 13, 36, 37, 38, 61–2, 72, 86, 104, 112–16, 151, 155, 157, 162, 175, 183, 184–5, 186, 188, 191 pregnancy 27, 31–5, 72, 81, 137, 147–55, 156, 157–8, 159, 161, 163, 170, 171, 176–7, 185 publication 4–5, 7, 13, 38, 72, 86, 87, 108, 113–14, 147, 153–4, 158, 162–3, 175–87, 188, 196, 201 quartering of troops 111 Quedlinburg 165 Anna Sophia of Birkenfeld, Abbess (1619–1680) 160 Querelle des Femmes 104–5, 130, 139–41, 167 Rathsfeld 84, 85 Ratke, Wolfgang (1571–1635) 141–2, 168 regents, regency 1–2, 6, 13, 26, 36, 59, 104–7, 141, 148, 160, 164 remodeling 46–7, 58, 59, 161 Reuss (lords and ladies, later counts and countesses) 17, 33, 43, 55, 78, 92, 162 Heinrich II Reuss of Gera (1602–1670) 23, 106, 163 Heinrich I Reuss of Obergreiz (1627–1681) 55, 164 roses 28, 34, 63, 64, 80, 116–18, 117, 179, 179, 191, 205 Roth, Johann Georg (1633–1682) 24, 27, 51, 105–6, 108, 116, 131 Roth, Wolf Ernst (active 1666–1683) 59, 82, 87, 98 Saalfeld 10, 84, 126, 136, 157 Saxony (Electors) August “the Strong,” Elector and King of Poland (1670–1733) 162 Christiana Eberhardine, née of Brandenburg-Beyreuth (1671–1727) 15, 162, 163, 172

Saxony-Altenburg (dukes and duchesses) Magdalena Sibylla, née of Electoral Saxony, “die Prinzessin” (1617–1668) 48 Saxony-Eisenach (dukes and duchesses) 33, 79, 161, 162 Maria Elisabeth, née of BraunschweigWolfenbüttel (1638–1687) 33, 160, 161, 171 Saxony-Gotha (dukes and duchesses) 33, 35 Anna Sophia, see SchwarzburgRudolstadt Ernst I “the Pious” (der Fromme) (1601–1675) 3, 6, 16, 35, 36, 39, 50, 53, 106, 141–2, 147, 168 Christine, née of Baden-Durlach (1645–1705) 162 Friedrich I (1646–1691) 35 Saxony-Weißenfels (dukes and duchesses) 88 August (1614–1680) 22, 24 Saxony-Zeitz (dukes and duchesses) Moritz (1619–1681) 33 Dorothea Maria, née of SaxonyWeimar (1641–1675) 33, 162 Schleswig-Holstein-Plön (dukes and duchesses) 172 Dorothea Augusta, née of SchleswigHolstein-Gottorp (1602–1682) 162, 165 Dorothea Sophia, née of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel (1653–1722) 22, 33, 213 Schönfeld, Anna Magdalena of (“die Hofmeisterin”) (1647–1677) 156–7, 159–60 Schurman, Anna Maria van (1607–1678) 104, 139, 141, 167 Schütz, Heinrich (1585–1672) 88, 99 Schwarzburg (castle) 34, 43, 44, 48, 50, 52, 55, 57, 134, 205 Schwarzburg (principality) 10, 15, 40, 186–7 Schwarzburg ancestors Günther XXI, Roman King (1304–1349) 30, 34, 52, 57, 84, 97 Katherine “die Heldenmütige” (1509–1567) 103, 130 Wittekind (Widukind) (743–ca. 807) 30, 78, 85

Index Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, Aemilia Juliana of, works and editions Allerley Specerey (1685, 1699, 1714) 73, 73, 185, 187, 217 “Alle Welt die muß erfahren” 26, 64, 102, 130 Biblische ABC-Tafeln (1674) 108, 131, 185, 217 Biblisches Bet-ABC (1681) 114–15 Creuz-Schule und Todes-Betrachtungen (1770) 187 Der Brunn/ den die Fürsten gegraben haben (1676) 108, 131, 185, 217 Ende Gut, Alles Gut (1700) 185 Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (1714) 74–5, 179–81, 180, 185–7, 188 Geistlicher Braut-Schmuck (1742) 75, 181, 182 Geistliches Weiber-Aqua-Vit (1683) 72, 151–4, 154, 155, 162, 176, 176–8, 217 Kühlwasser des Creutzes (1685, 1699, 1714) 73, 74, 185, 187, 217 “O du Dreyeinger Gott/ den ich mir auserlesen” 187, 197, 205 “Song of a Person who is the Last of her Family” 22, 186, 193 Tägliche Bet-Stunden (1681) 114–15 Täglicher Umgang mit Gott (1714) 187 Täglicher Umgang mit Gott (1742) 187 Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und AbendOpffer (1685) 72, 72–3, 175, 185, 203, 217 Tägliches Morgen- Mittags- und AbendOpffer (1699) 154–5, 185, 187 “Wer weiß, wie nahe mir mein Ende” 7, 184, 187, 204, 205 Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, Ludaemilia Elisabeth of, works Die Stimme der Freundin (1687) 185 Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt (counts and countesses) 3, 10, 27–8, 30–31, 52, 60, 61–2, 71, 86, 101–3, 191, 198, 202–3, 204, 206, 213 Aemilia Antonia, née of Oldenburg and Delmenhorst (1614–1670) 6, 23–4, 26, 30, 33, 34, 36, 38, 42, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 55, 59, 61, 62, 75, 78, 82, 93, 94, 105–7, 119, 121, 123, 124, 131, 134, 135, 137–9, 141–2, 160, 166, 206

237

Albert Anton (1641–1710) 1, 19–20, 23–4, 26–7, 30–31, 39–40, 43–5, 51, 58–9, 61, 71, 75, 76, 77–81, 83, 85, 86–9, 92, 101–3, 103, 105–8, 110–12, 116, 117, 124–6, 132, 140, 142, 169, 186, 201, 206 Albertina Antonia (1668) 30, 34, 65, 93, 94, 151, 171 Anna Sophia, née of Anhalt (1584–1652) 141, 166, 168 Anna Sophia, née of Saxony-Gotha (1670–1728) 35, 69, 70, 85–6, 95, 97, 186, 198 Christiana Magdalena (1642–1672) 6, 61, 69, 93, 160 Friedrich Anton (1692–1744) 35 Ludaemilia Elisabeth (1640–1672) 6, 14, 17, 61, 65, 67, 67, 69, 70, 87, 91, 93, 95, 99, 116, 121, 134, 138–9, 160, 162–3, 171, 185 Ludwig Friedrich (1667–1718) 32–5, 37–8, 61, 65, 66, 71, 77, 81–2, 83, 84–6, 93, 97, 101, 102, 151–2, 160, 178, 186, 198, 206 Ludwig Günther I (1581–1646) 6, 28, 30, 61, 93, 106 Ludwig Günther II (1708–1790) 40, 44 Maria Susanna (1646–1688) 6, 69, 84, 157, 160 Sophia Juliana (1639–1672) 6, 16, 47, 48, 59, 69, 77, 79, 129, 148, 160 Schwarzburg-Sondershausen (counts and countesses) 10, 33, 126, 160 Antonia Sibylla, née of Barby (1641–1684) 20, 23, 33, 58, 78, 81, 149, 213 Christian Wilhelm (1647–1721) 88, 148–9 Maria Magdalena, née of Birkenfeld (1622–1689) 148, 160 Schwarzburg-Sondershausen-Arnstadt (counts and countesses) 33, 126, 160 Anton Günther II (1653–1716) 148 Augusta Dorothea, née of Braunschweig-Wolfenbüttel (1666–1751) Johann Günther IV (1654–1669) 164 Ludwig Günther II (1621–1681) 147–8, 164, 169, 172

238

A Ruler’s Consort in Early Modern Germany

Sophia Dorothea, née of Mörseburg (1624–1685) 160, 162, 164–5 Sibylla Juliana (1646–1698) 55, 164 Seckendorff, Veit Ludwig von (1626–1692) 6 Siegfried, Johann (Hans) Heinrich (1630–after 1681) 58 sing-ballet 84, 85, 98 Singspiel, see opera Söffing, Justus (1624–1695) 31, 71, 75, 112, 132, 133, 134, 135, 151, 157, 169, 171, 178, 184, 204, 217 Sommer, Christoph (1646–1685) 75 Sommer, Dr. Johann Georg (1634–1705) 53, 120, 122, 148–50, 153, 169, 170 Sondershausen 118, 148, 201, 206 Spener, Philipp Jacob (1635–1705) 16, 82 Stadt Ilm 24, 42, 69, 74, 109, 119, 185 Stadtkirche (City Church) 9, 28, 29, 34, 69, 75, 86, 181, 184, 189–93, 194, 195, 197, 201 Stammbaum (Family Tree) monument 28, 29, 34, 52, 193, 200 Stieler, Caspar (1632–1707) 14, 19–21, 21, 30–31, 50, 51, 52, 57–8, 59, 76–82, 86, 87, 92, 96, 105 Basilene (1667) 44, 79–81 Der betrogene Betrug (1667) 33–4, 81–2 Der Vermeinte Printz (1665) 19, 20, 20–22, 24, 50, 77, 82

Die Erfreuete Unschuld (1666) 79 Die Wittekinden (1666) 30–31, 78, 82, 85 Ernelinde oder Die Viermahl Braut (1665) 19, 24–5, 27, 51, 77

theatrical performances 4, 13–14, 19–22, 24–5, 30–31, 33–4, 50, 58, 76–86, 88, 96, 97, 98, 105, 139, 140 Tugendliche Gesellschaft 166, 173 Turks 49–50, 71, 80, 84, 111, 120 Voetius, Gisbertus (1589–1676) 104

weather 41, 108–9, 118 wet nurse 34, 37, 53, 106, 134, 149, 155, 156 widows 2, 13, 24, 25, 33, 36, 42, 46, 81, 119, 130, 141, 148, 156, 162, 163–5, 171, 172 Wild Man and Wild Woman 28, 52, 125, 135 Wolfenbüttel 46, 50, 58, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 95, 96 “working couple” (Arbeitspaar) 1–2, 129, 203 Wunder, Heide 1–2, 15, 129, 171, 203, 230 Württemberg-Stuttgart, Duchess Magdalena Sibylla of (1652–1712) 162–3 Zenobia 103–4, 105, 130