man books into a
notebook sarcastic remarks about the Jesuits. There was no more
justice, no more safety. The national party of the Polish nobility, in
alliance with fanatic priests, persecuted most passionately those whom
they hated as Germans and Protestants. All sorts of plunder-loving
rabble collected on the side of the "patriots" or "confederates." They
collected into bands, overran the country in search of plunder, and
fell upon the smaller towns and German villages, not only from
religious zeal, but still more from the greed of booty. The Polish
nobleman Roskowsky wore boots of different colors, a red one to
indicate fire, and a black one for death. Thus he rode, levying
blackmail, from one place to another, and in Jastrow he had the hands,
the feet, and finally the head of the Protestant preacher Willich cut
off and thrown into a swamp. This happened in 1768.

Such was the condition of the country just before the Prussian
occupation. It was a state of things that might perhaps be found now
in Bosnia, but would be unheard of in the most wretched corner of
Christian Europe.

While still only a boy of twelve in the palace in Berlin, Frederick
the Great had been reminded by his father's anger and sorrow that the
kings of Prussia had a duty as protectors toward the German colonies
on the Vistula. For in 1724 a loud call from that quarter for help had
rung through Germany, and the bloody tragedy at Thorn became an
important subject of public interest and of diplomacy. During a
procession which the Jesuits were conducting through the city, some
Polish nobles of the Jesuit college had insulted some citizens and
schoolboys, and the angered populace had broken into the Jesuit school
and college and inflicted damage. This petty street-riot had been
brought up in the Polish parliament, sitting as a trial court, and the
parliament, after a passionate speech by the leader of the Jesuits,
had condemned to death the two burgomasters of the city and sixteen
citizens; whereupon the Jesuit party hastened to put to death the head
burgomaster, Roessner, and nine citizens, in some cases with barbarous
cruelty. The church of St. Mary was taken from the Protestants, the
clergymen driven out, and the school closed. King Frederick William
had tried in vain at the time to help the unfortunate city. He had
prevailed upon all the neighboring powers to send stern notes, and had
felt himself bitterly grieved and humiliated when all his
rep