Fredersdorf was right.  As the moon rose, the conspirators, who had been notified by Von Kleist, the husband of the beautiful Louise von Schwerin, began to assemble.  The great saloon in which the gay and laughter-loving Louise had given her superb balls and soirees—­in which her dancing feet had trampled upon her fortune and her happiness—­was now changed into a solemn temple of worship, where the pious believers assembled to pray to God and to adjure the devil.  The king had forbidden that the churches should be opened except on Sunday and the regular fete days.  Some over-pious and fanatical preachers had dared to disobey this order.  The assemblies had been broken up by force of arms, the people driven to their homes, and the churches closed.  Both priests and people were threatened with severe punishment if they should dare to open the churches again during the week. [Footnote:  Preuss’s “Geschichte Friedriotia des Grossen.”]

The pietists, forgetting the Bible rule, to “give unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,” refused obedience to the spirit of the command, and assembled together in the different houses of the faithful.  Their worship consisted principally in stern resolves to remain obedient to the only true doctrine.  To the proud fanatic this is, of course, the faith which he professes, and there is salvation in no other.  With zealous speech they railed at the king as a heretic or unbeliever, and strengthened themselves in their disobedience to his commands by declaring it was well-pleasing in the sight of God.

The pietists, who had in vain endeavored to retain the power and influence which they had enjoyed under Frederick William, whom they now declared to have been the holiest and wisest of kings, had become the bitterest enemies of Frederick the Great.  The king called their piety hypocrisy, laughed at their rage, replied to their curses by witty words and biting sarcasm; and on one occasion, after listening to an impertinent request, he replied laconically:  “The cursed priest don’t know himself what he wants.  Let him go to the devil!” [Footnote:  Busching’s “Character of Frederick the Great.”]

This so-called prayer-meeting was to take place to-day in the ball-room of the beautiful Louise, after the regular hour of worship.  Only the elect and consecrated would remain behind to take part in the deeper mysteries, and be witness to the incantation by which the astrologist Pfannenschmidt would constrain his majesty the devil to appear.  No woman was allowed to be present at this holy ordinance, and each one of the consecrated had sworn a solemn oath not to betray an act of the assembly.