Still his spirit was unbroken.  His letters showed a perfect appreciation of his situation, and of that to which his country was reduced; but they never exhibited a trace of weakness or despair.  A modest, but lofty courage; a pious, but unaffected resignation, breathed through—­every document, public or private, which fell from his pen during this epoch.  He wrote to his brother John that he was quite willing to go, to Frankfort, in order to give himself up as a hostage to his troops for the payment of their arrears.  At the same time he begged his brother to move heaven and earth to raise at least one hundred thousand thalers.  If he could only furnish them with a month’s pay, the soldiers would perhaps be for a time contented.  He gave directions also concerning the disposition of what remained of his plate and furniture, the greater part of it having been already sold and expended in the cause.  He thought it would, on the whole, be better to have the remainder sold, piece by piece, at the fair.  More money would be raised by that course than by a more wholesale arrangement.

He was now obliged to attend personally to the most minute matters of domestic economy.  The man who been the mate of emperors, who was himself a sovereign, had lived his life long in pomp and luxury, surrounded by countless nobles, pages, men-at-arms, and menials, now calmly accepted the position of an outlaw and an exile.  He cheerfully fulfilled tasks which had formerly devolved upon his grooms and valets.  There was an almost pathetic simplicity in the homely details of an existence which, for the moment, had become so obscure and so desperate.  “Send by the bearer,” he wrote, “the little hackney given me by the Admiral; send also my two pair of trunk hose; one pair is at the tailor’s to be mended, the other, pair you will please order to be taken from the things which I wore lately at Dillenburg.  They lie on the table with my accoutrements.  If the little hackney be not in condition, please send the grey horse with the cropped ears and tail.”

He was always mindful, however, not only of the great cause to which he had devoted himself, but of the wants experienced by individuals who had done him service.  He never forgot his friends.  In the depth of his own misery he remembered favors received from humble persons.  “Send a little cup, worth at least a hundred florins, to Hartmann Wolf,” he wrote to his brother; “you can take as much silver out of the coffer, in which there is still some of my chapel service remaining.”—­“You will observe that Affenstein is wanting a horse,” he wrote on another occasion; “please look him out one, and send it to me with the price.  I will send you the money.  Since he has shown himself so willing in the cause, one ought to do something for him.”