ernment,
and could be revived with profit in America, to replace the outworn and
useless vermiformis that we now possess in way of an electoral college.

* * * * *

When Kings allowed Church and State to separate they made a grave
mistake. With the two united, as they were until a more recent time,
they held a cinch on both the souls and the bodies of their subjects.

In the good old days in Germany the elector was always an archbishop.
Our bishops now are a weakling lot. With no army to back their edicts
the people smile at their proclamations, try on their shovel hats, and
laugh at their gaiters. Or if they be Methodist bishops, who are only
make-believe bishops, having slipped the cable that bound them to the
past, we pound them familiarly on the back and address them as "Bish."

Clement Augustus, Elector of Cologne, maintained a court that vied with
royalty itself. In his household were two hundred servants. He had
coachmen, footmen, cooks, messengers, a bodyguard, musicians, poets and
artists who hastened to do his bidding. He patronized all the arts, made
a pet of science, offered a reward for the transmutation of metals,
dabbled in astrology and practised palmistry.

Into this brilliant court came the strong and masterful Ludvig van
Biethofen.

In a year his gracious presence, superb voice and rare skill as a
musician, pushed him to the front and into favor with the powers, with a
yearly salary of four hundred guilders. The history of this man is a
deal better raw stock for a romance than the life of his grandson.

From Seventeen Hundred Thirty-two, when he entered the court as an
unknown and ordinary musician with an acceptable tenor voice, to
Seventeen Hundred Sixty-one, when he was Kapellmeister and a member of
the private council of the Elector, his life was a steady march
successward. Strong men were needed then as now, and his promotion was
deserved. Various accounts and mention of this man are to be found, and
one contemporary described him as he appeared at sixty. The only mark of
age he carried was his flowing white hair. His smoothly shaven face
showed the strong features of a man of thirty-five; and his carriage,
actions and superb grace as an orchestra-leader made him a conspicuous
figure in any company.

Ludvig van Biethofen had one son, Johann by name. This boy resembled his
gifted father very little, and his training was such that he early fell
a victim to ar