merchant origin, ennobled by
royal favor was famous for its upright men and its pious, scholarly
women no less than for its enormous wealth. The story of Philippine
Welser and her lover--husband,--Prince Ferdinand, son of Emperor
Ferdinand I. and favorite nephew of Charles V., contrasts pleasantly
with the cruel, coldly selfish treatment of most princely lovers in that
war-brutalized age.

According to legend, Philippine Welser first saw "Prince Ferdinand of
the Golden Locks" as he rode past her father's house in old Haymarket
Square, at the head of a glittering procession. Philippine, a vision of
pink and white girlish beauty, stood at a long, open window, looking
down on the gorgeous pageant. The prince saluted her. Their eyes met,
and straightway, after the old fashion which never quite goes out of
date anywhere in the world, either in war or in peace, they fell in
love.

At the public ball that evening, in Augsburg's new hall of gold, the
prince showed the merchant-banker's fair daughter marked attention,
dancing with her often. In the weeks that followed, Prince Ferdinand's
intimate friend, Count Ladislaw von Sternberg, was seen almost daily
going back and forth between the old Welser house and the archducal
palace near the Cathedral.

At last the prince left Augsburg. A few days later Philippine Welser
also disappeared down the street which now bears her name. Henceforth
her native city knew her no more. She was in Bohemia, with her aunt
Katharine, wife of the knight George von Loxan. An imperial castle
crowned a neighboring height. Prince Ferdinand suddenly discovered that
affairs in his Bohemian inheritance needed his immediate personal
attention. He resided at the castle for several weeks, making frequent
visits to the Loxan estate. A formal betrothal took place in the
presence of a priest, Philippine's aunt, and other witnesses. Through
nine years of betrothal and twenty-three of married life, the archduke
was true to Philippine. War separated them for years at a time, but
their love suffered no diminution. The archduke Ferdinand was a genuine
scion of an impetuously loyal race. From Maximilian I., whose heart, by
his own command, was placed in the tomb of fair Mary of Burgundy, down
to Don John and to unfortunate Rudolph in the nineteenth century,
Habsburg princes have ever been ready to cast aside rank, wealth, and
power for love.

Sometimes, hiding under the soiled robe of politics, love actually slips