Luther once said of his friend Hausman: "What we teach, he lives." Had Luther been alive, he might have applied this saying to the Elector also. A man, who has an electorate to sacrifice for his faith, doubtless finds it more difficult to follow Christ, than one who had nothing to lose. And all the more glorious does such an one stand before the world. John Frederick appears as a mighty one in Israel, when we consider his heroic calmness, his childlike submission. There was no hesitation, no halting on both sides; his heart was rooted in God's grace, and whether the Emperor sought to tempt him with fair promises, or threatened him with a fearful doom, he never swerved from the faith. His death-sentence was announced to him, while he sat at a game of chess. He calmly finished the game and then said: "I thought your Imperial Majesty would have dealt more mercifully with me; but if it cannot be otherwise, I beg that the day of my death be made known to me beforehand. There are matters which I wish to arrange with my wife and children." Death has no terrors for him,--his glance says: "To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." The Emperor's awakened conscience caused him to revoke the sentence of death, and he promised the Elector liberty and ample indemnification for the ignominy endured, if he would but acknowledge the "Interim" of Augsburg, that masterpiece of Romish craft and deception which, under the guise of yielding to the demands of the Reformation, tore the heart out of Protestantism. He believed himself sure of his game, not deeming it possible that a man should withstand such a temptation, and sacrifice his throne, his honor, and his liberty to the Word of God; he himself being quite incapable of such an act. Yet he was impressed, and a flush of shame rose to his face, when he heard the Elector's answer: "I stand as a poor prisoner before your majesty. I do not deny that I have confessed the truth, and for its sake have lost all that I possessed,--my wife and children, my land and my people,--in short, all that God gave and lent me in this world. I have nothing to call my own, save this poor, captive body,--even it is not in my own power, but in that of your majesty. And standing thus despoiled before the world, I am bidden also to renounce my heavenly inheritance by a recantation, from which may God preserve me. For herein have I placed my highest hopes; and I know, that although for its sake I must yield up life, yet will God give me a better possession hereafter. It would ill befit me, by an iniquitous recantation, to mislead so many thousands. Therefore, most gracious Emperor, having me in your power, your Majesty may deal with me as with a prisoner. I will abide by the truth I have confessed; and, as an example to others, willingly suffer, whatsoever God and your Majesty shall lay upon me."