Those who were interested in opposing his claim stoutly asserted that he was a miller of Landreslaw, called Rebok, and that he was a creature of the Duke of Saxony, who coveted the Brandenburgian possessions, and who, being a relative of the family, had thoroughly instructed him as to the private life of Voldemar.  His plausibility, and the accuracy of his answers, however, led many persons of influence to believe that he was no counterfeit.  The Emperor Charles IV. (of Bohemia), the Primate of Germany, the Princes of Anhalt, and the Dukes of Brunswick, Pomerania, Mecklenburg, and Saxony, all supported his pretensions; the most of the nobility of the marquisate acknowledged him to be their prince; and the common people, either touched with the hardships he was said to have suffered, or wearied of Bavarian rule, lent him money to acquire his rights and drive out Louis.  All the cities declared for him except Frankfort-on-the-Oder, Spandau, and Brisac, and war was at once begun.  The victory at first rested with the so-called Voldemar; many of the towns opened their gates to him; and his rival Louis fled to his estates in the Tyrol, leaving the electorate to his two brothers—­a disposition which was confirmed by the Emperor Charles IV. in 1350.  There are two versions of the death of Voldemar.  Lunclavius asserts that he was finally captured and burnt alive for his imposture; while De Rocoles maintains that he died at Dessau in 1354, nine years after his return, and was buried in the tombs of the Princes of Anhalt.  The general impression, however, is that he was an impostor.

ARNOLD DU TILH—­THE PRETENDED MARTIN GUERRE.

There are few cases in the long list of French causes celebres more remarkable than that of the alleged Martin Guerre.  This individual, who was more greatly distinguished by his adventures than by his virtues, was a Biscayan, and at the very juvenile age of eleven was married to a girl called Bertrande de Rols.  For eight or nine years Martin and his wife lived together without issue from their marriage, notwithstanding masses said, consecrated wafers eaten by the wife and charms employed by the husband to drive away the bewitchment under which he supposed himself to labour.  But in the tenth year after the marriage a son was born, and was named Sanxi.  The father’s joy was of brief duration; for having been guilty of defrauding his own father of a quantity of corn, he was compelled to abscond to avoid the paternal rage and the probable consequences of a prosecution.  It was at first intended that he should only stay away until the family difficulty blew over.  But Martin, once gone, was not so easily persuaded to come back, and eight long years elapsed before his wife saw his face.  At the end of that time he suddenly returned, and was received with open arms by Bertrande, who was congratulated by her husband’s four sisters, his uncle, and her own relations.